A Shadow of Guilt

chapter NINE



WHEN VALENTINA WOKE she could feel the sunlight caressing her bare skin and a warm breeze, the scent of grass and earth. Superstitiously she didn’t open her eyes yet. She was lying face down, on one cheek, and could feel the sheet just covering her bottom. Her legs were splayed with wanton abandon and she had the distinct impression of strong arms that had been around her not so long ago.

She remembered how Gio had tucked her into his body, arms wrapped tight around her, powerful legs cupping her back and bottom as she’d slid into a dreamless sleep with her body humming from the overload of recent pleasure.

She knew Gio wasn’t in the room any more. Her skin wasn’t tingling with that preternatural awareness. Reluctantly Valentina moved onto her back and winced when aching muscles protested. She blushed when she thought of how tightly she’d gripped Gio’s hips with her legs, the way she’d dug her heels into his buttocks, urging him to go harder, deeper. She blushed even more when she thought of how she’d dug her nails into his back … he might be marked. And then that thought caused a curiously satisfied glow within her.

Slowly she opened her eyes and took in the room which had been shrouded in darkness last night. It took a few seconds to adjust to the bright light and to realise that there were no curtains on the huge window nearby. Valentina came up on her elbows and looked around.

The room was starkly bare with only a minimum of furniture that looked old and used. A low table with a lamp nearby, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. The walls were stripped back as if in readiness to be painted. A chandelier light hung over the bed on an exposed wire. Old and unadorned floorboards were unvarnished and uncarpeted.

The feel was very much faded grandeur but not in the artful way that people paid through the nose for; this was the genuine thing. It was as if Gio hadn’t cared enough to do it up and something inside Valentina twisted.

Moving slowly, she got out of bed. Huge and equally faded French doors were half open and led out to a private terraced balcony. The view over the surrounding countryside was stunning. In the far distance Valentina could make out what she thought must be Syracuse with the sea behind it, a faint stain of blue.

Conscious of her nakedness, she looked around and saw her dress neatly folded on a chair near the chest of drawers along with her underwear and shoes. She blushed again to think of Gio handling them and then she spotted a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants laid out over the footboard at the bottom of the bed.

She quickly put them on; they were voluminous but Valentina rolled up the sweats and tied the string tightly around her waist. The T-shirt came to her mid-thighs. After exploring the en suite bathroom which was as undecorated as the bedroom and yet had beautiful antique pieces like a stunning chandelier and a gilt mirror, she went in search of Gio with a distinct prickle of apprehension.

She didn’t like to remind herself that they’d avoided this morning-after scenario the other day when she’d confronted him about the tattoo and had a minor meltdown. Outside the bedroom was a long corridor but Valentina could see stairs in the distance, the stairs that Gio had carried her up last night.

When she went down to the ground floor she could see the huge front door wide open, revealing the courtyard and Gio’s motorbike where he’d left it. Flowers trailed haphazardly from pots around the door. Rooms led off the main entrance and Valentina peeked into them. They were slightly more done up than the bedroom but they were still quite bare, with the minimum of furniture.

She came to what had to be the main living room. The walls were white and there was one long low white couch near the middle of the room. A coffee table and a TV seemed incongruous in the huge ascetic room and again Valentina’s chest twisted with an emotion she didn’t want to look at.

‘There you are…’

Valentina whirled around to see Gio leaning against another doorway she hadn’t yet noticed, arms crossed. He was wearing a dark T-shirt and faded jeans which hung precariously off those lean hips, the top button open. His jaw was dark with stubble and Valentina recalled how the new growth had felt against her inner thighs only short hours before.

She blurted out, ‘I was just looking for you.’ She gestured to the clothes awkwardly. ‘Thank you … for these.’

He shrugged minutely. ‘They look far better on you than they ever did on me.’

Valentina blushed, the enormity hitting her of being here in Gio’s house … the morning after the night before.

‘Do you want some coffee?’

Seizing any opportunity to block out the revelations coming thick and fast in her head Valentina said quickly, ‘Yes, please … and then I really should be getting back to the track.’

Gio lifted a brow as she walked towards him and she stalled.

‘It’s Sunday, the only thing happening at the track will be the massive clean-up and move-out as people start to transport their horses home. And anyway, it’s lunchtime, half the day is already gone.’

Valentina blanched. Lunchtime. Sunday. No escape. Almost desperately now she said, ‘My parents … I should see my parents.’

Gio had turned and was walking away, down another long corridor towards the back of the house. He said over his shoulder, ‘I rang the clinic earlier and your father is doing fine. They’re advising the minimum of fuss before he is taken to Naples tomorrow afternoon.’

Valentina scowled at Gio’s back and then immediately felt guilty. He was doing so much for them. Past a constriction in her throat she said, ‘Thank you … for checking up on them.’

They were in a huge kitchen now and Gio turned to face Valentina, a small smile playing around his lips as if he knew very well what she’d just been thinking. ‘You’re welcome.’

Valentina sucked in an involuntary gasp; unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was pristine. A glorious mix of old and new. Slate floors and rustic wooden worktops blended seamlessly with steel and chrome. Her inner chef sighed with sheer joy. ‘This is … stunning,’ she breathed out finally, walking towards the central island and running her hand reverently over the surface.

She heard the dry tone in Gio’s voice. ‘My housekeeper, Eloisa, insisted on the kitchen being finished. It’s all to her spec, not mine. She’s away this week, visiting family in Messina.’

Valentina thought of the huge cavernous and undecorated rooms. Thankfully Gio’s back was to her as he busied himself with the coffee pot. Unable to stop herself, Valentina asked, ‘You’ve lived here for nearly ten years—but it’s as if you haven’t settled in yet.’

Gio turned around, his face curiously blank, and handed Valentina a tiny cup of espresso. The fact that he knew how she liked her morning coffee made her belly swoop.

Gio took a sip himself and then said, ‘In a way I haven’t … when I got back from Europe and bought this place it needed a mountain of work.’

Valentina recalled the ongoing construction work whenever she’d been to the castello in the past. That’s why she’d never been inside before now.

Gio was continuing. ‘That took almost two years … and then …’

Valentina’s hands clenched so tight around the tiny piece of porcelain that she had to relax for fear of breaking it in two. The significance of what he’d said sank in. Quietly she finished, ‘Mario died …’

Gio looked pale and he threw the rest of his coffee back in one gulp before turning to place the cup in the sink.

Valentina put down her own cup and addressed Gio’s obviously tense back. ‘Where did Mario die?’

He stilled and then he turned around and looked so haunted and bleak for a moment that Valentina quivered inwardly. ‘Valentina …’ His voice was a hoarse plea.

‘Please … I need to know.’ To her surprise, she didn’t feel angry or resentful. She just desperately needed to know.

As if sensing her intractability Gio moved towards a back door and opened it. Valentina followed to see that it led out to a small herb garden. Obviously the housekeeper’s. Gio was holding out a scuffed pair of runners and saying tightly, ‘These might fit, they’re Eloisa’s.’

Valentina took them, avoiding Gio’s eyes, and slipped them on. They were a size too big, but fine for now. Valentina had to trot to keep up with Gio as he strode down a path with bushes on either side. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the whinny of a horse.

When they emerged at the bottom of the path the estate was laid out before them. Valentina came to stand beside Gio and saw the vast stables down to their left, surrounded by cypress trees. To the right of that were huge rolling green paddocks, incongruous against the more rocky and bare Siclian landscape and no doubt carefully maintained by Gio’s gardeners.

From what she remembered the gallops where Mario had died were behind the stables but she couldn’t see them from here. Gio turned to face her, his jaw tight. ‘The gallops are gone, Valentina. I got rid of them … after …’ His voice trailed off.

She looked up at him. ‘What’s there now?’

Gio ran a hand through his hair, reluctance oozing from every taut muscle in his body. ‘A garden … I got them to cover it over with a garden.’

Determined now, Valentina crossed her arms. ‘I want to see it.’

‘Why? Valentina—it won’t serve any purpose….’

She touched his arm then and felt him tense to her touch which sent a cold shiver down her spine. ‘Please, Gio … I need to see this.’

After a long tense moment he took his arm from under her hand and turned and stalked onwards. For the first time since they’d met again Valentina had a glimpse of another side of Gio. Cold, inscrutable. She shivered slightly when she imagined the dynamic between them being very different.

They went down past the stables where lots of curious horses’ heads peeped out. Valentina thought she recognised Misfit, who whinnied softly, but she wasn’t sure. A couple of stable hands passed them by but they were obviously put off by Gio’s expression and scurried on. Valentina only realised then that she was still dressed in Gio’s oversize clothes and felt her face flame as she hurried to keep up with him.

He’d stopped before she realised it and she crashed into his back. He put out a hand to steady her but she noticed how quickly he took it away again and felt a dart of hurt. They’d come through an arbour of some sort and were standing in a huge walled garden. Valentina was taking it all in and noticed that Gio was standing on the edge of an elaborate green structure, about a foot high. Valentina came to stand beside him and frowned. ‘It’s a maze.’

Gio’s voice was tight. ‘It’s a labyrinth. The one path which leads in also leads back out.’ She heard him take a breath. ‘Mario told me about them once … he’d always been fascinated by them.’

Valentina had a vague memory of Mario mentioning something about them now too.

Gio said from beside her, ‘I’ll leave you.’

And then he was gone. She could hear him striding away again. It was almost too huge to take in—the fact that there now existed a walled garden where the gallops had been, and then this … labyrinth. Valentina was standing at the entrance and slowly started to walk the path.

It was a curiously meditative experience. Every time she thought she was coming close to the centre of the labyrinth, the path would diverge far away again. She felt exasperated at first until she realised that this was undoubtedly part of the process. She was surprised when she finally found herself stumbling into the centre at last. It was so unexpectedly peaceful that she stood there for long minutes.

She knew her parents would be incredibly emotional to see what Gio had done in Mario’s name. And she? Like a coward, Valentina didn’t want to explore deeper than the peace she felt right then. Her emotions were far too close to the surface as it was, ambiguous and volatile.

Eventually she wound her way back from the centre to the entrance of the labyrinth and reluctantly left the garden behind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that some bruised part of her heart had been healed.

When she got back up to the kitchen door of the castello a grim-faced Gio met her. He’d shaved and changed and was holding car keys, and a bag which she suspected contained her dress. ‘I can take you now if you’re ready to leave?’

Valentina knew that she should be jumping at this opportunity to run as far away as she could, as fast as possible. But in light of Gio’s clear desire to have her gone something inexplicably rebellious rose up within her.

She lifted her chin. ‘What makes you think I’m ready to leave?’

She saw the quickly hidden flare of confusion in his eyes before they narrowed again. Almost as if wanting to goad her now he said, ‘I assumed that seeing where Mario had died would be a passion killer.’

Valentina sucked in a breath at his crude words. But amazingly, hurt didn’t grip her. She couldn’t articulate it to Gio but it felt right to be here with him. Her blood was already flowing thicker in her veins just standing in front of him, his freshly clean scent on the air between them.

‘I was the one who wanted to come here, remember?’

Again that flare of confusion. Valentina focused on Gio and not on the confusing tumult of emotions within her. She walked up to him and took the keys out of his hands and dropped them to the nearby countertop. Then she took the bag out of his other hand and dropped it to the floor.

Gio’s eyes were dark, burning. Almost censorious. ‘Do you know what you’re doing, Valentina?’

Her voice sounded thick to her ears. ‘I want you, Gio, that’s all.’

Gio smiled and it was grim and hard. ‘As long as that’s all. I’d hate for there to be any confusion.’

Valentina’s heart lurched but she forced herself to say, ‘No, there’s no confusion.’

Gio reached out and pulled her into his body and Valentina had to fight not to close her eyes at the way her body sang.

‘You’re right,’ he said harshly. ‘There’s nothing but this.’ And then his mouth was on hers and the confusion in Valentina’s heart faded away to be replaced by heat.

Just over twenty-four hours later Valentina was standing in a private room in a state-of-the-art clinic in Naples listening to a consultant tell them about the operation which her father would undergo the next day. Her father was in bed, pale, and her mother was sitting by his side, looking worried but stoic, holding his hand tightly.

Gio stood in a corner of the room, arms crossed and face stern as he, too, listened. Dressed in chinos and a white shirt, he looked cool and crisp. And gorgeous, and remote.

Valentina’s body ached minutely in very secret places. She trembled with awareness just to be this close to Gio. Her brain was still reeling from an overload of sensation and lack of sleep.

She darted Gio a quick glance now but he wasn’t looking at her. His jaw was tight, impossibly stern. She felt conflicted, confused. From the moment she’d challenged him in his kitchen yesterday, something unspoken but profound had shifted between them.

She hadn’t had time to dwell on it though—Gio had used his considerable skill and experience to render Valentina all but mute with pleasure.

When Valentina had woken late that morning, disorientated and more physically replete than she could have imagined possible, it had been to a cool and fully dressed Gio telling her, ‘It’s time to go. The plane is ready to take your parents to Naples.’

Valentina’s attention came back into the room, guilt washing through her to think that Gio was distracting her even now, when her father’s life was being discussed. She did her utmost to ignore him and her roiling emotions and concentrated on her parents.

When the consultant left the room and Valentina had made sure her mother was comfortable in the private room that had been set up for her beside her husband’s, all courtesy of Gio, she left, feeling incredibly weary all of a sudden.

She was surprised to see Gio outside the clinic, not sure what she’d been expecting, but half expecting him to have left. Gio faced her now and held out what looked like a plastic hotel room key. ‘It’s to a suite in the Grand Plaza Hotel. It’s not far from here.’

Valentina blanched. It was also one of the most expensive hotels in Italy. She started to protest but Gio took her hand and curled it almost painfully over the card and said curtly, ‘I don’t want to hear it, Valentina. Take the key and use it. You need to stay somewhere while you’re here.’

Valentina reeled at the further evidence of this cool stranger. As if his silence on the journey over here hadn’t confirmed that something was very wrong. Suddenly she didn’t know where she stood any more; she was on shifting sands. This wasn’t the same man who had been clutching her hair, thrusting so deep inside her just hours ago that she’d wept openly.

‘I have to go back to Syracuse this evening. But I’ll be back to see how the operation went tomorrow.’

Valentina crossed her arms tight against how badly she wanted to touch Gio, have him touch her. To have him explain this abrupt emotional withdrawal. But a deep and endless chasm seemed to exist between them now.

She fought to match his cool distance in a very belated bid to protect herself. ‘You don’t have to come back tomorrow, you’re busy.’

In the same curt tone he replied, ‘I’ll be here.’

He gestured with a hand to where a driver stood by a car at the bottom of the clinic’s steps. ‘Dario will take you to the hotel and wherever you need to go. He’s at your disposal while you’re in Naples.’

‘Gio …’ Valentina began helplessly before stopping at the look on his face. She threw her hands up. ‘Fine, all right.’

Gio stepped back. ‘Till tomorrow.’

And then he was gone, down the steps and sliding into the back of his own car before it left the clinic car park and disappeared into the noisy fume-filled Naples traffic, and in that moment Valentina felt as if something very precious had just slipped through her fingers.

Less than an hour later Gio was watching the bright lights of Naples recede from beneath his small private Cessna plane. His gut ached. His whole body ached with a mixture of pleasure and pain. His hands were clenched to fists on his thighs and he had to consciously relax them. He smiled bleakly in recognition of the fact that he could relax them now because Valentina wasn’t near enough to him to tempt him to touch her.

Standing on the steps of the clinic he’d had to battle not to pull her into him, bury his face in her hair, feel how those soft curves would fit into his body like missing pieces of a jigsaw.

He’d gorged himself on her for the past twenty-four hours. And it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. But it would have to be enough.

When she’d insisted on seeing where Mario had died, it had spelt the end of the affair to Gio as clearly as if it had been written on a board with indelible ink. When he’d left her standing in that garden, he’d been fully prepared for her return, and for her demand to leave straightaway.

But … she hadn’t asked to leave. She’d asked to stay.

And yet it hadn’t filled him with a sense of triumph. She’d said, I want you, Gio, that’s all. And that had reminded him more succinctly than anything else of what was between them. And what wasn’t. There wasn’t even the anger any more.

Valentina had cut herself off from what had happened in the past between them, and she had no problem continuing the physical relationship with him because there was no emotional investment. That’s why she hadn’t reacted the way he’d anticipated to seeing where Mario had died. That’s why she’d had no problem going to the castello in the first place.

Gio accepted a tumbler glass of brandy from the attentive air steward. He threw it back in one gulp and winced as the liquid turned to fire down his throat. He cursed himself for having thought for one weak moment that perhaps emotions were involved.

If anything, Valentina’s emotions where Gio was concerned had become the worst possible of things: benign. Soon, Valentina’s desire would wane and she would look at Gio with nothing but pity. He’d already seen a flash of it when she’d asked about his house and why it wasn’t furnished.

That would be the worst thing of all … to endure Valentina’s pity for him. After everything, that was the one thing he wouldn’t stand for.

The knowledge sat heavy in his gut. He’d always believed that he was empty inside, after years of contracting inwards to protect himself from his father’s cruelty and his mother’s ineffectualness. Mario had been the only one he’d trusted and allowed himself to love like a brother. And Valentina, a small voice mocked gently.

However, that capacity had died and withered with his friend. He’d believed he’d never love again. But he’d been wrong. The knowledge didn’t precipitate joy within him—to discover that he hadn’t lost that ability at all. Valentina Ferranti had the power now to tear him apart, there would be no recovery.

‘I’m not gone yet….’

‘No, Papa, you’re not.’ Valentina smiled but it felt very precarious as tears burnt the backs of her eyelids. She could feel her mother’s steadying hand on her shoulder. The operation had been a big success.

Much to her shame, she couldn’t deny that her seesawing emotions had just as much to do with the huge and silent presence of Gio standing a few feet away in the recovery room, as it had to do with the success of her father’s operation.

He hadn’t wanted to intrude but her father and mother had insisted on him coming in. Valentina could see her father flagging and immediately a nurse stepped in, saying briskly, ‘That’s enough for now. You’ll have plenty of time to visit again tomorrow. He’s going to be here for a while.’

Valentina allowed herself to be hustled out, sharing a quick kiss with her relieved mother, who was staying behind.

Once out in the corridor after Gio had made his goodbyes too, Valentina felt shy and awkward, not knowing how to navigate this new tension between them. It felt like aeons since she’d lain in bed with this man, arms clasped tight around him, her breasts crushed to his chest and her head nestled between his shoulder and neck while his fingers had trailed little fires up and down her spine.

The sense of peace she’d felt in that moment mocked her now.

‘I—’

‘You—’

They both spoke at the same moment and then stopped. Gio said tightly, ‘You first.’

Valentina swallowed. ‘I need to get back to Sicily. My mother needs some things from home, now that they’re going to be here while my father recuperates.’

‘I’m going back now. You can come with me on the plane. I’ll arrange for your return when you need to come back.’

So sterile. Valentina shoved down the hurt and forced a smile. ‘OK, thanks.’ She indicated to the small holdall she held. ‘I packed my things and checked out of the hotel just in case….’

Gio was already striding out of the clinic, issuing terse instructions into his phone, and Valentina struggled to catch up to him, a dart of anger piercing her insecurity. What had she been hoping for? She welcomed the anger because it had been a long time since she’d felt it for this man and it gave her the illusion that she still had a shred of control around him.

On the plane Gio made no effort to converse and stared out of his window in silence. The tension grew as the short flight wore on. Eventually Valentina couldn’t take it any more and undid her seat belt, turning to face Gio’s remote profile.

‘Gio …’ Her voice sounded unbearably husky.

She could see how his whole body tensed before he turned his head, a brow arched in polite enquiry. Valentina wanted to thump him.

Instead she drew up all her courage. ‘Is there something …’ She stopped and cursed. He was so damn intimidating like this.

‘Is there something wrong? You’ve … barely said two words to me since …’ She gulped and forged on. ‘Since we left the castello the other morning.’

For a split second Valentina thought she saw something unbearably bleak flash in Gio’s eyes but it was gone. She had to have imagined it.

Gio sighed audibly and Valentina felt a shiver of trepidation.

‘I don’t think we should see each other again.’

‘You don’t.’ Valentina’s entire body seemed to go hot and then cold all over. Icy cold.

‘Do you?’ That brow was raised again, like a polite enquiry. As if he wasn’t experiencing the same nuclear fallout that seemed to be happening in her body. Valentina had to concentrate on what he’d asked and when she registered how he was looking at her so dispassionately, just waiting for an answer, she blurted out, ‘No!’

She flushed, ‘I mean, yes … I think that’s a good idea. After all … there’s nothing …’

Valentina stopped; she was feeling very light-headed, breathless. Pain was blooming in her chest and Gio was saying from somewhere distant, ‘There is nothing. I think it’s for the best. You have your job to get on with. After the Corretti Cup getting work should be the least of your worries. My aunt won’t stand in your way again.’

Somehow Valentina thought she managed to get out something that sounded like, ‘Yes … thank you …’

The previous couple of weeks flashed through her head, the way Gio had stepped into her life and so comprehensively turned it around. He’d felt obligated; he’d felt the yoke of history heavy around his neck. And he’d desired her. But it was all over now. Finished. Duty and obligation had been seen to and delivered. There was nothing left. A small voice mocked her—since when had she wanted anything else? Anything more?

Then the air steward was interrupting them and telling them they’d be landing in a few minutes. Blindly Valentina found her belt buckle and fastened it. The click seemed to reverberate around her head and she looked out the window as the familiar Sicilian landscape rushed up to meet them and kept telling herself, Breathe, just keep breathing.

Once the plane had landed and they were on the tarmac Gio turned to Valentina. A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘One of my assistants will take you to get your car at the racetrack. You can let him know when you wish to return to Naples and he’ll arrange for your flight.’

Pride stiffened Valentina’s spine and to her everlasting relief she felt strong enough to say, ‘I can take a scheduled flight, Gio, you don’t have to—’

He slashed a hand through the air, making her flinch minutely. And then he cursed softly. ‘Just … don’t argue, Valentina, please. Take my plane.’

Valentina felt like childishly stamping her foot and demanding why the hell he cared if she went by his plane or not when he clearly never wanted to lay eyes on her again. But just then his phone rang and he lifted it to his ear, not taking his eyes off Valentina, as if daring her to defy him. ‘Pronto? ’

As Valentina watched she saw Gio’s face turn ashen. He said faintly, ‘I’ll be right there.’

Impulsively she reached out a hand, scared. ‘Gio, what is it?’

He was distracted, looking for his assistant, who came running before turning back to Valentina. ‘It’s Misfit, he’s been taken ill.’

‘Oh, Gio …’ Her throat constricted and all anger drained away. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Gio stopped for a moment and looked at her, his assistant hovering nearby, and then he just said with chilling finality, ‘No, there’s nothing you can do. Goodbye, Valentina.’

And then he’d turned and was walking to his low sports car nearby. He swung into the vehicle and with a muted roar was gone. The assistant approached Valentina and took her small case out of numb fingers. ‘Ms Ferranti? If you’d like to follow me?’

Two days later Valentina was returning on Gio’s private plane to Sicily in the early evening. She’d delivered her mother’s clothes and supplies from home. Her father was gaining strength every day and, in all honesty, Valentina knew she hadn’t seen him look better in years. What Gio had done, with such effortless ease, had ensured a renewed lease of life to her parents that they could never have attained on their own.

Gio. Valentina felt numb when she thought of him. She still had to clear her things out of the accommodation at the racetrack but felt too weary to think about it straightaway. Her heart clenched when she remembered how ashen Gio had gone on hearing that Misfit was ill. For the first time Valentina realised fully how no one had been there for Gio after Mario died; Mario had been his only, closest friend. A friendship and trust that had been hard won, and which had encompassed her too, once.

When the plane landed Valentina went to her car which was parked in the car park. She sat in it for a long time before making a decision.

When she approached the closed and unfriendly looking gates of Gio’s castello about thirty minutes later she cursed her impetuosity. A guard approached from an artfully hidden small Portakabin she hadn’t noticed before.

‘Can I help you?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I’d like to see Signor Corretti, please.’

‘Is he expecting you?’

Valentina stuttered, her bravado failing her, ‘N-no, but if you tell him it’s Valentina Ferranti …’ Then he’ll tell them that he absolutely doesn’t want to see you, a voice mocked in her head.

Valentina shivered when the security guard disappeared again. She now had an inkling of what it would be like to be on the other side of Gio’s afffections, and just how much she’d taken his attention for granted.

A long minute later the guard returned and opened the gate saying, ‘He’s at the stables.’

‘Thank you.’ Valentina shifted her gears awkwardly as nerves suddenly gripped her. What was she doing here with some misguided notion that she could somehow comfort Gio when he might need it? You didn’t worry about his well-being seven years ago, her inner conscience mocked her.

Valentina pushed down all the nerves and voices. She owed Gio at least the courtesy of seeing how Misfit was doing. She knew how much the horse meant to him. She pulled up behind some other cars parked near the stable courtyard and got out.

Dusk was falling but she could see light spilling from the main stables and went towards it. When she entered it took a minute for her to see that Gio had his back to her. He was on his haunches at the entrance to one of the stalls. His back looked impossibly broad as it tapered down to those narrow hips. Hesitantly she went forward and wasn’t prepared for when Gio’s voice, sounding harsh and husky, said, ‘What are you doing here, Valentina?’