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Isabella took Lara’s arm. ‘Roberto will come and get the bags—he’s my twin brother. Let me show you around!’
Lara didn’t think she had much choice, so she let herself be led up the steps and into the palazzo on a wave of Isabella’s exuberance. In all honesty she was glad of a moment’s respite—glad to get away from Ciro and stop overthinking everything that was to come that night.
Their wedding night.
About half an hour later Lara was led out onto an open terrace, overlooking the sea below. She could see another terrace further down, set precipitously right over the cliff. All was calm now, but she could imagine how dramatic it must be in a storm.
The rest of the palazzo was seriously impressive. Apparently it had undergone a major renovation in recent years, and now it was a byword for elegant sophistication and comfort.
It had an opulent cinema room, and a gym with an indoor pool. There was an outdoor pool set into its landscaped grounds. Too many bedrooms to count. Formal and informal dining rooms. A kitchen to die for. And there was even a quaint old church on the property.
Isabella had confided in Lara that Ciro was sponsoring her and her twin brother to go to university in Rome in the autumn. This was a side to Ciro that Lara hadn’t seen before—philanthropic.
Isabella said now, ‘I’ll show you up to your suite. Ciro has asked that dinner be served here on the terrace in half an hour, but I’m sure you’d like to freshen up first?’
Lara nodded gratefully. She couldn’t believe that the wedding had been earlier that same day. It felt like a lifetime ago.
She followed Isabella up the main staircase to the first floor, where the bedrooms were situated. At the end of a plushly carpeted corridor she opened a door on the right and led Lara into an exquisitely decorated bedroom suite, complete with walk-in wardrobe and en suite bathroom. There was even a balcony through a set of French doors, overlooking the sea. It was sumptuous.
Isabella left her alone and Lara slipped off the light jacket she’d been wearing over her dress and took off her shoes, sighing with relief as her bare feet sank into the carpet.
She padded over to the balcony and looked out, drawing in a lungful of fragrant warm air from the Mediterranean Sea. Dozens of different scents tickled her nostrils...lemons...bergamot? The salty air from the sea. It was paradise, and in spite of everything Lara could feel something inside her loosen and untangle.
‘Surprised that the uncouth Sicilian has some taste after all?’
Lara jumped nearly a foot in the air and slapped a hand over her racing heart. Ciro was standing on a similar balcony she hadn’t noticed, just a few feet away. He’d lost his jacket too, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing strong muscled forearms.
Lara struggled to process his words. ‘No...not at all.’ She was irritated that she was so skittish around him. ‘I always knew you had taste. I never called you uncouth.’
Or had she?
In those awful moments two years ago in the hospital... She’d been so desperate to get out of there before he’d seen what a fraud she was...
Ciro made a noise. ‘Maybe not, but as good as.’
It was impossible not to notice how right Ciro looked against the dramatic backdrop of palazzo and cliffs and sea. As if he’d been hewn out of the very rock beneath them.
He straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the door. ‘I’ll take you down to dinner.’
He disappeared, and Lara was confused until she heard a door opening back in her suite and went in to see Ciro standing in an adjoining doorway. An interconnected but separate suite. She could see his bed in the background.
All at once she felt a conflicting and humiliating mixture of relief and disappointment. She knew she wasn’t ready to share such an intimate space with Ciro yet. If ever. But she had expected him to want to project a united front. Ever mindful of people’s opinion.
‘Won’t people expect us to...?’
‘Be cohabiting?’
Lara shrugged, embarrassed. Maybe this was new etiquette and she was being incredibly unsophisticated to assume that all couples were like her parents, who had shared a bedroom. After all, her first experience of marriage had hardly been conventional.
‘I have every intention of this being a marriage in all senses of the word, but we don’t need to share a bedroom for that.’
Lara felt that like a slap in the face. Ciro
would sleep with her but not sleep with her.
He came into the room. ‘Dinner will be ready—shall we?’
Lara was about to follow him out of the room when she saw her shoes and slipped them on again, wincing slightly as they pinched after the long day. She also pulled her jacket over her shoulders, feeling a little exposed in the silk dress.
