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The stuttered protests echoing down the line sent a wave of irritation through him. Surging from his desk, he strode to the window, the phone clamped to his ear. ‘No, I don’t need my head shrunk. I am thinking straight. I know exactly what I want and I’m counting on you to make it happen... No, my decision is final...I definitely do not want any more children.’
The pained gasp that sounded behind him was the deadliest sound he’d ever heard. And even before he caught sight of Ava in the doorway, her face paler than he’d ever seen it, he knew he’d lost her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
UNCONTROLLABLE SHUDDERS RAKED through Ava. She couldn’t catch her breath and the lack of oxygen made her head swim crazily. She squeezed her eyes, hoping to stem the relentless tide of hopelessness that threatened to drown her.
Even when she heard footsteps in the salone, where she’d retreated to, she couldn’t move. For several minutes, Cesare stood behind her in silence, his breathing unsteady. Then firm hands settled on her shoulders. She flinched but when she tried to move away, he held on.
‘Ava, listen to me.’
‘No...’ A weak, drained breath puffed out. His fingers tightened momentarily before he let go. She sensed him move away but she was too numb to lift her head.
Seconds later, he returned and held a glass against her lips. ‘Drink this,’ he commanded.
She caught a whiff of the cognac and jerked away from him. ‘Getting drunk, as tempting as it sounds, isn’t going to solve what’s wrong with us, Cesare.’
‘No, but it will help.’ Contrition tinged his voice as he sat down beside her. ‘It will also calm you long enough to let me explain.’
‘What’s there to explain? You spoke in English so I don’t need anything interpreted—’ She stopped as her phone buzzed. She was almost afraid to check the message; afraid that yet another blow would flatten her completely.
He caught her chin between his fingers and swung her to face him. Golden eyes narrowed immediately. ‘You’ve been crying again,’ he rasped.
‘And this surprises you, why?’ she shot back.
‘We may drive each other completely insane at the best of times but I’ve only ever seen you cry once. Your natural reaction tends to be to claw my eyes out.’
‘I must be getting soft in my old age.’ Her phone let off another ping.
‘Come on, Ava. You’re clutching your phone. Has something happened? Something other than what you think you overheard just now? Tell me,’ he demanded.
She tried to free herself. ‘Why should I? You want me to share, and yet you don’t reciprocate.’ She jerked when her phone vibrated for the third time.
He glanced from her phone to her face. ‘Who’s calling you?’
A terrified breath whooshed out of her. Before she could stop them, her eyes filled with fresh tears. ‘I feel as if my life’s unravelling,’ she murmured, more to herself than to him. From the moment she’d woken up in Rome, she’d felt as if the unstoppable avalanche of heartache she’d been running from was catching up with her—fast. ‘Every time I think I have a handle on it, something else slips out of my grasp.’
‘Nothing’s slipped. I haven’t slipped. I’m still here.’
‘No, you’re not. You like to think you’re changing but you’re still the same—’
‘I’m here, Ava, and I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s going on. Now.’
She shook her head and finally glanced down at her phone. ‘The texts are from Nathan. He called me five minutes ago. My father’s ill. He’s asking for me.’
* * *
Cesare stared down at her bent head, the feeling he’d experienced on and off back in full force. Something wasn’t right. It took a moment before he placed his finger on it. His feisty wife was sitting before him with her shoulders bowed, her beautiful skin paler than porcelain. Her fingers fretted with her phone.
The fire seemed to have gone out of her. And it scared the hell out of him.
Setting down the glass containing the amber liquor, he crouched before her. ‘What did Nathan say? How bad is your father?’
Her lips tightened for a moment before she spoke. ‘The doctors say it’s his lungs...it started off as acute bronchitis but it’s been complicated by pneumonia. His forty-a-day smoking habit hasn’t helped. They don’t know if he’s going to make it.’
