The storm passed, though it left an unease which both women worked at glossing over; Luc’s mother asking for Skye’s input on everything to do with the wedding, Skye saying she was happy to go along with whatever Flavia advised. At the end of the day, she and Luc would be married, and if what she agreed to won his parents’ blessing, that was what she had set out to achieve for him.
‘Skye will choose her own wedding dress,’ Luc insisted at one point, glowering at both of them.
His mother instantly agreed. ‘Of course, she must. She is the bride.’
The bride…
It was weird to be called that. Skye didn’t feel like a bride. Being a mother to Matt, living with Luc, having suffered through all they had to be together…a wedding like this felt very unreal to her. She had no guests to invite, no father to give her away. To her this whole plan was simply a process to ensure Luc would not lose anything by marrying her. But…maybe she would feel like a bride on her wedding day.
Matt came racing in ahead of his grandfather, full of exciting news. ‘Mummy, you should see. There’s a swimming pool and a tennis court and lots of flowers you’d like. Not just in pots.’
Maurizio Peretti strolled into the drawing room and Skye smiled at him, hoping he would share her pleasure in his grandson’s happy list of wonderful things. His gaze skated right past her to his wife who nodded, apparently in answer to some silent question. His mouth twitched into a grim little smile and the mocking look he turned to Skye—his first direct look at her—made her own smile falter and die.
‘I take it you’re happy with the wedding arrangements.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, though his attitude was swiftly giving her second thoughts.
‘I had no doubt you would be,’ he said with arrogant cynicism. ‘Having no family yourself, and seeing all we can offer here…’
The implication was so gross, Skye completely lost sight of the purpose that had brought her to this monstrous castle of money—blood money that had got rid of her and paid for Matt’s exclusion from their lives.
All the most negative emotions she’d ever had about the Perettis churned through her, driving her to her feet, Matt’s hand firmly grasped in hers. She heard her voice shaking with a fierce primitive passion that literally burst from her.
‘I do have family, Mr Peretti. I have my son. And believe me, I’m perfectly happy to take him away from everything you have here. I only came for Luc. Because I love him. I love him…’
Luc was suddenly beside her, his arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight, and to her intense mortification, a gush of tears welled into her eyes.
‘Maurizio, you have this wrong!’ his wife wailed, rushing forward to grab his arm to press her own belief, shaking it in her angst. ‘The cottage she lived in…she would not even take from Luciano!’
‘Mamma, you waste your breath.’ Luc growled. ‘I’m taking Skye home.’
‘No…no…’ In panicking protest, his mother whirled past her husband to block their way, flapping her hands in distress. ‘I don’t want you to go. Maurizio, this is not right. You must see it is not.’
It was a horribly painful situation.
Skye could feel Luc’s father glaring at her, hating the dissension she had brought to his household. Luc was holding her protectively. She was hanging on to Matt’s hand, savagely possessive of him in her own distress. Flavia Peretti made it impossible for Luc to manoeuvre all three of them past her.
The wretched impasse pulsed with enormous stress. Into the dreadfully fraught silence came Matt’s little boy voice, quavering with incomprehension and fright at what was going on around him, yet incredibly homing in on the heart of the problem.
‘Nonno…why don’t you love my Mummy?’
A hysterical bubble of laughter almost broke over the terrible lump in Skye’s throat. Love her? Luc’s father had hated her all along! It didn’t matter what she did, however many concessions she made…
‘Matt, we’re just going to take your mother home,’ Luc said firmly.
‘But, Daddy…’
‘I’ll explain later, Matt. We must leave now. Mamma, if you’ll just step aside…’
‘No!’ The emphatic command from Maurizio Peretti was followed up by his moving to stand by his wife, ensuring their departure was blocked. ‘The boy has a right to ask,’ he declared, challenging Luc before turning his gaze down to their son.
‘Dad…’ Luc threatening.
‘Matteo…the reason why I do not love your mother is because I do not know her. I have not taken the time to know her. And for that—’ he lifted his gaze directly to Skye ‘—I apologise.’
Silence.
The apology might have been wrung from him but it was hanging out there to be accepted, completely confusing Skye. Was it sincere or…or what? He had certainly spoken the truth. He did not know her.
‘You could get to know my Mummy now, Nonno,’ Matt reasoned in his innocence. ‘Daddy knows her real good and he loves her.’
‘Yes, he does,’ Maurizio Peretti conceded to Matt, then looked directly at Luc before adding. ‘I know he does.’
Skye had no idea what passed between the two men. Her vision was hopelessly blurred, but she could feel the tension of absolute war slightly easing.
‘Mummy likes flowers,’ Matt informed helpfully. ‘You could take her for a walk, Nonno, and show her your garden.’
‘That sounds like a very good idea, Matteo. Perhaps after lunch, your mother would agree to accompany me. And I can apologise more fully for not knowing her.’
Matt tugged on her dress. ‘Please don’t cry, Mummy. Nonno didn’t mean to upset you. He just didn’t know.’
Skye brushed the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand, still too choked up to speak.
Maurizio Peretti cleared his throat. ‘Skye…if I may call you that…’
‘It’s her name,’ Luc fiercely muttered.
‘Will you offer me…an olive branch…for the sake of those we love?’
It was why she had come.
Maybe the sentiment was genuine, maybe it wasn’t.
She still had to try.
In her hands was the power to build a family or destroy one.
She swallowed hard, sucked in a deep breath, lifted her head to hold it high, and said, ‘Yes, I will, Mr Peretti.’
‘Bravo!’ he murmured, and for the very first time, she saw a glint of admiration in Maurizio Peretti’s eyes.