The Italian Marriage

‘No!’ Gemma looked over at her mother, horrified by the words. ‘There is no custody battle, Mum. Marcus is trying his luck, that’s all. He won’t dare go to court because he knows he’ll lose.’

Her mother didn’t look convinced. ‘Marcus has never struck me as a man afraid of losing,’ she said curtly.

The words were not what Gemma needed to hear. She was desperately trying to convince herself that this problem with Marcus would sort itself out, that he would change his mind before things started to get nasty.

‘What’s in the letter?’ her mother asked now.

‘It’s from the letting agency, informing me that the landlord is putting this house up for sale. They’ve invited me to make an offer, as he will give me first refusal, apparently.’

‘Would you be able to afford it?’

‘They haven’t said how much he wants for it, but I doubt it. The houses in this square are going for a fortune these days.’

‘I suppose you’ve done well getting it for such a low rent for all these years. I don’t know how you’ve managed it. Your friend Jane is paying twice as much for her small flat.’

‘Yes, I suppose it was too good to last.’ Gemma had thought her luck was really in when she had found this place. It was a large Georgian house close to her publishing job in the heart of London and within walking distance of her mother’s house. Fully furnished with the most exquisite antiques, there was even a large office where she could work. The rent had been preposterously low but apparently the landlord’s main concern was to have a good tenant who would look after the property, as it had once been his mother’s home. ‘I thought he might bump up the rent one day but somehow I didn’t expect him to sell,’ Gemma reflected sadly.

She watched as her mother lifted the letter and shook her head in dismay. ‘Maybe you could ask Marcus for some help to buy the place,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘I’m sure he would—’

‘No, Mum.’ Gemma turned and opened the kitchen door to call up the stairs to Liam. ‘Liam, your nana is here to take you to nursery.’

‘A house like this would be nothing to a man of Marcus’s wealth and he is always offering you financial assistance,’ her mother continued determinedly as if Gemma had said nothing. ‘I don’t know why you keep turning him down. You’re so damn stubborn sometimes—’

‘Mum, I am not going to ask Marcus for help.’ Gemma put on the jacket of her smart black business suit and checked her keys were in her bag. She was running late and she had a stressful day at work ahead of her: she didn’t want to think about Marcus, let alone talk about him. ‘He’s the man who wants to take Liam away from me, remember? The last thing I’ll do is go to him cap in hand.’

‘It doesn’t need to be like that. Marcus is a decent enough man, and I’m sure—’

‘You can’t be sure of anything where Marcus is concerned. And I don’t need his help. I’ll manage,’ Gemma said positively before going out into the hall to call upstairs again. ‘Liam, Mummy will be late for work.’

Joanne Hampton followed her daughter out into the hall. ‘How will you manage?’ she persisted. ‘The cost of living in London is going through the roof, Gemma. You have to be practical. It’s hard being a single parent.’

‘I’ve got a good job, Mum,’ Gemma reminded her patiently. ‘And I’m in line for promotion again. If I get this new job, who knows, maybe I will be able to put in a bid for this house.’ As she spoke she swallowed down nervous anticipation. She did have a good job and her career had been going from strength to strength over these last few years. She had worked her way through the various editorial departments of Modern Times, a glossy monthly magazine, and had been made deputy editor last year. Now she was up for consideration for editor because Susan Kershaw, the present editor, was leaving.

Everyone said she stood a very good chance of getting the top job. She was talented and she was driven. Even Gemma was quite confident that she could outperform the competition. Circulation of the magazine was up and she had more than proven herself over the last year. In fact, she had been feeling quite relaxed about the whole thing until rumours of a take-over bid for the magazine had started a few weeks ago. And suddenly her rosy picture for the future had developed a few disturbing black clouds.

No one was certain who had made the take-over bid, but if it was successful there might be redundancies. The first to go would be the top jobs, as the new company were likely to want to put their own key people in.

But even if she lost her job she would walk into another one, she told herself confidently. She had a great CV.

All right, maybe she wouldn’t earn enough to buy a house as beautiful and in such a good area as this, but she could afford to rent something decent around here. And as long as she maintained her independence and a nice way of life for Liam, that was all that mattered.

Gemma glanced towards the stairs again. ‘Liam, I’m going to come up in a minute,’ she warned.

‘What’s he doing up there?’ her mother asked.

‘Playing with a train set Marcus bought for him last week. The tracks are all the way around his bed.’

Joanne smiled. ‘He’s a good man. Gemma, why don’t you go out for dinner with him tomorrow night. I’ve been thinking about it and the pair of you should sit down and talk about Liam’s future, work this custody matter out. I’ll babysit for you.’

‘There’s nothing to work out,’ Gemma insisted. Marcus had rung several times that week and had left messages on her machine, but she hadn’t called him back and she wasn’t going to. ‘Marcus has my answer and that’s the end of it.’

‘Nevertheless, you need to talk to him about it, soften your attitude.’

‘Soften my attitude!’ Gemma looked at her mother in consternation. ‘If I do that he’ll walk away with my son, and that will be that.’

‘Marcus is a reasonable man. I’m sure you can come to some compromise.’

‘Not over this.’ Gemma shook her head firmly. She wished her mother wouldn’t always talk so positively about Marcus. She never tried to hide the fact that she thought he was wonderful and at every opportunity she thrust the fact at Gemma. Over the years Gemma had got used to it and accepted it. But given the circumstances, the fact that Marcus wanted to take Liam away, she would have thought her mother might be seeing things a little more from her side at the moment. It was disturbing that she wasn’t—hurtful, even.

‘Do you think Liam is right and Marcus is getting married?’ her mother asked suddenly. ‘Maybe he’s settling down with that Italian girl. What’s she called? Sophia? Maybe that’s why he’s moving back there.’

‘Maybe.’ That thought had already tormented Gemma through several long sleepless nights. ‘But, whatever the reason, he is not having Liam.’

Gemma was relieved when Liam appeared at the top of the stairs, bringing the conversation to a close.

As he hurried down to stand beside them, Gemma noticed he looked a little flushed. ‘Are you okay, darling?’ she asked, bending to put one hand on his forehead.

His skin felt clammy under the coolness of her hand. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

‘I’m okay.’ Liam shrugged.

‘He’s probably been racing around after that train,’ his grandmother said with a laugh.

‘I’ve built tunnels under the bed and a big loop by the bathroom door,’ Liam said with a grin. ‘Come and look, Nana.’

‘Maybe later.’ Joanne smiled. ‘We have to go now. Otherwise, Mummy will be late for work and I’ll be late for my bridge club.’

Thank heavens Liam hadn’t been ill this morning, Gemma thought, as she sat at her desk half an hour later and dealt with a mountain of paperwork. If she’d had to have today off it could have been disastrous. The office was chaotic and a lot of the top executives were huddled together in the boardroom, giving a sense of urgency to everything.

‘They’re calling a meeting later.’ Richard Barry, the new features editor of the magazine, paused by her desk on the way to get himself a coffee. ‘Looks like the take-over is going through after all.’

Gemma felt slightly ill at those words. If that was the case, it was likely that all her hard work for the job of editor wouldn’t pay off.

‘Hey, don’t look so worried.’ Richard perched on the edge of her desk for a moment. ‘You are one of the most talented editors I’ve ever worked with, you’ll get your job.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Richard, but I doubt it.’ She smiled up at him. Richard was an attractive man and he had become a close personal friend over the last couple of months. She really liked him. Liked him more, perhaps, than any other man she had met in the last few years.

‘Shall I get you a coffee from the machine to cheer you up?’ he asked now.

Gemma laughed at that. The coffee from the machine was so bad that it had become a standing office joke. It was said that anyone who wanted to end it all only had to overindulge by a few cups to achieve their aim. ‘Go on, then. I’ll live dangerously, thanks.’

As Richard left her office she watched him through the glass walls of her office. She had one of the few private offices on the floor but her door was always open and the glass walls made her feel part of what was going on out in the main body. Now she noticed there was a stir up by the reception area, and as she glanced over she saw with a shock that Marcus Rossini had just stepped out of the lift.

The nerve of the man, she thought furiously. How dared he come to confront her at work? She watched with a small gleam of satisfaction, knowing that if he didn’t have an appointment, Clare, the receptionist, would not let him in without gaining clearance from her first…clearance she had no intention of giving. Marcus could get lost.

She waited for the phone on her desk to ring, but instead, a few minutes later, Gemma watched incredulously as Marcus strode on in through the office in the direction of her desk. What the hell had he said to Clare? she wondered. Probably turned on that fabulous Italian charm of his, or maybe he had merely smiled. She noticed the effect he was having on the other women out in the office as he walked past them: they were all looking at him with ill-disguised appreciation. It was always the same, Gemma thought with annoyance, women just fell at Marcus’s feet. But not her, she thought grimly. She was older and wiser now and knew the dangers of that particular pitfall.

She had to admit, though, he did look good. The dark business suit did incredible things for an already very desirable physique. Annoyed with herself for allowing that thought to cross her mind, she glared at him as he strolled nonchalantly into her office.