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Zia made an impatient sound. “He was recovering from a hangover, I think. He looked terrible.” She paused. “He does not look any better now.”
Luciano drinking to excess? Not likely. “You expect me to believe he got drunk, passed out and didn’t wake up until you got there this morning?”
“Si. Believe, for it is the truth. Your husband cares for you. I am sorry for the part I have played, but it was only a part. Luciano wants no woman but you.”
Hope didn’t understand Zia’s remarks about playing a part, but she no longer believed the fairy tale that Luciano wanted only her. “What kind of business do you have with my husband?”
Why was she bothering to ask? The answer was devastating to her self-awareness. Because she wanted to believe. Idiot, she castigated herself.
“He is investing money for me. A model’s career is not a long one. It is nothing more. I promise you.”
“You were with him in New York.”
“No. I had a show. Our meeting was happenstance, nothing more.”
“That nothing resulted in two dinner dates.”
“Dinner between old friends. That is all. Not dates. Have you never had an evening with a man that consisted of innocent conversation only?”
All Hope’s dates ended innocently, except those with Luciano. “I don’t have your sophistication.” Her voice should have frozen the phone lines, it was so arctic.
Zia sighed, proving it had not. “Nothing happened between Luciano and I. He does not even kiss my cheek in greeting now.”
Hope wanted so desperately to believe the model’s words, but would that be opening herself up for further heartache?
“Hope?” It was Luciano.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Are you there, cara?”
Beloved. She wasn’t loved by him, but she was his wife. Presumably that fact had finally sunk in with some meaning. “I’m here.”
“I will be home as soon as I can get a takeoff time at the airport for my jet.”
“And?”
“We need to talk. Wait for me at the villa.”
Was she willing to give him this chance?
“Please, cara.”
The humble plea got to her.
“I’ll be here.”
Barefoot and wearing a pair of cotton crop pants and T-shirt, Hope flipped through the baby magazine she had picked up in the doctor’s office the day before. Her clothes and lack of makeup were in defiance to her husband’s ego and her own emotions. As promised, she was waiting for Luciano, but she refused to gild the lily for this confrontation.
She tucked her feet up on the small sofa in the outer room of her and Luciano’s suite. At least they would have privacy here for their discussion. Living with his family necessitated eating most meals with company however, having the private sala meant there was a certain measure of independence within the confines of the household.
Hope needed that. Although she loved both Claudia and Martina, she had spent too much of her life alone to easily adjust to the continuous company of others.
“Hope…”
The magazine slid from her fingers and she barely caught it before it fell to the floor. So much for a cool reception at his arrival. Picking the periodical up, she laid it neatly on the small table in front her. She fiddled with it, attempting to get it perfectly perpendicular to the edge. She didn’t want to look at her gorgeous husband. It would hurt.
To see him and experience the deepest sort of love imaginable and know it was not returned was beyond her emotional capabilities at the moment.
One brown hand covered hers where it fiddled with the corner of the magazine. “Cara.”
He was on his knees beside her, the warmth of his hand a seductive lure when she felt chilled to her soul.
Having no choice if she did not want to come off the coward, she lifted her head and took in the superficial details of his appearance. He had removed his suit jacket and tie and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it…several times. And there was an intensity in the brown depths of his eyes she dared not trust.
“Your mother and Martina have gone shopping in Palermo. They invited me to go along, but I told you I would wait here.” It was inane chatter, but safer than the questions screaming through her mind.
His jaw tightened. “I’m glad you stayed.”
She nodded. “You said we needed to talk.”
“Si.” He stood up and swung away from her. “I want our marriage to last.”
“Why?” After all this, she needed concrete answers.
“I am Sicilian. I do not believe in divorce.” He still hadn’t turned around and she was glad.
