In fact, it already was dissipating, and now, as he stood alone in the cool quiet of the study, taking in his surroundings while in the distance he could hear the faint clink of cutlery against crockery, the pop of a cork and the hum of chatter, with the pleasant diversion of Carla gone, his earlier unease returned tenfold.
Everywhere he looked he saw photos. On the desk, on the shelves, on the walls. Of the man who could be his double bar the scar and the broken nose, sometimes wrapped around a beautiful brunette, sometimes with a small child, mostly with both. In all of them, everyone was either smiling or laughing, clearly relaxed and happy, a tightly knit trio of emotions, history and belonging, and the closer and longer he looked, the greater the roll of his stomach and the chillier the shivers that ran down his spine.
He had no concept of such things. Living on the streets as an adolescent for four years had taught him that emotions rendered a man weak and vulnerable. They led to manipulation and exploitation, not intimacy and connection. As he understood, relationships involved attachment and commitment, compromise and understanding, none of which he’d ever experienced. They were for other people, not him, which was why Carla’s reference to further potential relatives, the nephew and the sister-in-law, not to mention the nature of the occasion today, a family occasion, had unexpectedly knocked him for six.
He and this brother of his might look similar, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that DNA was the only thing they had in common. Judging by the photographs before him they certainly didn’t share a temperament. Finn’s eyes lacked the hard cynicism Rico knew lurked in the depths of his own, and the fine lines fanning out from the corner of them suggested Finn knew how to laugh and mean it. His brother wasn’t a loner who preferred the shadows to the limelight. He had family. Friends. A life full of laughter and joy.
They’d evidently had very different experiences of growing up, quite apart from geography. Finn’s relaxed, content exterior clearly didn’t hide a great, gaping void where his soul should be. He couldn’t have spent his formative years fighting for survival, sleeping with one eye open and scavenging for food in order to stave off the kind of hunger that made you hallucinate. And had Finn ever found himself part of a gang as a kid, searching for somewhere to belong, somewhere where he counted, only to be forced to do things he didn’t want to do and badly let down by people in whom he’d impulsively and unwisely put his trust? It didn’t seem likely.
It had been a mistake to make this trip here, Rico thought darkly, a frown creasing his forehead as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked over to the window in an attempt to escape the photos and the inexplicable resentment and jealousy he could feel brewing at the injustice of his and Finn’s very different upbringings. A mistake to allow himself to be recklessly driven by an intuition he didn’t understand to such an extent that he’d rashly dismissed the advice of his doctors to stay put and had ordered his plane that he had on permanent standby at the airport in Venice to be readied instead.
He’d acted on instinct and hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the ramifications. But, with hindsight, he should have because Carla’s parting comment that Finn had been searching for him for months and that he’d be thrilled to have found him made his scalp prickle and his stomach churn. He wasn’t interested in a sentimental reunion or a prolonged catch-up on the last thirty-one years, in back-slapping hugs and the swapping of life stories. The mere thought of engaging in a You like chess? So do I! You’re a billionaire? So am I! kind of conversation punched the air from his lungs and drained the blood from his brain.
He didn’t need anyone, least of all a sibling he’d known nothing about his entire life. He never had. Family might mean everything to Finn but Rico didn’t know what it meant, full stop. Not now. He’d spent most of his life alone and he was used to it that way. He was dependent on no one and had no one dependent on him. The only person he trusted was himself and should he ever be let down now he had only himself to blame.
He didn’t belong here, in a beautiful home among beautiful people who led beautiful lives that didn’t deserve to be sullied by his darkness. He didn’t belong anywhere. He never would. So he had nothing to gain from actually meeting Finn. Carla had already confirmed the suspicion he’d come to investigate for himself. He’d done what he’d felt compelled to do. He didn’t need to hang around any longer to find out more and feel the embers of resentment and jealousy flaring into a hot, fiery burn that would scorch and destroy what little good was left in him.
In fact, if he took control of events and left right now, he could be in the air in half an hour. He’d be home by dark. And once there, he could set about resuming the life he’d led before the accident and forget that today had ever happened.
* * *
‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’
At the table beneath the gazebo, now cleared of lunch and instead spread with everything needed for the provision of coffee and tea, Carla stared at Georgie open-mouthed, the party and the guests milling about outside all but forgotten.
‘Exactly that,’ Georgie replied quietly, her face filled with confusion and worry. ‘Federico Rossi is nowhere to be seen. Finn’s just spent twenty minutes scouring the house and the grounds. He couldn’t find him anywhere.’
Noting that her hand was trembling slightly, Carla carefully put down her coffee cup. ‘I put him in the study and asked him to wait,’ she said, a chill of apprehension and dismay running down her spine. ‘He couldn’t have just left.’
‘I think he must have done.’
‘No note?’
‘No nothing,’ said Georgie with a shake of her head. ‘Did he give any indication he might leg it?’
Carla racked her brains, the conversation they’d had spinning through her head and filling her with shame, since it should have been about Finn but instead had been all about her. ‘No.’
‘So why did he go?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘I wish he’d never come here in the first place,’ Georgie muttered, her expression hardening. ‘To dangle a carrot of hope like that and then whip it away... Why would anyone do that? How could he be so cruel? Why wasn’t he interested in getting to know Finn? Or me and Josh? What’s wrong with us? I’d sort of already slotted him into our lives if that makes sense—a relative, a real relative, who could maybe join us for Christmas and birthdays and things—and it was going to be so great.’ She gave a big sigh. ‘I’m such an idiot.’
Georgie was the last person in this scenario who was an idiot, thought Carla, her heart beginning to thump as the truth dawned on her. She was the one who’d been an idiot. And not only that, but also a shockingly and appallingly self-centred one.
Under any other circumstance she’d have considered every possible consequence of leaving Rico alone in Finn’s study. She’d have weighed up what she’d learned about him, however little, and assessed the risks. Doing precisely that was part of her job, a job she’d had for the best part of a decade and supposedly excelled at.
But she hadn’t. She’d fled without a moment’s thought because she’d been too desperate to escape his overwhelming effect on her to think straight. For the first time in years, despite her recognition of the danger he presented, she’d let her emotions get the better of her and dictate her actions, and as a result she’d ruined everything.
What if her parting comments had been the trigger? What if Rico had been spooked by her insistence about the importance of family and her claim about how pleased Finn would be to meet him? She’d noticed his discomfort at the idea of a family occasion. If she hadn’t been so derailed by her need to get away from him she’d have been more considered with her words.
‘I should have locked him in,’ she said, the weight of guilt and self-reproach crushing her like a rock on her chest. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Georgie darkly. ‘It’s his.’
‘How’s Finn?’
‘Completely gutted.’