But he shook his head, disbelief etched in his features. ‘No.’
Her laugh was dry, lacking any humour. ‘You just said it was my decision.’
‘Stay a week,’ he implored, his voice thick. ‘Same terms. All your debts disappear.’
She sobbed. ‘Don’t.’ She lifted a finger to his lips. ‘You aren’t this man.’
He stared into her eyes.
‘You aren’t this man, and I’m not that woman,’ she insisted. ‘You’re so much better than this.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE WAS CONSCIOUS of the date from the moment he opened his eyes. Four weeks to the day after Jemima had walked out of his life, he woke to the realisation this should have been the day they ended it. If she’d agreed to his proposition, then they’d have been together this whole time.
Instead, he’d acceded to her wishes, knowing it was the right thing to do even when every fibre of his being had wanted to insist she finish the fortnight, just as she’d promised; that she give him one more night. Instead, he’d flown her by helicopter to the mainland and had his jet fuelled up to take her back to England. He hadn’t travelled with her. It would have felt like prolonging the inevitable.
Besides, she’d barely been able to look at him at the end.
So much for love.
Was it love that could make you push someone away like this?
He stared out at the lake, still as anything, with a mystical layer of fog hovering just above the water on this cool early autumnal morning, a scowl on his face as he relived every moment of that last day. Her face pinched and uncertain, her eyes so filled with hurt and disappointment, and worst of all, his inability to say or do anything to fix it.
For the first time in his adult life, Cesare Durante had been without adequate words. He’d wanted to reassure her even when he knew he couldn’t—because what could he offer her? Not love.
And that was all she’d wanted. She’d been very clear.
With a sound of frustration, he pushed up from the deck chair, moving into the old log cabin. The morning was cool, but he wore low-riding jeans. No top. He liked the cold. He was glad of it. Glad of the rush it gave his blood, as well as the feeling of being alive, alive in a way he seemed to crave these days.
He made a coffee, thick and black, and poured it into one of the enamel cups his Alaskan cabin had come furnished with.
He drank it quickly, then turned his gaze back to the lake.
He needed to run. To run faster than he had the day before. He hadn’t been able to outrun his thoughts then, but maybe today? Pausing only to pull on a crisp white shirt and a pair of joggers, he shouldered out of the door and set off around the lake.
He couldn’t outrun her. She was a fog in his brain, filling his mind, taking over his every thought. Except it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Jemima so much as the fact he knew how wrong he’d been, and he hated that. He hated knowing he’d been at fault, and worse that he’d hurt her. He’d lied to her to get her to agree to be his mistress. He’d blackmailed her with her cousin’s future and wellbeing. Then he’d tried to blackmail her all over again, just for good measure.
His behaviour had been deplorable.
He growled and ran faster...thud, thud, thud. A twig cracked beneath his foot. He kept running, his head bent low. He ran and he ran and he didn’t look where he was going so that he was almost on top of the grizzly bear when he saw it.
He froze, his pulse firing up a notch, his instincts kicking in. Adrenalin sent a metallic taste into his mouth and his eyes flew wide. The bear was eating a fish, ripping it in half, but as Cesare stood there the grizzly turned its formidable head, its dark-brown eyes turning to study him.
He was metres away from a beast that was more than capable of ripping him to shreds. He should run. Retreat. Do something. Anything.
Save himself.
He didn’t. He stared at the bear, his expression grim, and not particularly sure he cared what the hell happened to his pathetic excuse for a life. He stared at the bear and saw himself, saw himself clearly. He saw the path he was on, the life he was willingly choosing, and he almost willed the bear to come at him.
Because there was surely no point to life if you lived it as he did?
The thought was brief and fleeting and completely startling. He stared at the bear, the bear stared back and then, remarkably, it shrugged its shoulders, turned and began to thump heavily away in the opposite direction.
Cesare stood perfectly still, watching the bear go, no longer willing to be his quarry. He stared at the bear’s retreat and a new sense of purpose filled him.
* * *