So maybe it was time—and kinder to both of them and, most importantly, to their child, who did not need parents who were together and unhappy, wearing masks to hide their real feelings.
Time to walk away.
* * *
Her side of the bed was empty when Lucas woke up, but, ever aware of her, he sensed her moving around the room. Still half-asleep, he lifted his head and scanned the semi-darkness. She was over in the corner, hair neatly tied back in a sleek ponytail, a pretty grey woollen dress and knee-high boots gracing her blossoming body. Not the gorgeously crumpled, sex-addled woman he’d held all night.
He yawned, shuffling up the pillows. ‘What time is it?’
‘Sorry. Did I wake you? It’s seven-fifteen.’ She gave him a tight smile and then bent again, her hands moving backwards and forwards over something he couldn’t quite make out in the dim light.
‘What are you doing, all dressed up and princess-like? And early? So early. Come back to bed.’ Then his heart kicked into a weird beat, unsettled and jerky. Because he’d just worked out what she was doing.
Her voice was as tight as her smile. ‘Lucas. I... We...’
She was folding up clothes and putting them into her case.
She was leaving.
Her shoulders sagged a little and she held an item of clothing close to her chest. ‘I’m packing.’
He didn’t understand. Tried not to anyway. The jerky heartbeat sped up. ‘To go where?’
‘Home.’
Not this home. Clearly. He threw back the sheets and dragged on a robe because he couldn’t do this naked. He felt suddenly weirdly vulnerable and off balance for the first time in decades. Since he realised his family didn’t want him. It was happening all over again. He tried to stay calm. ‘But you’ve just got here, Gigi.’
‘I know and it was an amazing ball, but now I have to go to the hospital to say goodbye to my father, then I have a plane to catch. I thought... I assumed you knew I’d go home after the ball.’
‘At some point, yes. But not so soon. Not today. We barely slept.’
A sigh. ‘It was wonderful, sì? Now I have a car waiting.’
‘No.’ He stalked over to her, closing the lid on her suitcase. ‘We can’t carry on like this. We have to talk about these things. I need to know where I am.’
‘You are here, Lucas, where you belong. I am going back to my home, where I belong. You know how things are there. We can’t leave the place for long with no Royal presence.’
Panic gripped his gut. He’d been wilfully negligent in pushing the agenda because it had suited him, but what the actual hell? He pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘What happens now?’
‘When Papa is better and Dom is back home, then we can talk some more. I don’t think...’ She sank onto a chair, suddenly looking every bit as if she’d only had a couple of hours’ sleep and needed much more. ‘I don’t think we’re in a place to start making decisions about the future.’
Panic morphed into anger. Not at her but at their singularly stupid reality. ‘So you thought you’d just up and go. If I hadn’t woken up would you have even said goodbye?’
‘Of course, Lucas. I was just sorting my things out.’ The smile she gave him was completely devoid of any emotion and he saw it then. Saw the way she was emotionally withdrawing, the way she’d been taught. His gut went into freefall.
He wanted to shake her. ‘For God’s sake. Why are you acting like this?’
A stiff shake of her head. ‘I’m not acting.’
‘Hell, Gigi, I know you.’ She was erecting walls, putting the barriers back in place. Sliding on that mask he’d seen her wear for other people but not for him. Not for them. She’d always been open and honest, her true self, and now that fun-loving Gigi had gone. ‘Stop being that damned automaton. Come back to me, Gigi.’
‘I’m sorry, Lucas.’ She shook her head, all Princess Giada now. ‘I have to go.’
She clicked the lock and then lugged the suitcase upright, wincing as she strained her damaged wrist. And, God help him, even though every part of him hated it that she was leaving, he gently moved her aside and grabbed the case. ‘I don’t know why I’m helping you, to be honest.’
‘Because you’re a good man, Lucas. Don’t forget that.’ She clipped downstairs and walked, straight-backed, to the front door.
She was really going. This was the end for them.
Pain bubbled up again, closing his throat, tripping his heart. She was actually leaving.
‘Gigi...’ He wanted to ask her to stay...for ever. He wanted her to promise never to leave him because he loved her, and if she loved him back then this could work. ‘Can’t we just—?’
‘No. I have too much in my head, Lucas. I can’t... Look, the taxi’s here.’
He wanted to slam the door closed and wrap her in his arms. ‘No. Gigi. We talk now.’
‘And what? End up in a big fight? Achieve nothing but heartache? Best to just cut our losses right now, don’t you think?’
‘What about last night, the last two weeks? I thought you...’ Maybe he’d been kidding himself. Falling for her, believing she felt the same. When, let’s face it, he was completely the wrong guy for her and they both knew that.
The ache under his ribcage intensified as he realised he hadn’t just fallen for her, he loved her.
Whoa.
No.
That had not been the plan at all. Because she would not move here, he knew that. He’d seen her in her country, how much she loved the place and the people. How much she belonged there. Not here, not in this world.
And what then for their child?
The last couple of weeks they’d avoided discussing the realities, choosing instead to fall in love with the growing bump.
Falling in love. There it was again. The ever-present swell in his chest. The same for his child as for the woman carrying it.
He rubbed his forehead.
How could he have been so stupid as to allow himself to fall for her? He was on a trajectory that could only end in pain. She did not need him. Was not destined for someone like him.
In his experience, love was conditional on how you acted, whether you performed to a particular standard. Love could be cut off.
And yet he couldn’t cut off this feeling now. Couldn’t stop it.
He shook his head. He had to stop it. He had to draw a line in the sand. She was leaving, again. It would always be like this and he would know only hurt and dissatisfaction.
She was committed to one thing only: her country. He could see that now, could see her hands tightening on her handbag straps, the yearning of her body to get to the car.
He inhaled as she opened the door and the cold early morning air wove around them, an Arctic blast that made her blink fast.
Or was that because she was going? Was she fighting tears? But why? She was the one leaving.
Rejection was the one thing he wasn’t prepared to accept again. He could walk away but he would not be pushed. He would not hear her say the words. Worse, he wouldn’t wait in the silence wishing, wanting, praying to hear from her again and knowing it wouldn’t happen. The way it had played out with his family. He had to have an equal say in a relationship; he couldn’t be at someone’s beck and call, only to be dropped when things got difficult or inconvenient.
He needed some control. ‘I’ll walk you to the car.’
‘Thank you.’ She almost looked grateful that he wasn’t causing too much of a scene. ‘Don’t you dare think I’ll cut off ties with you. This is your child and you will be part of its life.’
‘Damned right I will.’ He closed the car door, barely able to breathe. The pain in his chest spread outwards like a stain. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
* * *
She would not cry. She would hold her head up, fasten her seatbelt without lett
ing him see how much her heart was breaking. It was the Baresi way.
Oh, God, Lucas. What am I doing?
She wanted to put her palm on the window, to open the door and run to him. Wanted to tell him how much she loved his kisses, his warmth, his laugh. How much she wanted things to work out but that she didn’t know the formula to get there.
Not for the first time did she wish she wasn’t a princess with duty and responsibility and a whole damn country to take into account every time she did a single thing.
Lucas Beaufort was the best thing that had happened to her and yet she was leaving. But saving herself was the only thing she could do. The car pulled away and she closed her eyes. She would not look back. Would not chase that dream. Because that was all it was—a lovely, impossible dream.
Her phone rang and she ignored it. But it rang again and again and eventually she pulled it out of her pocket. Domenico. Her heart leapt to her throat. So early?
His voice was grave and low. ‘I’ve just spoken to Max. Gigi, it’s not good news. I’m so sorry. Papa’s tumour is growing.’
That was all she heard or understood. He said a few other things but everything blurred. All she knew was that she wished today wasn’t happening.
* * *
A nurse met her at her father’s bedside and explained that his intracranial pressure was rising. More scans were needed, more tests. Gigi sat and held her frail father’s hand while chaos swam inside her. Everything was falling apart and she was being torn into a million pieces. And here again she had to wear that mask that said everything was fine. Just fine.
It wasn’t.
‘Do you know where Dr di Rossi is?’ she asked the nurse, wanting a familiar face, someone who understood.
But the woman just shrugged and fiddled with her father’s IV. ‘I don’t know. Probably in ER.’
Truth was, she wanted Lucas. She wanted to feel his strength and his warmth. To lean against his chest and have him stroke her hair.
Lucas would come if she asked him; he’d hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t do that to him. He wasn’t a plaything she could pick up and throw away at a moment’s notice. Emotion throbbed in the centre of her chest.
She needed him. She put her hand to her belly and cradled their child. They needed him, more than ever, but she couldn’t go back to him and ask. Not now.
So here she was facing the stark truth: her life was changing and there was nothing she could do about it. She was utterly alone.
Which, in some ways, was a good thing because that way no one would see she was crying.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HER FATHER WAS AWAKE!
It was the best Christmas present ever.
The last two weeks had been exhausting as she’d twice flown back from Isola Verde to sit by her father’s side. He’d initially taken a sharp turn for the worse and Max had been unsure if he could remove all the tumour, or even if her father would ever wake up again. But he’d operated anyway, because there would have been no hope if he hadn’t.
So she’d clung to positivity, staying at the Four Seasons, sneaking through Seattle General Hospital, avoiding Lucas at all costs, always worrying he might see her and force a conversation where she would cry or break down. And yet secretly wishing she could glimpse him to see if he was surviving without her.
She was barely clinging on without him.
Then it was back to Isola Verde to rule the country in her family’s absence. Pretending she was fine, pretending this baby wasn’t sapping her energy. Pretending her heart wasn’t breaking.
But today, Christmas Day, she skipped through the hospital, because her father was awake and asking for her!
Christmas carols played as she walked through the ward. The staff waved to her—one was dressed as a Christmas fairy, another had a flashing Santa hat, and everyone wore smiles—but Gigi felt discombobulated by it all. What was she going to find? Was her father going to be okay? Would he even recognise her?
She kissed his cheek, ecstatic to see his dark Baresi eyes open, direct and alert, even though he was still clearly pale and fragile. She breathed out slowly. ‘You look so much better than the last time I saw you, Papa.’
‘Because you’re here, my daughter.’ He gripped her hand as she sat next to the bed.
Wow. She scanned the area for Domenico, simply because she wanted to check their father was actually okay. He’d never said words like that to her before. She ran her palm over the back of his hand, promising to say all the things she’d wanted to say to him, starting with, ‘I love you, Papa.’
‘I love you, Gigi. I’m sorry... I was not the father I should have been.’
‘Hush, Papa. Don’t talk like that.’ Tears pricked her eyes. ‘I did things I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was angry and hurt and I embarrassed us all.’
‘No. It is my fault. I struggled with you. I was lonely and sad after your mother died.’ He raised his fingers. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot.’
‘You were asleep a long time, Papa.’ People didn’t think while they were in a coma, right?
‘Dreaming. Thinking... You were by my side at the Armistice parade every year. On the balcony, waving to the crowds on Alessandro Day, in the rain, in burning sunshine.’ He gave her a weak smile. ‘I believed our people were there for me and they were, but they were also there for you, Gigi.’
She couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. ‘They love you, Papa. We all do. So much.’
‘And now you’re here after representing the family at home. Holding everything together until I return. I didn’t see you before, darling girl...’ He clasped her hand to his chest. ‘But I see you now.’
‘Oh, Papa.’ It was all she’d ever wanted: to be seen, heard, respected. To be loved by her family. She blinked fast to stop the tears. ‘All I want is for you to be strong enough to come home.’
‘We have to talk...’
‘Yes, of course. When you’re stronger.’
‘Now.’ His voice recovered some of the regal strength she knew so well. ‘Domenico doesn’t want to be King, I know that. He has a life here and, from what I hear, someone he wants to share a life with. But you, bella Gigi...you could be Queen.’
‘What? Me? No. No, I can’t.’ The thought was ridiculous.
‘You were born for it.’
‘No.’ I’m pregnant. I can’t do this. Not on my own. The hurt at leaving Lucas hadn’t diminished—in fact, it had got worse. She missed him. She wanted him back. She just couldn’t be Queen. Couldn’t be Queen and have Lucas at the same time. It was impossible. ‘Domenico is Crown Prince and will ascend the throne after you. Anyway, you have years left in you.’
Her father slowly moved his head from side to side. ‘I’m tired, Gigi. My head hurts. I don’t know if my decisions are right or wrong. I don’t want to second-guess myself. It’s a new age, I haven’t embraced things... I don’t know social media. I don’t know the young people, but you do. You were made to be Queen. I wish it to be so. And soon.’
‘Papa.’ Panic gripped her belly. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m too old and sick. Isola Verde needs to be ruled by a steady hand, by a monarch who wants to be there, by someone with a future. Dom doesn’t want to go home, Giada. I don’t want him to do something he doesn’t want to do.’
None of this made sense. Maybe he was still confused from the operation. ‘Domenico is to be king. We had a conference call with the palace earlier and the official announcement is to be made tomorrow morning.’
‘No, Gigi. He does not want to be King. I know that. I saw that with my own eyes. He wants to live and work here.’
‘But who will rule?’
‘You will. Queen Giada.’
‘I can’t. I’m not—’ She pressed her hand to her throat as panic bubbled
inside her. Panic and...yes, some excitement too. It was contrary to the succession plan, but her father was right, she could do this. She’d been doing it for the last few months anyway. She’d held the family and the country together and it had felt...right. Her duty and her privilege.
But it would be the final nail in the coffin for her and Lucas.
Sadness choked her, mourning for what they could have had. But he hadn’t reached out to her. Hadn’t called. Domenico had said he’d barely spoken to him over the last couple of weeks. It was as if he’d cut himself off from the only family he’d ever had a chance to be a part of.
Her heart hurt at the loss. She missed what they’d had in those last two happy weeks in Isola Verde. But she had to be strong now and make decisions not only for herself but for her child.
‘You are everything our country needs. Please.’ Her father stroked her hair, a gesture so tender it brought more tears. ‘Do this for me. For us all.’
She cupped his hand and brought it to her cheek. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say yes, Gigi.’
Oh, she wanted to. So much. ‘But... I can’t be Queen, Papa. I have news.’ This was not how she’d planned to tell him. He’d given her the greatest gift and she was going to disappoint him again. She took a ragged breath through an aching throat. ‘Papa... I... I’m pregnant.’
Her father closed his eyes and she was sure he cursed in Isola Verdian. But after a moment he smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘You are always full of surprises, my darling.’
Her chest was holding back a sob but she couldn’t cry, not now in front of her Papa. ‘And I never do things in the right order, sì?’
‘Like I said, it’s a new age. We will have an heir sooner rather than later. That is good news. And the father?’
She looked away, unable to talk about Lucas and not show her true feelings. ‘He’s a good man. A wonderful man.’
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