“Was that…?” Axel asked after the door had closed behind him.
“My father. Yes.” Mira nodded.
Then she burst into tears all over again.
Mira’s villa was finished. It felt like Rocco’s last chance. His last link to the woman he loved.
Silvio disagreed. He had come to see Rocco and told him that he had visited Mira. That he had told his children about her and they wanted to meet her. Claudina did. Everyone was scattered all over with busy lives, but they were convening on Capri in September.
“You’ll come. You’ll see her,” Silvio had said. “Claudina has come home to me, Rocco. Mira will forgive you, too.”
Rocco hadn’t had a lifetime of making good memories with Mira to balance his transgression the way Silvio had with his wife. Rocco’s crime imbued their entire relationship, coloring all the memories they had made. He didn’t blame her for losing trust in him.
But he was heartened enough by Claudina’s forgiveness of Silvio that he finished the villa himself. He had arrived three days ago to sweep and polish windows and arrange furniture, touching up any tiny imperfection he found until it was utterly perfect.
It had taken all three of those days to get a reply from Mira.
Rocco had had to relay his messages through Axel. He was on speaking terms with the new owner of Vorstoben. They had agreed to deal fairly from now on. No more moles or actively undermining the other. In fact, they were toying with a collaboration where the Visconti-Blackwood hotels were concerned.
Axel had sworn he had passed along the message to Mira and finally, an hour ago, Patrizia received a text from her, confirming she would be here at noon to take possession.
Was it fair for Rocco to lie in wait? To ambush her? Absolutely not.
But he was doing it, anyway.
Because he loved her. Because it was his last chance to win her back.
Rocco would be there. Mira had known it the moment Axel passed along the message that the villa was ready for her inspection.
She had known it when she booked her flight to Naples and she had known it when she texted Patrizia to confirm she would arrive midday.
She knew it as she took a steadying breath on the road where the hired car dropped her. The knowledge weakened her knees as she walked down the lane toward the new outdoor stairs. They were protected by a wrought-iron gate, which stood open. She started down them.
She wished she knew what she was going to say to him. Her mind seesawed between pouring out all the angry, hurt-fueled things that had backed up behind her heart, and giving him the silent treatment as she snatched the keys from his hand. From haughtily asking how much he’d give her for the place without even looking at it, to acting like a civilized person and ending things with a polite handshake.
At no point did she allow herself to imagine they would get back together. Despite what Silvio had said of Rocco’s feelings, she didn’t believe he truly cared about her. He might feel some guilt toward her. He was not a dishonest person by nature, but that’s all he felt.
The walls of the stairwell were taller than she was when she reached the bottom. She stepped from their shadow into the blaze of the sun, gaze snagged first by the sapphire blue of the sea with a paler aquamarine sky above, then by the bright white villa.
It was three levels, with a new balcony on the top floor, a wide terrace off the main living space and the bottom floor walking out to the pool that glimmered below.
Rocco leaned on the rail of the upper terrace, and was looking toward the horizon.
She had known he would be here, but her heart jumped all the same.
He straightened and they stared at one another.
She resisted the urge to brush a self-conscious hand down the skirt of her sundress. It was a sophisticated halter style with tailored panels that cupped her breasts and waist, and had a tasteful cross-hatch of summery colors splashed across the skirt.
He wore linen trousers and a short-sleeved button shirt open at his throat. No tie. Just hair that seemed a shade too long as it was tousled by the wind.
“You look like you’ve been forgetting to eat,” he said in a voice that produced an ache inside her.
“Flatterer.”
He also looked hollow-cheeked with dark circles under his eyes. As though he really had been eating his heart out.
No.
