Zandro crossed the big room and poured coffee into the cups, silently indicating the sugar and cream on the tray. He picked up his cup as she added sugar to hers. 'I would like to believe,' he said, straightening with his cup in his hand, 'that you have changed-a lot. Is that possible?.' 'What do you think?' she demanded witheringly. 'After losing Rico and having his baby snatched away, you supposed there'd be no change?'
Something flickered across his face, too fast for her to identify it. Chagrin, perhaps-surely not compassion.
Then the hint of expression vanished, replaced by an impenetrable mask. He seated himself opposite her. 'The fact is, you have no rights now. You agreed, and it was all legal and above-board.'
She had her cup clutched tightly in both hands. 'The result is the same.' Her jaw ached and she looked down into her coffee, trying not to snap back a retort that could only antagonise him. 'My information,' she said, 'is that a parent can rescind guardianship.''Are you prepared to bear the scrutiny of a court on your suitability to care for Nicky?'
'If you insist on taking it that far. I have nothing to hide.' A barefaced lie. Normally scrupulously honest, she told herself, not for the first time, that desperate situations demanded desperate measures.
Nothing?' He seemed incredulous, and again she experienced a nervous, dread uncertainty. He couldn't possibly have guessed her secret. His scepticism was based on what little he'd known of Lia months ago, after his brother's death.
If her desperate bluff failed she would go to court, tell the truth and throw every resource she could muster into the fight to beat the Brunellescis and take Dominic home where he belonged. A proper home where he'd be loved for himself, not what he represented to the future of a business empire. A home where love and understanding were more important than money, and success was measured by the quality of relationships and the satisfaction of a job well done, instead of company dividends. Where he'd be allowed to choose his career, rather than be indoctrinated with the idea that as a Brunellesci he was destined to be swallowed up by the corporate politics of the family's various holdings.
Zandro was staring intently at her. 'A solo mother,' he said, 'with...let's say dubious connections. And have you had a job since you left here?' he pressed.
'Yes.' No need to panic. She didn't have to answer his questions. Pre-empting the next one, she said, 'I don't have a lot of money, but I own a house.' Her parents had left it mortgage-free on their deaths. Just an ordinary three-bedroom bungalow in the suburbs of Auckland, but a house all the same. An asset. Of course she and Dominic couldn't stay there; she'd have to sell up, but she wasn't going to tell Zandro of her longterm plan. 'I can make a good life for Dominic. I'll give up everything to make sure of it.'
'And how long will this altruism last?'
'It isn't altruism. It's love. Maternal instinct.' Boldly she met his eyes.
He made an acid sound of disbelief.
She ignored it. 'I hoped you'd help make the changeover easy for him.'
He finished his coffee in one gulp and put down the cup, then sat back and folded his arms, seemingly thinking. 'He's happy here, he has everything he needs, and if you're the loving mother you're pretending to be you'll leave him.
Her heart gave a brief lurch, and she forced herself to breathe normally and stay silent.
'I propose that-to satisfy yourself he couldn't be better off-you visit him as many times as you like while you're here. And I hope you'll change your mind.'
How could she? He didn't begin to understand her compulsion. A mother's frantic need to rescue a child she felt she'd deserted was only half of it.
From The Bruellesci Bride by Daphne Clair® and TM are trademarks of the publisher.
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