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Di CESARE PREGNANT MISTRESS - Chapter 47
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CHAPTER FORTY SIX
After a couple of hours she pulled herself together and wandered aimlessly around the empty house, before picking out a room along the corridor from the master bedroom that had an en suite bathroom and an additional dressing room that she decided would make an ideal nursery for Stefano. She already had a few ideas about a soft blue colour scheme and a hand-painted border, but after another fruitless hour she gave up trying to sketch her plans.
Back in the kitchen, Battista looked unusually harassed and Stephanie immediately decided to postpone asking the housekeeper to help her move her belongings out of Alexander’s room until another day.
‘This rain is bad,’ Battista said worriedly, wringing her hands when Stephanie asked what was wrong. ‘Down in the valley the river is close to spilling out,’ she explained in her broken English. ‘If it does it will flood the village, and my daughter’s house is right in it’s path.’ The older woman wiped her eyes on her apron. ‘I’m scared for Carissa and the bambini. Carlo is only a few months old, and the little girls will be so frightened. Guido would go for them, but he has hurt his back and has to lie still.’ More tears slid down her wrinkled face, and Stephanie instinctively hugged her.
‘I’ll go and get your daughter and her family and bring them back here. The Villa Rosala is on a hill, and I imagine we’re safe from flooding here,’ she added as she stared out at the torrential rain. She prayed that Alexander had reached Florence safely. Maybe she would ring him later. And if Donata answered, well—her heart lurched at the thought—at least she would know why Alexander had driven off in such a hurry.
She pushed the familiar pang of jealousy to one side and smiled reassuringly at Battista, who was shaking her head.
‘You can’t go. Signor Di Cesare would never allow it.’
‘Well, he isn’t here, so he won’t know, will he? Please don’t worry. Battista. I’ll take Guido’s car, and I’ll be back with Carissa and the children in no time.’
Alexander stared blankly at his computer screen and realised that he had read the same paragraph of legal jargon three times. He seemed incapable of concentrating on the finer details of the exciting new business deal that he had spent months setting up and which he was now close to completing. Even worse, he couldn’t care less if the House of Di Cesare opened a new flagship store on the Avenue des Champs-Elysees in the heart of Paris.
He didn’t care about anything, he acknowledged heavily. At least he didn’t care about any of the things that had previously been important to him—predominantly work, the company, and his determination to atone for his father’s failure in the last year of his life and make the House of Di Cesare a world market leader. Under his leadership the company was already enjoying phenomenal success, but he felt weary and defeated—as if he had fallen into a deep well of despair and could not summon the energy to climb out.
In another few months his son would be born, he remainded himself. He would be a father to little Stefano, and he was determined to be a good father—like his father had been to him. But, unlike his father, he would never allow anyone to come between him and his son.
His child would be the important thing in his life. That was the reason he had married Stephanie—the only reason, he told himself fiercely. But as he got to his feet and stared out over the dark, rain-lashed city he knew he was lying to himself.
The knowledge that he had misjudged her was eating away at him. He had been wrong about her. He had leapt to conclusions based on his past rather than logical thought, and he had treated her so badly that it was little wonder she had spent the weeks running up to their wedding weeping and trying to avoid him.
Was there any possibility of salvaging their marriage? When he had driven to the Villa he had been cautiously optimistic that he would be able to make his peace with her, apologies for the way he had treated her and re-establish the tenuous friendship between them while they had been lovers. But that was before he’d discovered that she still dreamed about her ex-husband.
Why should he care Stephanie was still in love with Fabian Harper? he brooded as he paced the floor of his study and raked his hand through his hair until it stood on end. At least it negated any possibility that she might fall in love with him.
The knock on his study door dragged him from his bitter thoughts, and he forced a smile for his butler. ‘Salvatore, how are you? I am sorry to hear about your mother. Did all your family return to Sicily for the funeral?’
‘Si—it went well. My mother would have been pleased at the turn-out,’ Salvatore replied gravely. ‘Signor, I have not seen you since your trip to the US—I went back to Sicily before you returned—but…’ The butler hesitated, and then said, ‘There is something I must tell you.’