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He was dressed incongruously, in a dark suit and shirt, only it wasn’t his clothing that made her throat tighten. But she had learned from her mistakes, and she wasn’t ever going to let herself be distracted by his beauty again.
‘Hi,’ he said softly.
She lifted her chin. ‘How did you find me?’
‘With great difficulty.’ He smiled, and then, when she didn’t smile back, he shrugged. ‘My lawyer Vito knows some people who keep their ears to the ground. He uses them to find clients that skip bail.’
‘And I thought it was my father who had the shady friends.’
His expression didn’t change—but then why should it? If he had ever cared what she thought of him, he certainly didn’t any more.
‘Why are you here, Vicè? I mean, I take it this isn’t a social call?’
‘I had a meeting with Vito this morning.’ He stared at her steadily. ‘I had some paperwork to complete.’
Inside her head his words were bumping into one another in slow motion, like a train and its carriages hitting the buffers. Glancing down, she saw that he was holding an envelope. Her heart shrivelled in her chest.
Paperwork. In other words, he wanted a divorce.
Pain seared every nerve. ‘I thought you were giving me a year?’
He glanced away. ‘I can’t wait that long.’
She wanted to scream and shout and rage—at the unfairness of life and at the unknowable cruelty of loving someone who didn’t love you. But she had laid enough of her feelings bare to this man.
‘Fine. Just give me the paperwork and I’ll sign it.’
‘It’s already signed.’
He took a step closer and she backed away from him, not caring that he could see her pain, just wanting him gone.
‘Your father signed it this morning.’
She stared at him in confusion—and then suddenly she understood. ‘You came back for the business. That’s why you came to Sicily. For your father’s business.’
He stared at her, his gaze steady and unflinching. ‘He signed it over to me this morning.’
Why did it hurt so much? She’d known right from the start that he’d only ever wanted that. Whatever he’d said in the car on the way to Florence and then at the villa, it obviously was still.
Her chest tightened.
But why had her father agreed to hand it over? Had Vicenzu told him the truth about their marriage? Even though he knew what it would mean for her.
‘Did you tell him about us?’ she asked slowly.
He shook his head.
‘Then how—’
His eyes met hers. ‘I threatened him. I told him I had enough on him to make sure he’d lose everything he cared about. Just like my father did.’
On one level she knew her father deserved it, but it hurt hearing Vicè talk in that way.
‘Blackmail and extortion? That sounds more like my father than you.’
/> ‘I said all that afterwards.’ He ran an agitated hand through his hair. ‘First I met him for breakfast. I told him that I wanted to buy back the business and that I would pay what he thought was a fair price.’
‘What...?’ Imma felt as if she was in a daze.
