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Sophie put a cold hand on his. ‘That must have been difficult.’
He’d been trapped. Each way he’d turned, an impossible choice. Give in and live a life he didn’t want or stand firm and disappoint everyone who loved him. ‘My life was just beginning. It should have been full of possibilities. Instead everyone I knew, everyone I loved, everyone I respected was trying to narrow it down, to cage me in. The girl I thought I was falling for had been replaced with a woman I didn’t recognise, a woman who didn’t want me as I was but wanted to change me, mould me.’
‘But she didn’t succeed. You walked away.’
Celia had succeeded in one way: she had changed him. All that youthful optimism and hope had been replaced with wariness; his home had become a prison.
‘I decided I had to leave Venice. I couldn’t carry on being scrutinised and criticised at every turn. I told Celia, gave her the option to come with me. She laughed at first, thought I was joking. When she realised I was serious...’ He shook his head. ‘The contempt in her eyes. I realised then that it was the package she wanted, not the man.’
‘She was a fool.’
‘She was ambitious. Oh, don’t think I spent the next ten years weeping over my lost love. I was relieved more than heartbroken. Besides, it just confirmed what I already knew. That what I was mattered more than who I was and I was tired of it, tired of Venice, tired of all their expectations. So I went to see my father and told him I was done.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘Not well. He got so angry he collapsed with a suspected heart attack.’
‘Oh, Marco.’
‘And I went anyway. He was in the hospital and I packed my bags and left. I knew if I stayed the guilt would suck me in and I would never be free, so as soon as the doctors said he should make a full recovery I was out of Venice and starting again. I barely saw him after that, a couple of times a year of guarded pleasantries and then it was too late. For both of us.’
‘I’m sure he knew you loved him. I’m sure he was proud of you.’
‘Maybe.’ Suddenly he was tired of it all. Of the guilt, of the uncertainty. ‘All I knew was that I wasn’t good enough. Not as a son, as an heir, as a partner. It’s been easier—safer—not to get involved. Not to allow anyone to let me down. Allow anyone to look at me and tell me I’m not enough as I am.’ Safer but ultimately unsatisfying. Short-term relationships, friendships based on business not deep-rooted companionship, family kept at arm’s length. No wonder he’d worked eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. He’d had very little else.
He looked at Sophie as she stared out onto the Grand Canal, her profile sad and thoughtful, and for a moment he wondered what would happen if she told him he did matter, he mattered to her. Would he be able to believe her—or would he brush her off, turn away?
Time stood still, the air shimmering over the water while he waited an eternity for her to speak. She swallowed, a convulsive shudder, and her hand pressed on his, icy now in the winter chill.
‘I don’t believe you’re not enough, Marco, at least I hope you are, more than enough. Not for me, I know that’s not what you want, but for your child. I’m pregnant, Marco. I’m having a baby, your baby.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHE COULDN’T LOOK him straight in the eye. Instead Sophie stared at her hand, still covering his, gleaming pale white in the moonlight, and waited. Marco had stilled under her touch, turning to marble the second the words left her mouth.
‘Pregnant?’
‘Yes.’ She waited for him to ask the obvious questions. Are you sure? How do I know it’s mine? But they didn’t come. Relief flooded over her as he nodded slowly.
Only to recede as he looked straight over at her, eyes hooded. ‘Then we had better get married.’
It wasn’t a question.
It was an assumption. Sophie’s heart sped up.
‘Married?’
‘London would be best. Three weeks from now. We’ll tell everyone we wanted to keep it quiet. We don’t want this kind of fuss.’ He shrugged in a way that encompassed all of Bianca’s wedding.
No, Sophie didn’t need three hundred guests, had no desire to book out an exclusive old palazzo, say her vows in a world-famous church. But when—if—she got married she would want her friends, her family there. She would want it to be a celebration of love, just as Bianca was so clearly celebrating her love for Antonio today. Not a clandestine affair hidden from the world as if she were ashamed.
And if—when—she got married she wanted to be asked. She didn’t need an extravagant proposal, but she would hope that any future husband wouldn’t just assume...
