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Lily smiled expectantly, intrigued to get another glimpse of the woman who had so clearly captured Giovanni’s heart.
‘I can’t come with you to see how you like it,’ he said, pressing a button to call a member of his staff. ‘But you must tell me when you visit tomorrow.’
At that moment his housekeeper came into the room and he told her to show Lily to her surprise. From the way she responded to the instruction, she had obviously been involved in the arrangements, and as Giovanni settled down for a nap she led Lily away to a part of the palazzo she had never seen before.
Down two flights of stairs, across an absolutely delightful courtyard complete with citrus trees in giant terracotta pots, and in through another double door, Lily found herself gazing at the most inviting thing she had seen for days.
A cool, blue swimming-pool.
‘Oh my!’ she sighed, suddenly aching to ease her tired body into the water.
The housekeeper explained how Giovanni had had the pool repaired and refilled, showed her where the changing and showering facilities were, and finally presented her with a collection of maternity swimwear.
Just minutes later Lily was floating on her back in the blissfully cool and supportive water. She rolled over and slowly swam a length of the pool, admiring the detailed mosaics beneath the rippling water.
She loved Giovanni for this gift to her. It was absolutely perfect in every way.
Suddenly tears sprung unchecked to her eyes.
Vito’s grandfather had shown her unstinting kindness like no one in her life ever had before. He treated her with respect and as an individual he genuinely wanted to get to know. Her own father had never done that. He didn’t even want to know her at all.
And now Vito, her husband, didn’t seem to want to know her either.
Vito strode through the narrow Venetian streets impatiently. It was late afternoon, and he’d come home from the office early for the third day in a row only to find Lily was not at the palazzo. Since they’d returned from the mountains, she’d started spending more and more time at Ca’ Salvatore. In fact she was rarely at home these days, and it was beginning to bother him.
He knew that his grandfather had refilled his swimming pool for her, which he acknowledged was a very thoughtful gesture. And apparently Lily loved swimming—which was something he hadn’t known about her. But surely she couldn’t be spending all day in the pool?
Suddenly the memory of their conversation in the meadow loomed large and uncomfortable in his mind. He swore under his breath, cursing himself for telling her about his infertility. Things had been progressing smoothly between them up until that point, and he wished he hadn’t chosen that moment to upset the balance of their relationship.
He didn’t understand what had driven him to come clean, but blamed it on Lily. He’d spent so much time alone with her that she had whittled her way through his defences. He had quite simply let his guard down. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He shouldn’t have made it this time.
He remembered all too well the scornful look on Capricia’s face when she’d waved the doctor’s report stating his infertility under his nose. It was unbelievable that he’d been foolish enough to put himself through the same humiliation twice.
He’d been young and naive when he’d married Capricia, hoping that she would be the perfect Venetian wife to bring up the next generation of Salvatores. It hadn’t worked out that way. But he’d thought he had learnt something from the experience—to protect his pride if nothing else.
His infertility had driven a wedge into his first marriage. To alleviate her disappointment in his failure, Capricia had thrown herself into a wild life of socialising and travel. They’d grown apart, but he hadn’t made any effort to hold onto their marriage. When Capricia had finally left, he’d been pleased. With her gone there should have been no reminder of his shame.
But, no matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to forget what had happened. He was accustomed to success, and his failure as a man continued to burn into him mercilessly.
Dealing with the unrelenting sense of humiliation was the hardest challenge he had ever faced. So he’d vowed never to let a serious relationship compromise his defences again. He could not father a child—therefore there was no point in long-term commitment.
It was only his grandfather’s dying wish that had made him reassess his decision, and that had led him to marry Lily.
Lily was not like Capricia—she hadn’t responded with scorn when she’d discovered he was infertile. But the shock of the news had made her show her true colours. And the way she was acting now told him what she really thought of him.
He knew he’d knocked the ground out from under her. She was no longer able to cling to her story that she hadn’t been unfaithful. She’d seemed stunned at first, but that had been quickly followed by anger—presumably because he’d made her look a fool.
But, whatever her feelings, it was part of their agreement that she kept them to herself. He didn’t appreciate the message she was sending his household by spending all her time at Ca’ Salvatore. In the daytime it was fine—but not in the evening when he was expected home from work.
He was still deep in thought as he strode into the old courtyard at Ca’ Salvatore. Lily was sleeping on a recliner under the protection of the cloistered passage that led to the entrance to the pool.
He stopped and gazed at her. She looked beautiful—utterly enchanting, but also achingly vulnerable. She was turned slightly on her side, with her silken hair spread out behind her like an angel’s wings, and her arms were folded protectively over her stomach.
As he gazed at her, all the bad feelings that had built up during his walk from the palazzo melted away. How could he feel angry when presented with a vision of such celestial beauty?
; He had missed her—had missed the time they’d spent together.
