She didn’t turn round immediately. Just said in a flat and emotionless voice, ‘What was Luigi saying to you over dinner?’

There was a pause. ‘We spoke of many things, Justina. You were there, remember?’

At this, she turned round—her body automatically responding to the way he was removing his tie and unbuttoning his silk shirt to reveal a triangle of dark, honed chest beneath. Keep it real, she reminded herself. Don’t let yourself be swayed by how much you want him.

‘I listened to him insulting me by implying that I was a neglectful mother. I know that.’

‘And I put him right. I told him that you are a brilliant mother.’

‘Did you?’

‘Certainly I did. I said that no mother could be more devoted nor more loving than you are.’

That took the wind right out of her sails. She didn’t want Dante praising her because that was distracting. She wanted to get to the bottom of what Luigi had been saying. ‘I’m thinking more specifically about when he spoke to you in Italian.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘You don’t? That’s quite unusual for a man with your sharp sense of recall, Dante. Perhaps I’d better jog your memory for you. He said matrimonio—which means marriage, and which I imagine is understandable in most languages. But he also said avoccato.’ She frowned. ‘Which means lawyer, if my memory of my Italian classes serves me well.’

There was a moment of silence before Dante spoke. ‘Brava, tesoro,’ he said softly. ‘I had no idea you were so advanced in my language.’

‘Please don’t patronise me, Dante. Just tell me what you were talking about.’

For a moment he didn’t answer, and there was no sound other than the faint clatter of metal on wood as he put his cufflinks down on the dresser. He had intended to say this to her, yes—but not in this way. Not as something produced as a defence against a heated accusation made at the end of a long day. He had planned to wait until she had softened. Until he had made love to her and she was lying in his arms in one of those rare moments when he sensed she might be close to letting her carefully built defences fall away.

He met the amber fire in her eyes. ‘I had planned to ask you to marry me.’

CHAPTER TEN

JUSTINA FLINCHED, THINKING how wrong Dante’s words sounded. It was the coldest marriage proposal she could have imagined—and how it mocked her. The first time he’d asked her to be his wife he had been brimming over with love—but now his voice was completely different. It was like playing a familiar piece of music and discovering that the disc was covered with dust, so that the sound came out all distorted.

‘Right,’ she said, somehow managing to keep her voice steady. ‘That’s why your brother mentioned matrimony. But that wasn’t all you were talking about, was it? I’m interested to know why you mentioned lawyers. It’s not usually a top topic for dinner conversation—particularly as you both switched to speaking in Italian.’

Dante’s eyes narrowed, because surely she knew him well enough to realise that he would have covered this particular base. And if she was missing the point then wasn’t it time he enlightened her?

‘I’ve spoken to my lawyer,’ he said. ‘Obviously.’

‘Oh, obviously,’ she echoed sardonically. ‘And what did your lawyer say?’

‘She advised me that in our particular situation marriage would be the best solution.’

She? Justina nodded. Of course Dante would have a female lawyer—of course he would! ‘But a solution implies some sort of problem.’

‘Si!’ he agreed hotly. ‘There is a problem! A big problem. Surely you can see that for yourself? We have different lives but a shared child. And for as long as we remain unmarried I have no legal say in what happens to that child.’

He felt his lips harden with determination. What had his lawyer said? “Marriage just makes things easier, Dante—because even if the marriage doesn’t endure the law is on your side. Without it you must rely on the woman’s benevolence in order to see your child—and this woman might not be feeling particularly benevolent towards you.”

He looked at Justina now, her black hair silvered by the moonlight which streamed in through the unshuttered windows. He thought how majestic she looked, with the flow of her satin robe clinging like oil to the soft curves of her body. He thought of her talent and the loving way she was with his son.

‘Marry me, Justina,’ he said.

There was a long silence as Justina looked into his eyes and tried to steel herself against their dark beauty. She told herself that this was not the time to listen to her heart—that the soft dip in his voice was simply Dante at his most charmingly manipulative. For her son’s sake she had to be governed by reason and nothing else.

‘And if I do. What’s in it for me?’ she questioned.

‘Security, of course.’ He smiled. ‘And family.’

Justina smiled back, because he was clever. Oh, he was very clever. He had picked on the two things which had always eluded her. The two things she’d always yearned for. A sense of home and being rooted and a sense of being safe. But how could she be safe when what they had was only the mirage of a family... And once that mirage had disappeared, what would be left behind? A man who didn’t love and a woman who did.

She shook her head, fighting against the temptation to leap at it, telling herself that she had too much to lose by buying into a dream. ‘It isn’t enough.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because...’ And then the words came tumbling out. Words she’d buried in some deep place inside herself now spooled out in a dark stream. ‘Because I can’t be married to a man I don’t trust. A man who can just walk away from a woman he was supposed to marry and a few short days later take somebody else to his bed!’

He winced. ‘What’s the point of bringing that up again?’ he questioned wearily. ‘I thought we’d done all this. It’s in the past, Justina. It’s done.’

‘But the legacy of that day continues, Dante. It threatens any future we might have—can’t you see that?’

‘No, I damned well can’t. Our relationship was over,’ he bit out. ‘You know that. I wasn’t expecting you to walk in on me. That was the last thing in the world I wanted.’

‘But that’s not the point, is it? The point is that you were....you were with her.’ Briefly she covered her mouth, as if she was afraid she might be sick, before letting her fingers slide down to rest against her neck. ‘I thought what we had was so special—but how could it have been? How the hell could you replace me so quickly?’

‘She was not replacing you! She could never have replaced you. Nobody could. I know it was wrong. God help me, I know that now. But I was hurting. And I missed you,’ he said simply. ‘I missed you so much.’

‘You had a funny way of showing it.’

‘And I was angry,’ he admitted. ‘More angry than I’d ever been. That played its part—of course it did. I was angry that you kept going away on tour—that you were prepared to put your career before our relationship. I guess I blamed you for the split, and I did what countless other men have done in the same situation. I went to a bar and drank a little too much, and she—’

‘I don’t want to hear this!’

‘Well, maybe you should!’ His black eyes burned into her. ‘Maybe it should all come out so that we can be rid of it once and for all. She came on to me like women are always coming on to me—only I’d never looked at another woman from the moment I’d met you. It was never even a consideration. Only this time it was different. We were over. Finished. This time I wanted...comfort.’

‘Stop it!’ she hissed. ‘You wanted sex and you damned well got it! You were just unlucky that I came in and caught you.’