‘If there’s an occasion that requires you, in that time, you can come back. We can stay legally married for the duration.’
She shook her head, his words making absolutely no sense.
‘This isn’t really about my degree,’ she surmised, seeing through that easily.
He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. ‘You need to go.’
She blinked quickly, to clear the tears. ‘Why?’
He looked at her then, eyes piercing her soul. ‘Because I think you’ve fallen in love with me. Or believe you have, anyway.’
She staggered backwards.
‘And I can’t keep you here, seeing you suffer like this. Seeing you suffer through every dinner, every night, every kiss, every touch. I will not be the reason you are hurting.’
She flinched and felt her heart burst at the same time. She blinked away quickly, focusing on the view of Rome exposed through his bedroom windows.
‘I—don’t—’
He gripped her upper arms, so her gaze was wrenched back to his. ‘Do you love me?’
She opened her mouth to deny it, but how could she? That would be the worst betrayal she could possibly know. Defiantly, she tilted her chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. ‘Yes,’ she said, because he deserved to know. ‘Yes,’ she repeated, because hehadto know. Because that reality was bursting through her in glorious Technicolor, just as the whole world had been after their first time together. ‘I love you, Massimiliano Moretti, and if I had my way, I would stay here in Italy, for ever and always, as your wife. Not just in name, but in both of our hearts.’ She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the way it was beating, hard, against his ribs.
His skin paled, as though it was the worst thing he could have heard.
‘Amelia,’ he murmured softly. ‘That wasn’t our deal.’
Their deal seemed like something two strangers had made, a thousand years ago.
‘My turn to ask the questions,’ she said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing it there. He stayed silent, even when that was not in his nature. ‘Have you ever felt this way about a woman? Have you ever been with someone as long as you have me?’
‘Our marriage is not real.’
‘No, but this is,’ she said, brushing her other hand behind his back, and holding him close.
‘Sex,’ he muttered.
But she denied that quickly, too. ‘Not just sex, and we both know it.’
A muscle jerked in his jaw as she stared at him, half daring him to contradict her. To his credit, he didn’t.
‘I realised something, a few weeks ago,’ she said. ‘I was a virgin, when I met you, but in some ways, you were too. When have you ever made love to a woman you had feelings for? When has it ever been more than sex for you?’
He stared down at her, as if silently begging her to stop.
‘Am I the only woman?’
‘No,’ he said, surprising her. No, damn near knocking her sideways. ‘I was engaged once before.’
She felt the world lurching beneath her feet. ‘What?’
‘Many years ago. It was a mistake. But at the time, I thought I loved her.’
Amelia felt it like a body blow. She shook her head, as if that could dispel his words, and the awful cloud of jealousy that was permeating her spirit and soul. ‘When?’ she asked, finding it almost impossible to believe he’d kept this from her.
‘Before my father left. We were young. Her parents were strict—they expected my commitment. So, I proposed. But when my father’s scandal broke, she dropped me faster than you can imagine. I believed we were in love, but it was a mistake.’
‘That’s so shallow,’ she said, angrily. ‘To desert you when you needed her most.’
