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However, that capacity had died and withered with his friend. He’d believed he’d never love again. But he’d been wrong. The knowledge didn’t precipitate joy within him—to discover that he hadn’t lost that ability at all. Valentina Ferranti had the power now to tear him apart, there would be no recovery.
‘I’m not gone yet….’
‘No, Papa, you’re not.’ Valentina smiled but it felt very precarious as tears burnt the backs of her eyelids. She could feel her mother’s steadying hand on her shoulder. The operation had been a big success.
Much to her shame, she couldn’t deny that her seesawing emotions had just as much to do with the huge and silent presence of Gio standing a few feet away in the recovery room, as it had to do with the success of her father’s operation.
He hadn’t wanted to intrude but her father and mother had insisted on him coming in. Valentina could see her father flagging and immediately a nurse stepped in, saying briskly, ‘That’s enough for now. You’ll have plenty of time to visit again tomorrow. He’s going to be here for a while.’
Valentina allowed herself to be hustled out, sharing a quick kiss with her relieved mother, who was staying behind.
Once out in the corridor after Gio had made his goodbyes too, Valentina felt shy and awkward, not knowing how to navigate this new tension between them. It felt like aeons since she’d lain in bed with this man, arms clasped tight around him, her breasts crushed to his chest and her head nestled between his shoulder and neck while his fingers had trailed little fires up and down her spine.
The sense of peace she’d felt in that moment mocked her now.
‘I—’
‘You—’
They both spoke at the same moment and then stopped. Gio said tightly, ‘You first.’
Valentina swallowed. ‘I need to get back to Sicily. My mother needs some things from home, now that they’re going to be here while my father recuperates.’
‘I’m going back now. You can come with me on the plane. I’ll arrange for your return when you need to come back.’
So sterile. Valentina shoved down the hurt and forced a smile. ‘OK, thanks.’ She indicated to the small holdall she held. ‘I packed my things and checked out of the hotel just in case….’
Gio was already striding out of the clinic, issuing terse instructions into his phone, and Valentina struggled to catch up to him, a dart of anger piercing her insecurity. What had she been hoping for? She welcomed the anger because it had been a long time since she’d felt it for this man and it gave her the illusion that she still had a shred of control around him.
On the plane Gio made no effort to converse and stared out of his window in silence. The tension grew as the short flight wore on. Eventually Valentina couldn’t take it any more and undid her seat belt, turning to face Gio’s remote profile.
‘Gio …’ Her voice sounded unbearably husky.
She could see how his whole body tensed before he turned his head, a brow arched in polite enquiry. Valentina wanted to thump him.
Instead she drew up all her coura
ge. ‘Is there something …’ She stopped and cursed. He was so damn intimidating like this.
‘Is there something wrong? You’ve … barely said two words to me since …’ She gulped and forged on. ‘Since we left the castello the other morning.’
For a split second Valentina thought she saw something unbearably bleak flash in Gio’s eyes but it was gone. She had to have imagined it.
Gio sighed audibly and Valentina felt a shiver of trepidation.
‘I don’t think we should see each other again.’
‘You don’t.’ Valentina’s entire body seemed to go hot and then cold all over. Icy cold.
‘Do you?’ That brow was raised again, like a polite enquiry. As if he wasn’t experiencing the same nuclear fallout that seemed to be happening in her body. Valentina had to concentrate on what he’d asked and when she registered how he was looking at her so dispassionately, just waiting for an answer, she blurted out, ‘No!’
She flushed, ‘I mean, yes … I think that’s a good idea. After all … there’s nothing …’
Valentina stopped; she was feeling very light-headed, breathless. Pain was blooming in her chest and Gio was saying from somewhere distant, ‘There is nothing. I think it’s for the best. You have your job to get on with. After the Corretti Cup getting work should be the least of your worries. My aunt won’t stand in your way again.’
Somehow Valentina thought she managed to get out something that sounded like, ‘Yes … thank you …’
The previous couple of weeks flashed through her head, the way Gio had stepped into her life and so comprehensively turned it around. He’d felt obligated; he’d felt the yoke of history heavy around his neck. And he’d desired her. But it was all over now. Finished. Duty and obligation had been seen to and delivered. There was nothing left. A small voice mocked her—since when had she wanted anything else? Anything more?
