It was all completely wrong. Being here with him yet not being able to touch him. Knowing she couldn’t smile at him, even when she wanted so badly to pretend everything was as she’d thought—as she’d hoped.
Her own feelings overtook every other sense, but then, after only seconds, her eyes began to work properly, to see more than her own grief and heartache.
Her eyes saw him.
They saw the pallor of his skin and the grey beneath his eyes. The way his five o’clock shadow was more pronounced than ever, and the way his suit, which usually looked as though it had been lovingly stitched to his body, seemed loose and ill-fitting. She saw the way his eyes held hers for only a brief moment before moving away.
She saw in him something she recognised instantly, for it moved inside her.
She saw how he was broken.
And a sob filled her chest. She bit it back with effort, knowing she had to be strong.
‘I’ll be outside,’ Charles said quietly. ‘Just holler when you need me.’
Skye nodded curtly, a little more able to handle the situation given that she’d called the meeting and it was, more or less, on her home turf.
Charles left and silence fell. It sucked the air from the room and replaced it with something else altogether.
‘Skye,’ Matteo murmured, taking a step towards her and then pausing, his expression shifting. ‘How are you?’
The question was her undoing, because he’d asked it in a way that had gone beyond civility. He asked as though knowing how she was meant everything to him.
‘I’m...’ She frowned. How could she respond? He looked as though he hadn?
?t slept in weeks. Possibly hadn’t eaten in that time either. ‘Would you like something?’ She grimaced as she heard the vague question leave her mouth. ‘Croissant? Danish?’
His eyes glittered with a hint of the ruthlessness that was his stock in trade. She was glad to see it. She would take his ruthlessness over the sense of brokenness any day. ‘Neither of those things.’
Her heart kerthunked.
‘I’m glad you came,’ she said softly, then cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Please, take a seat.’
He arched a brow but did as she said, moving to one side of the table and sitting in a chair as though he owned it. That was an innate skill he possessed, she thought as she took the seat opposite. He commanded furniture, rooms, people, all effortlessly.
She cupped her coffee in front of herself and saw the moment his eyes dropped to her hands. Was he noticing that she didn’t wear the wedding ring? Did he care?
Yes.
He cared. She couldn’t deny that he was in pain, as she was.
The information felt strange inside her. Like a weight she didn’t know how to carry.
‘Well, Skye,’ he drawled, his accent thick. ‘Why am I here?’
She nodded, understanding that he wanted this over as quickly as she did. Pain lodged in her chest.
‘I got your letter.’
‘What letter?’ he prompted, his brow furrowed.
‘The hotel.’ She didn’t meet his eyes. ‘The returned contracts.’
Silence prickled around the room. ‘I sent that a long time ago.’
She shrugged. ‘I just got it.’ She thought of the pile of mail she’d been stepping over and wondered when, exactly, the contracts had arrived. Charles had sent them almost as soon as she’d returned, with much disapproval and uncertainty about what Skye was proposing.
‘I see.’ He reclined back in his chair and she chanced a look at his face, then instantly wished she hadn’t when her whole body seemed to catch fire. Her arms flecked with goose-bumps and desire slammed through her.