9: In Which She is Danielle in the Lion’s Den

******************************************

“Are you going to be moving the entire gang into our neighbourhood?” a raspy voice asked from behind me.

I pushed open my front door, kicked my suitcase inside and readjusted Mickey on my hip before I turned around and fixed my nosy-old-hag of a neighbour, Mrs. Walters, with a puzzled stare. She was standing on my doorstep, nearly a foot shorter than me.

“What?” I immediately wanted to heave when the smell of wet feline wafted into my nostrils. Lillian Walters was the proverbial cat lady. On a good day, the sound of her fifteen tabbies purring and yowling next door could only be heard when I opened the living room windows.

She dug into her tatty, khaki shoulder bag and handed me a well-thumbed magazine. “I’m disappointed in you, Danielle. I thought you’d marry a nice, sensible young man.”

I snatched the mag from her, keeping it out of Mickey’s eager reach. There were a number of things that went through my mind at the sight of MOBSTER MARRIES HIS MAIDEN splashed across the celebrity section – like how the hell Glitz had managed to follow us to Naples – but my main concern was that if batty old Mrs. Walters had seen it, chances were that my family had, too. I dreaded checking my mobile.

“Don’t you have a life?” I asked venomously, nearly flinging the thing back at her.

“I beg your pardon?” Her watery eyes widened in disbelief.

I used my hand to block Mickey’s ears. “Get the fúck off my property. Clear enough for you?”

“I hope your mother’s proud of you, cursing like a sailor,” she muttered, slowly turning to shuffle off my porch.

I watched her go, breathing heavily. She had no idea how close I was to committing murder. A movement by my garage caught my eye and I instantly darted inside, slamming the door shut behind me.

“Mummy?” Mickey sounded concerned. His tiny fingers pulled at my hair in an attempt to get my attention.

I padded into the living room, still clutching him, and peeked through the window. The sight of what was obviously a trespassing paparazzo met my eyes. He was currently peeping into my Fiat. I was boiling with frustrated rage.

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay,” I said gently, juggling him on my hip uncomfortably. I brushed aside a lock of curly hair. “Mum’s going to take care of this.”

She’ll just have to suck up her bloody pride, I thought furiously.

Carlo had wanted me to stay at his penthouse and this had turned into an ugly argument when I’d refused point blank. He’d compromised by having Gav follow me home and again, like a complete loon, I’d said no. Well, I wasn’t going to dwell on my stupidity but how was I supposed to know that there’d be photographers sneaking through my gate?

“Mum’s going to take care of this.” Maybe if I kept mumbling this mantra enough, I’d believe it.

Mickey didn’t seem to believe it either. I knelt down and propped him up on the carpet, digging into my shoulder bag for his favourite teddy and handing it to him. He promptly began to make Teddy climb all over him.

“Think, Dani, think,” I whispered to myself, peeking through the curtains once more.

My driveway was empty now, save for the car. Gav popped up from the blue, noticed me, and nodded.

I dug into my pockets and pulled out my phone, punching in a number I really shouldn’t have known by heart.

He answered on the first ring.

“Is everything all right, bella?”

“No!” I hated it when my voice became high-pitched. “Everything is not all right and do you know why?”

He heaved out a breath. “Gavin just notified me of the unfortunate peeping Tom. He was disposed of.”

“And have you seen the papers?”

“One tabloid does not constitute as the papers,” Carlo replied calmly, his cool tone only succeeding in irking me.

“What am I supposed to do? Hide inside until they lose interest?”

“Perhaps if you’d listened to me – your husband – and accepted my reasonable offer of accommodation…”

That shut me up.

“Dani?”

“I’m thinking. Look, you might be used to this, but I’m not,” I said, biting my bottom lip.

“Gavin is parked outside. Should you wish to change your mind –”

“We both know I have.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, cara.”

I hung up just in time for the door to be barged open and for my brothers to burst inside in a highly unnecessary fashion. Any hope of dodging them until I made up an explanation for the paps and tabloids and my elopement was quickly extinguished.

“Dani!” Adam barked.

“Danielle!” Charlie seconded.

“In here,” I called back, resigned to my fate.

“There’s a skinhead outside who says he’s your bodyguard,” Charlie said in disbelief as Adam pushed past him and went to his nephew, who was eagerly raising his arms to be picked up and got exactly what he wanted.

“Do you want to give Dad a heart attack?”

“What possessed you, Dani?”

“Did he threaten you?”

“I’m gonna kill that cúnt!”

“We’re going to kill him.”

“Would you both shut up?” I screeched, silencing them. I took a step back. “Did one of you eat garlic?”

They raised their brows.

“I had some garlic bread, yeah,” said Charlie. He shook his head. “Nice try at changing the subject, sis. We’re not gonna –”

“You reek,” I groaned, and pushed past them, dashing up the stairs until I got to my bathroom.

I knelt before the toilet bowl and promptly upchucked the last of Ana’s meals.

“You okay?”

I looked up, angrier than anything. “You and Adam can stop worrying about me and get the hell out,” I spat, shakily getting to my feet.

Charlie folded his arms across his chest, the sleeves of his T-shirt straining. “Nice rock,” he remarked, his eyes zoning in on my finger. “Did he pay for that with drug money or prostitution cash?”

“Go away and stop talking.” I bent over the sink and splashed my face with cold water before grabbing a spare toothbrush and running it over my teeth. It wasn’t enough. I needed Listerine.

“You wish. Dani, you might be older than me by – what? – two minutes, but I’m not going to stop looking out for you. I don’t know what Donafrio has on you but –”

“He’s the best shag I’ve ever had,” I interjected, only because I wanted to get rid of my brother. I spun around just in time to catch the look of derision on Charlie’s face. “That’s right, Charlie. I’ve slept with him. And let me tell you, once you’ve had a taste of Italian sausage, you can never go back to English rashers.”

Charlie looked as nauseous as I felt.

“Are you okay, Charlie love? You look a bit pale.”

“This isn’t over,” he said through clenched teeth.

My stomach lurched. “I’ll walk you out.”

***

“Just tell them to get the hell out, Meg.” I paused, waiting for her whining in my ear to end. “Yes, yes, I know you can’t physically force them to leave but you can call the police.” Pause. “Two words: No comment. I know, I know, and I’m sorry.” Pause. “Maybe tomorrow. Depending on how I feel. No, it’s not serious. Just a bug, I think. No, I haven’t been kidnapped. Look, I’ve got to go. Thank you so much.”

I switched my mobile off as soon as the call ended. My brothers had left me a dozen messages, my parents had left me four each, and Jules and another handful of girlfriends had left me hundreds. Apparently, eloping was just plain rude.

Megan, on the other hand, was frantically trying to keep reporters out of the café and while I sympathised, I couldn’t be bothered to worry about that right now. I had far too much to deal with.

“He’s asleep.”

Carlo’s deep voice startled me and I pivoted to meet his eye. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his hands in the pockets of his black basketball shorts, looking completely edible. I rarely saw him out of his suits – unless he was naked, which, when I thought about it, was most of the time – and I decided I preferred him less imposing. I could imagine Mickey nuzzling into Carlo’s bare chest just as easily as I could imagine myself in his arms.

Stop that, you weak little slag.

What’s the matter? He is my husband. I have every right to perve over him.

Yes, and probably fall for him in the process like an idiot.

“That was fast,” I told him, secretly disappointed because Mickey had kept me occupied and now, fast asleep, had left me alone with his father.

My inner voice was right. Back in Italy, I could pretend that everything was normal, that we were just an average couple on holiday, but in reality, there was nothing normal about holidaying with my sperm donor who just happened to be under investigation for murder, among other things.

“I’m good with kids,” Carlo said offhandedly, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.

Just like that, I was claustrophobic. It was ridiculous, as Carlo’s massive bedroom was far from being a confined space. Like him, it was fascinating – the walls were a stark-white, wacky paintings providing a break from the neutral colour, a chandelier casting the most intense light hung from above the king-sized four-poster, and ridiculously plush garnet-coloured carpet running beneath my bare feet. This was my first time in Carlo’s penthouse and it was blatantly obvious that this bachelor pad wasn’t child-friendly. There was far too much glass and expensive things.

“I won’t be able to deal with people following me around, asking about you,” I said quietly, taking a step back and nearly tripping over my newly-packed suitcase. “When do you think it’s going to stop?”

A shadow crossed his face. “No one is going to follow you, bella mia. No one is going to interrupt your life.”

“You’re not God.”

“Sì, but that doesn’t mean I can’t protect you.”

I hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten until he tipped my chin upwards. “Are you okay?” he queried, his eyes searching mine.

“How can I be? I want to go home but I can’t because I’m being stalked. I want to get back to work but I can’t because I’m being stalked. I want to –”

His lips met mine and the rest of my complaint died in my throat. I didn’t get how he could do that – make me forget what was important; make me think he was the only thing that mattered at that particular moment. It boggled the mind.

His hands gripped the back of my head, his fingers threading my hair. He tasted of…garlic.

I pulled back, breathing heavily. “I can’t.”

Carlo’s eyes went skyward. “What is it?” His probing gaze returned to me. “Do you know what that ring on your finger means?”

I knew that I was always going to reflexively look at my ring whenever anyone mentioned it. I did right then.

“It means that you’re mine, Dani cara. All mine.”

“It’s not that,” I breathed, and I dove past him and all but ran into the bathroom. I didn’t bother to close the door but this time, the queasiness didn’t give way to a retching spell.

I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. With Mickey, it had been cinnamon. This time, it was garlic. I could smell it everywhere, even now, in the bathroom where the stench of garlic couldn’t possibly linger.

I bet you’re having a right laugh, God. I wish I could share the joke.

“Something I said?” Carlo’s sarcastic voice came from behind me.

“More like something you did,” I muttered under my breath, counting to ten again in my head. “Something you did again and again and again.”

***

“Fifteen pregnancy tests, Danielle. These are the things I do for you,” Jules said for the tenth time that morning, finally removing her oversized sunglasses and propping them on her head. “The girl at the counter probably thought I was a loon. Why don’t you just go to your doctor if you want to be especially sure?”

I shook my head emphatically. “I can’t. What if she tells?” Although Dr. Gordon had delivered Mickey ad knew the truth about his conception, there was no way in hell I’d go to her clinic during this time. My pregnancy hitting the gossip columns would be the icing on the cake and I’d never be able to live it down, not to mention the flak I’d receive from my family.

Still, Jules had accepted my request to go to the pharmacy on my behalf and had, for the past three hours, waited for each and every test to show me just how much I despised the colour pink.

“Ever heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?” Jules said practically, leaning back into the sofa. “Shìt, what is this? Velvet?” She ran her hands along the armrest. “Sure as hell feels like it!”

I’d lost count of how many times I’d rolled my eyes at Jules’ childlike amazement at everything in Carlo’s house. Jules was supposed to be sophisticated, at least that was the image she painted for the outside world. Deep inside, she was still that girl from Bradford with a dream and the gift of the gab.

“Jules, focus, please?” I tightened my gown around me, feeling as gross as I probably looked. The only real thing I was grateful for was that my stomach had stopped acting up and that Mickey was taking a nap in the next room. “I can’t do this again. I’m not ready and this is the worst possible time, worst possible man.”

“Oh, come off it, Dani,” Jules said, giving me a look. “That worst possible man is now your husband. I know I was doubtful about you and…Carlo Donafrio at the beginning, but don’t you think it’s Fate having a laugh at you? Think about it: Mickey and this baby will have the same father. I should’ve been invited to the wedding.”

Fate wasn’t funny, if that was the case. My hands automatically went to my stomach.

“Carlo’s baby,” I whispered, testing the words on my lips. I tasted bile. “Do I tell him?”

“Why the hell not? You’re married and he obviously likes kids.”

But I could think of a dozen reasons not to. For starters, I hadn’t planned any of this. I hadn’t planned to fall for Carlo, I hadn’t planned to marry him, I hadn’t planned on moving in with him, and I sure as hell hadn’t planned on getting pregnant with his second child. There were many problems with it.

Hadn’t planned to fall for Carlo? my inner voice repeated incredulously. What are you thinking?

Panicked, I jumped to my feet. “You should go.”

“What, you’re not allowed to have any visitors?” she asked, not budging an inch. She shot me a sober look. “Dani, you’d tell me if this was something sinister, right? You’d tell me if you’re here against your will?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” I hissed. “I just don’t want him to find you here and don’t look at me like that. I had to prod Gav into letting you in. Apparently security is a big issue here.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Just…don’t ignore my calls again, you bìtch.”

I smiled. “I won’t.”

“Oh, before I forget – Charlie and Adam are livid. Charlie’s exact words, I believe, were I’m not afraid of no immigrant,” said Jules. “Very PC, your brother. And his grammar’s the best.”

“Charlie’s never been politically correct,” I muttered in disgust. “Would you tell him to calm down? He’s making a big deal out of nothing. Besides, Carlo can kick his arse in his sleep.”

“What do you expect, Dani? No one knew you and Donafrio were dating, let alone that you’d eloped. Then it hits the papers and we all look like the biggest fools.”

“We didn’t elope. It just…happened.”

“I’m not judging you, okay? I’m being a friend. You have to think practically – for Mickey’s sake and now for this baby’s.”

I swallowed. “Goodbye, Jules.”

After seeing her to the door, I checked on my son then took the longest shower ever. By the time I got out the bathroom, it was lunchtime and, feeling slightly refreshed, I went into Carlo’s wardrobe and rooted inside until I found an old football T-shirt. His cologne – which I’d long ago identified as Guess – crept into my nostrils and I breathed it in with a sigh of shameless pleasure.

“My, my, my, Signora Donafrio. I didn’t know you were a Red Devil,” came a voice from behind me. “Then again, that’s exactly what you are – a devil.”

I bit back a scream when I spun around and saw who it was. Even if I hadn’t seen him, I would’ve recognised that heavily sardonic voice.

“Get the hell out.”

“You look well,” Angelo commented, his eyes raking over me. “Then again, money and a tan will do that to a person.”

“I’ll scream,” I told him. “I’ll scream and Carlo’s guards will come in.”

“I’m family, you puttana.” He kicked the door closed behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet penthouse. “You know, I have to congratulate you. You’re not Carlo’s type – not even close – yet you managed to get him down the aisle. What’d you do, promise unlimited access to your bastard son?”

Anger seized me. “Listen, you dìckhead, the next thing that comes out that filthy mouth of yours should be an apology, or so help me, I will kill you,” I hissed, balling my hands into fists.

“You wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t been stupid enough to go looking for you, bìtch,” Angelo snapped in response, approaching me. I stood my ground. “You wanna know something incredibly hilarious?” he snarled. “The hospital actually contacted Carlo about his magical sperm. Asked if they could use it. I was dumb enough to say yeah, sure, why the hell not? Make an inadequate woman happy. What kind of incompetent hospital doesn’t confirm who they’re speaking to?” His brow furrowed. “My cousin’s going to be in for a huge motherfúcking shock when that hospital argues that he let them use his cum. Funny, huh?”

“You’re mental. And pathetic. Don’t you have a life?”

Angelo scowled at me. He was so close I could see the vein in his forehead pulsing. “You just don’t get it, you thick wh0re! I was next in line. I was going to be rich. And now where’s all the money gonna go when Carlo croaks? I’ll tell you – your precious little bastard son!”

“I…I don’t know what to say…”

“Then don’t say anything!”

“You didn’t let me finish, you sick fúck,” I said through gritted teeth, stepping toward him until we were practically eye level. “I don’t know what to say, except that if you ever think of harming my precious little