‘We’ve had this—time together, these few days and nights, and they’ve been wonderful, but that’s all.
There’s nothing else, and there never can be.’She paused.
‘So maybe a change now is appropriate, even necessary.
Isn’t there a saying—quit while you’re ahead?’‘I have heard it used,’ he said slowly.
‘But is that truly what you wish?’‘Yes, signore.’ Her gaze met his without wavering.
‘It is.’But I’m lying, she thought, pain twisting inside her.
I want to hear you tell me that in spite of everything, we have a future.
I want you to say that you love me.
I wish for the impossible.
And, instead, saw him glance towards the window, hit by the first spatter of drops.
He said lightly, ‘It seems that, in any case, we will not be going to the beach tomorrow.
What will Poco do?’‘Stay indoors with the Signora.’ She made her tone match his, carefully masking the agony of loss.
‘He loves going in the sea, but he hates the rain.
He doesn’t seem to recognise that they’re both water.’He even managed to look amused.
‘Well, he is not alone in that, mia cara.’ He paused.
‘Have you always liked dogs?’‘We had a golden retriever when I was a child.’ She drank some wine.
From somewhere managed to produce a reminiscent smile.
‘He was called Benji, and he was big and soft and sweet.’ She added with faint huskiness, ‘I missed him terribly when he died.’And this—this is like another death … ‘He was not replaced?’She shook her head.
‘It wasn’t possible.
My father had a new job and we were moving to an apartment without a garden.’‘Che peccato,’ he said.
He leaned back in his chair, surveying her with narrowed eyes.
‘I am trying to imagine,’ he said, ‘how you looked when you were a little girl.’Oh God, don’t do this to me—please.
She shrugged.
‘Scrawny.
Hair in plaits.
Big eyes.’ She grimaced.
‘Only the hairstyle has really changed.’He gave a despairing glance at the ceiling.
‘Dio mio, how many times do I need to say how beautiful you are before you believe me?’At least once a day, she thought, for the rest of my life.
One of so many things I can never tell you in return.
Santino lent them an ancient umbrella for the walk back to the Casa Bianca, its shelter precarious as the wind threatened to turn it inside out.
At the door, she halted.
‘Perhaps we should say “Addio” here.’‘A clean break?’ he queried derisively.
‘No, mia bella.
Never in this world.’And as he had done that first time, he unlocked the door himself, carrying her into the house.
Once inside, he put her on her feet and stood for a long moment, looking down into her face.
She tried again.
‘Believe me, please.
This—is so unwise.’‘I agree,’ he said.
‘But it is also far too late for wisdom.’He took her gently in his arms and began to kiss her slowly and very deeply, his mouth moving on hers in insistent demand, making her moan softly with the aching need of arousal before he lifted her again, shouldering his way into the bedroom.
His hands were deft as he undressed her, his mouth tender and seeking on her uncovered body and she held him, hands clasping his shoulders, offering herself for his possession, gasping a little as he filled her and made her complete.
As they moved together in the unison that they had learned, knowing every nuance of each other’s responses.
Yet even as she began to dissolve into delight, Ellie could feel that he was holding back, concentrating on her pleasure, her satisfaction rather than his own.
But it was too late for protest or to lure him into equal abandonment because her senses were already spiralling giddily out of control, her body shuddering in the first fierce spasms of climax.
And even after she had cried out, her voice lost and wondering, he had not finished with her, his lips performing a sensuous traverse down the length of her trembling sweat-dampened body, his hand parting her thighs for the voluptuous caress of his fingers and his tongue.
She tried to tell him that it was too soon—that it was impossible—but she couldn’t speak, caught once more in the irresistible rush of desire.
Carried away almost inexorably.
Convulsed—drained by its culmination.
He said her name hoarsely and took her again, his strong body driving her to limits she’d never guessed at.
Urging her towards some dangerous edge and holding her there for a breathless, agonised eternity before permitting them both the harsh, pulsating tumult of release.
Sated, exhausted, Ellie lay beneath him, treasuring the relaxed weight of his body against hers, stroking the dark head pillowed on her breasts.
The calm, she thought, after the storm.
Then, hearing the rattle of the wind against the shutters and the low rumble of thunder in the distance, she thought of all the other storms still to come.
And how they could so easily tear her life apart.
And wondered how she would ever bear it.
It was just after dawn when she woke with a start, and sat up, wondering what had disturbed her.
And in that same moment, discovered she was alone.
At first, she remained still, listening intently for the sound of the shower, trying to detect the aroma of coffee in the air.
Searching for the normality of morning, but there was nothing.
And as her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness of the room, she saw that his clothes were missing too.
Ellie bit her lip, tasting blood.
She wasn’t accustomed to this, she thought.
She’d become used to waking in his arms, his warm mouth coaxing her to desire.
Later, to showering with him, running her fingers laughingly over the stubble on his chin and the faint marks it had left on her skin.
Yet at some moment, it seemed, he’d decided that a clean break was best after all.
And gone.
Without a kiss.
Without a word.
She flung back the covers and got up, reaching for her robe.
With last night’s memories crowding in on her—his hands, his lips, the scent, the taste of him—it was impossible to stay where she was, or try to sleep again.
In the living room, she paused, looking round her in a kind of desperation.
This little house—her refuge for so long—suddenly felt bleak and empty, as if it no longer belonged to her, but to some stranger.
As if the heart had been ripped out of it.
Or was it the dark hollow that had opened up inside herself that she was sensing?She took a deep, steadying breath, then padded into the kitchen and put the coffee to brew, before toasting some bread to go with the ham and cheese she’d taken from the fridge for breakfast.
Knowing she needed to keep herself occupied far more than she required food.
She ate what she could, then showered and dressed in denim jeans and a dark blue sweater, grimacing at the pallid face which looked back at her from the mirror.
She sat down at her work table with gritted teeth, but her usual ability to concentrate had deserted her.
She found she was staring at the rain-lashed window, wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking.
Then endlessly repeating everything that had been said between them the previous night.
Telling herself as she did so that she had done absolutely the right thing.
That she hadn’t cried or begun a sentence with ‘Can’t we …’ so that at least she could emerge from this extraordinary situation with some semblance of dignity.