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ITWASDANTEwho alerted Mia that there might be an issue.
For a few weeks there had been silence from Italy.
After a turbulent flight back to England, Mia had headed to the small flat that was part of her inheritance from Rafael.
Michael’s wife, Gemma, had been keeping an eye on it, and, aware of Mia’s impending return, the place had been aired and there was bread and milk and suchlike. Mia bypassed all that and had headed to the bedroom where she’d lain, still in her coat, curled up on top of the bed covers, utterly conflicted. A part of her was aghast at what had taken place between Dante and herself, while the other part saw now that it had been inevitable, for she had ached for him for so long.
She was dismayed too at her own lack of regret, for, despite her brave words to Dante when he’d asked if it had been worth it, Mia knew that, given the chance, she would do it all over again.
On the morning after she’d arrived in London, Mia had showered and dressed and sworn to put that one indecent Tuscan night behind her and move on, before heading off to visit her brother and his wife.
Michael had met Gemma on his return to England following the accident. Gemma was a physiotherapist and over hours of rehabilitation they had become friends. Mia had noticed the increasing references to Gemma in online conversations with Michael, and then finally Gemma had appeared on the screen. Not long after that, her brother had told her they were in love. The odds were stacked heavily against this young couple, but Gemma was both motivated and determined, and as Michael came out of the fog of depression he had resumed his more usual ‘can do’ attitude.
Michael had supported Mia when she had married Rafael, while never—at the time—realising that Mia had actually been supporting him.
Now, though, he was starting to see what his sister had done on his behalf.
‘You shouldn’t have done this, Mia.’
Mia gritted her teeth rather than point out that had hebotheredto take out travel insurance she wouldn’t have had to have done it. Her anger was still there, but it was permanently suppressed and with no fair outlet, for she knew that Michael had more than paid the price for his foolish decision.
And so she smiled and carried on as yet more outstanding bills were paid. As well as that, Michael and Gemma’s home was transferred into their name, and modifications to accommodate a wheelchair and bathroom renovations were soon underway so that the inheritance was all but spent.
Angela Romano had been a Rottweiler while the deal had been drawn up—reminding Rafael over and over that everything he gave Mia he took from his own children, when everyone knew it was but a drop in their gold-plated ocean.
But she and her brother had homes, and were debt-free, and life could finally start again, so Mia set about looking for work.
Hadit been worth it?
In the safety of her own head she could answer Dante’s question more honestly.
Yes.
She was back to being Mia Hamilton and here in London nobody gave her as much as a second glance. She was yesterday’s news and her brother, after his life-altering trauma, was finally embracing life.
And yet...
Hadit been worth it?
Mia wasn’t so sure.
When an invitation to the annual Romano charity ball arrived in the mail, Mia stared at it for a very long time, unsure what to do.
She felt dizzy with want for Dante and ached to see him again, but when she thought of news of their illicit night ever getting out, of their torrid one-night stand on the night of Rafael’s funeral ever being exposed, she felt sick.
That night with Dante had changed her; that one blissful time had set in motion this endless craving for more. She stuffed the invitation in a drawer, much as she suppressed her own wants, and did her level best not to think about a man who, with a crook of his finger, could again unleash her desire.
Mia was just coming out of a job interview, pleased with how it had gone, and was turning on her phone when it rang.
‘Pronto,’Dante said.
With one word from him Mia almost caused a little pile-up of suited people as she came to a halt on her walk to the underground.
‘Dante.’ She tried to keep her voice even, tried not to betray the sheer pleasure that could be brought to her day by the mere sound of his voice. ‘How are you?’
‘That is what I am calling to ask you.’
‘Me?’ She was flummoxed, wondering if she had forgotten an important anniversary for Rafael, or if he was chasing her up because she hadn’t RSVP’d to the invitation to the Romano Ball. ‘Yes, I’m fine, why?’
