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She’d been even more wide-eyed when Leo had pulled up outside his family’s summer home.
The Parini villa was not as large as some, but larger than most, showing evidence of the family’s long-held wealth. The house had been built in the late eighteenth century, then added to and renovated several times since. Multi-levelled, it had acres of marble flooring, more bedrooms than Brooke could count, huge open-plan living areas, several very formal entertaining rooms, expansive terracotta terraces, a solar-heated swimming pool, and perfectly manicured lawns which sloped down to a private dock where three boats were moored. A speed boat, a cruiser and a racing yacht. Inside, monumental paintings filled the walls, and everywhere there were the most incredible antiques.
Brooke had worried over the years that her boisterous and mischievous son might ruin or break something, but oddly he hadn’t, as though he recognised that these treasures were his to inherit one day and had to be preserved.
Although half-Australian, Alessandro was a very Italian child. Openly affectionate, noisy and demanding, he was far too good-looking for his own good, with his father’s dark hair and eyes.
Claudia was dark-haired and dark-eyed too, and very pretty, but much quieter and delightfully amenable, content to follow her mother around, or just to play with her dolls. Her brother had to be always on the move, always doing something. Since the age of two, he’d refused to take no for an answer.
Like father like son, Brooke thought ruefully.
Which brought her thoughts back to Leo. Her darling Leo, whom she still adored but who was not the easiest man to live with, she’d found. He really did like his way in everything. Many were the times she’d been tempted to argue with him, to try to get her way for once, but she never had.
Except once…when Claudia was born.
Brooke had wanted to call her daughter Chloe. She’d also wanted to call Alessandro Alexander, but had given in when Leo had explained that the heir to the Parini fortune should have an Italian name.
Brooke hadn’t really minded, since Alessandro wasn’t so different from Alexander. But when she’d had a daughter, she’d expected to be able to choose the name she wanted. Not so, she had soon found out. Leo had been adamant about Claudia, then angry when Brooke had argued with him. More angry than she had ever seen him.
‘I am the head of this family,’ he’d pronounced dogmatically. ‘What I say goes!’
For a split second, Brooke had been overwhelmed by a deep, violent anger of her own. You’re just like my mother said, she’d almost thrown at him.
Thinking of her mother, however, had forced her to get a grip on herself. You don’t want to end up like her, do you? Bitter and twisted and lonely. It’s only a name, after all. What’s in a name? It’s not worth getting a divorce over.
So, once again, she’d given in.
But it still hurt a little; his not seeing her point of view on something that was important to her; his not meeting her halfway.
Her mother had warned her she would become a doormat. Well, maybe she had in a way, she conceded. But she was a happy and contented doormat. Most of the time.
A telephone ringing somewhere downstairs had her rising from the depths of the deckchair, only to sink down again when it was swiftly answered.
Determinedly, Brooke picked up her book again, and was doing her best to become absorbed in the story when a voice drifted up from the terrace below. It was Leo’s mother. Despite her speaking in Italian, Brooke understood every word.
She’d always been good at languages, and had studied Latin and Japanese at school. After her marriage to Leo, Brooke had made the effort to learn Italian, picking it up quickly from tapes and books, then practising it with Leo in the evenings, plus every time she visited his family. She had no trouble following the conversation below.
‘There you are, Giuseppe,’ Sophia said. ‘I see you couldn’t sleep, either. That was Leonardo on the phone.’
Brooke’s ears immediately pricked.
‘Anything wrong?’ came Giuseppe’s reply.
‘He’s going to be late again. Doesn’t want us to keep any dinner for him this time.’
Brooke groaned. Just when she’d been wanting him to come home a bit earlier.
‘So?’ Giuseppe said with a shrug in his voice. ‘Why the worried frown?’
‘If he has so much work on his plate, Giuseppe, why didn’t he ask you to go in with him? It’s not as though you couldn’t spend a few hours in the office here and there.’
‘I offered, woman, but he refused. Told me one death in the family was enough for this year. But you’re right. He did look tired last night. I’ll insist on joining him tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow might be too late, Giuseppe.’
‘Too late for what?’
‘I don’t think he’s in the office today…’ Sophia said in more hushed tones.
Brooke leant forward in her chair.
‘…I think he’s with Francesca.’
Brooke’s heart lurched.
‘What?’ Giuseppe exploded. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, woman! Leonardo is not that type of man. He would never be unfaithful to that lovely little wife of his. Never!’
Brooke was glad she was sitting down. If she hadn’t been, she might have fallen down.
‘Not normally, Giuseppe,’ she heard Sophia say. ‘But these are not normal circumstances. Leonardo was in love with Francesca long before Brooke came into his life. He never got over Lorenzo stealing Francesca away from him. He might have pretended to, but I know differently. I’m his mother.’
‘For pity’s sake, that was years ago!’
‘Maybe, but Leonardo is not a fickle man. I always knew that when he fell in love it would be for life.’
‘Leonardo loves his wife!’ his father defended, outrage in his voice.
‘Has he said as much to you?’
An increasingly stricken Brooke strained forward further, waiting to hear Leo’s father say firmly, Yes, of course. Many times!
‘Men don’t talk about things like that, woman. But it’s as obvious as the nose on my face.’
Sophia sighed. ‘I’ve no doubt he does love Brooke, in a fashion. She’s a very beautiful girl. And incredibly sweet. But he was in love with Francesca. I will never forget the way he looked at her on the night of their engagement party, with such hunger in his eyes. To find her in bed that same night with his brother must have nearly killed him.’
On the balcony above Brooke was reeling from shock after shock. Leo…her Leo, in love with Francesca? Her husband, once engaged to his brother’s wife? Francesca choosing Lorenzo over Leo?
‘Unfortunately,’ Sophia went on with another sigh, ‘Leonardo handled Francesca the wrong way back then, playing the gentleman with her. He thought respecting her virginity was the right thing to do. But he was wrong. Lorenzo, to my eternal dismay, had no respect for anything, or anyone. He simply took what he wanted, and silly, shy, naive Francesca was swept away by his decadent wickedness.’
‘You’re talking nonsense, woman! Lorenzo was not wicked, just weak in matters of the flesh. If he was truly wicked, he would not have married the girl. Yes, they did wrong, but they couldn’t help themselves. They fell madly in love at first sight. Lorenzo told me so himself. He was very sorry he hurt Leonardo, but Francesca obviously didn’t really love the boy. Lorenzo said she was only marrying his brother because he was kind, and she was so lonely after her father’s recent death. As soon as Leonardo understood that, any feelings he had for the girl died a natural death.’
‘If he no longer cared for Francesca,’ Sophia scorned, ‘then why did he run off to Australia? And why didn’t he return for his brother’s wedding?’
‘He didn’t run off to Australia. I sent him there! As for not returning for the wedding, give the man some leeway, woman. He has his pride. He did right to stay away.’
‘Perhaps so. But I don’t think he’s staying away now. With Lorenzo dead, Leonardo finally has the opportunity to have what he foolishly denied himself back then. Francesca, in his bed.’
‘I don’t believe a son of mine would dishonour the family name in this way.’
‘Why not?’ Sophia said, her voice becoming hard. ‘Your other son did. Often.’
‘Lorenzo may have strayed once or twice. But he was a handsome man, and women threw themselves at him in a shameless fashion. It’s unfortunate Francesca never had children. Children keep a man at home, and loyal. But let us talk of Lorenzo no more. The boy is dead. It is not right to speak badly of the dead. And you are wrong about Leonardo. Now, I want to hear no more about this matter.’
‘Turning a blind eye will not solve this situation, husband mine,’ Sophia said sternly.
‘If what you say is true, then turning a blind eye is the only answer,’ Giuseppe refuted. ‘If Leo is fool enough to be having an affair with Francesca, he’ll soon get her out of his system and realise there’s just as good to be had at home. If I’m any judge, I’d say better! Leonardo and his family fly back to Sydney in two more days. Be patient and say nothing. The problem will pass.’
‘Maybe you’re right. But two days can be a long time…’
CHAPTER TWO
SOMEHOW Brooke made her way back into the bedroom without alerting the couple on the terrace below, there to collapse onto the gold silk quilt. Both her hands lifted to cover her eyes, as though by blocking out the light she could somehow block out the horror of what she’d just heard.
Leo, in love with Francesca! Leo, once engaged to his brother’s widow! Leo, not at the office, but spending time with his lost love…
It seemed unbelievable, and yet it explained so much. The fact Leo had never actually said he loved her. Not ever! He’d used other endearments, other phrases. Adoration. Desire. Need. But never love.
And then there was his oddly cold behaviour around Francesca. Not dislike or indifference, as she’d imagined. But the other side of love.
Oh, God…
The pain wasn’t just emotional. It was brutally physical. A vice clamped around her heart, pressing down till she simply couldn’t breathe!
Gasping for air, Brooke struggled off the bed and into the bathroom, where she splashed some cold water over her face, then sucked in great gulps of oxygen before straightening. The distressed face staring back at her in the vanity mirror was hardly recognisable. Chalk-white, with huge, hurt blue eyes and an uncontrollably quivering chin. When tears blurred her vision her eyes dropped and her shoulders sagged. She had to clutch at the marble vanity-top to stop herself from sinking to the floor.
Dear Lord, what was she going to do?
Suddenly, and perversely, she wanted her mother.
Yet her mother was the last person she could tell any of this to. She would just say, I told you so! in that scoffing, scornful way of hers.
Brooke could not help thinking that it was almost five years since her mother had prophesied Leo would make her miserable. Next week was their fifth wedding anniversary. And she’d been right!
Or had she?
What if Giuseppe was right and Sophia was wrong? What if Leo wasn’t still in love with Francesca, let alone spending today—or any other day—with her? What if he didn’t give a damn about his brother’s wife, and hadn’t since she’d betrayed his love with his brother?
Brooke’s heart clung to this desperate hope.
It was possible, wasn’t it? Okay, so Leo hadn’t proclaimed his undying love for her. But in the five years she’d known him he’d never given a hint that he was unhappy, or pining for another woman. He’d always seemed very happy to come home to her every night, and very satisfied with their life together, especially their sex life.
Till this last three weeks, that was, she conceded, with a sickening twist in her stomach. Leo hadn’t been himself in that department since coming home for Lorenzo’s funeral.
She’d thought his unusual lack of desire was due to grief and exhaustion. Now, another more awful reason invaded her mind…
Brooke groaned in despair.
Francesca’s abrupt move back to Milan suddenly took on a more sinister meaning, as did Leo’s wholehearted approval of his sister-in-law’s decision. He’d wanted the opportunity to be alone with the woman he still loved and wanted, away from the prying eyes of his family, and well away from her, his wife.
Francesca’s tears that day might not have been grief, but guilt.
She was the type of female to feel guilty, Brooke thought bitterly, but not enough to say no to a determined man. If Leonardo declared his undying love for her, passionately insisting she give him what she’d once withheld, silly, wishy-washy Francesca would probably become as putty in his hands.
Now Brooke’s eyes snapped up, and they were no longer quite so haunted-looking. They were angry. No, not just angry. Livid.
Giuseppe might be able to turn a blind eye to his son’s adultery, but she could not! She would go and confront the pair of them. Right now! This very moment! Borrow Sophia’s car and drive into Milan to Francesca’s place.
She knew the way. Leo had often taken her into Milan to shop during previous visits, as well as to his brother’s fancy apartment for those dinner parties. She herself had driven home on these occasions, forced to concentrate on the roads involved in a way you didn’t when you were a passenger.
Leo liked to have a bottle of wine over dinner, and always gave her the keys at the end of such evenings. It was the only time he allowed her to drive when he was in the car, something which rankled Brooke but which she tolerated. As she’d tolerated Leo’s edict shortly after their marriage that he didn’t like her to drink much. He’d said it made her aggressive.
‘Like your mother,’ he’d added, when she’d been about to object.
That thought had stopped the automatic protest bubbling up in her throat, after which she’d curtailed her drinking, restricting herself to just one glass or two. Not once during the last five years of their relationship had she ever told Leo it was his turn not to drink that evening, that she wanted to relax over a bottle of wine for once.
‘Silly, weak cow!’ she sneered at herself in the bathroom mirror. ‘No wonder he thinks he can get away with cheating on you.’
Well, he was in for a shock, wasn’t he? In about an hour she would be arriving at Francesca’s door, and there would be hell to pay!
If by some remote possibility Giuseppe was right, and Leo wasn’t with Francesca, if it proved his car was parked safely in the Milan head office car park, and not where she suspected it would be, then she would simply turn round and drive home.
But some inner female instinct told her Leo wasn’t going to be at the office, just as his mother knew. Women knew about such things, provided they opened their stupid eyes and saw the signs.
‘Well, my eyes are well and truly open now, Leo,’ Brooke seethed aloud. ‘And God help you!’
With cold fury in her heart, Brooke set about brushing her hair and applying some lipstick before going downstairs in search of Leo’s mother.
She found her in one of the large sitting rooms, ostensibly reading a magazine. But her grey head was bowed in a weary fashion, her normally proud shoulders slumped in an attitude of great sadness.
Brooke’s heart squeezed tight. She liked her mother-in-law a lot. Sophia was a warm, generous-hearted woman who’d welcomed her into her home and her heart without question. How wretched she must be feeling, with one son dead and the other involved in a potentially disastrous affair.
Protecting Sophia from unnecessary distress became an instant priority with Brooke, her inner fury temporarily pushed to one side. She was still determined to go and find Leo, but whatever happened after that would be between them and them alone. Sophia was not to be told a thing.
Her mind made up, Brooke moved into the room. Sophia’s head jerked up at the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor.
‘Brooke!’ she exclaimed. ‘I…I thought you were sleeping.’
Brooke adopted what she hoped was a suitably wan expression. ‘I tried. But I have this dreadful headache.’
‘Oh, my dear. What a shame. Can I get you something? A tablet? A drink?’
‘No. I’m afraid they won’t help. It’s a PMT thing. My period’s due tomorrow.’ Which it was, she realised. Being on the pill, such things were very predictable. ‘Happens every month. Sometimes, when I get this back home, I go for a walk or a drive. For some reason that unwinds me and the headache goes away. Would you mind if I borrowed your car, Sophia? I promise to be careful and not to speed.’
‘Of course you can, dear. But where will you drive to?’
‘Oh…just around.’
‘Do you want me to go with you?’
‘No, no. I prefer to be by myself. Would you mind the children for me if they wake up before I return?’
‘Certainly.’
Five minutes later, Brooke was carefully negotiating the tight corners of the curving road which hugged the lake, only the prospect of leaving her children motherless stopping her from speeding.
She couldn’t get to Milan fast enough. She wanted to see the evidence of Leo’s betrayal for herself; wanted to see his car outside Francesca’s apartment block; wanted to storm inside and find them together.
In her mind’s eyes she saw herself tearing strips off Leo, shouting and screaming and doing all those hysterical things she hadn’t done during her last five lily-livered years!
The drive took well over an hour, with traffic building the closer she got to Milan. Brooke got a bit lost before finally turning into the wide, tree-lined street which housed Francesca’s apartment block.
Brooke had thought she was ready for the sight of Leo’s car parked in one of the visitors’ bays by the side of the building.
But she’d been wrong.
Her stomach cramped when her eyes landed on its distinctive make and colour, then heaved when the number-plate confirmed there was no mistake. She only just opened her own car door in time for her lunch to land in the gutter and not her lap. As it was, her dress became a little stained.
At last, she sank back against the leather seat, shaken and still shaking. All she could think of was that the man she loved… her husband…her Leo…was inside that building, inside Francesca’s apartment, in her bedroom, in her bed.
No use pretending he wasn’t. If his presence there was perfectly innocent, why lie about what he was doing today?
He’d probably been lying all week, Brooke accepted, nausea swirling again. He’d probably never been in the office at all. Or only minimally. That was why he’d left his mobile phone number with her, and not the office number.
Perversely, now that she had proof of his lies, her courage failed her. Suddenly she was afraid of what would happen if she did go inside and confront them both.
Because there would be no going back then: no pretending it was just a passing problem—or a passing passion; no turning that blind eye Giuseppe had perhaps wisely said was the only solution.
If she confronted them, her marriage would be over. Even if Leo didn’t want that—and Brooke believed that Leo would not want to hurt or lose his children—then pride would come into it.
Her pride.
It was one thing to go on living with a man you knew didn’t love you. Quite another to go on living with a man who knew you knew he didn’t love you. That would be beyond the pale. Totally unendurable.
But she could drive away now, go back to the villa and pretend she knew nothing. Then, if Leo took them back to Australia this Friday—confirming he’d made the decision to give up Francesca for the sake of his family—they might be able to go on as before. Because that would mean he did love her, in a way.
Who knew? Maybe his being with Francesca today was just a sex thing, a hangover from the past, an old, unrequited passion which he hadn’t been able to let go. Maybe he was doing exactly what his father said, getting the woman out of his system.
Much as it killed Brooke to think of Leo in the arms of another woman, it was better he take the creature to bed a few times then ask for a divorce.
The truth was she simply could not bear it if Leo divorced her. Brooke knew she would never love another man as she loved him. On top of that he was the father of her children. They adored him. Heavens, even her mother had grown to like him.
Better she swallow her pride and turn that blind eye. Better she ignore the pain, hide the overwhelming feelings of humiliation and pretend nothing had changed.
But oh, dear Lord, it was going to be hard…
Brooke swallowed, reached forward, and turned on the engine. Slowly, wretchedly, she turned the car and made her way back to Lake Como.
‘My dear, you look terrible!’ was Sophia’s first remark on her return. ‘And what’s that on your dress?’
‘I…I was sick,’ Brooke mumbled, feeling wretched and utterly exhausted. ‘Must be a migraine, not PMT.’
‘You poor thing. I know how terrible they are. I’ve suffered from migraines for years. You simply must go back to bed. And draw the curtains. I’ll bring you up some very good tablets the doctor prescribed for me. They’ll make you sleep, but that’s for the best. Now, don’t you worry about the children. Giuseppe has taken them out for a boat ride on the lake. Nina’s gone with them, so they’ll be quite safe.’
Brooke was having a battle not to cry. ‘You’re very kind,’ she choked out.
‘Not at all. Leonardo rang again. I didn’t tell him you were out driving. I said you had a headache and were having a sleep. I hope I did the right thing.’
Brooke met the woman’s worried eyes and wondered why they were both protecting Leo.
For the sake of the children, she supposed.
‘Yes, Sophia, you did the right thing,’ she said in a flat, dead voice.
‘Good. Now, upstairs with you and into a nice refreshing shower. I’ll put the tablets by your bed, along with a drink and something light for you to eat. It’s not good to take these tablets on an empty stomach. And don’t worry about anything. If you’re still asleep when Leo comes home, I’ll tell him not to disturb you.’
Now the tears came, and Sophia looked alarmed. ‘Are you sure it’s just a headache, Brooke? There’s nothing else wrong, is there?’
Brooke refused to add to the woman’s worry. She’d had enough on her plate lately. This was her problem and she would deal with it.
‘I think I’m a bit homesick,’ she said, not untruthfully.
Sophia nodded. ‘It’s time Leo took you home.’
Brooke just smiled sadly and turned to go upstairs. Her legs felt like lead, each step a mammoth effort. By the time she came out of the shower, two rather big white pills were sitting on the near bedside table, along with a glass of water. A small and very elegantly set out tray rested on the other table, with two tempting-looking sandwiches and a tall glass of iced milk.
Her mother-in-law’s sweet thoughtfulness brought another rush of tears. Brooke knew Sophia would be devastated if she and Leo broke up. So would Giuseppe. Brooke could not do it to them, or to her children, or to herself. She loved Leo. She would always love him, no matter what. Life without him was unimaginable!
Brooke fell asleep with tears still wet on her cheeks. But they had long dried when she woke many hours later to the sounds of someone in the en suite bathroom, in the shower.
Her errant husband, it seemed, had finally deigned to come home.
CHAPTER THREE
ODDLY, Brooke’s first reaction was fury, not distress.
The room was dark, she noted angrily. Leo must have turned the bedside lamp off when he came in.
She rolled over to check the luminous numbers on the bedside clock and saw it was twenty minutes past eleven. Not too late, so a wife wouldn’t be suspicious. Certainly not one as stupidly doting and one-eyed as herself!
With a bitter resentment in her heart, she rolled back onto her side, facing the far wall, curling her body up in a foetal position, glad she was wearing one of her more modest nighties.