‘Luca…’He closed his eyes. He could see his brother’s face. The face that had always been the same as his was different, and it wasn’t just the years of agony, regret and bitterness that had wreaked changes…Lazzaro’s fingers ran along the jagged line on his cheekbone—the numb knot of flesh, the scar that Luca had inflicted on his last day on earth.
Still numb.
Memories he’d spent more than two years quashing were bobbing to the surface now, and no matter how quickly he pushed one down, another popped up. He was locked in a shooting range—each image a target, each picture shot down, only to reappear stronger and more relentless than before.
Two years on the pain was still just too big to deal with—but, like an anaesthetic wearing off, sensation was starting to creep in, raw wounds that weren’t ready to be exposed yet were starting to make themselves known.
Only he didn’t want to feel—didn’t want to face it.
But that was exactly what Caitlyn did—she made him face the impossible.
As soon as she walked into his office, Caitlyn realised he couldn’t have heard her knock. Knew, somehow, that she was glimpsing a side to Lazzaro Ranaldi that he would prefer no one, not even his lover, to see.
His head was in his hands, his shoulders slumped, his complexion grey beneath his fingers. She should turn, Caitlyn thought, walk out and knock again, save them both the embarrassment of explanations. But in that frozen second he looked up.
‘I’m sorry…’ She spilled the words out. ‘What I said to the press—I know it was indiscreet, I know I should have called you straight after. I was just so embarrassed…’
His expression gave her nothing, no clue at all, and even though he was looking at her it was as if he was looking straight through her—as if he wasn’t even hearing her.
‘I was just put on the spot. I knew how important it was that it didn’t come out about Alberto, what it would do to him if there was even a hint of an affair…’
The clap of his hands was like the crack of a whip, making her jump, making her eyes widen in confusion as it continued—as Lazzaro leant back in his chair and gave a slow hand-clap, on and on, as she stood there mute.
‘Bravo, Caitlyn.’ He’d stopped clapping now, but still it echoed in her head, stinging her ears as he stared at her now—stared at her as if he hated her. ‘You’re wasted as a PA. You should try your hand on the stage after I fire you.’
‘Because of what I said to the press—?’ she started, but her words were cut off by his.
‘Don’t play a player, Caitlyn. Especially not one as good as me.’
‘A player? I don’t know what you mean.’
‘She’s still playing…’ Lazzaro jeered to an absent crowd. ‘Hey, why the champagne, Caitlyn? Come on—get out the glasses…’
‘I don’t know what you mean…’
Tears were pricking her eyes, her head spinning, but he pulled two from the shelf and grabbed the bottle, popping the cork against the wall as a sob escaped her lips.
‘What are we celebrating?’ Lazzaro smiled, but his eyes were black with hatred. ‘Your little announcement about us to the press? Or the fact you’ve screwed your cousin out of her inheritance?’
‘How do you know about that?’ Caitlyn’s teeth were chattering now.
‘I make it my business to know. Come on, Caitlyn.’ He pressed a glass into her hand. ‘At least you won’t need to use plan B.’
‘Plan B?’
‘Your cousin—’ he spat the word out ‘—the one you omitted to mention, the one who just happened to be dating my brother when he died, just paid me a little visit…’
‘Please, you don’t know what she’s like…’ Caitlyn begged. ‘You don’t know what she’s capable of…’
‘Oh, but I do!’ he roared. ‘How many chances have I given you? How many times have I tried to ignore your lies?’ His voice was ominously calm now. ‘So innocent…’ He chinked his glass against hers. ‘My innocent little virgin, who just happened to be on the pill.’