The Proud Wife Read Online Free PDF Page B

condition had been one she was expecting so she felt a rush of relief that this was all it was.
    She meant it, she tried to tell herself. She really did. Bitter memories of the past put a depth of feeling into her response that must surely convince Pietro, even if she couldn’t convince herself. Once she had been so very happy to have Pietro’s name as her own. It was a name with a long-lived Sicilian history, the name of centuries of princes and princesses, hugely wealthy bankers who had a much more prestigious place in the world than her own ordinary middle-class family. She had been proud to have it as her surname, amazed at the deference and response that it brought with it, the speedy effect just mentioning it would create—an effect that Pietro treated with casual disdain.
    But most important to her had been that it was the name of the man she adored. And it should have been the name of her baby too. The cruel slash of pain that thought brought with it pushed her into unguarded speech.
    â€˜Why would I want to keep the name of the man whose marriage to me meant nothing to him?’
    To his lawyer’s right, she heard Pietro snatch in a sharp, angry-sounding breath from between clenched teeth. Her throat tightened, knotting itself against the lurching beat of her heart as she tensed, waiting for his furious response.But it never came. The look that Matteo flashed towards Pietro silenced whatever outburst had been about to escape his ruthless control and he subsided into silence again, merely indicating with a swift, impatient flick of his free hand that the lawyer should continue.
    But Marina couldn’t be unaware of the way that the other hand, the one still wrapped around his water glass, tightened against the hard surface until his knuckles showed white, revealing the fierce struggle he was having with himself to hold back the angry words that had almost escaped him.
    â€˜I will have no trouble with that particular condition,’ she managed stiffly, still keeping her eyes on Matteo’s calm, controlled face.
    â€˜Buon.’
    The silver pen made a small check-mark against the relevant paragraph in the document.
    â€˜Next, you will sign a confidentiality agreement, promising never to speak of your marriage, never to reveal anything of your life with Principe D’Inzeo, either during the time you were together or of the reasons why you split up.’
    â€˜I… What? ’
    Now she had to turn to Pietro; she couldn’t stop herself. She knew that her eyes were wide with anger and disbelief—and, yes, a savage degree of pain—when she turned them on the man who sat silent and immobile as a rock.
    â€˜You want me to sign…?’ she managed, but then the hurt got the better of her.
    How could he think that she would ever want the world to know the truth about their life together? That would mean letting everyone know about the way she had been so bitterly disillusioned. The baby…
    From nowhere came the thought that, if their baby had been born, it might have had the same pale, devastating eyes as its father and suddenly it felt as if the sides of the room were closing in on her, taking all the daylight with them, making it difficult to breathe.
    â€˜How dare you?’
    If she had thrown the words at the wall opposite, it could hardly have responded less. Pietro’s reaction was to narrow his eyes until they barely gleamed from behind the darkness of his lashes as he sat back in his chair, watching and waiting.
    â€˜I have my name to protect.’
    â€˜But you can’t really think that I would do anything to damage it?’
    When Pietro blinked slowly and eased his position in the chair, he looked like nothing so much as an indolent lion, lazily considering the question of whether it was worth the trouble of pouncing. There was enough controlled menace in his stare to make her reach for her water glass and snatch at a quick gulp of the drink so