Secrets of a Powerful Man, page 10
‘Did you hear me?’ he snarled. ‘If you know what’s good for you—get out!’
Slowly, Darcey backed towards the door. She could hardly believe the transformation in Salvatore. A few moments ago he had wanted to make love to her, but now he clearly resented her presence. He was rejecting her—as her father sometimes still did when he was more interested in his work, and as her ex-husband had done when he’d discovered that marrying her had not helped his acting career. The two men she had loved in her life had both been disappointed with her, and now Salvatore was sending her away. But she did not know why he had changed his mind.
Mystery surrounded him. She sensed he was haunted by the fact that he could not remember the accident in which his wife had died. Perhaps his subconscious had stopped him from making love to her because he still loved Adriana. Darcey shivered. It was mortifying enough to think that Salvatore did not desire her, but even worse was the idea that while he had been kissing her he had imagined her to be the ghost of his dead wife.
To her shame, her body still ached with unfulfilled desire—but Salvatore’s face was as hard as stone and the coldness in his black eyes was the final humiliation. Uttering a low cry, Darcey spun round and fled from the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TAORMINA WAS PERCHED high on the cliffs and offered spectacular views of the sea and the beach resorts of Mazzaro and Isola Bella. The town had a mixture of beautifully restored medieval buildings as well as modern shops, bars and restaurants which catered for the many tourists who came to explore the myriad winding streets. Darcey admired the varied architecture left behind by the Greeks, Romans and Byzantines, to name but a few of the conquering armies who had occupied Taormina in the past, but if she was honest she was just as impressed by the numerous boutiques and shoe shops.
Standing with her nose almost pressed against the glass, she couldn’t decide whether she preferred the strappy tan leather sandals with a wedge heel or the eye-catching red shoes with four-inch stiletto heels.
Rosa tugged on her hand to gain her attention. Which ones do you like? she signed.
Darcey gave a rueful smile as she signed back, All of them! But I don’t need any more shoes. She glanced up the street and her heart did a familiar flip when she saw Salvatore walking towards them. Look, there’s Papa, she signed, and pointed him out to Rosa.
As he drew nearer she purposefully turned back to study the shoes displayed in the shop window. Two weeks had passed since the night she had fled from his room, and during that time they had treated each other with cool politeness—at least on the surface. Occasionally when she darted him a glance she glimpsed a flare of sexual desire in his eyes that evoked an ache of longing inside her. But pride made her resist showing any sign of warmth to him. She reminded herself that she had come to Sicily in her professional capacity and strove to focus on Rosa, trying to ignore her inconvenient attraction to the little girl’s father.
But, although she did everything she could to avoid him at the castle, she could not stop thinking about his situation and in particular his difficult relationship with Rosa. She had come to the conclusion that until Salvatore recovered from his amnesia he would never be able to move forward with his life or be able to bond with his daughter. If only he could remember what had caused the car accident four years ago he might be able to forgive himself for Adriana’s death. But his memory showed no sign of returning, and Darcey sensed his frustration.
She stiffened as she realised that he was standing behind her. The scent of sandalwood cologne teased her senses and she hated her body’s treacherous reaction to him. Salvatore’s problems were none of her business, Darcey reminded herself. She was determined to maintain an emotional and physical distance from him, but perversely, in the last few days, he seemed just as determined to engineer a thaw in their relationship. At dinner he had stopped being grim-faced and uncommunicative and had drawn her into conversation, asking about her work and her life in London. And today, to her surprise, he had joined her and Rosa for breakfast and suggested that they should spend the day in Taormina.
‘Surely you don’t need another pair of shoes?’ he murmured now, and the gentle teasing in his voice tugged on Darcey’s heart. ‘I’ve seen you wear at least ten different pairs since you arrived in Sicily.’
Taking a deep breath, she pinned a cool smile on her face before spinning round to him. ‘A woman can never have enough shoes. But I’m not going to buy any of these—they’re too expensive.’
‘Perhaps you will allow me to buy them for you?’ Salvatore glanced at Rosa and signed, Which shoes does Darcey like best?
The little girl immediately responded—The red ones.
The joke had gone far enough. Darcey glared at him as he pulled out his wallet. ‘Of course I won’t let you buy me shoes. If you’re so determined to spend money, Rosa has seen some pretty hairbands in the shop just along the street. Why don’t you let her show them to you while I pop to the chemist?’
What he would like to do, Salvatore mused as he skimmed his eyes over Darcey’s slender shape, in figure-hugging white pedal-pushers and a gingham blouse, was pull her into his arms and kiss her stubborn mouth until she melted. He was sick to death of her imitation of the Ice Queen from one of Rosa’s storybooks, and the knowledge that he deserved her frostiness did nothing to lessen his frustration. None of his feelings showed on his face, however.
‘Good idea,’ he said steadily, and held out his hand to Rosa. ‘We’ll meet you at the café on the other side of the piazza.’
As Darcey walked along the street she refused to speculate on the change in Salvatore’s attitude towards her. He had been easier to deal with when he had treated her with cold indifference, she thought ruefully. At least then she’d been able to pretend that she wasn’t interested in him.
Her thoughts were distracted by the sound of a distinctive high-pitched voice and, glancing down a narrow alleyway, she was surprised to see Lydia talking to a man. Darcey had no wish to meet Salvatore’s mother-in-law and was about to continue on her way. But she paused when she realised that Lydia and her companion were arguing. They were speaking in Italian, and Darcey could not understand what was being said, but it was clear that the conversation was heated. Several times she heard Lydia address the man as Ettore. They continued their discussion for several more minutes, and then, to Darcey’s shock, Lydia burst into tears and rushed away.
What had all that been about? she wondered. Even more puzzling was the fact that Lydia was in town when she had made a point of telling Darcey that morning that she planned to spend the day at the castle.
She was still musing over the scene she had witnessed in the alleyway as she crossed the attractive black and white paving of the Piazza XI Aprile in the centre of Taormina. Rosa ran to meet her and excitedly showed off her new hair accessories.
‘Did you get everything you needed?’ Salvatore asked as they strolled towards a café.
‘Yes.’ Darcey hesitated. ‘Do you know someone called Ettore? I saw Lydia talking with a man—well, they seemed to be arguing. She called him Ettore.’
‘It might have been Ettore Varsi.’ Salvatore frowned. ‘Ettore was the first person to arrive at the scene of the accident four years ago. He was driving a little way behind me and saw me lose control of the car on a sharp bend. After the crash he managed to scramble down the mountainside and he pulled Adriana and I away from the wreckage seconds before the car caught fire. I don’t know why Lydia might have been arguing with Ettore,’ Salvatore continued. ‘Perhaps you misunderstood. Lydia has always been grateful to him for trying to save her daughter.’ A bleak expression crossed his face.
‘Have you discussed with Ettore what happed that night? If you spoke to him, something might trigger your memory...’ Darcey’s voice faltered when she saw the grimness in Salvatore’s eyes.
‘Ettore Varsi gave a full statement of the facts to the police and at Adriana’s inquest,’ he said curtly. ‘He had been at the party which Adriana and I had attended, and he saw us leave. His evidence states that I got into the driver’s seat of the car and Adriana into the passenger seat. He followed behind us and believed that I was driving too fast as I approached a bend in the road. According to Ettore, the car spun and crashed through the roadside barrier. He stopped and called the emergency services before he climbed down the mountainside to try to rescue us.’
‘I still think you should talk to him,’ Darcey insisted. ‘He might know more...’
‘Enough!’ Salvatore said harshly. ‘There is nothing more. Ettore explained what he saw. Nothing can exonerate me from the fact that I am responsible for my wife’s death.’
Darcey stared at him in frustration. ‘You’re so stubborn.’
‘Me! Look at yourself, cara. Take my advice and stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.’
So furious that she did not trust herself to speak, Darcey spun round and stalked into the café where Rosa had found a vacant table. She only wanted to help, she thought hotly, but Salvatore had made it clear that he did not want anything from her. The memory of how he had ordered her to get out of his room was still horribly embarrassing and she vowed that from now on she would not talk to him about anything other than how Rosa’s speech therapy was progressing—which, after all, was the only reason she had come to Sicily.
She ordered fruit juice for Rosa, a cappuccino for herself and an espresso for Salvatore—although she wondered if he would join them now that she had put him in one of his black moods. But to her surprise he was smiling when he walked into the café a few minutes later.
‘I’ve just had a call from Sergio,’ he told her. ‘Kristen went into labour early this morning and gave birth to a healthy baby boy half an hour ago.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ Darcey waited for Salvatore to sign the news to Rosa that she had a new cousin. ‘Your brother must be so relieved,’ she said, recalling how Sergio had become increasingly tense as his wife’s due date had approached.
‘He’s overjoyed.’ Salvatore glanced at the coffee in front of him. ‘I think we should celebrate baby Leo Castellano’s birth with champagne.’
‘Rosa can’t drink champagne,’ Darcey pointed out. Shall we have ice cream? she signed to the little girl, and was rewarded with a smile and a fervent nod.
Salvatore passed on a sweet treat, but as he watched Darcey and his daughter enjoying ice cream sundaes he was struck yet again by the close friendship they had formed. Darcey’s kindness was apparent in everything she did, and she made Rosa’s speech therapy sessions full of fun. He knew she did not understand why he found it hard to bond with Rosa. How could she comprehend the guilt he felt that his child was growing up without a mother—just as he had done? His amnesia had created a barrier between him and Rosa. Dio! He could not even remember her birth, or holding his newborn daughter in his arms.
The blankness in his mind evoked blackness in his heart. He had been right to send Darcey away instead of making love to her, Salvatore told himself. He knew he had hurt her feelings, but it was better than dragging her into his dark world. He had no right to taint her bright smile and cheerful nature with his despair. One day she would meet a man who would love her as she deserved to be loved, and she would love him back with all the generosity in her heart.
In brooding silence Salvatore drank his coffee and noted with heavy irony that its bitter taste matched the bitterness of his thoughts.
* * *
‘Okay, that’s enough for today.’ Darcey simultaneously spoke and signed to Rosa. She gathered up the phonetics cards they had been using and smiled at the little girl. ‘Well done! You spoke all the sounds we’ve been practising perfectly. I’m very pleased with you, and so is your papa.’ She glanced at Salvatore, silently willing him to praise Rosa.
He had been as good as his word and joined in the speech therapy sessions every afternoon, but although he appeared relaxed and gave plenty of encouragement, Darcey still sensed a faintly reserved air with his daughter. To her relief he gave one of his rare smiles.
‘You did very well today,’ he told Rosa. ‘Go and get ready for swimming.’
Darcey had decided to hold the therapy sessions in the summerhouse by the pool, so that Rosa could have her reward of a swim with her father immediately afterwards. Salvatore watched her run off to the changing cubicle.
‘She seems to be making good progress.’
‘She certainly is,’ Darcey assured him. ‘I realised when I met Rosa that she is a very bright child, and I’m confident she will quickly develop speech and language skills.’
‘Thanks to you and your skill and dedication.’ Salvatore rested his brooding gaze on her flushed face. ‘Are you going to join us in the pool today?’
He frowned when Darcey shook her head.
‘I need to use the time that you swim with Rosa to get on with some work. There’s a lot to do to set up my private speech therapy practice,’ she explained.
The excuse was partly true, for she had been researching possible venues where she could run her business. But she also used her free time to study the role she was to portray in her father’s play. Reading Joshua’s script, Darcey was amazed by his great talent as a playwright. She was so proud of her father, and pleased that he chosen her for the lead role, but she was plagued by self-doubt, and for that reason she had decided not to tell anyone outside of her family that she was going to be in the play until she was certain she could justify her father’s faith in her.
‘Why don’t you be honest?’
Salvatore’s terse voice dragged Darcey from her thoughts.
‘I know you are revolted by the sight of my scars, but you’ve watched me swimming with Rosa every day since you arrived here—surely you’ve had time to get used to the mess my leg is in by now?’
‘I’m not revolted by your scars!’ She was shocked by the conclusion he had come to about her refusal to join him in the pool. ‘I just think it’s important that you and Rosa spend some time together,’ she insisted.
Salvatore’s gaze held a momentary look of doubt before he walked off to get changed.
Darcey pulled up her father’s script on her laptop and tried to focus. The play was set in the time of the Second World War and was based on a true story about Joshua’s mother, Edith, who had married a Frenchman and worked with the French Resistance until she was caught by the Nazis and tortured. Amazingly, Edith had managed to escape and had returned to Ireland, where her husband had later joined her, and the couple had gone on to have five children.
It was an inspiring story, and Joshua Hart’s play was a moving tribute to his mother’s bravery. But Darcey could not concentrate when her eyes were drawn to the pool. The sight of Salvatore’s bronzed, athletic body proved a major distraction. It was true that the deep scars on his thigh were unmissable, but they certainly did not lessen the impact of his potent virility. He was the sexiest man she had ever met and Darcey gave a heavy sigh as she forced her eyes back to her laptop screen.
The sound of footsteps on the decking of the summerhouse made her look up, and she was surprised to see Rosa standing in front of her. The little girl took a deep breath.
‘Dar-cey!’ she said clearly.
‘Oh, Rosa—you clever girl!’ Darcey’s eyes filled with tears of emotion that Rosa had spoken her first word. It was a breakthrough moment and she threw her arms around the child and hugged her.
‘She has been practising saying your name with me,’ Salvatore explained as he joined them in the summerhouse. ‘Rosa is hoping that you will swim with us.’
Darcey gave him a suspicious look, which he countered with a bland expression. He knew she would not refuse, she thought ruefully. She smiled at Rosa and spoke whilst signing—‘I’ll go and put my swimsuit on.’
Stepping out of the changing cubicle a few minutes later, Darcey told herself it was ridiculous to feel self-conscious. Her yellow bikini was perfectly respectable. But she was supremely aware of Salvatore’s intent gaze as she walked down the pool steps, and she quickly ducked under the water and swam away from him. She concentrated on Rosa, but although she did her best to ignore Salvatore she found her eyes straying to him, and her heart gave a jolt when she discovered he was watching her. Sexual tension simmered between them, fuelled by every furtive glance and the accidental contact of their bodies as they played in the pool with Rosa.
Darcey was relieved when Nico arrived, accompanied by the English nanny that Sergio and Kristen had hired to help with their growing family. Margaret was able to use sign language, and Salvatore had arranged for her to share her time between caring for Nico and Rosa.
‘Nico has already been swimming in the pool at Casa Camelia,’ Margaret explained. ‘I’ll take the children to play in the sandpit.’
Left alone with Salvatore, after Rosa had run off to play with her cousin, Darcey wrapped a towel around her shoulders, intending to go and change back into her clothes. But his deep voice stopped her.
‘Surely you can take a break from working on your laptop and enjoy the sunshine?’ His dark eyes gleamed with unexpected warmth. ‘I already feel bad that you have missed your holiday in France.’ Seeing Darcey hesitate, he added, ‘While Margaret is taking care of the children I’d like you to give me an update on Rosa’s progress.’
She could hardly refuse, but Darcey ignored the sunlounger he had pulled up for her and went to sit beneath a parasol. ‘I’ll burn if I sit in the sun for more than a minute,’ she told him. ‘My mother has had a recent scare with a malignant melanoma so, much as I’d love a tan, I’m better off staying in the shade.’
‘That’s wise, with your fair skin, but you can be affected by UV rays even in the shade and it would be a good idea to use sunscreen.’ Salvatore picked up the bottle of lotion, but instead of handing it to Darcey he tipped a blob of cream onto his palm and walked behind her.
