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Facing her at last, he slung the holdall over his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you. I should have stopped once I realised what was going on. But I couldn’t. And that’s on me. But whatever game you were playing, it’s over now.’
‘It’s not a game.’ She clung to the sheet, kneeled on the mattress, desperate to hold on to her dream. This was a silly misunderstanding. He loved her. He needed her. She needed him. Hadn’t they proved that together?
‘I love you Gio. I’ve always loved you. I always will. We were meant to be together.’
He went completely still, and then his eyebrow rose in cynical enquiry. ‘Are you nuts? Grow up, for heaven’s sake.’
The cruel words made her shrink inside herself. She sank back, her body quaking as she watched him stamp on his boots and walk to the door.
He couldn’t be leaving. Not now, not like this, not after everything they’d just done.
‘Don’t go, Gio. You have to stay.’
He turned, his hand on the door handle. She braced herself for another shot. But instead of anger she saw regret.
‘There’s nothing for me here.’ His voice sounded hollow, but the bitterness in the words still made the agonising pain a thousands times worse. ‘There never was.’
A single jerking sob caught in her throat and the tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘Don’t cry, Issy. Believe me, it’s not worth it. When you figure that out, you’ll thank me for this.’
CHAPTER FOUR
The Present
Issy released her fingers to ease their death grip on the handle of her briefcase.
How could every damn detail of that night still be so vivid?
Not just the anguish and the pain, but the euphoria and the hope too—even the intense pleasure of their lovemaking. How many times had she played it over in her head in the months and years that had followed? Hundreds? Thousands?
Way too many times, that was for sure.
She forced herself to ignore the pressure in her chest at the thought of Gio’s parting words that night. They couldn’t hurt her. Not any more. All her tears had dried up a long time ago.
Gio had been right about one thing. She should thank him. He’d taught her an important lesson. Never open your heart to someone until you’re positive they’re the prince and not the frog. And don’t be fooled by fancy packaging.
‘Nearly there,’ Frank called cheerfully from the front seat. ‘Wait till you see what the lad’s done with the place. Amazing, it is. Must have cost a fortune by my reckoning.’
Issy drew a deep breath, eased it out through her teeth. No more ancient history. She had enough of a mountain to climb just concentrating on the here and now.
She glanced out of the window. Only to have her fingers tighten on the briefcase again.
Amazing wasn’t the word. More like awe-inspiring, Issy thought as she stepped out of the cab onto the newly pebbled driveway and gaped at the magnificent Georgian frontage of her former home. Gio hadn’t just restored the Hall, he’d improved upon it. The place looked magnificent. The bright sand-blasted stone gleamed in the sunshine. The columns at the front of the house had always looked forbidding to her as a child, but a terrace had been added which gave the house a welcoming Mediterranean feel.
Having failed to persuade Frank to take a fare for the journey, she bade him goodbye.
As the cab pulled away, she gazed up at the Hall. Why did Gio’s transformation of the place make her feel even more daunted?
She adjusted the strap of her briefcase and slung it over her shoulder.
Don’t be silly. Remember, this isn’t about you, or Gio, or the Hall. It’s about the theatre—and shutting the fat lady up long enough to see out another s
eason. Absolutely no more trips down memory lane allowed. The past is dead, and it needs to stay that way.
‘Hey, can I help you?’
She glanced round to see a young man strolling towards her. Her fingers locked on the strap.
