A Deal Sealed by Passion

by Louise Fuller

  The lawyer frowned. ‘I mean it. Go home!’

  Glancing at Giorgio, Massimo gave him a small, tight smile. ‘That’s a good idea—’

  And it was—in theory.

  Only the truth was he didn’t have a home.

  He owned properties: he’d added another three to his portfolio only last week. But none of them was a home, and the thought of spending a long weekend sitting alone in one of his hotel suites made a spasm of disproportionate misery squeeze his stomach tightly.

  ‘But I really should get up to speed with everything,’ he said slowly.

  Nodding, Giorgio pulled out his phone and swiped rapidly across the screen. ‘In that case there’s a dinner tonight with the Minister of Finance. A lot of foreign investors are going to be there—including that Chinese consortium we worked with last year.’ The lawyer hesitated, his face carefully expressionless. ‘And we have a meeting in about an hour to discuss first-stage publicity for the Sardinia development.’

  There was a sudden stillness in the room.

  Massimo felt his skin tighten. The muscles in his back were rigid and it hurt to breathe. Did every damn conversation he had have to come back to Sardinia? He didn’t even want to think about the development, let alone spend an afternoon discussing it in detail.

  Frowning, he pressed his fingers against his forehead, where a new ache was starting to form. ‘I thought we’d agreed to push everything back on that?’ he muttered.

  Giorgio shrugged. ‘We did. But there’s no harm in talking.’

  Massimo shivered. ‘Maybe I will take the afternoon off after all. I don’t feel great. Is there such a thing as Sardinian flu?’ he joked weakly.

  There was a sudden shifting silence, and the lawyer cleared his throat. ‘There could be.’ He frowned, as though considering the possibility. ‘What are your symptoms?’

  Massimo hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Nothing specific. I can’t sleep. My appetite’s shot. I’ve got no concentration.’

  Irritably, he glanced around the empty boardroom. What kind of illness made you snap at your staff until they cried? Or made you so distracted they had to repeat everything they said to you?

  Something was nagging at him—something obvious, yet nameless, and just out of reach.

  Feeling Giorgio’s gaze, he shifted in his seat. ‘Ever since I got back to Rome I haven’t felt myself. Joking aside, do you think I might have picked something up in Sardinia?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Giorgio said quietly. ‘Although perhaps it’s not what you picked up but what you left behind.’

  ‘I didn’t leave anything behind...’ he began confusedly. ‘The palazzo was empty—’

  The air seemed to swell, as though it were holding back a secret, and Massimo felt his heart start to pound.

  ‘The house was empty...’ he said again.

  ‘But she’s still there somewhere, isn’t she? Miss Golding, I mean?’ Giorgio prompted gently. ‘She won’t have left the island. It’s her home.’

  And suddenly Massimo knew what was wrong with him.

  He knew why he couldn’t sleep or eat.

  Or concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes.

  And he knew why he didn’t want to knock down the palazzo.

  He was in love with Flora.

  And the palazzo wasn’t just some random building. It had been their home, somewhere he’d felt excited, happy, relaxed and safe. Safe enough to face his past. Only he couldn’t have done it without Flora—with her, he had become whole.

  Looking down at his lap, he saw to his surprise that his hands were shaking. Lifting his head, he found Giorgio watching him, his broad face creased with kindness.

  ‘How did you know I was in love?’ His face twisted. ‘I mean, when...?’

  The lawyer smiled. ‘I saw the two of you together—’ he cleared his throat ‘—in the garden, remember?’

  Their eyes met, and Massimo breathed out. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I forgot you were there.’

  Giorgio laughed. ‘That’s when I knew. You only had eyes for each other.’

  Massimo stared at him dazedly. Had Giorgio really been there that day? He had no memory of him at all. Or of the rest of the day, for that matter. All he could picture was Flora, singing softly to herself, her near naked body still damp from the pond.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said shakily. ‘I can’t be in love. I don’t know how to love.’

  Patting him on the shoulder, Giorgio smiled ruefully. ‘That’s what everyone says. I certainly did when I fell in love with Anna. I actually broke up with her because it scared me so much.’ He started to laugh. ‘Then I saw her one evening, all dressed up to go out, and I walked into a door. That’s what it took to knock it into my thick head.’ He grinned. ‘Then all I had to do was find Anna and tell her how I felt—’

  Lowering his head into hands, Massimo groaned.

  ‘I don’t know where she is,’ he said slowly. He looked up at Giorgio, his expression strained. ‘We had a row and she stormed out.’

  ‘We can find her,’ the lawyer said firmly. ‘It won’t be that hard. She doesn’t exactly blend in, does she?’

  Massimo shook his head. ‘It won’t make any difference. After the way I treated her she’s not going to want anything to do with me.’

  Giorgio stood up. ‘Then you make her want to,’ he said, slapping Massimo around the shoulders.

  ‘If you can’t then you don’t deserve her. And you’re not the man who persuaded me to join his start-up business for less than half the salary I was getting from my previous job.’

  Massimo’s eyes gleamed. ‘I was worth it, though, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Don’t tell me that. Tell her!’

  Gritting his teeth, he felt a rush of determination—hot and strong-flowing, like blood. He’d been a fool. Never in all his business dealings had he been so blind, so utterly clueless. All the signs that he loved Flora were there. He’d looked forward to spending time with her. Not just having sex but talking and teasing, being teased. Listening to her talk about her mother’s death, he had cared that she was hurting. More than cared: he’d wanted to take away her pain.

  But it had never occurred to him that he was falling in love with her.

  He hadn’t even realised it was love he was feeling.

  All he’d sensed was that for the first time since his childhood he’d felt vulnerable. Caring, loving, needing were all reminders of a past that had left deep and painful scars. So when he’d started to care about Flora, he’d got scared. Scared that a woman might once again have power over him—power over how he should feel, power to hurt him. And he’d panicked. So terrified by what he was feeling that he’d pushed her away, his fear blinding him to her kindness and her courage. Even to her love.

  He breathed out slowly. That fear felt like nothing now. Not beside the realisation that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life: that having rejected her, he needed Flora and her love in order to live.

  Pushing back the chair, he straightened his shoulders and stood up. Grabbing Giorgio’s hand, he shook it firmly. ‘You’re a good man, Giorgio. A good friend too. I’m going to take your advice, so I won’t be joining you for dinner.’

  The lawyer frowned, then nodded. He was watching his boss intently. ‘Do you want me to reschedule a meeting with the Chinese next week?’

  Massimo glanced around the boardroom. It represented his life’s work. His legacy. But it wasn’t enough. His eyes flared, but his face was calm and certain. ‘That depends... On when we get back.’

  Giorgio raised an eyebrow.

  Massimo grinned. ‘I’m going to Sardinia to find her, Giorgio. And when I do I’m going to prove to her that I love her. However long that takes.’

  * * *

  Flora f
lopped back against the faded sofa cushions and stared miserably out of the window at the rain-sodden garden. After Sardinia, England felt incredibly cold and grey and wet. And, as if the weather outside wasn’t bad enough, inside the house it was distinctly stormy too.

  She frowned. It was her own fault. Turning up on her dad’s doorstep, having clearly been howling her head off, and then trying to pretend nothing was wrong had been asking for trouble.

  Sighing, she got up from the sofa, dragged on a pair of boots and a coat and stomped out the front door. The trouble was that her father had never really come to terms with her being an adult. Obviously he knew how old she was, but he just couldn’t accept that she was capable of making her own decisions.

  And now she’d done the worst thing possible. She’d proved him right.

  Her dad had been horrified to see her so upset and then, having recovered his equilibrium, he’d immediately started to take charge of her life. Within twenty minutes he’d got hold of a friend who ran a horticultural business and arranged an interview for Flora. Next he’d cajoled her into choosing new wallpaper and curtains for her bedroom.

  Still reeling from the shock and pain of Massimo’s rejection, she hadn’t had the strength to argue. It had been easier just to acquiesce to his wishes. But then Freddie had come home yesterday, and she’d remembered exactly why she’d fled to Sardinia in the first place.

  It was hard enough trying to stand up to her father, but against her dad and Freddie united it was impossible.

  It had stopped raining now, and the sun was trying to push its way through the drifting clouds. In the park, two small children were playing under the watchful eye of their father. Staring at them, Flora felt a shiver of despair. Being protective was perfectly natural, but Freddie and her dad were so overprotective it was stifling.

  At least she’d managed to stop Freddie from flying out to Sardinia. Remembering her brother’s fury when finally she’d given him a severely edited version of the truth, Flora winced. He’d actually been far angrier with himself than with Flora, but that had actually made her feel worse. Him thinking that she couldn’t cope... As if she was useless or helpless or both.

  The park was empty now and, glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly lunchtime. Reluctantly, she began walking home. After leaving Sardinia, it had taken her a few days to realise when she needed to eat. At first she’d confused the near permanent ache inside in her chest with hunger, until finally it had occurred to her that it had nothing to do with food. And everything to do with Massimo.

  Unbidden, hot, swift tears rose in her throat. She missed him so much. And instead of diminishing day by day the pain in her heart seemed to be growing stronger—driven in part by the knowledge that perhaps, had she channelled that last devastating conversation differently, she might not even be back in England. But it had been so hard and he’d been so unapproachable, so brutal.

  She felt a sudden flash of anger. It wouldn’t have mattered what she’d said or how she’d said it. The outcome would have been the same. Massimo didn’t love her. She wasn’t even sure he knew how to love.

  Glancing up, she saw that she was back at her dad’s house and, with a sigh, she pushed open the back door.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  It was Freddie. His face was creased with exasperation.

  ‘I went for a walk.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘And you didn’t think to tell Dad?’ Punching buttons on his phone, he shook his head. ‘I need to tell him you’re back. He went out looking for you in the car!’ He stopped. ‘Yes...No...She’s here...No. She’s fine. I’ll see you in a minute.’

  Feeling like a child who’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin, Flora hung up her coat shakily. ‘I was only gone a few minutes, Freddie.’

  Her brother stared at her, his face flushed, his grey eyes dark like storm clouds. ‘You were gone for nearly an hour, Flora.’

  Her face grew still. He was right. She’d looked at her watch and seen the time for herself. Only it hadn’t registered. Nothing really registered at the moment.

  Freddie shook his head. ‘You are so selfish sometimes. Do you have any idea how worried Dad’s been about you?’

  ‘I didn’t—’ she began.

  But Freddie interrupted her. ‘I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about all the time you were away. All that time—day and night—he was waiting for a phone call to say you’d been hurt or worse. It was bad enough that you ran away like that—’

  Flora swallowed. It wasn’t fair of Freddie to try and make her feel guilty about what she’d done. She had run away—but only because if she’d told them she wanted to go they would have talked her out it.

  Her brother stared at her irritably. ‘And then when something does happen you don’t even tell us.’

  ‘There was no point,’ Flora said quickly. ‘I was coming home. And nothing really happened.’

  ‘He hurt you. How can you say that’s nothing?’

  ‘I’m not.’ She glowered at him. Her temper felt thin and worn about the edges. ‘He did hurt me, but being hurt is part of life, Freddie. I can’t stay in my bedroom all my life, playing make-believe!’

  Her brother scowled at her. ‘I should never have let you go over there. And I certainly shouldn’t have let you stay on living there when that snake Sforza moved in.’

  Flora felt a flash of anger. ‘It wasn’t up to you, Freddie. I’m a grown-up—’

  The door opened behind her and, seeing the anxiety and worry on her dad’s face, she felt her anger give way to guilt.

  ‘Flora, darling! I was so worried about you—’

  Her father pulled her into his arms and she felt a rush of love mingled with irritation as she felt his racing heartbeat. She pulled away. ‘I’m fine, Dad. I just needed to get out of the house. I took a coat and everything.’ She smiled weakly.

  ‘Everything except your phone,’ Freddie snapped.

  ‘Why would I need my phone? I was walking round the village.’ She glared at him. ‘The village we grew up in. Look, I know you both worry about me, but I’m not a child. I went to university. I’ve had jobs. And I’ve lived in a foreign country. On my own.’

  Freddie snorted. ‘And look how that turned out!’

  Something inside her seemed to tear apart.

  Turning, she faced her brother, her teeth pressing hard against each another. ‘It turned out fine. I don’t know what you think happened out there, but I left on my terms. And I’m going back on my terms too.’

  There was a short, frayed silence, and then her father said slowly, ‘Flora! I don’t understand. You can’t seriously be thinking about going back?’

  ‘She’s not,’ said Freddie, staring at his sister with naked frustration. ‘She’s going to stay here, where we can keep an eye on her.’

  Their eyes met. Normally this was the moment when she’d back down. Even before he’d become a lawyer she hadn’t been able to fight the way her brother did. But since he’d become a barrister he was just in a different league when it came to questioning and confrontation.

  ‘It’s for your own good, Flora. It’s not like there aren’t orchids in England. You can easily finish your dissertation here.’

  She nodded dumbly and, sensing her capitulation, he smiled. ‘It’s the right thing to do, Flossie.’ He was calming down, his voice losing that implacable force. ‘Dad and I— We’re not trying to be mean. We just don’t want to see you get hurt again. And I promise you it’s not about stopping you from doing what you want to do. If you could think of one good reason to go back to that palazzo then we wouldn’t stand in your way. But you can’t, can you?’

  One good reason.

  Flora stared at him in silence. She could think of one very good reason to go back to Sardinia. In fact, it wasn’t just a good reason, it was
the best reason in the world: love.

  Lifting her chin, she nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I can. And that’s why I’m going back, Freddie.’ She turned to her father. ‘I know you miss Mum. I do too. And what happened to her was awful. But it happened here, because bad things happen everywhere.’

  Reaching out, she took her father’s hand and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she took Freddie’s too.

  ‘I know you love me, and I love you both—only you can’t keep me safe and sound.’ She bit her lip. ‘But you can trust me to look after myself. I know it’s hard, and I know I haven’t always given you reason to believe me, but—’ she squeezed both their hands tightly ‘—I need to do this,’ she said firmly. ‘So, will you please let me go back?’

  Slowly her father nodded, and then finally Freddie nodded too.

  ‘But you have to promise that you’ll call if you need us.’

  She smiled weakly. ‘I’ll always need both of you. But right now someone else needs me more.’

  * * *

  The sun was reaching its peak in the sky, high above the palazzo. Massimo stared moodily across the terrazza. It was too hot to be inland and he’d half considered taking the yacht out. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house—not even for an afternoon.

  He wanted to be there, just in case Flora came back. Picking up his glass of wine, he drank slowly and deliberately.

  Not that there was any reason to think that she was coming back. In all honesty there was no reason to think that he would ever see her again.

  It had been nearly eight days since he’d told Giorgio that he was going to find Flora. Eight days of false leads and dashed hopes. It had sounded so promising at first. He’d tracked her to Cagliari, and then over to England. But since then there had been no trace of her. She’d simply disappeared.

  Lifting his gaze, he watched a jewel-bright dragonfly hover lazily above the fountain. He had been so sure he would find her. So sure he’d be able to win her back.