Magic by Danielle Steel Page B

more common than divorces in Europe, particularly in Italy and even France. Gregorio was appalled at the idea of a divorce, even more than at the idea of his having twins with someone, other than his wife.
    “What’s wrong?” Anya was startled by how he sounded. “How did it go with her? Did you tell her?” She had been waiting for his call all day, but he had never called her. He had gone to see his older brother to tell him about the business, and his brother told him he was a fool and had ruined the family and their business.
    “I told her I was leaving her. I didn’t ask for a divorce.” He was still in shock. Benedetta was going to play hardball with him, and his brother warned him that the divorce would cost him and the family a fortune. He didn’t blame his sister-in-law for what she was planning to do. He said his own wife would have killed him. Gregorio was lucky.
    “What did she say?” Anya sounded happy at the news that he had told her, but he hadn’t explained the rest yet.
    “It’s too complicated to tell you on the phone. I need a break. Why don’t we spend a night at the hotel? Claudia will be all right without us for one night.” He didn’t have an ounce left to give anyone. He needed to recharge his batteries, with room service, a hot bath, and a comfortable bed. His quick trip to Milan had been far worse than he’d expected.
    “We can celebrate.” Anya sounded fifteen years old and hadn’t picked up on the tone of his voice. He had lost everything. He suddenly wondered if his brother was right and he’d gone crazy. He had done it for the mother of his child, and she had no idea what any of it meant to him. To her, the divorce would be good news, though he didn’t intend to tell her about it yet. She didn’t need to know, and in Italy it would take two years. He had a long dark road ahead of him, while Benedetta destroyed what was left of his life.
    “Meet me at the hotel,” he said, sounding exhausted.
    He took a cab to the George V, and Anya arrived five minutes later, looking fresh and beautiful in a T-shirt and jeans, which was all they had at the hospital, and all they needed to sit in the neonatal ICU ward every day and night. They had been there now for over a month. It seemed a lifetime since the night of the White Dinner.
    Anya ordered champagne almost as soon as she walked into the room, and Gregorio went to take a shower. He barely said hello to her, and she was lying on the bed watching TV when he came back into the room wearing one of the robes of the hotel. It was thick and luxurious, and he lay on the bed next to her, not even knowing what to say. Everything that had happened that day had been so awful, and he would never forget the look on Benedetta’s face and the hardness of her eyes when she told him she was divorcing him. She had always been so understanding before. But he had never left her for another woman, nor had a baby with her, and humiliated her so publicly.
    “So what did she say?” Anya asked him again, as she snuggled up next to him on the bed. They hadn’t made love in months, but he knew he couldn’t have now. He had nothing left in him. He felt as if Benedetta had killed him. He lay there feeling he was the victim, wondering how she could be so vicious, enough to take away their business and divorce him. To him, it was even worse than what he’d done, and punishment beyond measure.
    “She’s kicking me out of our business” was all he was willing to tell Anya. “Our families have worked together for more than a century, and she’s willing to break with tradition.” Anya didn’t appear to be impressed, nor to understand the magnitude of his wife’s reaction. And then for an instant, she looked worried.
    “Does that mean she’s taking all your money?”
    “No, but she’ll probably go after that too.” He was morbidly depressed, and then she kissed him, and he smiled at her, hoping that somehow it would turn out all right, and maybe