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Carlo was falling through a crack in the ground, all the way to the molten centre of the earth. His body was drifting through an emotional minefield. “What’s that?” He asked, his voice surprisingly calm given the fact that Jane had just said she hadn’t really loved him.
“Why did you marry me?”
Carlo leaned forward, and took her hands in his. “Because I loved you.”
Jane closed her eyes, her expression haunted. “Not enough.”
“Too much,” he contradicted with a shake of his head.
Jane pulled in a breath, her eyes still closed. “What does that mean?”
Carlo scraped his chair back, Anna’s excellent Bolognese forgotten. He stalked to the wrought iron railing and gripped it until his knuckles shone white. He had been protecting her. At least, he’d thought he had been. Instead, he’d made her miserable. He’d exposed her to a woman who had totally undermined Jane’s fledgling confidence in every way possible. He had no doubt Alessandra had been truly vicious, despite Jane’s misplaced loyalty now.
He didn’t need to know exactly what Alessandra had said, anyway. He’d been the principal character in the downfall of their marriage. He thought of the events he’d attended, leaving Jane at home alone. The dinners, the charity events and the balls. They all seemed so irrelevant now.
But his fame in Italy had been at its zenith. Following on from the purchase of one of the biggest airlines in Europe, he had become corporate royalty. And he had sought to protect his young wife from the limelight. He had made the decision for her, because he’d loved her. Because he’d wanted to protect her.
And he’d hurt her.
Not the limelight.
Not the press.
Not his father’s contacts.
Him.
Carlo Santini.
The man who had promised to love and cherish her for all time.
CHAPTER SIX
“You knew about the baby, and you said nothing,” Carlo roared, fully aware he was taking his anger and frustration out on a member of his staff. It was something he’d never done before. He prided himself on managing his emotions tightly. But in that moment, he was not capable of any kind of control.
Elisabetta, weary after a hectic week, looked at the man she knew almost as a brother. “Yes.”
“Damn it, Elisabetta, how could you keep it from me?”
Elisabetta stood and swept gracefully across his large office. It was past midnight, and the city was a smudge of orange illumination. The ancient buildings were a ghostly silhouette against the inky black sky.
“You sent me to London to watch over your ex-wife. I didn’t expect that we would become friends.”
Carlo’s temper spiked. “So because you liked her, you abandoned your obligations to me?”
Elisabetta narrowed her eyes. “I did everything I could to protect Jane. I made the regular security reports you required. I kept you informed of the information you needed to know.”
“Who were you to decide that?” He challenged fiercely. “She was mine to protect!”
“You could not have protected her from the miscarriage,” Elisabetta said quietly, her words thick with sorrow. “No one could have.”
“You do not know that,” he responded harshly. “If I’d known about the baby, I would have made sure she had the best medical care. I would have taken care of her.”
“Even if she’d known about the pregnancy, which I assure you she didn’t, Jane would not have wanted you there.” Elisabetta weighed up the responsibility she felt to her dear friend and boss with the love and affection she felt to Jane. Jane who had become a friend, and a woman she greatly wanted to do the right thing by. “Whatever happened between the two of you almost broke her spirit in two. When Jane arrived in London, she was barely able to string two words together. Do you know what it’s taken for her to find her feet again?”
A gunshot to the gut would have hurt less. “So you chose not to tell me that I had created a life?”
Elisabetta clenched her hands into fists by her side. “I made that decision, yes. Once the baby was gone, it was not my choice. I probed Jane about the father. About whether or not he knew…”
