Best Laid Plans (18 page)

He lifted his weight from her and did as she’d asked. Frankie sat up, straddled him and pressed her palms to his chest. “What happened with you today?”

“Aren’t you tired, sweetheart?”

“Stop trying to distract me!” she demanded. “Something went on, your head’s somewhere else. Talk to me.”

He gave her a grin. “We’ve been
talking
for an hour.”

“Gianluca Caristo, I swear to God...”

With a sigh, he stroked her thighs back and forth. “My uncle called my dad today. To tell him to leave you and me alone.”

Frankie sucked in a breath. “And? What happened?”

Luca opened his eyes, and the look in them squeezed her heart and flipped her stomach. “He said sorry.”

“Did he know you were there?”

Luca shook his head. Oh God, her poor love. What pressure he must be under. She traced his jawline with the tips of her fingers. “No one says you have to forgive him because he’s said sorry.”

“But?”

“I didn’t say but.” He sent her a disparaging look. “Okay, but. Don’t you think one of us should be all right-ish with our parents? I didn’t have grandparents, and maybe the babies will need some. At least for some free shit.”

“I nominate you. Your mother’s in the same country.”

Frankie groaned in disgust. “My mother’s never apologised for a thing in the history of humanity.”

“Until today, I thought the same thing about my dad. I used to spend so much time in London with Tony and his family just to escape them. The only reason I was allowed to come was because my uncle paid for my flights.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t want to feel sorry for him, I don’t want to forgive him, but it just feels...”

“Like dead wood?” she finished for him. “Well if you do let go, that could be the end of it. It won’t lead to wedding, christening, or a barbecue invites any time soon.”

Luca’s eyebrows furled. “Wedding invitations?”

Shit.
“You know what I mean, family gatherings. Outside you, me, the babies, Tony and Lyds, your uncle and aunt. Forgiveness doesn’t have to be you opening the door, them coming back in and setting up camp. Could just mean accepting that there’s nothing else to it other than taking the apology for what it is and laying it to rest. But whatever you decide, I’ll support you. Even if I think none of them deserve it.”

Luca pulled her against his chest. “
You’re
my family. And for you and the kids I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

She touched her mouth to his. “You know you’re not supposed to lie to me.”

“Francesca.”

“Right, listen. If you want to send a postcard or two, I won’t even blink. Just be aware that I know how to use the Sugimoto knives if they step out of line. Only because I love you.”

“I love you too. Maybe talk to that counsellor about the knife thing.” His hands drifted over the curves of her bottom. “How tired are you?”

“Not very,” she replied softly, wriggling against him. The Sugimoto threat should work. People seemed to be very careful around her when she had a knife to hand.

Luca tried not to feel nervous. It was what they both wanted. It was expected even, and Francesca had inadvertently let him know that she was impatient. Lydia and Tony had invited them for dinner, or rather, ordered food in last week. Francesca seemed to be at complete ease with his family.

Tony had pulled him to the side. “I know it’s far too late, but I’m adopting Frankie. Which means...” He cupped his hands over his mouth and used a Darth Vader voice, “Luke, I am your father!”

“Don’t joke about that,” Luca reproved.

“I’m fucking serious. She deserves spoiling, and the missus agrees with me. By the way, why aren’t you engaged?”

“I’m waiting for the right time,” he replied, wondering what Francesca had said to his cousin.

“Now would be a good a time as any. She told me she’s worried about her kids being born illegitimate.”

“She said that?”

“Actually,” Tony corrected, “she called them little bastards like she is. Sad, isn’t it? Her mum has a lot to answer for. But what I know is that she’d prefer that she gave birth with the Caristo name as her own. She didn’t put it quite like that, but that’s the impression I got. Be grateful though. Lydia didn’t want to change her name, and every so often she’ll remind me that she can drop the Caristo whenever she feels like it. On the other hand, she only says that to wind me up and get me into bed.”

Luca closed an eye for patience. “What are you talking about?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Hurry up and propose. I like the idea of having a bunch of cousins I can corrupt.”

“You will not be corrupting my children.”

Tony grinned. “That’s what you think.”

There would never be a right time to ask. Time was running away from them. They had found a house and for the sake of getting the property before the children arrived, Luca accepted Francesca’s thirty thousand-pound deposit and asked her not to worry about the seven figure asking price. When she saw the riverside house and huge garden, she couldn’t refuse. Their offer was accepted and next month, they’d be in their new home. The kitchen of course had to be gutted. He couldn’t work in that Jurassic construction. It needed new features, and they were all due for delivery shortly. To make everything complete, it would be perfect to carry Francesca over the threshold into their new home as his almost wife.

Francesca seemed itchy, hunting for something. Lydia had given her a bread maker that had been one of her wedding presents but remained unused, as Francesca had cravings for all types and flavours of bread.

“Do you want something?” Luca asked her mildly.

“I just need the self-raising flour. I know it’s up there somewhere.” She nodded to the very top shelf, which held glasses of various types of flour.

Luca caught her by the waist and lifted her to the top shelf for the glass jar of flour. A brief flash in his mind conjured the image of her in a supermarket, thanking him for a bottle of ginger ale. Another episode of déjà vu. He set her carefully down on the ground and carried on packing most of the utensils in the kitchen, Sade playing quietly, giving rhythm to their work.
Now or never,
his heart thundered in his chest, demanding action.

“Thirsty?” he asked as she started weighing measurements.

“I’d love some ginger ale! Thank you.” She looked at him patiently. “You okay, Lucky?”

Apart from this being the most frightening moment of my life?
“Fine.”

He handed her a tall glass filled to the brim. “Maybe you should have one of these,” Francesca suggested, raising the glass to him.

“Maybe later,” he answered, his eyes lowering to the glass once. Francesca shook her head and made to take a sip. He waited for her to see it. He prayed she saw it because he really wasn’t sure how he’d perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on her while she was carrying twins.

“Fuck off!” she breathed inelegantly.

“Where to?” Luca asked softly, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his cheek to her own.

“Is this a joke?” she demanded, rattling the ring at the bottom of the glass.

He felt a flash of fear. “Why would it be?”

“Because I said that thing about our kids being born bastards!” she yelped.

Luca uncurled one arm from her waist and dug into his pocket. “I knew you’d say that. So here. Receipt.”

Francesca took it from him with nervous fingers. “You’ve blacked out the price.”

He barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, as if he wanted her to see just how much money he’d spent on her ring. “Yes. I did. Look at the date, sweetheart.”

Francesca scanned to the bottom of the paper. “Wait, wait! This makes no sense! How...how could you have bought this the day we met?”

“People in shops will quite easily take money from you, no violence!” he called out as she made to hit him. “Francesca, you are everything I could possibly want and so much more than I ever deserve.” He caught her gaze, willing her to see the need for her, his complete love for her. “Will you marry me?”

“But I can’t get the ring out!” Francesca wailed, her eyes streaming with tears. Luca breathed a laugh that was all relief and barely any amusement. That was a yes. Nothing would convince him otherwise. He released her briefly to grab a fork, and placed his hand over hers to stop the glass from shaking so much and fished out the ring. Dabbing it on a pure white cloth, he slid the ring onto her finger. Perfect. As it was always meant to be. He should have proposed as soon as he’d found out he was leaving for Naples. Better late than never.

“Beautiful,” he announced. “Now our children won’t be born bastards.”

Francesca winced. “You want to get married before I give birth?”

“Can’t see the point in waiting.”

“You don’t think we’ve got enough to do with moving and these little bas...babies?”

Luca laughed. “I like a challenge.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers for a long, luscious moment. She tasted so sweet. Like home. “You’re going to be my wife.”

“Sorry. In advance.”

He kissed her temple, his palm curving over her distended belly. “I don’t know what you’re apologising for.”

She patted his hand with pity. “You’ll see.”

“Sit down a minute,” Frankie’s boss directed, nodding her into a chair. Oh hell, was it because she hadn’t done much work in the hour she’d been at the unit and instead had been flashing her beautiful engagement ring to all and sundry? How Luca had bought her the one ring that didn’t make her look like she had doughnuts for fingers, she had no idea.

“Is there something wrong?”

Her boss’s mouth tightened into a grimace. “I don’t set much stock in gossip, but...” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of Frankie’s engagement ring. “What do you know about your fiancé? I mean
really
know?”

Frankie tried not to let her horror show on her face. “He’s a chef from Naples. Why?”

Her boss shook her head. “You’ve carved out a career for yourself here, Frankie. A really good one, with great prospects. People trust you, you’ve got good conviction rates under your belt. And now you’re connected. But not in the best way and not great at all for a copper.”

“I don’t know what you mean. He’s a chef at a really fancy restaurant.”

Frankie pressed her hands together, praying that she wasn’t shaking too much for her boss to see how scared she was. What the hell was this, was she being sacked? Frankie had searched hard for anything on the Caristos on the PNC and found sod all. Where was this coming from then?

“It’s not a common name, Caristo.”

“Abbey’s not either. What are you suggesting?”

Her boss met her gaze full on. “Be careful. You can’t marry into that sort of family and stay on this side of the fence. You understand me, Frankie? Pick a side because if you try to straddle both, you’ll get splinters. No one is that flexible. Am I making myself clear?”

“I don’t know, are you threatening me?”

“No!” her boss exploded. “I’m warning you, for your own good, to be careful! There’ll come a time when you have to think about where your allegiance lies because you can’t be part of
that
family and not compromise your principles.”

Too late
, Frankie thought of Dafne pinned to her living room floor and that man’s ribs piercing his skin, blood on his face from coughing the liquid from his filled lungs. “That’s not going to apply to me. I told you, my fiancé is a chef and a very good one. It’s the only reason I’m marrying him. Anything else?”

Her boss sighed wearily. “No. That’s all.”

During her lunch break, she called Luca and told him what was said. He was silent for a long time. “What?” Frankie demanded. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m going to call my lawyer and I’ll call you straight back.”

Frankie shouldn’t have been surprised that he had one on speed dial, but she still asked. “Who?”

“I’ll call you back sweetheart, I promise.”

She went to the nearest coffee shop and sat down for an impatient fifteen minutes before her phone rang from a number she didn’t recognise. “Hello?”