by Lucy King
But he’d sensed something change in her too and that was the source of his discomfort. The shimmering emotion he’d seen in her gaze when he’d found her on the balcony, before she’d subsequently blown his mind, wasn’t something he’d needed to witness. He didn’t want her pity or her sympathy. He didn’t want anything more with her than what he already had.
But it was what she might want that was his concern. He’d assumed she was on board with the temporary nature of their arrangement, but what if for some reason what they had now became not enough for her? What if she wound up wanting more? Under no circumstances could he allow that to happen. He’d never be able to give her more, no matter how much talking they did. He’d been on his own for so long it simply wasn’t in him. But he would never want to hurt Carla, so he had to prevent such a situation arising at all costs and nip things in the bud before they got out of control.
And not only for her benefit, he forced himself to acknowledge.
Yesterday while he’d been showing her the sights he’d started to see his city through her eyes and it had been illuminating. He’d noticed less of the grey and the grime and more of the glitter and shine. Colours had seemed strangely brighter, sounds sharper, smells more intense. Even the heat, which he was well used to and had not changed, felt fiercer.
This shifting of the sands over unstable ground couldn’t continue. A stronger-willed man would send Carla home now, and retreat to rebuild his walls, but he wasn’t a stronger-willed man. He was a man who wanted her in his bed for as long as they had left. He just had to keep reminding himself that great sex was all it was.
* * *
The island of Murano, famed for its glass and a stone’s throw from Venice, was amazing. Far less busy than its much bigger neighbour, it had colourful low-rise houses, wide, tranquil canals and a laid-back vibe that made Carla want to stop and linger along the walkways so she might have time to take it all in.
Vibrant glass sculptures stood in piazzas, glinting and sparkling in the midday sun. Rico had taken her to a workshop off the beaten track where she’d spent a good half an hour watching a glassblower creating a vase. She’d even picked up a bauble of her own.
The only minor awkward moment came when, while strolling down a walkway beside him, she’d suddenly been overwhelmed by the romance of it all, giddy with the effect this man had on her, and had reached for his hand, only to feel him jerk it away when her fingers brushed his.
‘After all this,’ said Carla, hiding her mortification behind a bright smile and determinedly reminding herself that she didn’t, ever, do romance and, more importantly, neither did he. ‘London’s going to feel very pedestrian.’
‘But it’s your home.’
‘It is and it’s great,’ she said, thinking that she really did love it with all its energy and buzz and variety, and she really was looking forward to getting back to it. ‘But this is beautiful and Venice is stunning. Everywhere you turn there’s another incredible piece of architecture and it’s such... I don’t know...an effervescent city.’
‘And unfortunately,’ he said drily, ‘sinking.’
‘So I’ve read. Why’s that happening?’
‘Early settlers drained the lagoon, dug canals and shored up banks by piling tree trunks into the silt. They laid great wooden platforms on top of the piles and stone on top of that and started building from there. But increased traffic in the canals—not to mention the cruise ships—has started churning up the water and the silt and the trunks are being exposed to oxygen that’s making them rot. There’s a campaign to ban everything but gondolas and small boats and it has my full backing.’
She knew how Venice felt, she thought dreamily, wondering for a moment what it would be like to be fought for like that. She too had been fine for years and then stirred up and exposed. She too had the sensation she was slowly sinking into deeper waters than felt safe, only in her case there was no one there to save her.
‘You care,’ she said, focusing on the topic of conversation and not the sliver of worry that slid through her at the thought that even though she’d done her best to prevent it she might be getting involved.
‘It’s complicated.’
‘It’s your home.’
‘It was also my prison.’
‘It’s shaped the man you are and it’s in your blood. I can’t imagine you living anywhere else.’
‘Neither can I. Can you imagine living anywhere other than London?’
Yes. She could imagine living here. With him. All too easily. But, despite what she’d thought last night, addled with emotions, this wasn’t for forever. ‘No,’ she said, because it was the only answer she could give and anything else was simply not possible. ‘As you pointed out, it’s my home. I can’t wait to get back.’
‘Tomorrow’s your last day,’ he said, his eyes fixed on hers but curiously devoid of anything. ‘What would you like to do?’
‘I think I’d like to learn to pilot a gondola,’ she said, struggling to ignore the tightening of her chest at the thought of leaving, determined instead to make the most of what little time she had left.
‘Your wish is my command.’
* * *
But if only her wish was his command, thought Carla wistfully the next day, perching on the padded bench seat as Rico steered the batela through the busy and choppy canals and out into the relative calm of a more placid section of the lagoon. Because she was beginning to wish she hadn’t been quite so sensible in booking a flight for tomorrow morning. She didn’t need a whole day and a half to prepare to go back to work. She’d only been on leave for a week. What had she been thinking?
‘I thought I was going to be learning to pilot a gondola,’ she said, looking up at him, so breathtakingly gorgeous her heart turned over.
‘Patience,’ he said with the arch of one dark eyebrow. ‘A gondola is a very technical boat. Tourists start on these.’
‘And is that what I am? A tourist?’
‘What else would you be?’
It was a question to which she didn’t have an answer, even after an hour’s tuition that took two, since shortly after it had begun there’d been a rocky moment during which she’d needed close contact support and her concentration had fled.
She was none the wiser when he handed her the oar and murmured, ‘Your turn now,’ or when she arched an eyebrow, gave him a wide grin from her position at the front of the boat and asked, ‘Do you trust me?’
It was only when he replied, ‘You already know I do,’ with a smile so blinding, so real, that it lit up his face and stole her breath, which weakened her knees, robbed her of her balance and promptly toppled her headlong into the lagoon, that she realised she was head over heels in love with him.
* * *
Rico had dived straight in after her. By the time he’d hauled himself back onto the boat and then pulled her up too, the coastguard had arrived. An hour later, with the paperwork completed and tetanus shots administered, they’d been delivered back to his island, where they’d got out of their wet things and taken a scalding shower.
Carla had been unusually quiet for the rest of the evening. No doubt, she was still in shock. He knew he was. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the moment she’d fallen into the water. Time had slowed right down, but the sheer terror that had ripped through him, wilder than any tide, had been swift and immense. She’d gone under for the briefest of seconds, but to him it had felt like a lifetime. He hadn’t thought twice about diving in to rescue her. The only thought screaming through his head was that he couldn’t lose her.
And that was equally terrifying.
She wasn’t his to lose. Or keep. She never would be. She was leaving in the morning and going home. He was going to wave her off with no regrets, and reclaim the life he’d led before the accident had blown it apart. That was the plan and it was a good one, a necessary one.
N
evertheless, when he held her in his arms in bed that night he did so a little more tightly. He found himself noting every sound she uttered, every move she made, and storing them somewhere safe. And when he moved inside her, he realised he was trembling.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked softly, once the sweat had cooled on their skin and their harsh, heavy breathing had faded.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. All he knew was that he wasn’t fine at all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ON THE MORNING of her departure, while Rico was in the shower Carla was methodically folding and putting clothes into the suitcase she’d had to buy to accommodate her recent purchases. But if anyone had asked her to itemise those clothes, she’d have merely blinked in bewilderment.
The drenching she’d had yesterday afternoon had been an almighty shock but not nearly as great as the one that had led to it. Ever since, she’d been able to think of nothing but the stunning realisation she was in love with Rico.
Which couldn’t possibly be.
She’d known him for less than a week. She didn’t know what love was. Not this kind of love. She loved Georgie, of course, and even her parents, despite all their flaws, but this was entirely different. This was...well, she didn’t know what this was.
And yet all these feelings, which had been rushing around inside her for a while but now flooded her like a tsunami, had to mean something. Why else would her heart tighten every time she thought of what he’d been through? Why else would she overflow with admiration and respect at what he’d achieved? He was the only person she wanted to talk to. The only person alive she wanted to tell everything to and find out everything about. He’d become her world. He’d even saved her from sinking.
So much for steering clear of emotional intimacy, she thought, her pulse pounding and her head spinning as she distractedly packed. She’d been creating it and encouraging it since the moment she’d met him.
And had that been such a bad thing?
No.
Quite the opposite in fact.
He’d shown her that ceding emotional ground didn’t have to lead to vulnerability and weakness. It could actually lead to empowerment and healing instead. He’d shown her what a proper relationship could look like, free from manipulation and fear. How it could be a give and take of ideas and opinions, an exchange of thoughts and experiences, hopes and dreams, and not a loss of identity. He’d given her space. He’d given her choice. If this was love, then she adored him, and when she focused on the happiness beginning to spread through her like sunshine, it was glorious.
When she thought of what Georgie had it didn’t fill her with horror, it filled her with envy. When she thought of combining a family with a career she realised it was a challenge she’d be thrilled to embrace.
Could she dare to hope that Rico had reached a similar conclusion and now felt the same way? she wondered, her throat dry and heart thudding wildly as he took her cases downstairs and loaded up the boat.
Like her he’d said little since her dip in the lagoon, but somehow she sensed that, like her, he’d changed. He’d dropped his facade and shown her the whole of the man beneath. He’d opened up to her. He’d told her things she didn’t think he’d told anyone ever before. He’d trusted her with his past and his soul. Despite his reluctance, he’d let her into his sanctuary, into his life. That had to have meant something.
And then, the tenderness with which he’d made love to her last night... That had definitely been new, as was the glittering warmth with which she’d caught him looking at her on several occasions over the last couple of days.
There was so much to this amazing, complex, beautiful man, she thought dizzily as they sped across the lagoon towards the airport, the exhilarating rush of wind blowing through her body and whipping up a storm inside her. So much more that she longed to know. She wanted to talk with him, make love with him and fight his corner, today, tomorrow, for ever.
So what happened now? Time was running out. All too soon the airport hove into view and then he was slowing the engine of the boat and tossing a loop of rope over a mooring post.
Did she dare hope he might, like her, want more? Might he ask her to stay the rest of the weekend? What would she do if he did? What would she do if he didn’t? Was she brave enough to take the initiative herself? Was she ready to take the greatest risk of her life?
Oh, this was awful.
Having deposited her bags on the jetty, Rico helped her off the boat and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. ‘Well, here we are,’ he said, his voice giving away absolutely nothing.
‘Do you mind if I send your phone back in a day or two?’ she said, her stomach churning with nerves while her heart hammered frantically. ‘It has my boarding pass on it.’
‘Keep it as long as you need.’
‘I’ll put it in the post as soon as I get home and I’ll transfer the money I owe you.’
‘Fine.’
He looked as if he was going to take a step back and her throat went tight.
‘I bought you something,’ she said in a rush, swallowing hard as she dug around in her new handbag for the gift she’d seen and impulsively bought for him the day before yesterday. ‘A gift. A kitsch gift, admittedly, and one that was technically bought with your money, but still, here.’
She handed it to him, her fingers brushing against his, which made her heart leap for a moment and then plunge when he frowned.
‘What is it?’
‘A fridge magnet. I picked it up in Murano.’ She’d seen it and been amused by it and had a vivid vision of it actually on the door of his fridge, the only personal possession on show in his house.
He stared at the scene of his city, complete with canal, bridge and gondola, depicted in appallingly rendered relief above a bright red ‘Venezia’, as if he’d never seen such a horrendous thing in his life and had no idea what to do with it, which instantly made her regret her decision to give it to him.
‘Grazie,’ he muttered, eventually slipping it into his pocket, since clearly there was nowhere else for it to go.
‘It’s I who should be thanking you,’ she said, wishing fervently she’d never bought it in the first place and covering her embarrassment with a shaky smile. ‘It’s been quite a week.’
‘It has indeed.’
For a moment he just looked at her while she willed him to ask her to stay, but he remained resolutely silent, so she took a deep breath and before her courage could desert her said, ‘I wondered if maybe you’d like to meet for dinner in London, next time you’re there.’
He froze. For the briefest of seconds she thought she caught a glimpse of pleasure light the depths of his eyes, but it was gone in a flash and there instead was the cool indifference she’d thought long gone. ‘I’m not planning on a trip any time soon,’ he said, with a return to the drawl she hated.
‘Maybe I’ll find myself back in Venice some time,’ she said doggedly. ‘Maybe I’ll look you up instead.’
‘You’d be wasting your time. There’d be nothing waiting for you here.’
The flatness of his tone struck her square in the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs, and she reeled. Where had the man she’d fallen in love with gone? Where was the smile and the warmth?
‘Are you sure?’ she said, her voice cracking a little in response to the ice she could feel forming inside him.
‘Quite sure.’
His expression was unreadable and his eyes were devoid of every emotion in existence, but his meaning couldn’t be any clearer. For whatever reason, he didn’t want her the way she wanted him and it was agony.
‘Right. No. Of course not. Sorry,’ she said, a thousand tiny darts stabbing at her chest.
‘We agreed a week.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t give y
ou what you want, Carla.’
Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t? She wasn’t going to ask. There was only so much humiliation she could bear. ‘It’s fine,’ she said, dredging up a smile from who knew where because she was not going to fall apart in front of him, however much it cost her. ‘It’s not your fault I fell in love with you.’ The almost imperceptible widening of his eyes was the only indication he’d heard what she’d said. Other than that he remained silent, his face expressionless. ‘None of this is your fault,’ she continued. It was hers. All hers. She was the one who’d read too much into everything and come to conclusions that didn’t exist. However much it broke her heart, he might never be ready to embrace everything she and life had to offer and there was nothing she could do about it. ‘I just have one last request,’ she said shakily, determined that some good should come of this.
‘Name it.’
‘I know I can’t force you to see things my way about getting to know Finn, but you’ve been looking for a family, Rico, and you have one. A great one. Please say you’ll at least think about meeting him. At least give me that.’
For the longest of moments he didn’t say anything—was he really going to make her beg, after everything?—but then he gave a short nod. ‘Va bene,’ he said. ‘I can give you that. I’ll think about it.’
‘Thank you.’
And with her heart in bits, her body aching with sadness and disappointment, the warmth of the day and the sunshine beating down on her a bitter contrast to the chill seeping into her bones and the darkness now enveloping her like a heavy black cloud, Carla turned on her heel and walked away.
