Bride By Choice

He led her back inside. ‘Perhaps you should change?’ he suggested.

Most of her clothes were packed up in suitcases, ready for the honeymoon, but she found a pair of jeans and a sweater and took them into the bathroom. When she emerged Lorenzo had poured her a coffee and set out some sandwiches. She recalled her mother, whose solution to all problems was food, and realised, with a sense of shock, that Lorenzo was caring for her in the same way.

She took some of the sandwiches he pressed on her, and drank the black coffee, heavily sweetened, because somehow this new Lorenzo understood that she was in a state of shock even greater than his own.

‘Aren’t you having some too?’ she asked.

‘No, I don’t need it.’

He would get drunk later.

She wondered what was happening downstairs where a multitude of guests must be fed and, more difficult, given some sort of explanation. The enormity of what she’d done suddenly hit her like a hammer.

‘Oh, my God!’ she said, sitting down on the bed suddenly.

‘What is it?’ He sat beside her.

‘All those people down there-all that food-the wedding cake-’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said lightly. ‘We’ve done this before.’

‘How can you make a joke of it?’

‘It’s better than weeping.’ But then the attempted humour fell from his face, and she caught a glimpse of the reality, an emotional man hurt to the heart and near breaking point.

‘How would you like me to act, Helen? Like your version of a Sicilian male, wield a knife, threaten blood vengeance on you and your family to the third generation? That’s what we do, isn’t it?’ A bitter mockery of her and her prejudices underlay the calm tone. ‘And you know what?’ he went on wryly, ‘Part of me would like to do all those things. But it’s not my style, and I don’t think I could carry it off.’

If only she could comfort his pain, but she’d forfeited that right forever. She could do nothing but watch him suffer.

‘So,’ he said at last, ‘what are we going to do?’

‘The sooner I leave Sicily the better.’

‘No. The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that you mustn’t return to New York.’

‘I can’t stay here.’

‘That’s exactly what you ought to do. Why should you run away as though you’d done something wrong, when we both know that you haven’t?’ He’d fixed his gaze at somewhere just over her left shoulder. ‘If you go back, can you imagine what your life will be like-your mother and father, that great oaf, making your life a misery?’

‘I shall have my job.’

‘Of sorts. Elroys won’t be pleased at you running out on the task they’ve given you here. You’ll be relegated to the backwaters. Stay at this job for a couple of years, make a success of it, then go back in triumph. But if you return now-it makes my blood run cold to think of you exposed to Giorgio’s vindictiveness when I’m not there to-’ He broke off.

‘To protect me? Say it.’

‘It doesn’t matter. You know I’m right. I made things go wrong for you. Let me help to put them straight again. You needn’t be afraid of my troubling you. All that is at an end between us. But there can still be a kind of friendship.’

‘After this?’

‘Why not? Heather and I became brother and sister. You and I had a good friendship. We should have treasured it for what it was, and not tried to overload it. Let me help you. Please, Helen.’

He was right. The thought of going home wasn’t pleasant, but it had never occurred to her that she could remain here. Whichever way she looked the future seemed to be a blank.

‘If only I knew what to do,’ she said desperately.

‘But I know. You should heed your friend’s advice.’ He took her hands between his and she felt the warmth and strength from him flowing into her.

‘I’ll drive you to Palermo now,’ he said, ‘and you can move into the hotel. We’ll leave here by the back way so that you won’t have to see anyone. Just take an overnight bag and I’ll send your luggage on later. Leave all the explaining to me. And don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.’

Helen’s office in the Elroy-Palermo was spacious, richly furnished with antiques, and only slightly less grandiose than Axel Roderick’s. From the start she had a lot of power since he’d recognised her flair and was eager for her to use it, as long as he looked good.

The renovations were proceeding fast and it would soon be time for the grand opening. She was working an eighteen-hour day now, thankful that she had her own room in the hotel, and even more thankful that work left her no time to think.

‘By the way,’ Axel said to her one morning, ‘it seems that your Martelli connections are going to benefit us, even if you didn’t marry one of them. Well done for putting the company first.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Didn’t you negotiate the Martelli contract?’

‘I don’t interfere with the running of individual departments.’

‘Sure, sure, that’s the story. But why are they giving us rock bottom prices and their very best produce if not for you, eh? Well done! Keep it up.’

He was convinced and there was no persuading him otherwise. And, since Helen could hardly complain to Martellis that their prices were too low, she was forced to accept the situation.

Nobody could get to see her without an appointment, but she made an exception when her secretary announced that Signora Heather Martelli had arrived. It was two months since the aborted wedding and the first time she’d spoken to Heather since, and she wondered what they could possibly say. But Heather had brought her baby, and in exclaiming over him the ice was broken.

‘Did you hear about Angie’s baby?’ Heather asked as Angie cradled little Vittorio.

‘Yes, it was in the newspaper. Is Bernardo disappointed that it’s a girl?’

‘You must be kidding. He’s over the moon. His little piccina has only to gurgle and he turns to jelly.’

‘Bernardo?’

Heather chuckled. ‘Yes, even Bernardo. It’s amazing what happiness can do to a man. You should see my Renato, always sneaking a few minutes off work to come and “see that Vittorio is all right”. And when he and Bernardo get together they swap baby stories. It’s helped to bring Bernardo into the heart of the family. He’s even going to take the Martelli name. That makes Baptista so happy.’

She paused a moment before adding, ‘Something else made her happy too, that letter you wrote her.’

‘I had to write after slipping out like that without seeing her-I shouldn’t have done it-’

‘No, Lorenzo explained that he’d persuaded you, and Baptista said he was right. She was glad when I told her I was coming to visit you. We’ve worried about you, stranded alone here. We hoped you’d come back to see us.’

‘How could I-after everything-?’

‘You needn’t worry about Lorenzo. He’s in Spain.’

Helen found something to do on her desk. ‘How is he?’

‘Making a big success. He’s a great salesman.’

Helen nodded. ‘Yes, once he gets talking he can sell anything to anybody,’ she murmured wryly.

‘But sometimes he leaves important things out,’ Heather said. Her eyes were gentle.

Helen nodded, uncertain how much it would be wise to say.

‘He told me why you broke it off. If only he’d explained everything to you long ago this could all have been avoided. Helen, you must believe me, Lorenzo and I were never really in love. We fancied we were for a time, but we’d never have got engaged if Renato hadn’t pushed us into it. One of them had to marry and provide a Martelli heir, and he didn’t want to bother. So, having met me and looked me over, he decided that I was suitable, and more or less ordered Lorenzo to propose.’

‘And he did?’

‘Lorenzo was different in those days. More of a boy, not the man he’s become now. He looked up to Renato as the head of the family, and, as I say, we were briefly infatuated; enough to think it might work. So I came here to