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She was glad of the door’s support, or she might have collapsed on to the floor.
Her voice barely above a whisper, she said, ‘You mean you’re—not coming back?’ She tried to think of some convincing reason for her concern. ‘But what about all the work being done on the house?’
‘You need no one else to make your dream for Mannion come true,’ he said after a pause. ‘And there are funds available for that, as I made clear last night.’
‘But surely you want to see how it turns out. How your money has been spent.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It is of no great interest to me. This is your dream, cara mia, not mine.’ He paused again. ‘I have also made provision for your personal maintenance. If you find it inadequate in any way, please contact my lawyers.’
‘But you can’t just go.’ She tried to sound reasonable—rational when she was screaming inside. ‘What will people think?’
‘It will be assumed we married in haste, and our repentance was almost instantaneous,’ he said, his mouth curling. ‘Besides, we have both had what we wanted, so the opinions of others do not matter.’
‘But—Nicola’s wedding...’
‘Naturally, I shall return for that. But you need not fear,’ he added with swift harshness as her eyes flew to his face. ‘My stay will be brief, and I shall use the single bed in the dressing room.’
She said huskily, ‘Then last night meant—nothing...’
‘On the contrary,’ Zac drawled. ‘What do you want me to say, mia bella? That you were enchanting—a ravishing delight as you fulfilled our agreement? I admit it. I had not expected such generosity from you. Particularly when it was to be our first and last time together.’
‘No,’ she said in a voice she did not recognise. ‘But then I could hardly expect that either.’ It was her turn to pause. ‘And the legal end to our—deal. Divorce. When will that take place?’
‘As soon as it can be arranged, although it is unlikely to be immediate. There are rules to be followed.’
‘Yes,’ she said, dry-mouthed. ‘I’m sure there are.’ She stood away from the door, lifting her chin. ‘Well—there seems little more to be said.’
Except that wasn’t true. There was so very much more—like begging ‘Don’t leave me. Don’t go. Take me with you’ as she clung to him.
Except he might still walk away, and she would simply have set herself up for more misery. More humiliation.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It seems not.’ He fastened his briefcase. ‘Then—addio, Dana mia. Allow me to hope that Mannion proves to be everything you have hoped for over so many long years.’
He put the envelope with the deeds on the desk, and with a swift, impersonal smile walked past her into the hall.
Moments later, she heard the car start and drive away.
And Dana stood, her arms wrapped round her body, listening with bleak intensity until the last note of the engine had died away and she knew that he was gone.
* * *
Work was the thing. That was what she told herself before she tried to sleep each night and when she woke exhausted in the morning. Work would get her through this nightmare. Because, with an army of painters and decorators in the house, there was little opportunity to give way to her feelings.
To crawl into some dark place and weep until there were no tears left.
Instead, she had to liaise with Bella Dixon, the designer who’d created the bedroom Dana could now hardly bear to look at, discussing colour schemes, fabrics and patterns for the rest of the house.
My dream come true, just like Zac said, she thought with irony, and I’m living with it. Dying with it by inches as I watch it all taking shape, like an observer admiring the work without elation or any sense of possession.
At the same time, she had to keep up a front with Nicola, who was growing happier and more excited all the time as the big day approached.
And, which was far worse, fending off her questions about how Zac’s European trip was going and when he’d be returning.
Throughout that entire first day, she’d lived in a kind of suspended disbelief, waiting and hoping that by some miracle he would change his mind and return.
And even though she’d eventually and painfully forced herself to accept that Adam’s cruel and jeering warning had been no more than the truth and that, having had her, Zac was no longer interested in even a repeat performance, let alone any real relationship, she’d anticipated at least some contact, however minimal—a phone call—a text—an email in the endless, agonising days that followed.
