And didn’t every fibre of his being object to that? Wasn’t that why he had been going out of his way to keep his distance from her? Not just because he couldn’t look at her without wanting her, but because he was afraid. He, who was never afraid—now found himself terrified of being sucked into the mess of a relationship which had the potential to detonate the hard-fought-for calm of his life.
He was mainly silent as the car took them to the San Raffaele Hospital in the north of the city and they were ushered into the gleaming quiet of the obstetrics department. But when he glanced down and saw Flora biting her lip, he found himself wondering if she were anxious. And something in the apprehension which clouded her face made his heart miss an inexplicable beat. Had he arrogantly concluded that she would be taking all this in her stride—and was it that which made him suddenly reach out to squeeze her hand, feeling totally undeserving of the look of gratitude she shot him in response?
But his brief gesture of comfort seemed to have given her unspoken permission to grab his hand again as her belly was covered with jelly and the sonographer began to track a small instrument over her stomach.
Vito tried to study the screen with scientific detachment—to assess the contrast between light and shade, because that was a lot easier to get his head around, than believing that this pulsing form was a real-life embryo. Flora was looking at him expectantly as if she wanted him to speak but for once in his life he couldn’t think of a thing to say. Or maybe that was because, incomprehensibly, his throat had thickened and he didn’t want her to know that.
Afterwards, they were summoned into the offices of Professor Aldini, where Flora underwent a brief examination. ‘Would you like to know the sex?’ the medic queried, directing the question mainly at Vito.
This time the look Flora shot him was easy to discern. Clearly irritated by the sense of masculine collusion in the room, she gave a barely imperceptible shake of the head.
‘Non, grazie,’ answered Vito smoothly.
‘We’re big fans of surprises,’ said Flora, straight-faced, but she gave his hand another squeeze.
They walked out into the waiting room to the sound of someone exclaiming his name and Vito glanced across the plush waiting room to see Arianna Bertini sitting on one of the sofas, staring at him in amazement and his heart sank as he spotted the wife of one of his oldest friends. He could see the incredulity on her face—as well as something which resembled relief and delight. As if seeing him in this particular situation was something which was long overdue. Once again he imagined the weighty chains of domesticity wrapping themselves around his ankles and failed to suppress a shudder.
‘Cosa fa qui, Vito?’ she asked him, starting to rise to her feet rather cumbersomely, given that she was heavily pregnant.
‘Please, don’t get up,’ instructed Vito in English as he reluctantly introduced the two women. ‘Arianna, this is Flora—my fiancée. Flora—Arianna is married to Raffaele, who I’ve known pretty much forever.’
‘You are such a dark horse!’ chided Arianna switching immediately to the same language and smiling widely at Flora. ‘That is a beautiful ring,’ she observed, gazing down at the glittering diamond. ‘How pregnant are you, Flora, and when’s the wedding?’
‘A little over three months,’ said Flora, finding her voice at last. ‘And we…we haven’t decided on any dates yet.’
‘Well, I hope we’re going to see more of you.’ Arianna flashed Flora a warm smile. ‘Perhaps you can encourage Vito to bring you to our party next week! It would be remarkable if your famously isolationist fiancé attended for once.’ She pulled a complicit face. ‘He alwaysclaimsto be working.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Flora lamely.
After the calm of the obstetrician’s office, the world outside seemed extra noisy and Flora was glad the car was waiting for them kerb-side. She settled back into the seat, suddenly aware that her hands were unsteady, but maybe that wasn’t surprising. There had been the slightly disconcerting experience of bumping into one of Vito’s friends, but the appointment itself had been a highly emotional experience.
Emotional forher, anyway. She’d done it solo back in England, but with Vito beside her it had taken on a whole new significance as she’d watched the baby’s heartbeat and seen the movement of the tiny shape. She’d sneaked a glance at the man beside her and for one brief second he had looked as if he were all choked up, and her heart had lifted with hope and joy. But just as quickly, his expression had hardened and the moment to ask him about it had been lost, because they had bumped into one of his friends.
Immaculate Arianna, dressed in pale and perfect silk, with hair which looked as if it might have been professionally blow-dried that very morning. She had stared at Flora as if she had just landed from the moon, though had seemed genuinely welcoming once she had processed the shocking news that Vito was engaged and soon to be a father.
‘Arianna seemed very nice,’ she ventured as their car gathered speed, sensing that neutral topics were probably wisest, in the circumstances.
‘She is.’ But the pause which followed seemed weighted and the tightening of his lips indicated undeniable displeasure. ‘But now the whole damned city will know and my phone line will be hot with journalists peddling intrusive questions.’
‘I thought we’d decided that was inevitable,’ she shot back, before softening her stance a little. ‘You could try putting a more positive spin on it, Vito.’
His head turned to survey her thoughtfully, as if her heated response had activated a neglected part of his brain. ‘Do you want to go to their party?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what this is all about?’
It was about a lot more than that, Flora thought, but now wasn’t the time to start listing all her other complaints and to question why he seemed to have been going out of his way to avoid her. He might tell her truthfully that he found her dull company and she would be forced to live with that knowledge!
‘Yes, I would, as it happens,’ she said, unable to suppress her sudden leap of pleasure at the thought of an evening out with him. But just as quickly came a wash of social anxiety as she remembered what Arianna Bertini had been wearing and found herself comparing it to Amy’s brightly coloured cast-offs, all of which were getting a bit too tight. Would it sound as if she were on the take if she brought such a mundane matter to his attention? Surely it was more a case of not wanting to let him down than being materially ambitious. ‘But I’m not sure that any of my clothes will be suitable,’ she ventured cautiously.
‘Oh,that.’ Leaning back against the plush leather seat of the limousine, he gave a quick nod, as if this were a subject he approved of—the ability to solve problems with the use of his wallet. ‘That can easily be remedied. We’ll just have to buy you some new ones.’
‘By next week, you mean?’ she questioned uncertainly.
His smile was unashamedly arrogant. ‘Si, of course. By tomorrow, should you wish it.’
‘So, what’s this party in aid of?’ Flora questioned in a low voice, as an attendant took her coat and she and Vito headed towards the party.
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘I wonder,’ she said sardonically, as her eyes darted to an instantly recognisable social media star who was clinging to the arm of a high-profile British politician. ‘You don’t think it might have anything to do with the fact that everyone here is so famous?’
