A week later Stefano strolled through the entrance foyer of his London apartment building. The two receptionists on duty greeted him warmly but with the same subtle wariness he’d been receiving at work that had become more marked since his return from San Francisco. He was used to fear but this felt different. Now people treated him as they would when confronted with a dangerous dog they didn’t want to provoke.
Anna had treated him like that before she’d collapsed at his feet with her concussion.
He blinked her image from his mind.
It mattered nothing to him how his staff behaved towards him. He preferred everyone to keep their distance. He didn’t need their chatter. If someone wanted to speak to him, he was all for getting to the point, cut the chit-chat and get on. Small talk was discouraged.
Anna had taught him the term ‘cut the chit-chat’. It had made a sharp but smooth sound in his mouth that amused him. Had amused him. It had been a long time since he’d found anything funny.
He took the bundle of letters one of the receptionists held out for him with a nod and was about to continue to the elevator when he remembered Anna’s not so subtle way of pulling him up on his manners those two and a half years ago.
With two short sarcastic words, you’re welcome, she’d reminded him that being Europe’s top technology magnate didn’t stop you or the others around you being human and that humans needed to feel appreciated.
He paused, looked the receptionist in the eyes and said, ‘Thank you,’ then wished them both a good evening and carried on up to his apartment.
Only after he’d dumped his briefcase and poured himself a bourbon did he sit on the sofa and go through his mail.
He put his thumb and middle finger to the bridge of his nose and squeezed to keep himself alert but, Dio, he was ready for bed.
It was all rubbish. Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish... He should employ someone to take care of his personal life as he did his business life. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with bills and the other necessary parts of life. Considering he’d abandoned running a household within weeks of having one, that thought would be funny if he hadn’t lost his funny bone. Or would it be ironic? Anna had been a great one for finding irony funny. She’d found a lot of things funny. His life was a much less cheerful place without her. He hadn’t noticed that when she’d left him the first time as he’d been too busy wallowing in his own sense of... What had she called it? Self-righteousness? She’d been describing herself when she’d said it but it applied to him too.
It had only been since his return from San Francisco when he’d refused himself the luxury of self-righteousness that he’d really noticed how the colour had gone from his life. Maybe it had been because she’d come back to him for that one week and they’d learned more about each other then than they had in the whole of the two and a half years they’d known each other.
Why couldn’t he stop thinking of her?
He took a healthy slug of his bourbon and opened the last item of mail, a thick padded envelope with a San Francisco postmark.
This must be the gift the concierge in his apartment there had messaged him about. It had been delivered shortly after he’d left for London on the day that was his and Anna’s first wedding anniversary. Not ca
ring what was in it—not caring about anything—Stefano had told the man to forward it to his London address.
And now it was here.
Inside the packaging was a small square gift-wrapped box.
He twisted it in his hands, his heart racing as his mind drifted back to Anna’s insistence on some solo ‘retail therapy’ that afternoon before the awards ceremony.
He’d thought it strange when she’d returned empty-handed.
He could not credit how much he missed her. It hadn’t been this bad before.
No, it had been this bad before but he’d masked it from himself. And it had been more than self-righteousness that had masked it but a mad fury like nothing he’d ever known...
She’d made assumptions about Christina, but hadn’t he made assumptions about Anna being a gold-digger? Hadn’t he been as determined to see the worst in her as Anna had been to see the worst in him?
He sat bolt upright, his brain racing almost as madly as his heart.
Dio, he could see the truth.
Somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with her. The man who had spent his life avoiding serious relationships for terror of being hurt and rejected had fallen in love.
Because he had been terrified. For all his disdain at people who refused to let go of their childhood he could see he’d done the opposite and buried his under a ‘don’t care’ bravado when all the time he’d been running, trying to stop it ever happening again.
He bent his head forward and dug his fingers into the back of his head as he strove to suck in air.
How could he have been so blind and stupid?
He’d blown it.