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I stepped around him and then handed him the bottle of wine.
“Thank you. Lucia told you.” He led me into the kitchen. “Would you like a glass?”
Was he testing me? “No, thank you.”
“How are you?” he asked, leading me back out of the kitchen and into the sitting room.
“Why are you here?”
“To see you, Pia. I—”
“Why else?” I pressed, wanting to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. The baby—the one he and I had made together—wasn’t his responsibility. I would raise the heir to Valentini on my own. The sooner he knew that, the better.
I sat down, and he sat next to me. “There’s something I need to say to you.”
I leaned back and folded my arms.
“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t begin to ease the pain I caused you when I left the night we were last together. If I’d had any idea what I was walking into, I would’ve woken you to say goodbye. My intention was to come back without you ever knowing I was gone.” He reached forward and put his hand on my arm. “That ended up being impossible for me to do, and I’m sorry.”
I moved my arm away from his reach. He could’ve contacted me the next morning, left a message, sent me a note, but he’d done none of those things.
“I was glad you left.”
His eyes opened wide.
“That night, our lovemaking, it was me saying goodbye to you, Mylos. I thought you understood and that was why you left.”
“I don’t believe you.” He tried to reach for me again, but I swatted his hand away.
“I don’t care.”
“I’m here to help you, Pia.”
Il bastardo arrogante.
“I don’t need your help, now or ever, which means you can leave. I’ll refund the money you paid. The sooner you realize I intend to do this on my own, the easier it will be for you to walk away.”
He cocked his head. “I know you’re struggling, Pia. Are you really willing to lose Valentini because you’re too proud to accept my help?”
“That isn’t what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.
“I should go.” I stood to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Please don’t. There’s something I want to give you.” He pulled a small box from his pocket.
“No!” I exclaimed. “Please don’t do this.” My shock quickly turned to embarrassment when he opened the lid and held it out to me.
“Happy Christmas.”
I touched the single pear-shaped stone with my fingertip.
“The minute I saw it, I knew it should belong to you.”
I looked into his eyes. “I can’t accept it.”
He set the box on the table. “I know I hurt you, but if you’d let me explain exactly what happened, maybe somewhere in your heart, you can find forgiveness.”
