Matthew and Sarah both held their breath for a moment, before Sarah said, ‘Well, according to the contract, once the handover of the inheritance is complete –ifhe is the “winner”, so to speak – Matthew and I can file for divorce. The prenuptial agreement ensures his estate is safe. I would return to my prior life in Sydney. Or we have the option to remain married, if we both agree.’
Margherita’s eyes widened. ‘Stay married?’
‘According to Clause 13. If that’s something we agree to, mutually, then . . . yes.’
‘Will you?’ Riccardo’s eyes darted between Matthew and Sarah.
‘Riccardo!’ Margherita snapped at him again. ‘Non sono affari tuoi!’
‘Noneof this is my business. Oryours,’ he quipped. ‘But now I’m curious.’
‘There’s a lot at stake here.’ Matthew explained. ‘I need to make sure Sarah is looked after first and foremost. She is my priority right now. This whole thing might just blow up. I need to make sure she can get out safely if needs be. We will cross that bridge when we get to it.’
Seeing Matthew and Sarah so raw and vulnerable, Margherita felt a twinge of guilt and sadness. ‘I’m really very sorry for before.’
‘It’s ok, Marghe,’ Sarah comforted her. ‘It’s been a ride for us too. I’m just glad you now know.’
Riccardo’s eyes dropped to the contracts. ‘Who else knows?’
Matthew and Sarah ran a mental list.
‘My parents,’ Sarah began.
‘Mine, too, obviously. They attested at the service. My nonno knew.’
‘And now you,’ Sarah added.
‘What happens if this gets out?’ Riccardo asked.
‘I genuinely don’t know. The inheritance clause states that the heir to the D’Adamo family trust must be the youngest, legal-aged, married male. There’s nothing in that about being in arealmarriage – in terms of an emotional and physical relationship. So we have just played this discreetly. And we would appreciate if you both could keep it that way.’
Margherita gnawed on the inside of her cheek. ‘We promise.’
Riccardo nodded his agreement.
‘We literally have just three weeks left in this. We need to get to December, then the hotel closes and we get three months to ourselves at La Viola. There’s still so much at stake. We’ve come so far.’ Matthew’s eyes were narrowed by fatigue. ‘And now we have the fire to deal with, and the Sagra.’ Matthew’s mind drew to the presence of the rogue cigar butt in his pocket and he steeled himself.
‘Can I have that hug now?’ Sarah asked Margherita, bottom lip raised and eyes hopeful.
Margherita practically jumped from her chair and the two threw their arms around each other.
Riccardo’s eyes met Matthew’s across the table. They shared a mutual look of respect and trust.
Margherita, still ensconced in Sarah’s warm and familiar arms, whispered, ‘I believe in Clause 13.’
‘Why’s that?’ Sarah quietly asked back.
‘Because, in Italy, thirteen is the luckiest number.’
‘Really?’
‘Sì. It’s the number of the Goddess of Fertility.’
Fertility.
Sarah’s mind caught the word and firmly affixed it to the little corner of her heart she had reserved for a future with Matthew.
trentotto
