by Lucy King
* * *
With every step she took the strength leached from her limbs, but despite the stinging of her eyes and the sobs building in her chest she held it together through Check-in. She made her way through Security and Passport Control without giving in to the pain clawing at her stomach and shredding her heart.
It was only once she was on the plane and in the air and Rico hadn’t made a dramatic appearance to declare his love for her and beg her to stay—as she’d secretly, stupidly, been hoping—that her defences exploded and she crumbled.
How could she have got it so wrong? she thought desperately, tears leaking out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she stared out of the window, her heart breaking at the realisation that with every second she was leaving him behind. She’d been so sure. He’d taken on an employee in order to spend more time with her. He’d sought her counsel and shared intimate details of his past. He—a man who had spent so long on his own—had let her into his world.
But she hadn’t got it wrong, she told herself, nudging her sunglasses out of the way so she could wipe her eyes with a tissue as she went over the conversation for the hundredth time. He’d been tempted to say yes to dinner. He’d wanted to embrace everything she’d offered. She’d felt it. So why the resistance? Why didn’t he want to fight for her the way she wanted to fight for him? Why was his attachment to the past more important than a future with her? Why wasn’t she enough? Why wouldn’t he allow himself to love her?
She’d taken the biggest gamble of her life, she realised, the pain slicing through her and splitting her wide open unlike any she’d felt before, and she’d lost. What was she going to do?
* * *
Rico spent the first day following Carla’s departure once again thanking God at having had such a lucky escape. He’d been right to recognise the danger of her wanting more. He’d been right to reject her offer of dinner in London.
But as the relief faded the guilt set in. That she’d fallen in love with him was his fault. He should have put a stop to it sooner. He should have resisted her allure. He should never have opened up to her. He should never have let her into his life in the first place.
The rampant remorse sent him to his gym, where he tried to sweat out the image of how devastated she’d looked when he’d said there was nothing left for her here, which seemed to be permanently etched into his memory. He’d hurt her further when she’d declared she was in love with him and he hadn’t said a word, he realised grimly as he rowed a stretch of the Arno on the ergometer, his muscles screaming with every stroke. He’d done more than that. He’d crushed her. But who the hell fell in love in a week?
If only he could remove her from his head as decisively as he’d removed her from his home. He didn’t want her hanging around in there with her smiles and her warmth. It shouldn’t have even been hard to do. It wasn’t as if she’d left anything behind apart from that maledetto fridge magnet that was hideous and served no purpose and which he should have tossed in the bin instead of slapping it on the door of his fridge and then doing his best to ignore it. He’d never wanted reminders of the past, he was all about looking forward, and he’d never understood why people grew so attached to things.
Carla definitely fell into the category of ‘the past’ yet annoyingly, frustratingly, his house was full of her. Everywhere he looked he could see her, especially in his bedroom, and the images that bombarded him were as vivid as they were unsettling. The villa felt strangely empty without her and when he wasn’t on the treadmill, running up and down virtual hills and pounding along virtual paths through virtual valleys and villages, he prowled around it, oddly restless and unpleasantly on edge. Being alone had never bothered him before. It was irritating and frustrating that it did now. He didn’t even have much work to distract him, since the fund manager he’d hired was so keen to impress.
Unable to stand it any longer, Rico went to Milan to visit a client. The fact that the city was also home to the law firm where his parents had lodged their letter to him all those years ago was not a coincidence.
Because when he wasn’t remonstrating with himself about how badly he’d handled Carla and regretting the promise guilt had forced him to make, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about these brothers of his, the family he might have out there. Long before he’d met her and lost his mind, Finn at least had been lurking in the depths of his conscience, unwelcome and unacknowledged but nevertheless there.
Rico remembered all too clearly how he’d felt when he’d first seen the picture of his brother in the press, the sense of something missing slipping into place. Carla had been right about that, and although it pained him to admit it he was beginning to wonder if she might have been right about other things. Such as the importance and the significance of family. The basic human need for connection. He’d always operated alone and relied solely on himself—he’d even found having to put himself in the hands of medical experts in the aftermath of his accident frustrating and annoying—but perhaps that was what he’d subconsciously been seeking while taking ever-increasing risks and continually pushing himself to do and be more. Maybe that was what he’d always wanted but had been too wary of being exploited and used again to actually reach out and grab. And so perhaps it wasn’t the accident on its own that had affected him, but seeing the photo of Finn in conjunction with it.
Rico had never been bothered by the idea of his own mortality, but it looked as if he was now. He didn’t want to die alone in some mountain range. He didn’t want to die full stop. His nihilistic approach to life no longer appealed. He didn’t want to just fill the days with things that would merely pass the time. Risks now needed to be calculated and recklessness curtailed. He wanted to live.
And if everything now running through his head was quite possibly true, then wouldn’t it be a good idea to establish contact with Finn? Couldn’t he do with allowing someone else into his life and vice versa? How would he know if the gaping void where his soul should be could be filled if he didn’t give it a chance?
At least if Finn had been searching for him for months, the likelihood of being rejected by him was low. His brother’s email, which had been lurking in his inbox, repeatedly snagging his attention until he’d had no option but to open it and which had contained an invitation to visit at any time, had certainly been encouraging.
Actually meeting his brother needn’t open the can of worms he’d feared, he told himself repeatedly. And even if it did, what made him automatically assume he wouldn’t be able to handle it? Wasn’t it a bit cowardly to keep hiding himself away under the pretext of being better off alone? Was anyone better off wholly alone and cut off?
Well, he was about to find out.
Exactly two weeks after he’d first made the trip here, Rico found himself once more at Finn Calvert’s door. Not skulking beneath a tree, but actually on the doorstep, on another Saturday afternoon in June.
For a moment he stood there, stock still, his heart thumping so hard and fast it reverberated in his ears, his every muscle tight with tension, anticipation and trepidation. Despite his efforts to downplay the significance of what was about to happen, it was huge. With every passing second his brother and a life irrevocably changed came that bit closer. If he wanted to, this was his last chance to walk away. But he didn’t. He was done with the life he used to lead. He and Finn had an appointment and this time he was going to keep it.
And it would be fine, Rico assured himself, taking a deep breath and stiffening his spine as he banged the huge brass knocker twice against the door. This brother of his dominated the hospitality industry and one didn’t get to a position like that by being sentimental. There wouldn’t be an overload of emotion. No one needed that. And in the unlikely event a heart-to-heart did appear to be in the offing, if things moved too fast all he had to do was deflect it and slow them down.
The seconds ticked interminably by, and then came the sound of footsteps
, just about audible above the thunder of his pulse. The latch lifted and the door swung open and there, on the other side of the threshold, stood his brother. His identical brother, physically at least, bar a few superficial differences. He’d been right about that. Expecting it, even, given how long he’d spent looking at the photo over the last couple of days.
What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was the sense of recognition that suddenly slammed into him, smashing through his exterior and striking at his marrow, crushing the air from his lungs and leeching the strength from his knees.
Staring into his brother’s eyes was like looking in on himself. The urge to stride over and give him a hug roared up through him, along with the sudden extraordinary concern that Finn might not like him, none of which made any sense, when he hadn’t hugged anyone in over twenty years and it didn’t matter what Finn thought of him.
‘Federico Rossi,’ he said, getting a grip of the emotions running riot inside him and holding out a hand to forestall any attempt at something closer from the man who was staring back at him with a gaze containing just as much shock and curiosity that his own had to have. ‘Rico.’
‘Finn Calvert,’ his brother said, taking it. ‘Come in.’
‘Grazie,’ he replied, glancing down at the familiar fingers gripping his with similar strength for a moment before forcing himself to let go.
‘You have no idea how pleased I am to meet you,’ said Finn, breaking into an enviably easy, genuine smile as he stood back to allow Rico to pass. ‘I’ve been looking for you for months. I thought Carla was mad when she told us she was going to Venice to get you to change your mind, but I can’t deny I’m glad it worked.’
His heart lurched at the mention of her name, but he swiftly contained it and got a grip. ‘How much did she tell you about me?’
‘Not a lot. A few basic facts. She said she hadn’t got very far.’
She’d got very far indeed. Too far. At which point he’d pushed her away. Which had been absolutely the right thing to do. He had no business wondering how she’d been, he reminded himself, biting back the question on the tip of his tongue. No business knowing he didn’t deserve her loyalty but being inexplicably pleased he had it anyway.
‘But she did mention that we were identical.’
‘Not quite,’ Rico replied, snapping himself out of it and forcing himself to focus.
‘No. How did you get the scars?’
‘A misspent youth.’
‘I look forward to hearing all about it,’ Finn said, opening the door to the study that only a fortnight ago had put the fear of God into Rico, and heading on in. ‘I had one of those briefly. Drink?’
‘Sure.’
‘Take a seat.’
‘Thank you.’
Selecting one of the two wing-backed armchairs in front of the fireplace, Rico sat down and glanced around. Strange to think that this room with all its photos had once had him running for the hills, while today he could take it all in with relative equanimity, even if the sight of so much clutter was making him inwardly wince. Even stranger to think that where once he’d had no interest in his brother, now he could barely contain the curiosity ripping through him. The force with which questions were ricocheting around his head, multiplying with every second, was making his pulse race.
‘How do you feel about milk?’ said Finn, bending down at the sideboard and opening a cupboard.
‘It makes me want to throw up,’ Rico said, willing everything inside him to calm down so he could process it.
‘Me too. We’d better stick to Scotch.’
‘Fine with me.’
Finn took a moment to fix the drinks, then handed Rico a generously filled glass and sat in the chair opposite. ‘So what made you change your mind about meeting me? You disappeared pretty quickly the last time you were here.’
‘I wasn’t prepared.’
‘But you are now?’
‘Not entirely.’
For a moment his brother just looked at him in shrewd understanding. ‘I can appreciate that. When I discovered I was adopted—and that I had siblings I knew nothing about—it turned my world upside down.’
‘In what way?’
‘In pretty much every way. Everything I thought I knew had been a lie. Or that was what I believed, at least.’
‘You don’t now?’
‘Thanks to Georgie, no.’
Another woman with undue influence, although Finn didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. Judging by the smile playing at his mouth and the softening of his expression, he didn’t mind at all. And perhaps his brother’s life had been as gilded as he’d assumed.
‘I came because of this.’ Reaching into the top pocket on the inside of his jacket, Rico withdrew the letter he’d picked up from the solicitors only yesterday. As if having his thoughts dominated by Carla and Finn wasn’t frustrating enough, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that either, wondering now what it might contain, whether it might somehow be useful. He’d had to find out if it still existed before he drove himself mad. To both his astonishment and that of the archivist, it had been found in a file in a box in the basement.
‘What is it?’
‘A letter left for me by my adoptive parents to be read at the age of eighteen.’
‘And did you read it?’
‘Not then. I have now.’
‘What does it say?’
Rico didn’t have to look at it to remind himself of its contents. He knew every word off by heart. It was a letter penned by his mother and filled with love. She’d written about how much she and his father loved him and always would, but if he ever wanted to look for his birth parents, they’d understand and he should start here. He had broken down when he’d read it. The anger, grief and regret that he’d never had a chance to process had slammed into him and he’d sunk to the floor, racked with so much torment and pain that it had taken hours to blow itself out.
‘It gives the name of the agency my parents used to adopt me,’ he said gruffly.
‘Would you mind if I gave that information to the investigator I have working on the case?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’
‘And how would you feel about doing a joint interview?’
‘What kind of an interview?’
‘The kind that might go viral and be seen by our elusive third brother.’
It would mean stepping out of the shadows, Rico thought with a faint frown as he rubbed his chest and briefly wondered at the absence of the cold sweat he might have expected at the idea. It would mean a rejection of the past and embracing the future.
But perhaps that was all right.
He’d once thought his life didn’t need changing, but he could see now that it most definitely did. His life before Carla had blown into it like a whirlwind had been terrible. A cold, empty desert, devoid of colour and light and warmth. For the week he’d shared it with her, it had been brighter and shinier and better.
She’d shown him what it could be like to let someone in. When he thought about the void he’d lived with for so long, he couldn’t find it. She’d filled it with promise and hope. She’d helped put him back together. She’d risen to his defence. She’d never once been anything other than honest and upfront with him. She’d given him her love and her loyalty, even after everything she’d been through, and what had he done?
Still determined to believe that he could only survive if he remained alone, he’d sent her away.
What he’d lost hit him then with the force of a battering ram, slamming into the mile-high walls he’d spent years constructing and reducing them to rubble and dust.
Carla, with her unassailable belief in family and friends, was everything he’d never known he wanted, he realised, his head pounding with the realisations now r
aining down on him. Everything he’d been subconsciously seeking his entire life while convincing himself that he wasn’t lonely and he didn’t need anyone. She was strong and brave and tough. And, Dio, the loyalty she so fiercely believed in... He’d been on the receiving end of that and it had been stunning.
He’d had the chance to build a future with someone who understood him and who he understood. After years of searching he’d finally found a place to belong and develop new foundations upon which, with her, he could have built a life, something brilliant and strong.
How could he have been such a fool?
Well, he was done with allowing his preoccupation with the past to influence his present. He’d let it dictate his thoughts, his behaviour and his actions for too long. Carla had shown him a glimpse of what his life could be if he took a risk and spent it with her.
And taking the risk was exactly what he was going to do, because as he looked briefly around Finn’s study he realised that he wanted the photos. He wanted what Finn had. All of it. And he wanted it with Carla. Seven days ago he’d wondered who the hell fell in love in a week. Well, apparently, he thought, giving free rein to the emotions that had been clamouring for acknowledgement for days and letting them buffet him, that would be him.
‘Fix up the interview,’ he said, his heart banging so hard against his ribs he feared one might crack. ‘It’s a good idea.’
‘It was Carla’s.’
Of course it was. All the good ideas were hers.
‘Would you mind if we continued this conversation another time?’ he said, leaping to his feet as if the chair were on fire. ‘There’s somewhere I have to be.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CARLA SAT AT the table on her tiny roof terrace, the glass of rosé before her untouched and the rays of the setting sun doing little to warm the chill she felt deep inside her that just wouldn’t shift.
When was it going to stop? she wondered with a sniff. When was the pain going to go away?
