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But he wanted to.
He did not really know the depth of his feelings for her, just that he had to get back to Luctano and make sure she was okay.
The rain was torrential and falling sideways as he dashed from the chopper to the house and he ran through it, calling out her name.
‘Mia!’
There was no sign of her, except that all the lights were on, and he marched up the stairs. ‘Mia.’ He came to her bedroom door and knocked loudly. ‘It’s me, Dante. Can I come in?’
‘Give me a moment...’ came her hoarse reply, but Dante did not have a moment in him left to give and opened the door to the Suite al Limone, and what he saw hollowed him.
Mia, always in control, always so together and composed, was sitting on the floor, bedraggled and wet in her coral robe and hugging her knees, her face bleached white as she looked up at him. A drape was billowing and there were tears streaming from her eyes as she shouted at him to get out. Dante knew this was a private side to Mia that she would prefer no one saw, yet as he witnessed pure terror, he wanted no secrets between them.
Secrets had caused enough damage; secrets were what had brought them to this point.
‘God, Mia.’ He was appalled at what he had done. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Get out,’ she screeched.
But Dante refused to leave her. ‘It’s okay, Mia.’
‘It’s not okay,’ she shouted, and yelled accusingly, ‘You left me here and you sent away all the staff...’ Her voice was rising, the terrible panic that had floored her when she’d stepped out of the shower was now tinged with relief that he was back, but also loaded with anger. ‘How could you leave me here?’ she shouted. ‘How dared you bring me here just to leave me alone?’
Finally she felt it was safe to be angry.
Dante was across the room in seconds, stunned and horrified to see the pent-up woman finally unleash.
She was ranting about ghosts, about graves, about her brother, and the bastard who had brought her to a house where she didn’t want to be, and had then left her all alone.
Dante crouched on the floor and he took her damp, shaking body in his arms. ‘You’re okay now, you are safe,’ he told her over and over.
‘But I’m not.’
‘You are.’ And he sounded so convincing that she almost believed him.
‘I’m going mad,’ she told him. ‘How can I be a mother when I’m like this?’
‘You’ll be the best mother in the world,’ he told her.
Which only made her cry.
‘Mia, I’m so sorry.’
‘I’m terrified of ghosts...’
‘There are no ghosts,’ Dante said.
‘But there are.’
‘There are no ghosts,’ he insisted, and even tried a joke to haul her out of her fear. ‘It’s just the skeletons in my family closet that are rattling.’ But that only made her cry all the more. But her tears didn’t daunt Dante; in fact, there was an odd relief to meet the real Mia after all this time. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’
‘My mother spoke to me, though.’
To hear this very private woman admit to something so bizarre deserved more than cold common sense and a quick dismissal.
‘Come,’ he said, and helped her to stand, not knowing quite what to do with her when she was so upset. He did what he could and helped Mia over to the bed. ‘Have some water.’
‘You don’t believe me.’
