AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Would their son have grown up to look like him?
Pain, sharp and swift, lanced her heart and so suddenly that she gasped with the intensity of it. A single tear squeezed from each eye and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to prevent her grief escaping via that route.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, but all she could do was shake her head as she remembered.
Their tiny son.
Born too early to save. Born too late not to love. A child lost.
A child his father knew nothing about.
‘It’s nothing,’ she lied, knowing that the only good thing she had taken from their baby’s premature death was the relief that she would never have to tell him—that it didn’t matter because she would never see him again.
But where was that relief now that she was here in Venice, forced to share a month with the father of that child? Where was the certainty now, that what she had decided back then was right?
She’d been a fool to ever believe it would be that easy. For the relief had turned to guilt, certainty had turned to fear, as the secret she had tried to lock away now hung over her like the sword of Damocles.
How could she begin to tell him the truth about their child now? Where would she start?
‘It’s the wake from the vaporetto,’ he said alongside her, misinterpreting her distress. ‘We’re over it now.’
She nodded and smiled thinly, and wondered if she ever would be.
* * *
The water taxi berthed a few minutes later down a side canal at a plushly canopied hotel landing.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked, as he handed her out of the taxi.
‘Yes.’ And she was, if only because she was surprised by his concern. It wasn’t one of the things she associated with the man. Arrogance was a given. Lust she expected. But concern hadn’t figured on her list of Luca’s character traits. Then again, maybe he was just worried that his playmate might be too ill to play games tonight. And that sounded so fitting that she even managed to dredge up a smile. ‘Much better, thank you.’
Through an elegant arched doorway and the hotel lobby opened up like an Aladdin’s Cave. Ceilings soared, magnificently decorated with gold leaf, while pink marble columns stretched high to reach them and a wide red carpeted staircase wound around the walls on its way heavenwards.
‘It’s stunning,’ she said.
‘You are.’ And when she turned to look at him, he simply gestured around. ‘Every head is turned your way. Hadn’t you noticed?’
No. ‘If they are, it’s because I’m with you.’
‘They’re all wondering who you are, it’s true,’ he told her as he led her towards the magnificent staircase, ‘but every woman in this hotel wishes she looked like you.’
‘It’s the dress,’ she countered, needing to change the subject, before she started believing him. ‘However did you know what size to have delivered?’
‘Wouldn’t you expect a man like me to know what size his lover wears?’
She shivered. His lover? That seemed too personal. Too intimate. Theirs was a business arrangement. A deal. So she schooled her features, aiming for cool and unaffected and definitely uncaring. ‘Clearly you’ve had plenty of practice to be so good at it.’
‘Clearly.’ His smile widened. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘Why should it? I don’t care who you sleep with. I don’t want to know.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Although perhaps I am not so expert as you would like to believe. Aldo found your clothes. The tags were still readable apparently. But only just.’
Another reminder of her wanton behaviour. Yet another reminder of the age of her clothes. And she had no comeback either, other than to blush. So she concentrated on the stairs beneath her feet and just hoped her face didn’t clash with her dress.
The restaurant ran the length of the building, half enclosed, half terrace, all understated elegance with red upholstery and cream linen tablecloths, with touches of gilt for highlights around artfully placed mirrors. Heads turned as they passed, men greeted Luca like an old friend, women preened for him and stared openly and questioningly at her. He swept through the room like a rolling wave, refusing to be distracted for longer than a second, even when it was clear that he was being welcomed to share someone’s table for the evening.
Clearly Luca had other plans.
Through wide glass doors they were led onto the broad terrace, where Luca’s table stood waiting for them at the far corner, boasting uninterrupted views over the San Marco Basin and the Gulf of Venice. Below them tourists paraded along the Riva degli Shiavoni enjoying the balmy September evening while water craft darted across the basin lit up like fireflies.
