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‘Did you think I’d taken another lover?’ he asked, his voice harsh with an emotion she couldn’t identify.
‘No, I…’ She hesitated. ‘I never thought about it until now.’
A sudden flare of anger crossed his face as he dumped her back onto her feet.
‘You never thought about it!’ Lorenzo exploded. ‘You didn’t care enough about the man you professed to love to wonder whether he’d replaced you in his bed?’
She stared up at him, suddenly feeling cold away from the warmth of his arms, despite the huge and intimidating way he loomed over her. But she realised her words had been an affront to his masculine pride.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Chloe said. ‘You know what the last few months have been like for me.’
‘No,’ Lorenzo barked. ‘I don’t know. You walked out of my life—the life I thought we were building together—and shut me out completely.’
‘What did you think I would do when you denounced my love?’ Chloe cried, spiralling back to the soul-crushing moment in the palazzo on their wedding day. ‘I opened my heart up to you—and you were angry with me! You tore my heart to pieces and shredded everything I believed in.’
‘I did not expect you to turn your back on me—on our marriage—so easily,’ Lorenzo replied. ‘You said you loved me. Then you behaved as if I was nothing to you.’
‘What was I to you?’ Chloe demanded. ‘Someone you tricked into marriage for your own convenience—someone you didn’t care enough about to be honest with?’
‘You were my wife.’
Lorenzo’s voice was hard with the clipped tones of finality. He turned abruptly and strode towards the door of the study.
Chloe stared after him, feeling as if a hurricane had just ripped through the room. Her heart was racing and her scalp was prickling with the static electricity—but now that neither of them was speaking the space was filled with an unnatural silence.
Suddenly, just as his hand reached the door handle, Lorenzo turned and fixed her with his penetrating eyes.
‘You are still my wife,’ he said. ‘And that is how it will stay.’
He closed the door behind him and Chloe sagged against the desk, feeling all the strength drain out of her body.
She’d felt as if a hurricane had torn through her, but she knew the quiet emptiness was simply the eye of the storm. It wasn’t over yet. In fact it was going to get a whole lot worse before she was out the other side.
Chloe climbed back up the stairs to the bedroom where Mrs Guest was watching over Emma. Her eyes felt warm with the telltale heat of tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. She didn’t have the resilience to cope with the kindly housekeeper’s sympathy. She knew her heartache was something she would have to deal with on her own.
‘There you are, dear,’ Mrs Guest said, smiling warmly as she walked back into the room. ‘The little darling hasn’t stirred since you’ve been gone.’
‘Thank you,’ Chloe said, returning the older woman’s smile.
She crossed the room to look down at Emma, who was lying in exactly the same position as when she’d left her. It seemed like hours since she’d gone down to see Lorenzo, but in fact she realised only very few minutes had passed.
‘You look wiped out, dear,’ Mrs Guest said. ‘Why don’t I stay a few more minutes while you relax in the bath? You don’t want to be popping your head in and out of the en suite all the time, wondering if the baby is still sleeping.’
‘Thank you.’ Chloe accepted the offer gratefully, suddenly desperate to lock herself safely away from the world—or, if she was completely honest with herself, away from Lorenzo. She had no idea where he was and it was perfectly possible that he could appear at any moment. She knew that he had been using this bedroom too, and right at that moment she couldn’t bear the thought of coming face to face with him again. ‘But actually I’ll take a shower,’ she added, trying to keep her voice from cracking with the wave of emotion that was rising up through her. ‘I think I’m too tired for
a bath.’
She locked the bathroom door and a sob broke raggedly from within her. She clamped her hand over her mouth so that Mrs Guest wouldn’t hear and stumbled across the room, shedding her clothes as she went.
A moment later she turned on the shower. A torrent of warm water gushed out and she stood beneath it, finally letting go of the tears that she’d been holding back for so long. She wept with abandon, unable to control the anguished sobs that racked her slender body.
Eventually, all cried out, she leant back against the tiled wall and smoothed her hands over her hot face. Everything had come together in an unbearable build-up of misery. And at that moment it was impossible to separate her grief for her friend from her distress over the intolerable situation she’d found herself in with Lorenzo.
The water continued to pour down and she reached automatically for the shampoo. For a few minutes she would take refuge in everyday necessities and routines.
A little while later, wrapped securely in a fluffy white bathrobe, Chloe emerged from the en suite. Mrs Guest put down her book and looked up with a smile.
‘Mr Valente popped in,’ she said, making a knot tighten inside Chloe’s stomach. ‘He said that unfortunately he had to work late. But because he knew how tired you were, he would sleep in the guest room tonight—he said he didn’t want to disturb you or little Emma.’
