‘Could I have a private word with you, Dad?’
‘Of course, Luciano,’ he said genially, excusing himself from the group still gathered around him.
Luc followed him into the executive office adjoining the boardroom and closed the door, remaining beside it as his father moved around behind his desk, apparently intending to sit down.
‘This won’t take long,’ Luc warned, hating the sense that he was in the position of a beggar.
His father paused beside his chair, seeming to gather himself before meeting Luc’s hard gaze. He gestured open-handedly. ‘I have as much time as you want.’
On his terms, Luc thought, but he tempered his tone to a less harsh note. ‘You know Mamma has been visiting Skye and Matt?’
‘Yes, I know.’
No other comment. Not a hint of approval or disapproval. Just a flat stare at Luc, waiting for him to make what he would of it.
‘She extended an invitation for the three of us to join you on Christmas Day,’ he threw at his father.
‘Your mother is free to invite anyone she wishes,’ came straight back at him.
Frustrated by the lack of any personal response, Luc bluntly asked, ‘Where do you stand, Dad?’
His chin lifted in aggressive pride. ‘Beside your mother. Where I have always stood.’
Again no personal comment on the invitation.
Luc studied his father’s face, the whole indomitable demeanour of the man, and knew this was as good as he was going to get—a tacit acceptance, but no welcome mat rolled out and no apology for transgressions, either. He realised that for his father, that would be completely losing face, too humiliating. Yet there was something in his eyes…an intensity of feeling that was not pride.
Maybe it was a reaching out, or a wish to reach back to the time when his elder son had looked up to him. It struck a chord of sadness in Luc. He, too, wished for something different.
‘We’ll come,’ he said. ‘And I’ll be standing beside Skye.’
It was both a challenge and a chance.
A great deal depended on how his father met it.
‘I’ll tell your mother,’ he said, implicitly demanding trust.
Luc stared back at him, loath to give that trust without assurances. If Skye or Matt was abused in any way…
‘Flavia is very taken with…our grandson,’ his father stiffly added.
Our, not her.
A few more words were offered. ‘I’m sure she will put some gifts for him under our Christmas tree.’
It was a start. The first concession. Luc didn’t press for more. ‘Christmas is for children,’ he said, then nodded and left, telling himself at least Matt would be treated well. And Skye would risk it, since she was determined on trying to make peace with his family.
But be damned if he was going to stand by and see her hurt again!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHRISTMAS Day…
Skye carefully attached the sapphire and diamond earrings to her lobes—Luc’s Christmas gift to her. They matched the engagement ring he’d put on her finger when she’d finally agreed to marry him. There would have been a wedding ring already complementing it, but for the need she had to give Luc back his family.
She had no illusions about where she stood with his father and it was nerve-wracking having to face him today. But if Maurizio Peretti could tolerate her for the sake of having his son in the family fold again—and his grandson—she would somehow make herself tolerate him.
Besides, she knew Flavia Peretti would be working hard to smooth everything over. It was weird to think she and Luc’s mother had become allies. Not friends. Friendship took a lot longer and might never eventuate. But it was good for Matt to have a grandmother who loved him.
Skye tucked the long fall of her hair behind her ear so at least one of the earrings showed, then stepped back to view her appearance in the mirror. She’d bought this dress especially for today, wanting to correct the impression she’d obviously given Luc’s parents in the past when she’d worn more casual, formfitting, sexy clothes—the in fashion—not realising she might be offending their sensibilities and possibly giving rise to the idea of her being a ‘loose’ woman.
The white linen shift was printed with turquoise and royal blue flowers with chartreuse leaves. The colour combination suited her very well, bringing out the blue in her eyes and contrasting nicely with the golden honey tan she had acquired since coming to live with Luc at Bondi Beach. The dress was sleeveless, befitting a hot summer day—which it was—the high scooped neckline was demure, and the simple style skimmed her figure rather than accentuating it.
Since rent for the Brighton-Le-Sands cottage no longer had to be paid and there was spare money to spend, she’d splashed out on turquoise sandals, as well, all in all making quite an elegant outfit, Skye thought. Her long blonde hair was smooth and shiny, her make-up minimal, and she couldn’t see what else could have been done to make herself more presentable.
Luc’s footsteps coming up the stairs of his two storey apartment alerted her to time going by, but a quick glance at her watch showed there was still a quarter of an hour before they had to leave for Bellevue Hill. Flavia Peretti had suggested a ten o’clock arrival, time for Matt to open gifts before morning tea.
Morning tea…
Nerves fluttered in Skye’s stomach. Everything was bound to be terribly formal, not like the casual breakfast they’d had this morning with Matt too excited about his presents to sit at a table. They’d lounged around in Luc’s lovely living room, eating raisin toast, sharing the fun of a beautiful Christmas morning together. Skye could only hope that what should be a joyful day remained so for Matt.
She turned around to face Luc as he entered their bedroom. ‘Will I do?’ she asked anxiously, thinking how perfect he looked in smartly tailored grey pants and a conservative white cotton shirt—acceptable anywhere and the light colours throwing up the striking attraction of his Italian heritage.
His dark eyes simmered with more than appreciation as they swept her from head to foot and back again. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘Luc, I was trying for respectable,’ she appealed, feeling her skin flush under the heat of his appraisal and becoming unsure of her choice. Was it too colourful, too cheap-looking?
His expression instantly changed to thunderous. ‘You don’t have to prove anything to my parents, Skye. Absolutely nothing! If they don’t…’
She moved quickly to place her hand over his lips, stopping the burst of angst. ‘I want to look right for Christmas at their home, Luc. Just tell me if I do or don’t.’