by Annie West
She’d felt well-loved. Physically, and she would have sworn, emotionally.
Poppy’s mouth flattened.
That was before. She couldn’t fool herself any longer that he cared.
Had it been worth it? Giving herself to him again?
Ecstasy while it lasted and pure hell now. Sometimes only the pain seemed real.
At least she understood why she hadn’t been able to make a complete break before, why she’d gone running to Orsino the moment he crooked his finger.
Because she still loved him.
Maybe realising it was the first step in killing her feelings for him. Only a masochist would love a man who refused so blatantly to believe.
Poppy scrabbled at the glossy page, almost tearing it in her eagerness to turn it to something other than her own face, revealing how Orsino had made her feel.
Not any more. The utter bleakness of her life was a grey wall locking her in, even as she forced herself to go through the motions of living. Like now, waiting for her blind date.
If she could have avoided this she would, but auctioning off lunch with Poppy Graham at a swanky hotel had been a major fundraiser for the women’s shelter. She couldn’t back out now, especially since Mr Rossi had paid such a huge sum for the privilege.
A shiver rippled down her spine. So long as he realised it was just lunch he was getting for his money.
Across the foyer firm footsteps sounded and for a moment Poppy thought she recognised that decisive tread. The hairs rose on her arms and nape, but she kept her head down, gazing unseeing at the page before her.
Where was Orsino now? Visiting one of his charities in some far-flung corner of the globe? On a new trek?
‘Poppy.’
Her head jerked up as if pulled by a string. Sweet piercing pain shot through her chest as she met familiar dark eyes. Every muscle and sinew in her body froze.
He looked different, she realised with shock. Orsino’s proud, decisive features appeared gaunt, hollows grooved deep in his cheeks, his eyes sunken.
Yet he looked wonderful. Her stupid heart battered her ribs as if trying to escape so it could flop like a landed fish at his feet.
‘Orsino!’ It was a hiss of dismay. Of all the hotels in London why did he have to choose this one? What a cruel irony of fate. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
For her? She shook her head, unable to believe her ears.
‘I’m meeting someone.’ The words blurted out, a rebuff. She cast an anxious gaze towards the grand entry. Where was the man? She’d rather face a hundred blind dates than sit here trading chitchat with her husband.
‘Yes, me.’ Orsino’s voice hadn’t changed. It was as full of self-assurance as ever.
‘No. I’m meeting a Mr—’
‘Rossi.’ He nodded. ‘I know.’
Poppy’s stomach sank and her flesh grew tight. ‘How do you know?’
An expression flitted across Orsino’s dark features, too fast to be read. Yet she sensed a change in him. No longer proud and authoritative but … could it be … hesitant?
She looked at his wide-legged stance, his fists anchored deep in his trouser pockets, and felt an unfamiliar vibe emanate from him. Slowly she closed the magazine and stood. In her heels she was just half a head shorter than him.
‘Rossi was my mother’s maiden name.’
Poppy blinked as his meaning sank slowly into her numbed brain. Horror stirred in her belly. He couldn’t mean—
‘You bid on me at the charity auction?’
He shrugged. Never had the casual Mediterranean gesture looked so stiff and cramped.
‘I thought you wouldn’t meet me if I rang.’
‘You got that right.’ What did he think he was doing, meeting her under false pretences?
She spun around on her heel. ‘I’ve got to go.’
His arm shot out as if to grab her then dropped to his side. ‘Please.’
The one word drilled through her panic. She stilled, though her pulse raced like an out of control train.
‘It’s taken me days to track you down. You left without a trace. No one seemed to know where you’d gone.’
‘Why do you want to see me?’
He rubbed a hand through his hair, tumbling glossy locks into disarray. ‘I need to talk with you.’
Poppy shuddered. ‘I can’t.’ She couldn’t put herself through that particular brand of torture again.
‘Please, Poppy.’ His voice was urgent. It held a note she’d never heard before, one that turned her churning belly inside out. How much more could she bear? ‘I heard you out. Won’t you hear me?’
Across the room Poppy saw heads craning to watch.
‘Not here.’ The words spilled from her lips before she could snatch them back.
‘No.’ His hand curved around her elbow and shimmering heat suffused her. She wanted to yank out of his hold but her brain sent the wrong signals to her body. ‘I’ve got a car outside.’
‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’
His grim smile told her he’d anticipated that. ‘Do you want to hear what I have to say with waiters listening in? Or here in the lobby?’ He glanced at the onlookers. ‘I suppose I could book us a room—’
‘You’ve made your point, Orsino.’ She grabbed her purse. ‘Let’s go.’
‘This is your apartment?’ The sense of space and light, as well as the magnificent photo of dawn breaking over a desert somewhere, made it instantly recognisable.
‘It is.’
She swung around but there was nothing to read in Orsino’s face apart from tension around the lips. A tension echoed in her own body.
Why was she doing this? Why had she let him bring her here instead of demanding answers in the car? Because sharing the intimacy of his sports car, cut off from the grey world sliding by around them, had been too much like sharing the intimacy of his bed. She’d felt again that tantalising sense that nothing mattered except the pair of them.
Abruptly Poppy turned. She strode to the door leading to the roof terrace. She couldn’t bear to be closed in with him even in this airy room.
Orsino was there first, opening the door and ushering her out, turning on outdoor heaters to dispel the winter chill.
But nothing could counter the cold creeping into Poppy’s veins. She turned her back on the stunning city view and leaned against the railing, facing him.
‘I’m waiting.’
He stood before her, his big hands clenching and releasing, a muscle jerking in his jaw.
‘Orsino?’ Poppy frowned. Why didn’t he spit it out? He’d never been anything less than articulate, even in his fury. Especially in his fury.
One tanned hand ploughed through his hair. He stood so close she saw the new scars on it, even imagined it shook.
Sudden panic gripped her. Surely there wasn’t some complication from his injuries? Could that explain why he looked so haggard?
She took a half step towards him then stopped as he spoke. She wouldn’t have recognised Orsino’s voice, wouldn’t have believed it to be his, except she saw his lips move.
‘You said I never loved you. I didn’t care enough to stay.’ His eyes bored into her. ‘You’re right that I never said it, never—’ His voice cracked and he scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
Poppy’s heart contracted. So, he wasn’t going to deny it. She felt the last tiny bud of hope wither.
‘Nothing had prepared me for you, for the way I’d feel about you.’ His lips curved in a travesty of a smile that wrenched at something deep inside. ‘Women were always easy for me, you see. I never had to try hard.’ He shook his head. ‘But with you, right from the first it was different.’
Poppy realised her breathing had stopped and had to drag in air. ‘How?’
‘How? I couldn’t take you for granted. I didn’t want to. I … needed you, right from the beginning. You were … important to me.’ Orsino’s laugh was harsh. ‘I’m not explaining this well.
’
‘Just tell me.’ She felt stretched too tight, yearning for the impossible, forcing herself to stay where she was, hands braced behind her on the railing.
‘I couldn’t not have you. I’m not just talking about in my bed, but in my life.’ He paused to drag in a stertorous breath. ‘I’d have done anything to keep you, even marry you.’
‘You make it sound like a death sentence.’ That was her prerogative, surely. She was the one who distrusted marriage.
His eyebrows rose. ‘You think I wanted a wife? After witnessing my parents’ relationship erode into nothing?’ He shook his head. ‘You weren’t the only one set on independence. For me the ultimate pleasure has always been just me against the wilderness.’ Orsino’s eyes blazed. ‘I’ve always been a loner. Relationships were short term and shallow, based on sex and lots of it.
‘And then I met you.’
His words were harsh. Did he blame her for making him want her? For disrupting his life?
She wanted to wail: what about her? But Poppy kept her mouth closed. She’d already bared her soul.
The flow of words ended. He walked beyond her and grabbed the railing, hands splayed wide, broad shoulders open. He should have looked like the lord of all he surveyed, except his hands were bleached white by his tight grip and even in profile his grimace was obvious.
That’s how she made him feel. Why did he haul her here just to tell her how unhappy she’d made him?
Poppy turned towards the door.
His arm shot out, hard fingers circling her wrist. Instantly heat flared and spread under her skin. A familiar heat. A longing.
No! This couldn’t be.
He must have realised the same thing for his hand dropped as if he’d touched a live circuit.
‘I can’t do this, Orsino.’ He was tearing her apart.
‘Wait, Poppy. Give me a few more minutes.’
‘Why?’ Bracing herself for pain she raised her eyes. His gaze glittered with a febrile heat.
‘Because I need to apologise.’
Apologise?
Suddenly Poppy was sinking onto a padded seat, her legs as wobbly as fresh-cooked spaghetti.
‘Don’t look so shocked.’ His voice wasn’t quite steady. ‘I know I deserve it but—’ He palmed the back of his neck, staring down at her as if he could see into the darkest corners of her soul.
Panic rose. After all he’d done, and all he’d not done, it was probably too late for them.
‘Marrying was a huge mistake. I see that now.’
He watched her face turn parchment white and cursed himself for inflicting more pain.
‘Because I hurt you. Because—’ the words tasted bitter on his tongue ‘—I hadn’t the first clue how to be a decent husband. All I knew was that I needed you. The more I had you, the more I needed you.’
Poppy had opened up a whole new world of wanting to him and it had terrified him.
‘I was selfish. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t enough for you. Why you had to spend your time working when I had enough money to support us both.’
Poppy frowned. ‘But it was my career.’
Orsino nodded, wincing at the self-absorbed fool he’d been. ‘I know. I gave lip service to it but never really understood.’ He swiped his hand over his jaw, wishing the right words would come. ‘Not till you told me about your parents and what your career meant. I’d thought you were playing at modelling.’
‘Playing?’ Her voice rose. Fire blazed in her eyes. He felt better seeing her like this, ready to fight from her corner. Watching her slump into the chair, her expression defeated, had gutted him.
‘I told you I was self-absorbed. I could say I was used to mixing with women whose jobs were fill-ins until they landed a rich husband but that’s no excuse. When I saw you were serious I began to get jealous.’
She stiffened. ‘Of Mischa.’
Orsino spread his arms. ‘You shared a relationship that excluded me. You turned to him so often. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t enough for you. You’re right. I’d led a life of privilege too long. It took the shock of our split, and burying myself in work, discovering I could do something useful for other people, for me to mature. Seeing the burdens other people face daily without complaint put my woes into perspective. Back then I was jealous of your work because it took you away. Those 4:00 a.m. starts when I wanted to drag you back to bed—’
‘You thought I wanted to leave you then?’ She looked dazed.
He shrugged. ‘I was insecure. I thought you were finding excuses.’
‘Excuses not to be with you?’ She shook her head. ‘I was head over ears in love with you. I told you.’
Heat washed up his throat and over his cheeks, making even his ears burn. He couldn’t remember blushing before. But then he’d never felt so ashamed.
‘You didn’t believe me?’ Poppy’s eyes widened till they seemed to consume her face.
‘I thought it was just—’ He gestured vaguely. ‘I thought it was passion, not love.’ Before she could respond he continued. ‘I was wrong. I know now I hurt you. It’s just that no one had ever loved me before.’ Orsino heard how pathetic that sounded and hurried on. He wasn’t after sympathy. ‘Not even my parents. The exception is Lucca, but that’s different.’ That was something they were born with.
‘I was so happy with you, Poppy. But all the time at the back of my mind—no, not my mind—somewhere else, some part of me that worked on instinct—I was half waiting for it to end.’
‘Oh, Orsino.’
The look on her face carved another chunk out of his heart. How he’d hurt her.
‘I’m sorry, Poppy. You have no idea how sorry I am. I should have supported your career, not complained about it. I should have been there for you more.’
He swallowed, recalling that last, terrible week.
‘When your mother died I tried to comfort you, to be a good husband. I couldn’t bear to see you hurting like that, but I couldn’t help. Nothing I did was right.’
‘Because I pushed you away. I was terrified of leaning on you, Orsino.’ Her eyes held his. ‘It wasn’t you, it was me.’
He shook his head, knowing this was his fault. ‘It shouldn’t have made a difference. I should have realised you weren’t yourself. But when you pushed me away it all rose to the surface—the way my mother shunned Lucca and me, as if even looking at us hurt, the way my father ignored us all as much as he could.’ His lips thinned. He’d let childhood fears take over when he should have stood firm and been the man she needed him to be.
‘I felt rejected and it was as if the blow I’d been waiting for had finally fallen. That you didn’t need me after all.’
Poppy shook her head, her mouth working, and he wanted to reach for her hand. He forced himself not to move.
‘I got to the airport and the flight was called and suddenly I knew I couldn’t go.’ His lips pulled tight in a mirthless smile. ‘I’d like to say it was because you needed me and in part it was, but above it was my own overriding need to be with you. So I turned round and came back to the apartment.’
‘Where you saw Mischa leaving.’ Poppy’s voice was flat.
Orsino nodded. ‘I came in expecting the worst, wanting desperately to hear I was wrong, but not really listening. And when I thought you’d betrayed me it was one more rejection.’
He blinked, his eyes burning as his vision blurred. ‘With you I’d known real happiness. I’d begun to hope maybe they weren’t just words when you said “I love you”.’
He swallowed over jagged glass. ‘I should have stayed to hear you out. Hell! I should have been there comforting you from the first, not leaving it to Mischa. But I was convinced I knew what was coming and I couldn’t bear to hear it. That’s why I ran away. That’s why I made sure you couldn’t reach me for months afterwards. Because I was a coward.’
Warm fingers closed around his and shock thundered through him.
‘You weren’t the only one, Orsino. I should
have told you about my parents. About my hang-ups.’ Dark velvet eyes drew him close. ‘I shouldn’t have turned away from you.’
‘Why should you have wanted me there? I couldn’t even tell you I loved you.’
Poppy’s face drew tight, pain scoring deep.
Orsino couldn’t bear it. He dropped to his knees before her as she sat. Her fingers were icy as he massaged them.
‘I couldn’t tell you because I was frightened.’
Once more her eyes rounded. ‘You’re not frightened of anything. You’re fearless.’
He laughed, the sound harsh on his lips. ‘You have no idea.’ Even now his belly was twisting like a python shimmying up a tree. ‘I can face cliff faces and deserts and tundra, but telling my wife how I really feel scared me witless. It still does.’
‘How do you feel, Orsino?’ She sounded as breathless as he felt.
He swallowed hard.
‘I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. At the beginning I thought it was lust but it’s far more. You make me whole. When I realised it was love I was petrified of telling you, fearing it would make me weak. That’s why I never said the words. I was living my life with a chunk of myself missing until I found you. And then when I left you—’ Yawning blackness filled his vision.
‘You loved me then?’ Kneeling before Poppy, holding her hands, he felt her tremble. Her eyes shimmered and his chest seemed to cave in on itself.
‘I’ve always loved you. That’s why in five years I’ve never been with another woman.’
She stared, astonished. He had no pride left, not with Poppy. Pride and doubt and fear had stood between them too long.
‘Why do you think my schedule has been so hectic? How do you think I’ve fitted in so many extreme sports and treks as well as my work as a charity administrator? I had to work off my frustration somehow. I’ve had to channel all my energies into things other than sex and loving you.’
‘But those women. I saw photos of you everywhere.’
‘Companions at galas and dinners. I didn’t take one to bed. How could I, when the only woman I wanted was you?’
