Why didn’t she come?
Slow minutes ticked by before it dawned on him that she must have gone straight to bed and his initial surprise and faint outrage was replaced by the quick stir of desire. He was tempted to go over to her cottage and let himself in, as he’d done so many times before. To steal inside and take her silently, absolving them both of the need to talk about what had happened tonight. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her soft body. To press his lips against her silky, cushioned flesh. He wanted to feel her tense when he was deep inside her and then to shudder with mindless pleasure. Because wasn’t that the one thing which was always right between them, no matter what else was going on? But he was damned if he was going to tacitly admit he’d done something wrong, following her like a chastened puppy which wanted to be forgiven.
He’d wondered if she might appear this morning to share a coffee with him before he left for the office as she sometimes did, but she hadn’t done that either. And that was when his anger had begun to ferment into an ugly brew. No matter what was happening between them—something which had always been on the cards—shouldn’t she at least have shown a little gratitude that he’d turned up at the damned party and given it his seal of approval?
He left work early and rang for some iced water as soon as he got home, but Henry didn’t answer his summons immediately, and when he did, he looked so unlike his usual unflappable self that Salvatore was forced to ask:
‘Is something wrong?’
‘It’s Miss Vitale, sir. She’s gone.’
‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’
But Henry shook his head, almost as if he were upset, and Salvatore got up immediately and went straight over to the cottage, surprised by what he found there. Because she really had gone. Bedlinen had obviously been laundered and neatly piled up on the mattress and every small room had been scrubbed clean. There was no trace of her. No clothes or books. No sewing machine or velvet. No beads—other than a couple of tiny droplets which were glittering on a rug and which she must have missed when she’d been vacuuming.
Confused now, Salvatore reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone—and that was when he saw the fat-looking envelope, propped up on the mantelpiece next to a small jam jar of flowers she obviously couldn’t bear to throw away. He ripped it open and withdrew a sheet of writing paper and, mystifyingly, a large wedge of dollars. It was the first time he’d ever seen her writing, he realised—and it was curving and easy to read. A bit like her, he thought with a pang, before allowing righteous anger to flood through him as he read her words.
Dear Salvatore,
It’s difficult to know how to start this letter, but I guess first of all I must thank you for bringing me to America and giving me a home until I was able to establish myself.
It has been a roller coaster of a ride and it looks as if my dream to make something of myself has exceeded anything I could have ever thought possible.
I’ve moved in with Sean for the time being.
Sean? Salvatore thought, with a frown. Who the hell was Sean? His eyes scanned the letter again and he could almost hear her soft voice answering his question.
Do you remember? He’s the lovely actor I sat next to when we went to the gala ball.
He’s got an apartment in Haight Ashbury and says I can have a room there for as long as I need it. So that’s what I’m going to do.
Please could you forward any letters from my mother?
You’ll find some money in the envelope, which covers the cost of the dress and the shoes you bought me for the gala ball. Please accept it, with my thanks.
If starting this letter was difficult, I’m finding it even harder to end it. Maybe I’d just better say that I will never forget you, Salvatore, and that I wish you every happiness.
Yours, Lina.
How ironic, he thought, his body tensing. Over the years he’d received texts and cards liberally adorned with kisses, from women who meant nothing to him. And yet not a single x followed Lina Vitale’s name.
How could something like that hurt?
How could he let it hurt?
His cell phone was ringing and he snatched it out of his pocket, a faint feeling of disappointment washing over him when he saw it was Maximo Diaz, even though he was a good friend from way back. He was tempted to ignore the call, but why ruffle the feathers of one of the most powerful men in Spain, and one with a notoriously tight schedule?
He clicked on the ‘accept’ button. ‘Maximo?’
‘Usually, my phone calls are accepted with a little more enthusiasm that that, my friend,’ mocked the rich voice of the wealthy industrialist.
Salvatore gave a short laugh. ‘Forgive me. It has been a long week. Good to hear from you, Max. What can I do for you?’
‘I’m coming to San Francisco at the end of the month. I thought that maybe we could catch up. Unless you’re too occupied with this woman I’ve seen you pictured with in the papers.’
Salvatore’s mouth hardened. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said firmly. ‘That ship has sailed and I’d love to spend a night on the town with you, like the old days.’
Why not? he thought as he terminated the call. They were both virile and eligible men.
And they were both single.
His jaw tightening, Salvatore put the phone back down on his desk.
* * *
Haight Ashbury was certainly buzzy.
Sean’s apartment was directly above a Chinese restaurant—which offered them a discount on its delectable food. To Lina’s surprise there was a beautiful tree planted on the pavement outside—along with numerous stalls selling rainbow flags and badges, and music by people she’d never heard of. It was a bit strange to get used to jostling tourists taking photos of the iconic building whenever she went outside, but Lina convinced herself it made good sense to have such a startling change of circumstance.
Because this is my new life, she told herself fiercely.
With Sean’s help she pushed her bed up against the wall, creating as much space as possible for her sewing machine, her velvet and beads. Her actor flatmate’s hours were long. He started early, didn’t get back until late, then spent much of the evening learning his next day’s lines. It certainly disabused Lina of the idea that an actor’s life was one of glamour.
He’d asked her questions, of course. Or rather, he’d tried. But she had explained very firmly that she didn’t want to talk about Salvatore. She didn’t feel ready to and her emotions were still so volatile that she was terrified of bursting into tears.
Anyway, it was over. Salvatore hadn’t bothered ringing after she’d left him that letter, or tried to get in touch. She’d told herself she hadn’t been expecting him to and had tried very hard to crush her aching disappointment. What had come as a bit of a surprise—a gut-twisting shock, if she was being honest—was when, yesterday morning, Sean had shown her a picture taken of Salvatore and some darkly-handsome man, emerging from a famous San Franciscan nightclub. Lina had stared down at the photo with a feeling of growing dismay, because behind the two men it was possible to glimpse the tanned and toned legs of two gorgeous blonde women. The twist in her gut had tightened. That hadn’t taken him long, had it? Less than a month and it appeared he was dating again.
She had spent a miserable night after seeing that, waking up this morning bad-tempered, with a headache and craving a sugar rush, which was why she’d gone down to the nearby bakery to buy herself some breakfast. She was just offloading her frangipane croissant onto a plate in Sean’s cluttered kitchen, when she heard the sound of the doorbell.
It was probably a delivery, Lina thought as she ran down the rickety wooden staircase to answer it. Sean seemed to spend his life ordering things online, then sending them back again.
It wasn’t.
Standing on the doorstep, and somehow managing to own every bit of the
space around him, was Salvatore. In his immaculate suit, snowy shirt and silk tie, he looked very formal against the colourful backdrop of Haight. But then she noticed his unshaven jaw and the dark shadows beneath his tired eyes and a very instinctive spiral of jealousy made her want to slam the door in his face.
But that wouldn’t be dignified. It would be tantamount to showing him she cared—and why on earth would she do that?
Instead, she injected her voice with friendly enthusiasm, as if they were old friends who’d just met again after a long absence. ‘Salvatore, this is a surprise! Did you bring my mail?’
‘Your mail?’ he repeated blankly.
‘From my mother. You remember? I said I was expecting a letter. You could have forwarded it, you know.’
‘There is no mail.’
‘Oh. Right. She’s obviously still sulking. She has ignored every letter and email I’ve sent her.’
‘I didn’t come here to talk about your mother.’
‘Oh?’
He was glowering at her now. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in, Lina?’
There was a pause. ‘I wasn’t intending to, no.’ He appeared to be waiting for an answer and so she gave him one, even though every pore of her body objected to sending him away. ‘I can’t see the point,’ she said in a low voice. ‘There’s really nothing left to say, is there?’
Salvatore felt the painful punch of his heart as he looked at his soft Madonna and noted the unusually stubborn set of her chin. He thought how incredible she looked in that short cotton dress, her thick hair dangling over one shoulder, and he thought how unbelievably stupid he’d been. He felt a jolt of rage and pain which stirred somewhere deep inside him. ‘Can we please go inside?’ he said. ‘Because I don’t want to have this conversation on the doorstep.’
There was a split second of a pause when he actually thought she was going to refuse him entry, before she gave an ungracious nod. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘Thanks.’ Quickly, he stepped inside and shut the door before she could change her mind, following her up a scratched wooden staircase and into a small, untidy kitchen. A take-away cup of coffee was cooling on the side, next to a sickly-looking croissant.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.
‘No. But please don’t let me stop you eating breakfast.’
‘I’m not hungry either. Not any more. Look, why don’t you just tell me why you’re here, and then let me get on with my work?’
Salvatore had spent the whole night and all the journey here working out exactly what he planned to say, but suddenly his breath caught in his throat as a dark wave of fear washed over him. A fear like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he had only himself to blame. Because what if it was already too late? What if he’d blown it with his arrogance and his control-freakery and his inability to really let go of the past?
That was a chance he had to take. A chance all men took when they put their feelings on the line. When they met a woman they were willing to take a risk for, and when they’d behaved like a fool. But even so...this was pretty scary stuff. ‘I’ve been a fool, Lina,’ he said, and looked at her.
‘You won’t hear me denying it,’ she said.
Had he thought that would be enough? That she’d open her arms and forgive him with the minimum of fuss? Yes. He had. But it was not enough, he could see that now. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to continue but it wasn’t easy to express himself. Hell, he’d never had to express himself like this before. ‘You made me look at the past and realise that I was in danger of ruining the rest of my life if I wasn’t careful.’
‘I’m pleased for you,’ she said primly.
Did she want more? It seemed she did. ‘The house feels empty without you and so does my bed. I miss your soft smile and your laugh and the way you sometimes lose your temper,’ he said and then, when she didn’t speak, he sucked in another breath and said the words very carefully, just to make sure there could be no mistake. ‘The thing is, that I love you, Lina Vitale. I didn’t want to. I didn’t plan to, but I do.’
If he had been expecting laughter, or tears, or gratitude, he got none of those. Just a faintly hostile expression which radiated from the depths of her bourbon eyes.
‘Did you say that to one of the women you were with last night?’ she asked, in a voice he’d never heard her use before.
‘What women? Oh!’ He clapped the flat of his hand against his brow. ‘You’re talking about the women outside the nightclub?’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘You mean there are more?’
‘None. None at all. They spent the night following us round the club like detectives and were as devious as a pair of foxes—we only managed to shake them off once our car had arrived. Listen to me, Lina. Hear me out—that’s all I ask.’ His throat felt as if someone had attacked it with a blowtorch but somehow he managed to fire the words out. ‘I’ve spent the past few weeks telling myself I’m no good for you, that you’d be better off without me, and, yes,’ he admitted, ‘that I’d be better off without you.’
She was silent for a moment, then turned and stared out of the window, as if she’d rather look at a mosaic of Jimi Hendrix than at him.
‘Go on,’ she said, in a small voice.
‘An old friend of mine flew into town yesterday and we decided to...’
‘To what, Salvatore?’ she quizzed, whirling round to face him as his words tailed off. ‘What did you decide?’
He sighed. He’d wanted to go to the nightclub to see what effect it had on him. He’d hoped to find an easy solution to his ongoing heartache in the form of one of the women who regularly swarmed over him. He’d thought he might be able to forget about Lina and the way she made him feel. But he couldn’t forget. What was more, he didn’t want to. The glitzy women who had tried to come onto him had meant nothing. They never had done. Only this woman had got close to him, despite him doing his level best to push her away. And that was when he’d realised how hard he’d tried to protect himself from emotional pain. That, for all his towering success, he could rightly be accused of being a coward. That with his charitable work he had attempted to help people who’d been deserted and never known love—he had just neglected to help himself in the process.
‘I decided I needed to come and tell you the truth,’ he bit out. ‘Which is breathtakingly simple. That I love you. You and only you.’
‘Salvatore,’ she said, a little desperately, and now her face had become a twisting conflict of emotions, so that for a minute it looked as if she was about to cry. ‘Don’t say any more.’
‘I have to. Listen to me, Lina. Please.’ His plea was heartfelt and maybe she guessed that, for she grew silent again. ‘I fell for you the first time I saw you, in a way I’d never done before. It’s why I broke the rule of a lifetime and had a one-night stand. You blew me away with your freshness and sweet charm and made me feel as if you wanted me for the man I really was. But it suited me to disregard that simple fact, because you also made me feel like I was losing control, and that was the one thing I had relied on in my life, in order to survive.’ He paused. ‘The only thing.’
‘That was why one minute you pushed me away and the next, you were pulling me back again,’ she said slowly. ‘Why you kept saying about how you liked me to look. That’s why you liked to dictate how I wore my hair.’
‘It’s true I prefer it down,’ he admitted.
‘To be honest, so do I.’
He swallowed. ‘I thought that if I could control you, then...’
‘Then you would have all the power and I would never leave you the way your mother left you. You didn’t want anyone to be able to hurt you like that ever again.’
His throat was tight and he could hardly breathe, because her level of understanding was devastating. It was as if she knew what he was thinking. As if she could peer deep into his soul. But whereas once t
hat thought would have filled him with dread, now it filled him with awe.
‘But I’ve come to realise that by playing safe,’ he continued bitterly, ‘I am closing myself off to the greatest potential for happiness I’ve ever known. Because when you weren’t around I discovered how empty my life felt. And I realised that by trying to control you, I risked crushing your inner strength and that burgeoning independence which makes me love you even more. And that is why I’m asking you to forgive me, Lina. Forgive me and stay with me and let me make amends. I want to marry you, if you’ll have me, so I can spend the rest of my life loving you, as you deserve to be loved.’
She didn’t have to think about it for long, because Lina knew there could only be one answer to a question she hadn’t dared ever believe he’d ask. She had admired him from afar and then she had loved him up close. She’d seen the darkness in his soul and had wanted to flood it with daylight. She didn’t care about his money. If he told her he wanted to go and live in Caltarina in a little house like the one she’d grown up in, she would be happy with that. Then she thought about her mother living down the road and thought...well, maybe a different village.
She opened her mouth to tell him all these things, but she was so overcome with emotion that the words just wouldn’t come. And perhaps he read her answer in her eyes, because his own were suspiciously bright as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a long time after that kiss had ended, and the coffee on the kitchen counter had grown completely cold, that she brushed her finger along the shadowed edge of his unshaven jaw. ‘You know, I’ll never hurt you, Salvatore.’
He dipped his head to capture her fingertip and nipped at it with his teeth. ‘You can’t say that.’
‘Yes,’ she contradicted, more certain now. ‘I can. Oh, sometimes we might fight, or disagree—because that is the way of the world. But my heart is so full of love for you, that there’s no room for anything else and there never will be.’
Cinderella In The Sicilian's World (HQR Presents) Page 14
