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And she was offering it to him now with no strings, no regrets.
Did he really mean this? Why not just take the damned hotel and be done with it?
It means nothing without you.
She closed her eyes and she was back in Rome, staring at the building, admiring its beauty, imagining it for its potential. Seeing it as they would have made it, with its flowers, its flags and its doormen.
She breathed in and tasted the history of the hotel, the past that lived within its walls. She saw it as Matteo had described, full of people and music, atmosphere and pleasure. She saw the terrace with elegant cocktails and guests milling about.
And she forced her eyes open.
For the first time in a month, she knew what she had to do.
This hotel had to be returned to its rightful owner. Matteo had to fix the damage her father’s vengeance had done. From this pile of sadness, something good could come.
And she’d just have to make him see sense.
* * *
Matteo stared at the email with a strange sense of non-comprehension. Skye’s lawyer was requesting a meeting, in person, with him.
And he knew what it was about.
The damned divorce.
In the five weeks since she’d left, he’d begun to hope that perhaps silence was golden. That she’d changed her mind. That perhaps she needed space to grieve, to come to terms with their loss, but she would see he’d meant every word he’d said.
He’d given her the breathing space to do what she needed; he owed her that much. And every day that had passed he’d hoped meant she would change her mind. That her certainty was fading.
But now?
He shook his head, reaching for his phone and dialling the number on the top of the page.
‘Matteo Vin Santo. I need to make an appointment with Charles Younger.’
* * *
Skye stared at the view of London, wondering at her own treachery. She had always loved this city, yet now she found herself seeing only its grey sky and bleak steel monoliths. She didn’t see the way the sun glinted off the side of the buildings, nor the way the Thames glistened through its heart like a powerful lifeblood.
She flicked her gaze down to her wristwatch and her pulse ran faster.
He was late.
Or was it possible that he wasn’t coming?
She gnawed at her lip and moved away from the window, towards the table at the side of the meeting room. It had a selection of Danish pastries, a jug of fruit juice and bottles of cold water.
Skye opted for coffee, pouring a large measure into a fine bone-china cup and clasping it between her hands. It was reassuring to feel its warmth and smell its comforting aroma. Somehow, it grounded her.
A noise outside the door sounded and she froze, bracing herself for what was to come, knowing she would need all her wits about her to get through the next portion of her day.
The door pushed open and Charles Younger stood on the other side, incredibly handsome for a man in his sixties, with a kindly smile.
‘Skye.’ He nodded as he moved into the room.
But she wasn’t looking at Charles.
Her eyes were greedy and they moved past the lawyer instantly, seeking the man she had been denied for so long. Matteo stepped into the room and everything froze. Time and physical existence.
