To never show his feelings. A painful breath escaped Nicole’s lips because didn’t Turi’s words explain so much about the man she had married? Why he could appear so distant. Why he had the ability to bury himself in his work, no matter what was going on around him. Was that why he hadn’t reacted as she’d thought he might when she’d had the miscarriage? Why he’d never really talked about it—not even when they’d been having that heart-to-heart in Monaco, when she’d given him every opportunity to do so. ‘Yes, he did,’ she said slowly. ‘But then, I imagine that Rocco must have been an exemplary student in everything he undertook.’
‘Not once did I see a tear fall,’ Turi added shakily. ‘At least, not then.’
Nicole narrowed her eyes as he held her gaze. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered. ‘Not then?’
There was a pause. ‘When you left, he was heartbroken.’
Angrily, Nicole shook her head. Turi might be old and sick but even he couldn’t convince her of that. Heartbroken? Never in a million years. Rocco had pushed her away and no mistake. She remembered him taking a trip to the States when she’d most needed him, weeks after it had happened, when she’d still been mired in her own sense of misery.
But she hadn’t told him that, had she? She hadn’t really known how and he hadn’t seemed to want her to.
She’d put his emotional distance down to the fact that he’d been forced to marry her and once there wasn’t going to be a baby, there was no reason for the relationship to continue. Yet what Turi had told her made her look at it differently. Wouldn’t Rocco’s behaviour be more understandable if he’d been schooled in the art of concealing his true emotions?
No, she told herself fiercely. It wasn’t like that. Turi was an old man sentimentalising his past in a clumsy attempt to achieve some sort of peace towards the end of a long life. And she wasn’t going to buy into it—because hadn’t she already dealt with her own pain? She’d done that and come out the other side and nothing could be gained by dwelling on what could never be. She could allow herself to feel an aching sympathy for the hardships Rocco must have been forced to endure, but she should never start making the mistake of thinking he was capable of loving her, because that way lay madness. He was capable of having fantastic sex with her, as he’d very recently proved—but nothing more than that. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Yes,’ Turi argued, with a sudden vehemence which belied his frail physique. ‘What benefit would it bring if I started lying at this stage of my life? Didn’t you ask him why he left Sicily? Why he couldn’t bear to live in the house once you’d gone? Why he refused to give away any of your things?’
Fear washed over her—a fear which was motivated by stupid, stubborn hope. And hope was futile where Rocco was concerned. Nicole knew that better than anyone. She could see that Turi was looking tired now, as if the exertion of all he’d just told her had exhausted him, and quickly she stood up and poured out a glass of water before holding it to his lips.
‘I’m going to go and let you get some rest now,’ she said softly.
‘Promise me,’ he croaked as he took another small sip, then waved the glass away, ‘that you will ask him why? Just promise me that, Nicole, even though I have no right to demand such a promise.’
What could she say? How could she possibly refuse a sick man this simple request?
‘I promise,’ she said, putting the glass down and dropping a light kiss on his forehead, and the old man smiled before his eyes closed.
The nurse must have heard the sound of Nicole’s chair scraping against the floor, because the door to the adjoining room opened and she appeared, looking crisp and fresh in her white uniform as she glanced enquiringly at Nicole.
‘Tutto bene, signora?’ she questioned.
Nicole’s Italian might have been basic, but even she could understand this simple query. ‘Sì. Grazie,’ she said and left the room.
But her head was spinning once she stepped out of Turi’s residence with no real idea of what to do or where to go. Buying herself time, she took off to a quiet section of the estate in an attempt to get her thoughts in order, but that proved impossible. She didn’t believe Turi because she didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t dare. Because even if what he said was true, what good would come of raking it up now?
Just suppose that Rocco had cared for her at the time—he had certainly grown out of it, hadn’t he? He’d told her that the only reason he had taken her to Monaco was to have sex with her and get her out of his system and he had done just that. Even an hour ago he had done that. Maybe he would continue having sex with her for as long as she allowed him to and if she did that, wasn’t it cheapening what she’d once felt for him?
But she had promised Turi. She’d promised a sick man she would ask Rocco that question. And you couldn’t make promises like that and not follow through...
She went to search for him and when Maria informed her he was down among the lemon trees it struck an instant chord. Nicole knew he sometimes liked to take his work there and it had always been one of the prettiest places to sit on the Barberi estate, with its wooden bench placed beneath the sweet scent of the creamy lemon blossom. He had taken her there sometimes when they had returned from their honeymoon, when they would sit quietly listening to the drowsy buzzing of the bees in the lavender bushes, while she’d tried to get her queasy stomach to settle. It had been this place she’d been thinking of when she’d made her bestselling pottery collection.
Her mouth was dry as she approached the lemon grove and saw Rocco sitting beneath the shade of a tree, a weighty-looking sheaf of papers on his lap. The warm sun was beating down on his black hair and he had rolled up the arms of his shirt to reveal his strong forearms. She remembered the way those arms had been holding her just a short while ago. The way his hands had cupped her face as he had kissed her over and over again—as if he couldn’t get enough of her kisses.
And hadn’t that made her realise...?
No. Not realise. That was the wrong word. It had made her think she might still be in love with him.
And she wasn’t.
She definitely wasn’t.
‘Rocco?’
He glanced up as she approached, his features darkening as he pushed the papers aside.
‘Turi’s fine,’ she said, in answer to the unspoken question in his eyes. ‘The nurse is with him now.’ She walked over to the bench and indicated the space beside him. ‘Mind if I sit down?’
There was a pause. ‘Certo,’ he said, raising his shoulders in a non-committal shrug.
His momentary hesitation jarred, as did the less than welcoming look on his face and Nicole wanted to forget about her promise, but she couldn’t. Deliberately choosing the far end of the seat, she sat down, her heart racing as she watched a butterfly hovering over some little white flowers and tried to work out how she could possibly phrase this without looking a complete...
No.
She’d been there and done that. It didn’t matter what this did to her reputation or how it made her look. And besides, caring about that kind of thing was shallow. What mattered was getting to the truth, no matter what that might be.
‘Turi had some interesting things to say,’ she said slowly.
Was there something in her tone which made his face grow guarded? Was that why he slanted her a thoughtful look which was followed by one of slight boredom? ‘Do I really want to hear them?’ he drawled.
She suspected not, but he was going to hear them anyway. ‘He told me to ask you why you left Sicily. So I’m asking.’
It was not what Rocco had been expecting and Nicole’s words hit him like bullets from a gun. He could feel his body tensing as every instinct urged him to shut this topic down. To tell her it was none of her damned business—nor Turi’s either. His laugh was short and, infuriatingly, his curiosity stirred. ‘No doubt he had a few ideas himself—a few explanations why that might be?’
She drew in a breath which wasn’t qui
te steady and he could see the doubt written on her face. ‘He did, but I’m not sure I believed them. He told me lots of things. He seemed to feel guilty about the way he treated you.’
At this Rocco held up his palm to silence her, wanting her to know that she was in danger of crossing a forbidden line. ‘My grandfather stepped in when my parents were killed,’ he said coldly. ‘How could he possibly feel guilty about something like that?’
‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ she persisted. ‘He told me he’d insisted you never show your feelings or emotions after they died. That because you were the oldest he forced you to be strong for the sake of Olivio and Romina.’
‘And I was damaged as a result? Is that it?’ he questioned, before giving a dismissive flick of his hand. ‘Madonna mia, I had no idea that Turi had taken such an interest in amateur psychology in his advancing years.’
But Nicole doggedly ignored his sarcasm and kept her gaze fixed firmly on his. ‘So why did you leave Sicily?’
He could feel a muscle beginning to work at his temple and once again he wondered how she had the ability to make him feel so damned angry. ‘Maybe I found it intolerable to stay once my darling wife had disappeared without any warning, leaving the whole of Sicily buzzing and the international press camped out on my doorstep. You can’t blame me for wanting to escape all the speculation after you’d gone. And since we’re on the subject of raking up the past—just why did you go, Nicole?’
‘I thought it was what you wanted,’ she said dully.
‘You thought it was what I wanted?’ he repeated. ‘Then that just shows how little you really knew me, doesn’t it?’ He picked up the sheaf of papers as if she were keeping him from something very important and raised his eyebrows. ‘Look, I’m grateful to you for coming here and seeing Turi, and I’m glad he’s been able to get what was clearly bothering him off his chest since undoubtedly that will aid his recovery, but there isn’t any reason for you to stay any longer. We’re done here, aren’t we? I’ll sign the papers and you can have your divorce. My plane will take you back to England as soon as you’re ready—and since you’re pretty much packed, I don’t think there’s any reason for you to hang around. Capisce?’
The words rolled smoothly from his tongue as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of them. To get rid of her. Nicole met the sapphire glitter of his eyes. This was her cue to make a dignified exit. To go back to the house and gather her few things together. She would say a rather awkward goodbye to Maria and then be whisked away from here in Rocco’s private jet—one last taste of luxury before she returned to her newly single life in England.
Wasn’t that what she’d wanted all along?
She could feel the painful pounding of her heart.
No.
It might have been what she’d thought she wanted when she’d first filed those papers, but not any more. Because being with Rocco made her world come alive in a way it didn’t do with anyone else, whether she liked it or not. Didn’t matter that logic was urging her to get out while she still could, because all the logic in the world couldn’t change the fact that her heart ached whenever she was with him. She’d loved him from the start and she loved him still—and love was an emotion which defied logic. She had never known what had made Rocco Barberi the unfathomable man he was, but she did now. She thought how lonely and bewildered he must have been as a bereaved teenager—unable to show his own grief because he was too busy being strong for his siblings. Couldn’t she help break down the wall he had built around his heart? Couldn’t she try? She’d learnt to articulate her own emotions—maybe she could help him do the same.
Because she didn’t want a divorce. She really didn’t. She wanted a reconciliation—a real one this time, not one which was just for show. One which might or might not work, but surely they could give it a try.
But only if he wanted it, too.
She sat up very straight, the wooden slats of the bench pressing into her back. ‘I don’t want to fly back in your private jet, Rocco,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I want to stay here, with you. Or go back with you to Monaco—whichever you prefer.’
His features darkened. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
He snarled the question rather than asking it and, stupidly, that gave Nicole a glimmer of hope. Because Rocco was cool and measured and controlled, wasn’t he? He didn’t snarl. ‘I want to give our marriage another go,’ she said calmly. ‘And I’m hoping you might feel the same.’
‘Are you insane?’
The snarl was even more pronounced now and that gave Nicole the courage to carry on, because now she had nothing left to lose. She was laying it all on the line and pride was pointless. She was fighting for her future, she realised—a future which suddenly seemed empty without Rocco. ‘Perhaps a little,’ she admitted huskily. ‘But I want to tell you a few things I’ve discovered since you came back into my life.’
‘Nicole—’
‘Please, Rocco. At least do me the courtesy of hearing me out. Because I’ve discovered I am as much to blame for what happened as you were,’ she said, cutting across his words in a way she would never have dared do before. ‘I can see that now. I was just so...grateful...that you’d married me. Relieved that I wouldn’t end up like my own natural mother—so desperate for money and support that I’d dump my own baby and leave them crying feebly on a snowy hospital step. Only I would never have let that happen,’ she added fiercely, flaring her nostrils to suck in a shaky breath. ‘No matter what happened, I would have kept our baby...’
Her words tailed off and as she struggled to contain herself, Rocco shifted awkwardly on the seat. ‘Nicole,’ he said again, only this time his voice sounded almost gentle—like a doctor trying to placate an hysterical patient. ‘Please. Don’t do this.’
‘But I need to do it!’ she burst out. ‘Don’t you understand? I wanted you to comfort me after the miscarriage, to tell me that it was all going to be okay and we could try again. After all, lots of women go through that experience. It’s not the end of the world, even if it feels like it at the time. But you wouldn’t let me near you, Rocco—and I didn’t tell you what I wanted. What I needed. I had grown up in so many different foster homes that I never learnt the art of true communication. I learnt to hide my true feelings away because it was safer that way. And like you said, you aren’t a mind-reader—how could you have been expected to know what I needed? You were too busy protecting yourself from your own pain. Trying not to show it and succeeding in doing that—as you had been taught to do and have been doing all your life.’
‘I don’t have to sit here and listen to this,’ he said, his blue eyes furious now.
‘Oh, I think you do, Rocco. I think this needs to be said, no matter what happens.’ She drew in another breath because while this was the hardest thing of all to say, somehow it was the easiest too. ‘And I’m telling you that I love you. That I never really stopped loving you. That I’d like the chance to start over. To give our marriage another go—only a real one this time.’
‘And you think—what?’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘That I will magically start to love you, too?’
‘Who knows what could happen if you dared let me close?’ she whispered. ‘Why did you keep all my things if you didn’t care about me a little bit? Why didn’t you just get rid of them?’
‘Did my grandfather tell you to ask me that as well?’ he demanded.
Nicole saw his face darken and she realised that she might have pushed him too far. ‘He might have mentioned it,’ she admitted and then swallowed. ‘Look, you don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it, that’s all.’
‘How confident you sound, Nicole,’ he said, and now his words were icy-cold. ‘Whatever happened to that wide-eyed amenable woman who first bewitched me?’
‘She grew up,’ Nicole answered simply. ‘And the confidence is just a veneer, Rocco. Inside I’m shaking with nerves because something in my heart is telling me not to just give up on this marr
iage. So this is what I’m going to do.’ For a moment she stared up at the deep blue sky behind the fretwork of leaves and lemon blossom and inhaled the warm, sweet scent of the flowers. ‘I’m going to Palermo to find myself a hotel room and to look into the availability of cheap flights back to the UK—’
‘And I just told you—’
‘I know what you told me and it’s a very kind offer to let me use your plane, but if we’re splitting up then I’d rather do it under my own steam. Start as I mean to go on. I’ll text you to let you know where I am and which flight I’m booked on, and if you want me to stay...if you’re prepared to open up your heart to me, then...’ she drew in another breath ‘...all you have to do is come and get me.’
He rose to his feet, his face darkening as he tucked the sheaf of papers under his arm, his sapphire eyes blazing and brilliant. ‘You can have your answer right now, Nicole, and it’s very simple. I don’t want that kind of relationship. I never did. I’m sorry about everything that’s happened but we just have to live with that. Perhaps you were right all along and we need to move on.’ One of the sheets of paper he’d been working on fluttered to the ground like an oversized piece of confetti, but he didn’t even appear to notice. ‘My offer to fly you home remains—but I’m not going to force you onto my plane. It’s up to you. Let me know if you change your mind, but that’s all you’re going to get from me.’ His mouth hardened. ‘You’re on your own from now on.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE HOTEL ROOM was small, clean and perfectly functional. It had plain walls, a dark-beamed ceiling and a bed with a mattress so hard it might have been made of stone.
Just like Rocco’s heart, Nicole thought before forcing herself to stem that particular tide of thought. She couldn’t blame him for being the man he was. She couldn’t force him to feel emotions he wasn’t capable of feeling or make him want to try again. Because that wasn’t what he wanted. She’d been honest enough to put her feelings for him on the line and he’d been honest enough to tell her he wasn’t interested. All she needed to do now was be grown-up enough to accept the situation as it was, not how she wanted it to be.
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