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This was the man she had left her son behind for, she thought in horror. He had his back to her, his head bent, and as she looked at his broad bronzed shoulders, the clearly defined muscles beneath the satin skin, she felt as if her heart had been torn from inside her and thrown out into the snow. She had known that there would be no happy-ever-after for them, but she‘d thought that the last twenty-four hours had brought some sort of closeness between them…
It was just sex, she thought hollowly. And to her that meant closeness, but to him it meant nothing.
She stumbled forward, grabbing her bag and reaching into it for something to wear. Because her jeans were wet, that just left a knee-length black dress that she had brought in case they went somewhere smart for lunch in Monaco. Putting it on, she felt as if she was going to a funeral.
Oh, please, no…
She had to press her hand to her mouth to stop herself crying out as panic winded her. She had to get home. She longed for Alexander with a desperation that felt like knives in her flesh.
Cristiano finished his conversation. She was aware of him turning back to face her, but couldn‘t bring herself to look at him. Instead she busied herself with putting on the boots she had been wearing when she‘d arrived here, beneath the blue satin dress.
It seemed like a thousand years ago.
That was Suki,‘ Cristiano said tonelessly from the doorway. The good news is that she‘s arranged a private jet from Lyon airport.‘
Kate jerked her head up, not quite trusting herself to have understood what he was saying. Wh-what? You mean I am going home this morning?‘
The plane will be waiting for you. You‘ll save time on check-in, so in the end the journey will probably end up being quicker than it would have been flying out of Nice.‘
Thank you.‘ It was a cracked whisper. Cautious hope and gratitude were beginning to flutter inside her. What‘s the bad news?‘
Cristiano‘s ironic smile wrenched at her ravaged heart. The weather‘s too bad for a helicopter transfer. I‘m afraid I‘m going to have to drive you.‘
The magnificent flaming skies of last night were a distant memory—like something from a dream. Overnight the weather had done an alarming volte face, and the new day was one of dense iron-grey fog that blanketed the mountains and turned the landscape into a gloomy monochrome oil painting.
Not only was it grim to look at, it was lethal too. Cristiano steered the car down the mountainside with rigid, tense-jawed focus. Yesterday‘s sun had thawed the top layer of snow, which had then frozen again overnight, turning the roads to glass. Not exactly the kind of terrain the Campano had been designed to handle, but with the snow chains it was coping surprisingly well.
Which just went to show that appearances could be deceptive, Cristiano thought bitterly. He‘d thought he was the one with things to hide, but all the time she had been keeping some fairly major secrets of her own.
How old is your son?‘
She started slightly at the directness of the question. Or maybe it was the tone of his voice, which sounded harsher than he‘d intended in the silence of the car.
Just three.‘
And are you still married to Dominic?‘
He was aware of her turning her head to look at him. Glancing across, he saw that her blue eyes were wide and bewildered in her ashen face. Dominic?
No…God, no, you‘ve got it all wrong. Dominic‘s not his father, he‘s my boss, and he and his wife Lizzie are my friends. Their daughter is a similar age to Alexander.
He was staying with them while I—‘
She stopped, her mouth open, her expression suddenly stricken.
This isn‘t your fault,‘ Cristiano said harshly, wondering why he felt so relieved that this Dominic person wasn‘t the father of her child. Someone was, and he couldn‘t think of any reason why the identity of that person should matter to him. It was the fact that she had a child that was important, he thought savagely.
The fact that she was a mother. You didn‘t screw around with women who had children. Children meant involvement. Commitment. And he didn‘t do commitment.
Dio, why the hell did he feel as if he was trying to convince himself?
Automatically he pulled out to overtake the line of cars in front, and made use of the Campano‘s impressive acceleration. It was only as he roared away that he remembered her fear of speed.
Do you want me to slow down?‘
She shook her head, looking out of the window at the dingy landscape. No, please…I just want to get there.‘ They were lower down now, but the fog still lay heavily—a grimy curtain shutting out the mountains in the distance. The roads were busier now, with people going to work on an ordinary day. Queues of traffic were building up behind unhurried tourists in camper vans.
It‘s stupid, isn‘t it?‘ Kate said in a low, aching voice. I wasted all that time being scared of things that never happened. Plane crashes and freak accidents. I wanted to remake the world for him and make it safe. And now this…‘ She took a little gasping breath. I should have stayed with him. I should never have left.‘
The tendons in Cristiano‘s forearms ached with tension from gripping the steering wheel. Don‘t say that.‘ The words were forced from between his gritted teeth. Guilt just makes everything worse.‘
He was aware of her turning towards him again, and had to force himself to keep his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
What makes you say that?‘
Experience.‘
The needle edged round the speedometer. Beside him he sensed her stillness, as if she was hardly breathing, just waiting for him to elaborate. Acid burned in his chest. She‘d be waiting a long time—he‘d never told anyone about his past, and he didn‘t intend to start now. His own private condemnation was hard enough to bear, without having the judgment of others to deal with as well.
The wail of a siren cut through his thoughts. Cursing quietly, Cristiano checked the rearview mirror and saw a police car some distance behind, lights flashing as it pulled out to pass the line of traffic and catch them up. He looked down at the speedometer and swore again.
It was a stupid mistake to make. The Campano was ostentatious enough to attract police attention if it was being driven by a ninety-year-old learner. He shouldn‘t have pushed his luck.
Pulling in to the side of the road, he got out of the car. The noise of the siren whined into silence as the police car came to a halt behind them, but the lights stayed on, sliding crazily over the polished wood of the dashboard. In a kind of frozen stupor Kate watched them until she felt dazzled and dizzy.
From outside she could hear snatches of conversation in quick, fluent French. The ache beneath her ribs flared, and she found herself remembering back to the night in Monaco when, rigid with tension, Cristiano had told her how much he‘d hated school, how his lack of academic ability had been an acute disappointment to the mother who had made huge sacrifices to give him an education. She should hear him now, Kate thought with a twist of black humour.
He was brilliant.
Through the square of window she had a view of him from mid-thigh to waist—his narrow hips and the flat, hard-muscled sweep of his midriff. She looked away quickly, her dry throat aching, her hands knotting together in her lap.
Through the anaesthetising horror she felt as if her numb body was crying out for him, desperately craving his strength. His certainty and reassurance.
But since he had discovered she had a child he had withdrawn from her completely. For a moment there, when he had said that about guilt, the dying embers of hope had glowed a little brighter and she had thought that maybe he might be going to let her in again. But then he had slammed the door in her face.
She looked down at her hands. Her skin had a greyish tinge, like the landscape around them, as if all the colour and life had been leached from everything. Unconsciously her fingers had slotted themselves together in an attitude of prayer. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Oh, dear God, please let Alexander be OK, she mouthed quickly. Please let me get to him soon.
Opening her eyes, she saw that the policeman had bent down and was peering in at her, obviously thinking she was utterly unhinged. There had been a time when all her prayers had been for Cristiano, but that seemed so foolish now.
Foolish and selfish. If Alexander gets better, she added silently, I’ll never ask for anything for myself again.
She unclenched her fingers, stretching them out until the tendons screamed.
What was taking so long? Through the driver‘s window she could see Cristiano signing something, the muscles in his bare forearm flexing beneath the tanned skin as he wrote with a flourish. Handing the piece of paper to the policeman, he shook his hand.
A moment later the door opened and he got in, bringing the scent of outside into the warm fug of the car. There were snowflakes in his hair. Kate felt a wrench of gratitude and compassion as she realized that he was only wearing yesterday‘s T-shirt. He must be freezing. Thrusting her hands under her thighs, so she didn‘t give in to the temptation to touch him, she looked out of her window.
