Stefano gave a short, sharp laugh, more mocking than amused. ‘I wish I had your naïvety. Some mistakes can’t be repaired.’
Time for her to discuss her own error—not talking to him earlier about the violin and what she knew. She needed to leap into the void and trust that it would work out, because somewhere in her time here she’d begun trusting him. First with her safety, with her body, and then with her heart. It terrified her, because there was only guessing and hope. But she realised now what she’d tried to ignore: this endless warmth suffusing her, the catch and thrum of her heart every time he came near, the emotions she’d refused to give voice to, could only mean one thing.
She loved him.
And she wanted him to love her back.
Maybe she was naïve, as he’d accused her of being, but the future she hoped for could only happen if there was truth between them. She couldn’t go back to the beginning, so they’d have to start again today. She’d found the courage to do so now she believed in herself, and more importantly in him. Because she’d come to understand one thing in the time she’d been here. In a world of men who’d let her down—her father, her ex-boyfriend, and in a way her grandfather, with all his human failings—there was still a man who’d proved he could be honourable.
This man who’d shown her the stars.
‘You’re a good person, Stefano.’
His eyes narrowed. His look was piercing and hard, as if he was assessing her worth and somehow finding her lacking. ‘Would you forgive a man who betrayed you?’
Betrayal she knew all about.
She wrapped her arms around her waist. He could be talking about Viktor, but she was sure there was more than one meaning in everything Stefano was saying right now. A riddle she was being forced to solve.
What else could he mean? He’d said he no longer had a fiancée—maybe he’d lied about that? Nausea churned in her stomach, as if she’d taken a hefty swallow of sour milk. What did she really know of him, anyhow? She’d only been here a week, and he’d promised her nothing.
No.He’d promised her she was welcome. He promised she’d be safe. He’d given her both of those things. Whilst she hadn’t much trusted her instincts over the past months, she didn’t believe his sincerity had been faked.
‘Iknowyou. You’re not like Viktor.’
‘Not in deed, but in every other way I’m the same. You say you know me...’ He stabbed his fingers at the middle of his chest, as if punctuating every word on his flesh. ‘Maybe I should tell you who I really am in the spirit of honesty. Honesty between people is important, isn’t it?’
He turned his back on her and stalked to the window, and as he did so she caught a glimpse of his expression. Lip curled in a sneer, dark and ugly. But she didn’t think it was directed at her, given he was now staring into the melting landscape outside, towards the capital. It was as if heloathedhimself.
She shook her head. ‘You’re the man who took me in. Gave me his bed. Showed me his home. You’re someone who’s kind, considerate—’
He whipped round. Took a few steps towards her. Stopped. ‘I resigned my position as the Prince’s private secretary after betraying him. My best friend. Reporting his private movements to the press. I brought dishonour and disrepute to my family.’
She didn’t know what to say. Her voice had been stolen by his revelation. He’d been pretending he still had the role all the time she’d been here. How could he have done something like that? They’d talked of it—the responsibility, the obligation—and it wasn’t a job he held at all. What had he been doing when he’d claimed to be working, locked in his office during the day, and on some evenings well into the night?
Lucy swallowed down the knot in her throat. Tried to dig up the trust in Stefano she’d found over the time she’d been here rather than turning away and leaving. And whilst the voice of warning in her head whispered that he was a liar and didn’t care about her, she saw that Stefano wasn’t standing before her uncaring. He’d dropped his head. His shoulders rose and fell as if the weight he carried would soon crush him. It was as though he’d taken a fatal wound and was about to bleed out on the floor.
Lucy knew that nothing would help this type of injury, because it looked as if it had damaged Stefano’s soul. Bad people didn’t give a damn about that kind of wound. Guilt was only suffered by those who had a conscience, who knew right from wrong and regretted their actions and the hurt they’d caused to others. That knowledge was all she needed to keep her in the room.
‘Why did you do it?’ she asked. ‘Because intention is everything.’
‘My reasons may have been sound, but the “why” is irrelevant. I have a meeting at the palace in one week. It’s not enough time for me to finish the work I’ve started. You have kept me from it. Distracted me ineveryway. And now my time’s run out.’
He looked at her then, and his eyes were narrowed. Cold, like black ice chips.
‘You have something I want.’
Dread flowed over her like a shower of iced water. He’d told her nothing whilst she was here other than he’d been looking for jewels. Stefano couldn’t know about the violin, could he?
Lucy took some long, slow breaths, as if preparing herself for a performance, and in many ways she was. The performance of her life. The future rested on what she was about to say.
‘I think you’re right. That’s what I need to talk to you about. The real reason I’m here.’
For a few precious moments Stefano had hoped that Lucy would have no idea what he was talking about, no knowledge of the past that had entwined their families and cursed him. Her words ended that lingering fantasy.
She’d stayed here with the knowledge all along. Eating his food, sleeping in his bed, sleeping withhim—and for what? She was just another woman using him for her own agenda, like Celine. But what did it matter when his life was now on a collision course with Alessio?
The message had been polite, yet firm and clear. The meeting was non-negotiable. Letters could be ignored, as he’d successfully done over the past few months. A personal demand could not.