The Secret That Changed Everything

by Lucy Gordon

  She nodded, understanding that time, whether long or short, could make no difference to some situations. But another thought danced through her mind so fleetingly that she was barely aware of it. Another woman had stood between them, but no longer. Suddenly she had vanished, leaving only questions behind.

  Impulsively she reached out and laid a hand on his cheek.

  ‘Hey, you two, that’s not good enough,’ came an exultant cry from nearby. ‘This is the fountain of love. Look around you.’

  Everywhere couples were in each other’s arms, some hugging fondly, some kissing passionately. Lucio gazed into her face for only a moment before drawing her close.

  ‘I guess they feel we’re letting the side down,’ he said.

  ‘And we can’t have that, can we?’ she agreed.

  The feel of his lips on hers was passionate yet comforting, confirming her sensation that she was in the right place with the right person.

  ‘I’m glad I met you,’ he whispered against her mouth.

  ‘I’m glad, too.’

  They walked slowly back along the Via Vittorio Veneto. Neither spoke until they reached the hotel and he said, ‘Let me take you up to your room.’

  She could have bid him goodnight there and then, but she didn’t. She knew now that as the evening passed the decision had been slowly building inside her. What she was going to do was right, and whatever might come of it, she was resolved.

  When they reached her room he waited while she opened the door. Then he took a step back, allowing her time to change her mind. But she had passed that point, and so had he. When she held out her hand he took it, followed her inside and closed the door, shutting out the world.

  * * *

  In the morning she awoke to find herself alone. By her bed was a scrap of paper, on which was written, ‘Thank you with all my heart. Lucio.’

  At breakfast she looked around but didn’t see him. She realised that she didn’t even know his last name.

  Strangely the situation did not distress her. They had been ships that passed in the night because that was what both of them had chosen, both of them needed. He’d been passionate and at the same time a gentle, considerate lover, with a mysterious gift for making her feel as though her troubles were falling away. She could go on to whatever the future held, stronger and more confident.

  * * *

  But gradually, a few weeks later, she discovered what the future did hold, and she realised that nothing would ever be the same. Now it mattered that she didn’t know his full name. It took several hours’ online research to discover that he was Lucio Constello, one of the most notable men in the business, with vineyards all over the country. But the most famous one was in Tuscany.

  She’d set out to confront him, wondering how this business could possibly end, and soon she would know.

  There he was, far ahead. The moment of truth had arrived, and she had no choice but to go forward.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I’M NOT imagining this, am I?’ he asked slowly. ‘It’s really you?’

  ‘Sure it’s me,’ she said lightly.

  ‘You...here? In Tuscany? It’s great but I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘Why? There was always a chance we’d bump into each other again.’

  The reference to chance was deliberate. She was determined to play it casual. There must be no hint of how frantically she’d searched for him, how much it mattered. She, who prided herself on fearing nothing, had been dreading this meeting, dreading the sight of his face when she told him her news.

  She covered her feelings with a smile, a cheerful shrug. He mustn’t suspect before she was ready.

  ‘I’m flattered you even remember me,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I remember. We had a great evening. You made me laugh.’

  She stayed calm, although it was hard. Was laughter all he remembered about that night?

  ‘As you did me,’ she returned brightly.

  ‘Yes, we had a wonderful time. I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly the next morning. You were deeply asleep and I didn’t want to awaken you.’

  That wasn’t quite the truth. He’d been overtaken by a desire to keep that perfect night apart, separate from all other contacts, like a picture in a frame. It had made him slip silently out of the room, leaving behind only the note that gave no clue to his identity or whereabouts. Perhaps he should be ashamed of that, but he couldn’t think of it now.

  The sight of her approaching had filled him with an overwhelming gladness. The awareness of that night was there again, spectacular, intense. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and for a moment he felt nothing but pleasure.

  Then she destroyed it.

  ‘I had to find you,’ she said. ‘There’s something you need to know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  ‘Wh-what?’

  ‘I’m pregnant. I’m carrying your child.’

  To his own horror his mind went blank. The pleasure at seeing her, the joy at the beautiful memories, everything vanished. He had the sensation of being punched in the face.

  ‘Are you...sure?’ he asked, barely knowing what he said.

  ‘Quite sure. And in case you’re wondering, I don’t make a habit of doing what I did that night, so there hasn’t been anyone else. You’re the father.’

  ‘Look, I didn’t mean...’

  He could have cursed himself for his clumsiness but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean—what? And what did he mean? If anything.

  Watching him intently, Charlotte saw the last thing in the world she’d wanted to see. Confusion. Blank. Nothing.

  A desert.

  In a blinding flash her courage collapsed. Don had rejected her, and although her heart hadn’t been broken, rejection was still rejection. Now Lucio was working himself up to reject her, and she wasn’t going to hang around for it.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ she said with a good imitation of a cheerful laugh. ‘There’s no need to panic.’

  ‘I’m not—’

  ‘Oh, yes, you are. You’re on the verge of a panic attack. Oh, poor Lucio! Did you think I was trying to trap you into marriage? Not a chance! You and me? Get real! It would never work. We’d always—well, never mind that. Just don’t panic. You’re completely safe from me, I promise you. I’m only here because you have the right to know. Fulfilling my citizenly duty. How about that?’

  She even managed a teasing note in the last words, and had the bitter satisfaction of seeing uncertainty in his face. He was floundering. Good. Serve him right!

  ‘So there it is,’ she said. ‘Now you know. If you want to talk about it you’ll find me here.’ She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. ‘But if you don’t want to, that’s just fine. Goodbye, Lucio. It was nice knowing you.’

  Turning on her heel she walked swiftly away, determined to escape before he could insult her with any more blank-faced confusion.

  But she gave him a last chance. That was only fair. After hurrying a few hundred yards she looked back, expecting to find him watching her, even perhaps stretching out a hand. That would have made her pause to see if he followed.

  But he was frozen where she’d left him, immobile, staring down at the paper in his hand. She waited for him to look up, see her, call her name.

  Nothing! Damn him!

  There was only one thing to do, and that was vanish. She managed this by moving sideways between the vines so that she slipped into the next alley. This she did again, then again and again until she was several alleys away from the one where she’d started. Then she began to run, and didn’t stop until she reached her car. A few moments later she was speeding away from the estate.

  As she fled she asked herself ironically what else she’d expected. A man who shared a woman’s bed and vanished without a goodbye had sent her an unmistakable message. The woman who chose to ignore that message had nobody to blame but herself if she suffered rejection.

  And it certainly was r
ejection. Lucio hadn’t said the actual words, but only because he’d been trying to phrase them tactfully. She wouldn’t hear from him again but it didn’t matter. She’d told him what he had a right to know and her conscience was clear.

  She thought of her family back home in the States. She’d known of her pregnancy for several weeks, but so far hadn’t told them. How would they react?

  Or did she know the answer, only too well? They would accept it as no more than you’d expect from Charlotte—the difficult one, unpredictable, awkward, never quite fitting in.

  And the one-night stand? Well, that was just like her, wasn’t it? Always ready to explore new territory, even if it might have been best left unexplored. Not that she was exactly a bad girl...

  But then again, maybe she was.

  She wished her brother, Matt, was here right now. Strange that they should be so close, when he was Ellie’s twin, not hers. But there was something in their natures that clicked. She knew that he, too, sometimes felt adrift in a desert, and he fought it the way she did herself, with humour that was ironic and sometimes bitter. She could almost hear him now. ‘Why did you bother finding this guy? He didn’t even give you his last name. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

  Perhaps he did tell me the name, she thought, I just can’t remember it. It didn’t matter. It was that sort of evening. All about having fun.

  But it hadn’t been fun trying to track him down afterwards. The thought of applying to the hotel for information had made her shiver with shame. Instead she’d gone to an internet café and then ransacked the internet for Italian vintners until she found no less than five of them called ‘Lucio.’ Luckily there was a photograph that identified him, but the search had made her feel like some abandoned serving girl from a bygone era. Which didn’t improve her temper any.

  She’d finally identified him as Lucio Constello, one of the most successful men in the business. His wine was famous throughout the world, and he seemed to live a glamorous life, enjoying yacht trips, rubbing shoulders with celebrities, making money at every point. There were pictures of him with beautiful women, one of whom had recently ended a romance with a film producer.

  ‘And perhaps we know why,’ enthused the text. ‘Just look at the way they’re gazing at each other.’

  But after that the starlet was never seen with him again.

  One article declared that he was ‘a man who really knew how to enjoy himself.’ Which meant, Charlotte thought wryly, that one-night stands were a normal part of his life. Hence his disappearance and her feeling that he wouldn’t be pleased to see her.

  His vineyards were many, spread out over Italy, and all subject to his personal supervision. Crisis! He could be anywhere. But an article revealed that he usually spent May in Tuscany at the Vigneto Constanza. There was time to catch him.

  At the same time a perverse inner voice argued that there was no need to contact him at all. What did this baby really have to do with Lucio? Forget him. He belonged in the past.

  But her mother’s voice seemed to flit through her mind. It was weeks since she’d learned the truth of how Fenella had led Cedric Patterson into accepting Clay Calhoun’s twins as his own, yet still the deception haunted her. No matter how much she tried to defend her mother she knew that she herself must be honest. So she would write to Lucio.

  But somehow the letter wouldn’t get itself written. Whatever tone she adopted was the wrong one. Too needy. Too hopeful. Too chilly. Too indifferent.

  So she’d headed for Tuscany, checking into a hotel in the picturesque old city of Florence, and hiring a car from the hotel for the rest of the journey. For part of the way a map was useful, but when she grew nearer she asked directions. Everyone could point the way. The Vigneto Constanza was known and respected for miles around, clearly a source of welcome employment which was probably why they called the house a palazzo, she thought.

  But she changed her mind when she saw the building, which was certainly a palace, rearing up three floors, with an air of magnificence that suggested nobility rather than business.

  As she approached a middle-aged woman came out and stood waiting on the step.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said as Charlotte got out of the car. ‘I’m Elizabetta, the housekeeper. Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m here to see Signor Constello.’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not here,’ Elizabetta said.

  Charlotte gave a sharp breath. He’d vanished. She’d pursued him for nothing. Suddenly she was in the desert again.

  But then Elizabetta added, ‘Not just now anyway. He’s gone out inspecting the vines on the far side of the estate.’

  ‘But he is...coming back?’

  ‘Well, it’s a big estate. He won’t be home until very late, and sometimes he stays the night with one of his workers who lives on the far side.’

  ‘I need to see him today. Can you tell me where he’ll be?’

  A few minutes later she headed off in what she hoped was the right direction. The sheer size of the grape fields was stunning—acre after acre, filled with long straight lines that seemed to stretch into infinity. She wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that she’d arrived on a strange planet, and Lucio wasn’t here at all.

  ‘Stop being fanciful,’ she told herself sternly. ‘There he is in the distance. Everything’s going to be all right.’

  Instead nothing was all right. His response had been so bleak that she’d fled after a few minutes, and was now back in Florence, pacing the floor of her hotel room.

  The paper she’d left him had contained both the hotel details and the number of her cell phone. He would call her soon, and they would settle it. But as time passed with no call, she faced the fact that she was alone again.

  Another desert.

  As the light faded she sat at the window, looking out at the old city. Her room overlooked the beautiful river Arno, with a clear view of the Ponte Vecchio, ‘the old bridge,’ which had stood there for over a thousand years. It was lined with shops on both sides, at one time a common Italian habit. But that convention had faded, and now the Ponte Vecchio was almost unique in still having them. They were lit up, dazzling and golden against the night air, flooding the water with light.

  On impulse she determined to go down and explore the bridge. She would take her cell phone. Lucio could call that number if he wanted to contact her. But if he didn’t, he needn’t think she was going to languish here waiting for him to deign to give her his attention.

  In a moment she was downstairs and out of the door, heading for the street that ran along the river. Despite the lateness of the hour she was far from alone. Couples strolled slowly, absorbed in each other or leaning over the wall to gaze at the water before turning to meet each other’s eyes.

  At last she reached the bridge and walked halfway across to where there was a gap in the shops and she could look out over the dazzling water. On either side of her couples murmured, pleading, suggesting, happy.

  Happy, she thought. Was it really possible to be happy in love?

  And what was love anyway?

  Briefly she’d thought she’d discovered the answer with Don, but she knew differently now. Not just because he’d let her down, but because in one devastating night with Lucio she’d discovered something that had reduced all other experiences to nothing.

  Gazing down into the shimmering water, she seemed to be back in the hotel room, hearing the sound of the door close, feeling him move close. How warm his breath had been on her face, how gladly she had drawn closer to him, raising her head to receive his kiss.

  She could still feel his mouth on hers, silencing the last of her doubts. Until then the voice of reason had whispered that she mustn’t do this with a man she’d only just met. It wasn’t proper behaviour. But the gentle, skilful movements of his lips had conquered her. Propriety had never meant much to her. In his arms it meant nothing at all.

  It was obvious that he was a ladies’ man, but he’d undressed her with an
air of reverent discovery that made her feel special. Of course this was merely part of his expertise, she’d guessed, but it was hard to be realistic when his eyes on her were full of astonished worship.

  He’d removed her dress, but before stripping her completely he’d tossed aside his jacket and shirt. There were no lights on in the room but enough came through the window to reveal his smooth, well-shaped chest and arms. Lying beside her on the bed, he’d drawn away her slip and bra, leaving only her briefs.

  Then he’d smiled.

  Something in that smile had made her reach for him and begin pulling at his clothes until he wore no more than she did. Now she, too, was smiling. This man was going to prove a skilful lover. Every instinct she had told her that was true.

  His body was marvellous, muscular but lean and taut, hinting at strength that could bring a woman joy. Almost tentatively she slipped her fingers beneath the edge of his briefs.

  Incredibly there was a question in his eyes, almost as though he was asking her even now if she had any doubts. Her reply was to tighten her grip, silently ordering him to strip naked. He obeyed and did the same for her, then stayed looking down at her, letting his fingertips drift across her breasts.

  His caress was so light that he could barely be said to be touching her at all, yet the thunderous pleasure that went through her was like a storm. How could so much result from so little? she wondered frantically. Then all thought was forgotten in the delight that possessed her.

  No man touched a woman so subtly without first understanding her, not just her body but traces of her heart and mind. Instinct from deep inside told her so, and everything in her responded to him. She couldn’t have prevented that response even if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t want to. Nothing was further from her desire than to resist him. In that magical moment she was all his, and all she wanted was to make him all hers.

  Afterwards, he kissed her tenderly, stroking her hair as sleep began to claim her, and she felt herself drifting away into the sweet, warm darkness.

  At the very last moment he whispered, ‘You’re wonderful.’

  The night descended totally before she could respond, but that soft tribute lingered with her in the mysterious other universe where there was rest, peace and joy.