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Her eyes met his. ‘I think he deserves a better example of marriage than two parents who’ll never love each other.’
Frustration simmered in his blood. ‘So this is your final answer?’ His voice was laced with disbelief. ‘You’re rejecting my proposal?’
For a moment, her mouth trembled. Then she firmed her chin. ‘Yes.’
Anger and desperation—and something akin to hurt—sank sharp claws in his gut. ‘I won’t be a part-time father, Annah. It’s unacceptable.’
Her eyebrows snapped together. ‘What are you saying?’
The words bolted from his throat before he could stop them. ‘I’m saying don’t force my hand.’
‘Force...?’ Her eyes widened. Comprehending. ‘You would sue for sole custody?’ Her voice was a horrified whisper. And then her expression changed. In an instant, her eyes were no longer the crystal blue of a summer sky but a dark, stormy indigo. ‘I’ll fight you,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t care how much it costs or how good your lawyers are. I’m Ethan’s mother. You can’t take him from me.’
Instantly, a tsunami of regret and self-disgust barrelled through him. Dammit. Why could he not harness his emotions around her?
‘Annah...’ He reached for her, but she stepped back. He dropped his arms to his sides. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, his throat stiff with remorse. ‘That was my temper speaking. I would never separate you from our son.’
She looked at him for a long time before speaking. ‘I think Ethan and I should leave this afternoon.’
His gut tightened. ‘You’re not scheduled to go until tomorrow.’
‘I don’t see the point in staying another night.’
He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and remind her of their powerful chemistry. Of what she would deny herself. Deny him.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll make the necessary arrangements.’
His voice carried a hollow ring, but it was nothing compared to the sudden, yawning chasm inside him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘MAY I JOIN YOU?’
Luca turned his head at the sound of his mother’s voice. He hesitated to respond. He had no particular desire for company, but neither did he have an excuse to be uncivil. After a moment, he gestured with his whisky glass to an adjacent chair on the terrace.
Eva sat, a snifter of brandy cradled in her hand, and for several minutes they sipped their drinks in silence.
Eventually, she spoke. ‘I miss them.’
Luca took a swig of whisky. So do I. Every day for three weeks, he’d missed them. How the hell he was meant to feel satisfied with twice-weekly video calls with Ethan and the stilted two-second greetings he got each time from Annah, he had no idea.
It wouldn’t do for the long term, but right now he was giving her the space she’d requested.
He stared into his glass, swirling the whisky, disgruntled at its inability to expunge the cold, hollow sensation from his stomach.
‘I tried to leave him once.’
Luca’s hand stilled. He raised his head and looked at his mother. She sipped her brandy, staring out over the moonlit gardens, her gaze fixed on some point in the distance.
‘I’d learned he’d taken a mistress,’ she said quietly, ‘but that wasn’t the only reason. Other things had begun to disturb me. There was a...darkness in Franco I hadn’t seen in him when we married. It frightened me, so I took you boys to Naples.’ She glanced at him. ‘You were only eight, so you may not remember.’
Luca frowned, scouring his memory. ‘I remember,’ he said slowly. His mother had said they were going on holiday, and Luca had thought it strange because they never took holidays without his father.
‘I thought my parents would help me,’ she said. ‘But your grandfather was too traditional. He told me a woman had no right to break her marriage vows, no matter what. He called Franco and... Well, that was that.’
Luca dug deeper into his memory. Yes. He remembered his father arriving in Naples. Remembered being happy to see him. But not much else. He was an eight-year-old boy, busy playing outdoors with his brother or sneaking into his grandmother’s kitchen to gorge on her baking. They stayed a few more days with his grandparents, then travelled back to Sicily as a family.
How furious must Franco have been with his mother?
