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Lara said, ‘If you want you can just leave me at the vet with the dog... I can call a taxi to get home.’
Ciro looked at her. She could see the dark pools of his eyes in the gloom of the back of the car.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll wait.’
After that Lara stayed silent, willing the dog to survive. When they g
ot to the vet Ciro insisted on taking the dog into his arms, and Lara was surprised to hear him crooning softly to it in Italian, evidently not minding about getting dirty himself.
There was a team waiting when they got inside—the power of Ciro’s wealth and influence—and the dog was whisked away to be assessed. Lara felt something warm settle around her shoulders and looked up. Ciro had given her his jacket. She realised that it was chilly inside, with the air-conditioning on, and she’d been shivering.
‘Coffee?’
She nodded, and watched as Ciro went to the machine provided for clients. He handed her a coffee and took a sip of his own. It was only then that Lara caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of a window and winced inwardly. Her hair was coming down on one side and she had streaks of dirt all over her face and chest. And her dress was ruined.
She gestured with her free hand. ‘I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to ruin the dress.’
Ciro looked at her curiously. ‘It’s not as if you would have worn it again.’
She thought of how much a dress like this might have fetched in an online auction, like when she’d been reduced to selling her clothes while married to Henry Winterborne. She couldn’t ever imagine telling Ciro that story. He wouldn’t believe her.
She said, ‘Of course not,’ and sat down on a plastic chair, the adrenalin leaving her system. They were the only people at the vets. The harsh fluorescent lighting barely dented Ciro’s intensely gorgeous looks. He caught her eye and she looked away hastily, in case he saw something on her face. She felt exposed after her impetuous action. Less able to try and erect the emotional barriers between her and Ciro.
If she ever had been able to.
‘Lara...’
Reluctantly she looked at him.
He shook his head. ‘Sometimes you just...confound me. I think I know exactly who you are and then—’
At that moment there was a noise and Ciro stopped talking. Lara welcomed the distraction, not sure if she wanted to know what Ciro had been about to say.
The vet walked in and looked at them both before saying, ‘Well, he is a she and it’s lucky you found her when you did. She wouldn’t have survived much longer. She’s about five months old and as far as we can tell she hasn’t been microchipped. She’s probably from a stray litter or got dumped.’
Lara said, ‘Is she okay?’
The vet nodded. ‘She’ll be fine—thanks to you for bringing her in. She’s obviously been in a scrap, but it’s just cuts and bruises. Nothing too serious. She needs some TLC and some food. We can microchip her and keep her in overnight to clean her up, then you can take her home tomorrow, if you like?’ He must have seen something on their faces because then he said, ‘I’m sorry, I just assumed you’d want to keep her, but I can see I shouldn’t have.’
Lara didn’t want to look at Ciro, but all of a sudden it seemed of paramount importance that she got to keep the dog. As if something hinged on this very decision.
Without looking at Ciro, she said, ‘I’d like to keep her.’
The vet looked at Ciro, who must have nodded or something, because he said, ‘That’s good. Thank you.’ The vet was just turning to leave and then he said, ‘You should probably think of a name.’
Lara sneaked a look at Ciro, who was expressionless. But she could see his tight jaw.
‘We’ll let you know,’ he said.
The vet left and Lara said, ‘If you don’t want to keep her I’ll look after her and take her with me when I leave. You won’t even know she’s there.’
She. Her.
As if they were discussing a person.
Ciro wasn’t sure why, but he had an almost visceral urge not to take this puppy. A puppy smacked of domesticity. Longevity. Attachment.
‘It’s fine. You can keep her.’
