Marriage In Peril. Miranda LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
he was in for a shock, wasn’t he? In about an hour she would be arriving at Francesca’s door, and there would be hell to pay!
If by some remote possibility Giuseppe was right, and Leo wasn’t with Francesca, if it proved his car was parked safely in the Milan head office car park, and not where she suspected it would be, then she would simply turn round and drive home.
But some inner female instinct told her Leo wasn’t going to be at the office, just as his mother knew. Women knew about such things, provided they opened their stupid eyes and saw the signs.
‘Well, my eyes are well and truly open now, Leo,’ Brooke seethed aloud. ‘And God help you!’
With cold fury in her heart, Brooke set about brushing her hair and applying some lipstick before going downstairs in search of Leo’s mother.
She found her in one of the large sitting rooms, ostensibly reading a magazine. But her grey head was bowed in a weary fashion, her normally proud shoulders slumped in an attitude of great sadness.
Brooke’s heart squeezed tight. She liked her mother-in-law a lot. Sophia was a warm, generous-hearted woman who’d welcomed her into her home and her heart without question. How wretched she must be feeling, with one son dead and the other involved in a potentially disastrous affair.
Protecting Sophia from unnecessary distress became an instant priority with Brooke, her inner fury temporarily pushed to one side. She was still determined to go and find Leo, but whatever happened after that would be between them and them alone. Sophia was not to be told a thing.
Her mind made up, Brooke moved into the room. Sophia’s head jerked up at the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor.
‘Brooke!’ she exclaimed. ‘I…I thought you were sleeping.’
Brooke adopted what she hoped was a suitably wan expression. ‘I tried. But I have this dreadful headache.’
‘Oh, my dear. What a shame. Can I get you something? A tablet? A drink?’
‘No. I’m afraid they won’t help. It’s a PMT thing. My period’s due tomorrow.’ Which it was, she realised. Being on the pill, such things were very predictable. ‘Happens every month. Sometimes, when I get this back home, I go for a walk or a drive. For some reason that unwinds me and the headache goes away. Would you mind if I borrowed your car, Sophia? I promise to be careful and not to speed.’
‘Of course you can, dear. But where will you drive to?’
‘Oh…just around.’
‘Do you want me to go with you?’
‘No, no. I prefer to be by myself. Would you mind the children for me if they wake up before I return?’
‘Certainly.’
Five minutes later, Brooke was carefully negotiating the tight corners of the curving road which hugged the lake, only the prospect of leaving her children motherless stopping her from speeding.
She couldn’t get to Milan fast enough. She wanted to see the evidence of Leo’s betrayal for herself; wanted to see his car outside Francesca’s apartment block; wanted to storm inside and find them together.
In her mind’s eyes she saw herself tearing strips off Leo, shouting and screaming and doing all those hysterical things she hadn’t done during her last five lily-livered years!
The drive took well over an hour, with traffic building the closer she got to Milan. Brooke got a bit lost before finally turning into the wide, tree-lined street which housed Francesca’s apartment block.
Brooke had thought she was ready for the sight of Leo’s car parked in one of the visitors’ bays by the side of the building.
But she’d been wrong.
Her stomach cramped when her eyes landed on its distinctive make and colour, then heaved when the number-plate confirmed there was no mistake. She only just opened her own car door in time for her lunch to land in the gutter and not her lap. As it was, her dress became a little stained.
At last, she sank back against the leather seat, shaken and still shaking. All she could think of was that the man she loved… her husband…her Leo…was inside that building, inside Francesca’s apartment, in her bedroom, in her bed.
No use pretending he wasn’t. If his presence there was perfectly innocent, why lie about what he was doing today?
He’d probably been lying all week, Brooke accepted, nausea swirling again. He’d probably never been in the office at all. Or only minimally. That was why he’d left his mobile phone number with her, and not the office number.
Perversely, now that she had proof of his lies, her courage failed her. Suddenly she was afraid of what would happen if she did go inside and confront them both.
Because there would be no going back then: no pretending it was just a passing problem—or a passing passion; no turning that blind eye Giuseppe had perhaps wisely said was the only solution.
If she confronted them, her marriage would be over. Even if Leo didn’t want that—and Brooke believed that Leo would not want to hurt or lose his children—then pride would come into it.
Her pride.
It was one thing to go on living with a man you knew didn’t love you. Quite another to go on living with a man who knew you knew he didn’t love you. That would be beyond the pale. Totally unendurable.
But she could drive away now, go back to the villa and pretend she knew nothing. Then, if Leo took them back to Australia this Friday—confirming he’d made the decision to give up Francesca for the sake of his family—they might be able to go on as before. Because that would mean he did love her, in a way.
Who knew? Maybe his being with Francesca today was just a sex thing, a hangover from the past, an old, unrequited passion which he hadn’t been able to let go. Maybe he was doing exactly what his father said, getting the woman out of his system.
Much as it killed Brooke to think of Leo in the arms of another woman, it was better he take the creature to bed a few times then ask for a divorce.
The truth was she simply could not bear it if Leo divorced her. Brooke knew she would never love another man as she loved him. On top of that he was the father of her children. They adored him. Heavens, even her mother had grown to like him.
Better she swallow her pride and turn that blind eye. Better she ignore the pain, hide the overwhelming feelings of humiliation and pretend nothing had changed.
But oh, dear Lord, it was going to be hard…
Brooke swallowed, reached forward, and turned on the engine. Slowly, wretchedly, she turned the car and made her way back to Lake Como.
‘My dear, you look terrible!’ was Sophia’s first remark on her return. ‘And what’s that on your dress?’
‘I…I was sick,’ Brooke mumbled, feeling wretched and utterly exhausted. ‘Must be a migraine, not PMT.’
‘You poor thing. I know how terrible they are. I’ve suffered from migraines for years. You simply must go back to bed. And draw the curtains. I’ll bring you up some very good tablets the doctor prescribed for me. They’ll make you sleep, but that’s for the best. Now, don’t you worry about the children. Giuseppe has taken them out for a boat ride on the lake. Nina’s gone with them, so they’ll be quite safe.’
Brooke was having a battle not to cry. ‘You’re very kind,’ she choked out.
‘Not at all. Leonardo rang again. I didn’t tell him you were out driving. I said you had a headache and were having a sleep. I hope I did the right thing.’
Brooke met the woman’s worried eyes and wondered why they were both protecting Leo.
For the sake of the children, she supposed.
‘Yes, Sophia, you did the