by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
“Who gave you this crap?”
“Does it matter?” the Russian spluttered. “You can’t marry this creature now!”
“Of course I can, and nothing as pathetic as this is going to stop me.”
“Pathetic? Have you no pride, man? This harlot will be the ruin of you.” He shook his head vehemently. “This is not the beginning of a solid marriage, Ferrante. This changes everything. We must talk alone together immediately.”
“Let me see those,” Lora snapped and held out her shaking hand. Pontecorvo was going to call the deal off now, she knew it. “This isn’t what it looks like, it’s—”
“It’s all there in black and white as far as I can see,” Pontecorvo growled.
“No, it isn’t.” She looked the older man firmly in the eye. “All these pictures are fake. Lorenzo’s half-brother Sino accosted me on the street in Palermo and got one of his flunkies to take pictures while he tried to force himself on me.”
Pontecorvo shook his head. “These pictures are in a bedroom, how stupid do you think I am?”
She thought he must be incredibly stupid but kept that opinion to herself. “I thought we had taken the only camera from them, but there must have been another creep taking snaps somewhere. Look at this one.”
Pontecorvo recoiled as she thrust a particularly explicit picture under his nose. “Disgusting.”
“Yes, it’s filthy, but that’s my face superimposed onto another woman’s body. I was grimacing like that when I was trying to push Sino away, but obviously here it looks like, well, it looks like—”
Pontecorvo coughed. “It looks like you’re enjoying being on all fours.”
“And there, on her backside, what’s that?” She passed the photograph and her purse to Lorenzo, and, to his visible horror, began to wiggle up the long skirt of her dress.
He put out a hand to stop her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m going to show Mr. Pontecorvo my bum to prove I haven’t got a nasty black skull inked on it.” Before either of the men could stop her, she had the folds of silver material hitched up around her waist and had turned her back on them. “There. Take a good look, because I’m not doing this for longer than thirty seconds.”
It seemed like an eternity before Pontecorvo broke the awkward silence. “Enough. Cover yourself up.”
Lora let the fabric drop and a long held breath out before facing the two men. Lorenzo looked like he was about to kill someone, and Pontecorvo seemed floored with embarrassment, but she hoped with all her heart that the flash of her lacy G-string would save the day. She couldn’t stand by and watch his hopes and dreams being smashed to pieces, even if her own heart was being sliced apart in the process.
She swallowed hard, and then the words came tumbling out. “Sino is trying to ruin us, to split us up so there is no marriage, and more importantly no more Ferrante heirs to challenge the will when his father dies. But it won’t work. We love each other, and we will be married however hard he tries to prevent it from happening.” She reached out and grabbed Lorenzo’s arm as if it was a life raft. “Nothing will keep us apart.”
Pontecorvo rasped a hand over the white wisps of his hair and spoke softly. “I must be losing my touch in my old age. Please accept my apologies for…for being sucked in by this clumsy deception.” He coughed and looked at his feet. “Come, Lorenzo, we have a small matter to deal with before I go to bed.”
Lorenzo nodded gravely. “I can only apologize for my half-brother’s crude behavior. He is a young fool. Let’s get back inside.”
Lora eased away from the warmth of his body, and her lungs constricted with the enormity of the moment. This was to be the last few seconds they would be together. “Mr. Pontecorvo, if you will forgive me, I will leave the party now. It’s been a pleasure to meet you and Raisa, but we have an early flight in the morning…”
“Of course. I understand and won’t keep your fiancé any longer than necessary,” the Russian said, turning to leave. “I’ll be in my suite, Lorenzo. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
They watched in silence until he was out of earshot.
Lorenzo spoke first. “The things you said—”
Lora clasped her silver purse to her chest like a shield over her breaking heart. “Don’t bother to thank me. It was all lies.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She avoided his gaze and took a step backward. “Not my problem.”
“Lora, this isn’t over.”
“I’ll get a taxi out of here,” she whispered in the darkness and then walked away before he could see her tears fall.
Chapter Seventeen
A black and white whippet ran past and leapt in the air to catch a shiny red ball in the dusk light. Maybe one day she’d get a dog, Lora thought, as she stared out of her treatment room onto the public park outside. Once she didn’t have to abide by the rules and regulations of rented accommodation, of course. It would be nice to have a companion; she’d put it on her wish list when she got back to the flat.
She had flown out of Cyprus a week earlier after Lorenzo turned his back on her and told her to do what the hell she liked. The image of his broad shoulders and bent head silhouetted against the cool glow of the moon was burnt into the deepest part of her brain. She would never forget it however much she wanted to, but she had to move on. There was nothing gained from wishing for things you couldn’t change. Did she regret leaving him the way she did? Deep in her heart she did, but his silence and lack of contact since meant her dignity was still intact. She was nothing to him, and he didn’t want her.
Being alone and feeling lonely most of the time completely sucked. Everything in her tiny world was flat and lifeless, and even the paparazzi had grown bored since she’s slipped quietly back into the UK. Geoffrey and Sybil had flounced off to their new villa in Cannes for a month, and her mother had been remarkably ambivalent about her return to England. It hurt a little that she hadn’t been missed like she’d thought she would be, but maybe it was time she took some of her own advice and stopped seeking approval all over the place. Perhaps now would be a good time to think about looking after herself for a change, because nobody else was going to.
“Lora?” She jumped at the sound of the practice’s receptionist’s voice; she’d not even heard the door open. “It’s that Mr. Phillips again, he’s worried about his wife. She’s in a lot of pain.”
“I’m all booked up, honey, you know that from the appointment system. And I’m done for the day now.”
The receptionist grimaced. “I know, you’ve been working flat out since you came back, your clients missed you. But this guy—”
Lora put down her mug of green tea. She was exhausted from working until past ten for a week seeing all the people who wanted treatment, and she just wanted a hot bath and some sleep if it would come. It was an honor her clients had remained so loyal, though, and she needed the displacement. Being with people during working hours, listening to their problems and grumbles, meant she didn’t have to dwell on her own sense of loss and the nagging pain in her chest she knew was caused by stress, regret, and an awful emptiness she’d not felt since her father had died.
“Look, I can stay on past nine tonight for Mrs. Phillips, but could you please tell him I wouldn’t normally do it outside of clinic hours? But as he seems so concerned…”
The receptionist exhaled with relief. “Brilliant! He’s been driving me nuts all day, ringing every half an hour.”
Lora smiled weakly “Oh dear, have I made the wrong decision?”
“Don’t you dare change your mind! He says he can get here in five minutes, so I’ll ring him back now. Can I leave you the keys to lock up when you’re done? I said I’d take my mum to bingo.”
“Sure. No worries.”
Lora took a deep breath when she heard the door click shut. It was late, and she was tired, but she relit the soothing scented candle she’d extinguished earlier and lay out a fresh clean towel on her treatment table. S
he flicked on some ambient music as she went to close the window blinds and wished it soothed her the way it seemed to do with her patients. It was time she planned some time out to relax and heal herself.
“Stupid thing,” she muttered when the strings that operated the blind snarled up in the locking mechanism and the slats slithered unevenly down onto the windowsill. It looked mangled, but at least no one could see in from outside, and she might be able to fix it before Mrs. Phillips turned up in the next few minutes. She stood on a stool and poked a pen into the catch at the top of the window to release the cord; it had worked for her that way once before. Her heart sank when she heard the door open behind her; no time, she’d have to leave it. “Won’t be a second, sorry about this,” she said as she tugged at the pen which was now stuck. “These things always happen at the most inconvenient times.”
“That’s okay, I’ll wait.”
Lora froze.
Lorenzo.
“Why are you here?” she said, too afraid to turn around.
“Why do you think?” His deep voice sent a shiver through her, fear or elation, she couldn’t be sure. “We have unfinished business.”
She spun around on the stool; he needed to see her frown at him. He needed to see she wasn’t afraid and…she needed to see his face again. He was even more handsome than she remembered; that couldn’t be possible, could it? Perhaps it was the crumpled white linen jacket that he wore over a black T-shirt that made his eyes seem an impossibly bright blue. Or the dark stubble that gave his firm jaw even greater definition. “I assume you must be the irritatingly persistent Mr. Phillips?”
“How did you guess?” His smile was slow and disarming, and treacherous warmth flooded her cheeks.
“It didn’t take much,” she said and hopped down onto the floor from the stool. “Me being utterly brilliant and all. I’m sure impersonating sick ladies’ husbands must break some kind of law, but if you leave now I’m sure the clinic receptionist will turn a blind eye.”
“She might if she was still here.”
“What do you mean?” Lora marched to the door and flung it open. Emptiness. Silence. Bewilderment. “She didn’t leave me the key.”
“She left it with me when I told her who I was. No more questions asked.”
How could the woman just leave! He could be an axe murderer. “What did you say?”
He held up a bunch of keys and rattled them. “Simply that I was your boyfriend and I wanted to surprise you.”
“And she fell for that?”
Lorenzo shrugged and did one of those delicious Italian lopsided smiles. “She must have.” He dangled the keys in front of her. “Unless I have an uncanny way with women.”
“Oh no you don’t.” She snatched the keys from him and blew out the candle defiantly.
“Fina and Bee say hi, and to tell you they miss you.” His eyes flickered to the mangled blind and then back to her like blue search beacons. “And Mariella is seriously pissed off that she hasn’t got to meet you yet.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet too, but…don’t be unfair, Lorenzo, you mustn’t use them to manipulate me. Just why are you here?”
He hunched his shoulders and grinned. “Your mother seems to like me.”
“What?”
He leaned nonchalantly against the treatment bed. “I’ve been to see her, to tell her about us and to discuss you.”
Lora’s fingers tightened around the cold, hard keys. “How dare you!”
“She didn’t mind in the slightest. She also said she approves of me and told me to talk some sense into you.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“She ate all the chocolates I brought for her and was just getting one of the maids to open the champagne when I left.” He eased forward and took a step closer. “We need to talk, Lora. Seriously.”
“I think we’ve said it all already.” She threw the keys down on her desk and turned off the music with shaking fingers. “Apart from me getting you arrested for stalking my elderly mother.”
“She loved every minute of it.”
Lora picked up the towel from the treatment table and began to fold it hurriedly. “I’m sure she did.”
“And the care home owners have agreed to sell the entire business to me, so you’ll never have to worry about finding the fees again if your mother wishes to stay there.”
Her hands stilled. “I beg your pardon?”
“We had a long chat. She’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions. It’s the day to day physical challenges that defeat her.”
“I do know. She is my mother!”
“She’s considering my suggestion of a suite at The Dorchester, thinks it might be ‘quite jolly’.”
“For pity’s sake…”
“And Geoffrey will never be able to blackmail you again. The safe deposit box he said was full of enough evidence to ruin you was full of shirt buttons as it turned out. The lying little—”
“What safe deposit box?”
“The one he gave me the key to if you didn’t agree to go through with being a fake fiancée and he ended up dead because of it.”
“I’m speechless.”
“I also bought out his pathetic agency and sent him packing to France with much more money than he’ll ever deserve. His wife is delighted, apparently, and he knows what will happen if he ever tries to extort you again.”
“Good grief, I knew he could stoop low but this is the ultimate. The little git!”
“So you’ve seen his true ugly colors. You’re well shot of him, family or not. Now put that down and listen to me.” He took the towel from her hands and firmly laid it back on the bed for her, oblivious to her open-mouthed, silent protest. He paused for a moment, as if he was fighting for the correct words. “Nothing is right without you.”
Lora folded her arms across her chest and stepped backward. She had no reply; she didn’t know what he meant by those words and didn’t have the energy to dig deeper for him. Watching him speak and move again was beautiful. She shouldn’t let herself drink in every bit of him as he stood there, but resistance was futile. He would always be able to command her full attention; he didn’t even have to try.
He pushed his shoulders back, like a soldier on watch and took a deep breath before continuing. “I thought leaving Italy behind would bring me peace. I was sure that buying a Caribbean island retreat, a place of safety and warmth, would guarantee happiness for my family and myself. I was wrong.”
“You were wrong?”
“I’ve sat on that sandy white beach looking at an impossibly blue sea for a whole week now and it’s not enough. I’ve tried everything I can think of: running, swimming, chopping down trees, drinking too much rum. Nothing works. Nothing will be enough until you come back to me.”
“Lorenzo—”
“Please let me finish.” He ran a hand through the dark waves of his hair, and Lora suddenly noticed that he looked less manicured than usual. Disheveled. “You made me reconnect with my children in Sicily; that would never have happened without you. You gifted me their love and trust, and I can never thank you enough for creating that bond.”
“They were always offering it to you themselves. You only needed to stretch out a hand and take it. But you did everything you could to distance yourself from them.”
“I couldn’t see it, couldn’t open myself up enough to even know where to start. You were the bridge that brought us together. And you helped me heal my own body. I hardly get headaches at all now, and I can deal with them now you’ve shown me how; it’s like being released from a prison on a sunny spring day. I’m back in control.” He looked up at the ceiling briefly as if to compose himself. “I wouldn’t have traveled to Sicily to get closure without you encouraging us all to get out of the house every other day. I would have just worked and worked… You guided me out of the darkness of my own mind, Lora—showed me it is possible to enjoy life and not be a slave to tradition and other people’s expectations.”
>
Lora swallowed down the tears she could feel building up. “Then I’m glad for that, I truly am.”
“But it’s not enough.” The emphasis he placed on the word showed a depth of feeling that unnerved her, and her hand flew to her mouth as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
Lorenzo was losing it, and she didn’t know what to do. Panic ripped through her. “Stop it, Lorenzo. Get up!”
He shook his head gravely and looked up at her with pain etched on his face. “I trust your judgment in everything. You always seem to get things right. You’re like my compass, you give me direction, and, without you, I’m lost. I love you, Lora, and I want to be with you until I take my last breath on this earth. I’ll do whatever I can to make you love me, too.” He pulled a small turquoise box out of his jacket pocket. “Please marry me, Lora. Please?”
Her mouth opened with shock, but no sound came out. Her lips were dry, and her head was pounding with the enormity of what he was saying. “You said—”
“Forget everything I ever said except that I love you and I’m begging you to be my wife and the mother of as many babies as we can manage.”
“For real?”
“Forever.”
“I can’t believe this.” She held out her hands and tugged on his until he was standing up again. Just millimeters apart, his breath feathering her cheeks, his scent filling her lungs until she wanted to weep with joy. “You said you loved me.”
“Because it’s true.” He flipped open the box to reveal a platinum band set with a ribbon of multi-colored jewels. “A rainbow of rare diamonds, a bridge to your dreams if you’ll let me carry you to them. You don’t have to come to the Caribbean; I’ll go wherever you want to be, even back to Italy if that’s what it would take. You can carry on with your work, anything you want. I’ll buy this place for you. Or a whole chain of holistic centers, just name it. I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen. Say you’ll marry me, Lora? Please? This is killing me.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as he took the circle of jewels out of the box and held it over the tip of her ring finger. “I don’t need a Tiffany ring, or a Caribbean island, or an enormous nursing home, Lorenzo. All I ever wanted to hear was those words from you.”
