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He watched her through the terrace doors as she booted up her tablet computer and wielded it like a clipboard. She was tense, even after a night of being thoroughly made love to.
Her revelation about her trips to the orphanage had confused him. Dara had never shown any interest in children. He had never even seen her speak to a child, not to mention drive out of her way to go and visit one. But recently he had begun to feel a distance between them. They both had busy careers, but they usually made sure to keep time for each other.
Leo stood, suddenly needing to walk. He took the path down along the cliff-face—the same path he’d used to take as a boy. He stopped on the flight of steps that led down to the old boathouse, remembering his childhood self rushing down the stone steps, furiously trying to hold in the tears and escape his nightmarish life. Living with a mentally ill mother had forced him to live in silence. His formative years had been spent in isolation, and in fear of upsetting her with his mere presence.
Those memories no longer held the same dark power over him—not since Dara had come into his life. Now every time he walked down here he was reminded that he was happier than either of his parents had ever been.
Right now, he was impressed that the little boathouse was still standing. He pushed the door open with a creak and ducked his head inside.
A row of plastic boxes lined the floor—he had insulated the place last year, once they had decided to use it for storage rather than leave it to rot. Flipping the lid of the box nearest the window, Leo idly surveyed the contents. A collection of coloured yo-yos lay inside, once his favourite boyhood hobby. He picked up a red one and spun the yarn tightly between the circular wooden discs.
He had spent many days inside these four walls, practising his skills and hoping for someone to show them to. He held the yo-yo tight in his hand before letting it fall to the ground and bouncing it back up easily. His tricks had been numerous, all learned from a book he had got as a gift from his father. He knew now that his father’s secretary had probably chosen it, but at the time he had taken it as a challenge to impress the old man. And, as he did with most tasks, he’d poured his heart and soul into it.
In a way he was no different from the little boy who had captured his wife’s attention. Leo might not have been an orphan, but he knew what it meant to crave a connection. He had that with Dara now—he felt the completeness that came from the love of a good woman. He had poured all his efforts into creating a life together with his beautiful wife.
Since meeting Dara he had slowly lost interest in the party scene—except for when he opened up a new club. As a bachelor, he had spent his leisure time mainly involved in drinking too much and buying the fastest cars. He’d had no difficulty living in hotels for months at a time. He hadn’t known what it meant to have a home.
Dara had shown him just how fulfilling life could be. But now he got the feeling that she felt their life was lacking somehow. If she was happy, why was she escaping to Syracuse every chance she could get?
An image of the longing in her eyes when she spoke about the child there filled his mind. It was suddenly blindingly clear that Dara had developed a newfound yearning for motherhood. And somehow that yearning wasn’t something she felt comfortable sharing with him. The thought jarred him, leaving an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.
Leo ran a hand through his hair and threw the yo-yo back into the box. He had never once questioned Dara’s steadfast opinion on family. She had made it clear that she would never have children, and that had suited them both. The idea of fatherhood had never been something he aspired to. His own father had been a spectre in his life—one who had drifted in and out, leaving him uncertain and confused. As an adult he had never once considered the idea of starting a family of his own.
But lately he had begun to grow tired of the constant travelling. These days the only place he wanted to be was here, with his wife, in their true home. He had wanted to say that to her last night, but they had got sidetracked.
He walked back to the castello just as evening was setting in and found Dara waiting for him in the kitchen. A bottle of vintage Prosecco sat on the table, two glasses beside it.
‘I’m sorry I took so long.’ She winced, pouring him a generous glass of wine.
Leo took a sip, appreciating the taste for a moment before shrugging. ‘You have a business to run, carina. I have to accept that I can never have you all to myself.’
‘I’ve turned my phone off for the evening, so I am one hundred per cent yours. No distractions.’ She smiled, pressing her mouth to his.
