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‘Have you told her?’ Sophie asked softly. ‘Told her how you feel. That you’re not ready.’
His mouth quirked into a smile; if only it were that easy. ‘Many times. But she only listens when she wants to. Hears what she wants to hear.’
‘It’s not good to let misunderstandings grow, let resentments fester.’ There was a quiet certainty in Sophie’s voice.
‘I think we understand Mamma too well, Bianca and I. She was orphaned young, raised alone by her grandparents in an old palazzo. They had a title, an illustrious ancestry but no wealth. When she married my father she wanted security and a large family. Together they built up an empire to rival that of the early Santoros, but they had to settle for a small family. After Bianca she just couldn’t conceive again. So she turned her attentions to grandchildren, to building the dynasty she always dreamed of. She thinks she knows best what will make us happy. I don’t hurt her on purpose, but we have such different ideas on the way I should live.’
Hurt was inevitable. Every time he said ‘no’. Every time he chose his own path. But if he didn’t, then what had it all been for? The hard-fought-for independence, the ten years of estrangement, the knowledge he would never make it up with his father.
The knowledge that his father might even yet have been here, still alive, if Marco had been a different kind of man. More pliable, obedient.
‘So you live in a different country and seldom come home?’ Sophie was shaking her head. ‘I don’t know, Marco, it’s a solution, but it doesn’t sound like a good one. Not at all.’
And the worst thing was, Marco knew she was right. But what other choice did he have?
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘DID YOU AND Marco have a good day yesterday?’ Bianca’s eyes were sly as she looked at Sophie in the mirror. ‘Mamma was disappointed you didn’t come back for supper. She was so looking forward to getting to know you better.’
Sophie circled Bianca, checking every seam and every hem. The dress was gorgeous, far bigger and more ornate than she would have chosen personally but perfect for a wedding as imposing as Bianca’s promised to be. But Bianca’s new curves spilled out of the silk ballgown’s sweetheart neckline, turning it from daring to borderline indecent, and it was a struggle to get the zip up at the low back—in fact Sophie had decided against forcing it, not wanting to snag the delicate fabric.
‘Lovely, thanks. We spent the morning at the palace, and then we had lunch with your mother, so I hope she wasn’t too disappointed we missed supper, and then Marco took me out onto the lagoon for the afternoon.’ He’d pointed out some of the more notable islands, promising to bring her back to visit one or two before the end of their trip, and then he had taken her to dine at an island hotel. Sailing in through the private water gate to be escorted up to the glassed-in terrace with views across to Venice itself had been the most romantic thing Sophie had ever experienced. If only she hadn’t felt so tired and her appetite hadn’t been so capricious. And if only she hadn’t replayed Marco’s words over and over in her mind. You can see why I asked you here.
She wasn’t sure why those words had pricked her. She had been under no illusions about his sudden invitation; Marco hadn’t brought her here because he’d been struck down with instalove—and she’d accepted for that very reason. But to have him spell out so baldly that she was a mere ploy to keep his mother happy was a little bruising to her pride.
But then again, after one lunch with his mother she fully accepted his reasons, sympathised with them even. Only, it would be nice to be more than convenient, to really matter to someone... She stopped still, staring down at Bianca’s elaborate train. Where had that thought come from? She was happy on her own, remember? Not at all interested in a relationship.
But maybe one day. If she chose better, found someone who valued and cherished her the way her friends were loved and cherished, then maybe she could take that risk. Because if she did spend her life hiding from the possibility of love, did spend her life thinking she wasn’t good enough, then Harry won after all, didn’t he?
‘Right.’ Sophie blinked back unexpected, hot tears. What on earth was wrong with her? It was time to remember why she was here and not on a plane back to London. ‘There’s no way this dress is going to fit the way it is. Luckily your hips and waist have only increased by the smallest amount, so it’s a reasonably easy fix, no major restructuring needed, but we do need to do something about the neckline.’ She hesitated, searching for the right words. ‘I could re-bone the bodice, but I still think you’ll look more top-heavy than you intended. So what I’m proposing is that in addition to letting out the seams and adjusting the zip I make you a lace overdress. It’s up to you if you just want it for your top or to cover the skirt as well. Look, I’ll show you.’ She picked up a gossamer-thin scarf and deftly twisted it around Bianca, pinning it in place.
