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Even with the rain dripping over her face he could see the tears that continued to fall down her cheeks.
‘Come,’ he said, hooking an arm around her shoulder. ‘We should get inside before we both contract pneumonia.’
‘I need to clean up the glass.’
‘I’ll get a member of the crew to do it.’
‘It’s no bother.’
‘You don’t even know where the dustpan is.’
* * *
Rosa had no answer to that that. While Nico pressed the buzzer to notify the crew of the shattered glass she slipped away, up the steps to the third deck and into their cabin.
The enormous bed seemed to wink at her.
She didn’t even have the energy to flash it the bird. All she wanted was to crash out.
Locking the en suite bathroom door behind her, she stripped her sopping clothes off and stood under the shower.
She kept it together, methodically cleaning herself before stepping out and towelling dry. It was not until she stood before the sink to brush her teeth and caught sight of her blurred reflection that her knees gave way and she slumped onto the floor, covering her ears to drown out the screaming in her head.
From starting full of such hope and happiness, the day had ended in nothing but darkness.
In its own way, Nico’s childhood had been as difficult as her own. Growing up without physical affection had affected him badly, and any chance of him cultivating the semblance of a normal relationship had been snuffed out with one moment of failure.
What kind of twisted world did she live in where she finally found someone she trusted enough to place her heart in his hands only to learn he was unable to care for it? Or was it that he was unwilling to try?
Nico had pulled himself up and created a multi-national empire from nothing but his own blood and sweat. More than anything that proved he had the drive and motivation to succeed when the prize was something he really wanted.
But if there was one thing she knew about her soon-to-be-ex-husband it was that failure would not be tolerated, and being dumped by his first—only—girlfriend would definitely have been classified as failure.
The bloody coward.
* * *
‘I was getting worried about you,’ Nico said when she finally left the bathroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing clean, dry shorts. He’d draped a towel over the dressing table chair.
Rosa gazed at him coolly. ‘You have nothing to worry about. I just needed some time alone to collect my thoughts.’
For a moment they stared at each other, until he got to his feet. ‘You take the bed. I’m going to get some sleep in the saloon.’
It was eerie how similar their thought processes could be. How long had it been since she’d formed her own intention to sleep in the saloon?
Clenching her teeth together, she jerked a nod. ‘Take one of the blankets off the bed.’
‘No, you’ll need it.’
‘I’ll double the other one up. Please—take it.’ Could she be any more polite? It certainly beat scratching his eyes out, but it was not, she assumed, half as satisfying.
‘If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ To prove it, she helped him remove the top blanket and folded it together for him, then thrust it with more force than necessary into his arms.
Done, his arms piled with pillows and the blanket, Nico cast her one last look which she was not quick enough to escape from. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’
‘Of course I will.’ She forced a smile. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Rosa.’
Alone, she was all too aware of the ferocious storm raging against the yacht. Yet it was nothing compared to the agonies taking place within her.
Slumping on the bed, she wrapped the remaining blanket around herself, then raised her arm to switch the lights off. Seeing as she had the cabin to herself, she opted to keep the dimmers above the bed on, dulling them to a muted glow.
Without Nico there the mattress felt much too large, as if she could roll over and over and never reach the edge.
Even with all the pillows he had taken there were still half a dozen left for her. She sniffed them in turn. None of them held his scent. Which was a good thing. Why torment herself further? She was no masochist. She hugged one to her chest and tried not to think of how much more comforting it would be if it smelt like her husband.
After two hours spent trying to fall asleep, she was on the verge of screaming or crying. It took everything she had to stop herself doing either.
She had spent the vast majority of her life sleeping alone. She had slept through storms before. Plenty of them.
But no other storm had been so loud. Somehow it was worse being inside and on the top deck. There was hardly anything to muffle the deafening noise.
