He heard again the word she’d used—the one that he’d echoed.
Protect.
His mouth thinned. He was the one needing protection. From his own self, his own intolerable weakness.
From the desire for her that destroyed the life I wanted to have... Leaving me with only this.
A woman he didn’t want to want.
A child that should never have been conceived.
A future it was impossible to think of but which waited for him, all the same.
Luca returned to Milan the next day and Ariana was glad.
I will always be glad when he’s gone. Glad when I’m free of him.
She swallowed. Of course she would be glad. How could she not be happy to be free of a man who caused her so much torment?
For a moment—a fleeting, flying moment—she felt pain stab.
It could have been so different.
She gave a violent shake of her head. How? How could it have been different? Only if Luca had been a different man...only if he’d never wanted to marry Mia.
If he’d wanted me, not her.
But it was sweet, gentle Mia that Luca had wanted.
Into her head came the words he’d said to her that first night in Milan.
‘You’re the very last woman on earth I’d want to marry.’
She felt the stab of pain come again—pain that had no logic to it. Not when it wasshewho was refusing to marryhim.
She dragged her thoughts away. Pointless to think such things, feel such things. She turned her mind, with a sense of weary relief, to what Luca had provided for her distraction.
From her base at the Lake Como hotel she started making appointments for assorted tradespersons to turn up the villa. She hired a car—a sensible run-around—to meet them there, booking them in to make an immediate start. It was familiar work, and she stepped into it easily.
Back at the hotel she emailed Luca with an initial schedule of costs, and choices for kitchen and bathroom styles, receiving by return his go-ahead and preferences.
Thoughts flittered through her consciousness. Discussing costs, finance, business, was never difficult with him. It was common ground between them... Neutral ground.
Maybe that’s what we need—something that is innocuous, harmless. Nothing to do with our bitter, toxic relationship.
Did Luca feel the same way? He seemed to, and she was glad of it when he arrived for the weekend and they went over to the villa to see what had been started.
His manner was low-key as he gave her his decisions on everything from colours to kitchen units. And unlike most of her clients he made his decisions instantly.
She heard herself say as much as he drove them both back to the hotel for dinner. ‘So many of my clients can’t make their minds up!’ she remarked. ‘The worst ever is my own mother—but then, why should that surprise me? Given she can’t make her mind up about her husbands, let alone her décor.’
She spoke lightly, but saw Luca glance at her as he drove.
‘She seems to have made up her mind about not raising you herself. But then perhaps you were better off without her. Better no mother than one who doesn’t care about you.’
There was real tension in him now. She could hear it, and did not know why. She drew an intake of breath. What had happened to neutrality? This was raw—going deep.
And not just for me—there was something in his voice then...