She had little doubt that Silvia was one of the topics for discussion still not touched upon, and she could only be thankful to have been spared the pain of that.
Because her cousin had to be the motivation driving him to seek his liberation, no matter what the consequences.
That, she thought wretchedly, and the fact that I’ve totally failed to give him the child he asked from me.
She remembered Silvia standing greedy-eyed in the bedroom at Vostranto, already planning the change in her future.
Supremely confident in her beauty, and the power of her sexuality to win Angelo back.
To become the Countess Manzini as she’d always intended.
Between the two of them, they’ve wrecked my life, Ellie thought, pain wrenching at her heart.
And I can’t deal with that rationally.
It’s impossible.
And yet, having come all this way, making this specific journey in order to administer the coup de grace, some obscure passing whim had caused him to postpone his decision.
Instead, hiding behind other names, other identities, in the process messing with her head and destroying her power to reason or to be on her guard as she should have been, Angelo had played his own private game with her.
A game that was now over.
But at least she had not given him the opportunity to finish it.
The moment he’d hinted that they could not continue as they were, she’d acted swiftly, decisively.
She could always be proud of that if nothing else.
Proud that she hadn’t waited for sentence to be pronounced.
And if she’d changed her mind a short while later and gone to find him—well, he would never, ever know that she’d yielded to such pathetic weakness.
Or be aware that, without him, she felt only half alive, pacing the floor since his departure, unable to settle or think of anything but him.
She’d stripped the bed and re-made it so that there would be no lingering trace of the cologne he used to act as a reminder of his presence tempting her to reach for him across the empty space beside her.
But, as she soon discovered, it made little difference, because he was not just in the bedroom, but everywhere.
She found him in the shower, stroking scented gel into her skin.
At the stove in the kitchen, creating the best carbonara sauce she’d ever tasted to go with the pasta.
In the living room, sharing the old sofa with her, his hands and lips caressing her in the preliminaries to love, before pulling her, laughing, down on to the soft rug for his possession.
She couldn’t even stand at the sink without recalling how he would appear behind her, his arms sliding round her waist as he pushed her hair away in order to nuzzle the nape of her neck.
Forcing her to the realisation that the freedom she’d demanded was just another illusion.
That in her heart and mind she was still chained to him.
And that her precious Casa Bianca was no longer a sanctuary but a prison.
She tried to pinpoint the time—the day—the hour when she had begun to want him, aware that it was well before she’d admitted as much to herself, ashamed to recognise how long ago it truly was.
Certainly before the living nightmare of her marriage had been imposed on her.
I was like a child crying for the moon, she acknowledged sadly, knowing full well that it was unattainable.
That I was still just as I’d always been—Silvia Alberoni’s younger, plainer cousin.
Yet, I built every possible defence I could against him.
Insisted he keep his distance.
Threw myself into work as if my life depended on it.
Tried desperately not to wonder where he was and who he might be with when he stayed in Rome.
Fought each lift of the heart when he returned to Vostranto, each quiver of the senses when I was alone with him and all the other small, secret self-betrayals in case he picked them up on some inner male radar and guessed the truth.
And then I ran away, believing I was escaping from the humiliation of being set aside as the failed, unwanted wife.
Thinking I could somehow avoid a broken heart.
When it was here waiting for me all the time.
Oh, why did he have to follow me? Why couldn’t he have left it all in the hands of his lawyers?Even after another three days she was unable to find answers to those or any of the other questions tormenting her, enclosing her in a kind of limbo.
On the surface, her life went on as usual.
She forced herself back to work, relying on her strict professionalism to get her through her assignments.
The weather was still blustery, but fine enough to enable her to escape at some point from the four walls that used to be her safeguard.
She took Poco for long walks, evading the Signora’s coy queries about ‘the return of your handsome friend’.
At the trattoria, which she continued to brave each evening, Santino and Maria were more discreet, but she could sense their brimming curiosity too—and their disappointment.
On the morning of the fourth day, she had just cleared away breakfast and was on her way to her laptop, when there was a loud rap at the front door.
Her heart seemed to lurch, and for a stunned instant, she stood staring across the room, aware what she was hoping and despising herself for it.
A second impatient knock and a rattle at the door handle prompted her into action, reaching for her keys.
She flung the door open, her lips parting in a soundless gasp as she saw who was waiting for her.
‘So you are here.’ Silvia walked past her into the living room.
‘I had begun to wonder.’ She began to unbutton her white trench coat.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down, cara? Offer me coffee? I am sure I can smell some.’Ellie remained where she was.
She said quietly, ‘Why have you come here?’Silvia’s eyes widened in assumed surprise.
‘But, Elena mia, to talk to you, of course.
To deal with the kind of detail that men somehow find so difficult.’ She shrugged.
‘But let us examine the broad picture first.
You have, of course, agreed that your marriage to Angelo is finally and irretrievably over.’Ellie said stonily, ‘I think that is my business and his.
No-one else’s.’‘On the contrary, as the other person most nearly involved in this, I have a right to know what is planned.
And to help the matter reach a rapid and satisfactory conclusion.’ She draped her coat over the arm of the sofa, and sat down, crossing her legs.
‘I presume this is also your wish.’Ellie walked over to the table and leaned against it, the hard, polished edge biting into her hands.
‘And what about Ernesto?’ she queried tautly.
‘Does he have a view in all this?’Silvia examined her nails.
‘Of course, shut away in this forgotten corner, you cannot know what is happening in the wide world.
Let me enlighten you.
Ernesto and I are no longer together and will very soon be divorced.’‘How convenient,’ Ellie returned bitingly.
Silvia laughed.
‘More of a necessity, cara, once he had heard the news.
When I told him I was having Angelo’s child.
Even he knew then he could not keep me with him.’Ellie’s heart seemed to have stopped beating.
She stared at Silvia, knowing she would never be able to forget the triumph in the glowing eyes, or the faint mocking smile that curved her cousin’s mouth.
She said in a voice she didn’t recognise, ‘I don’t believe you.’‘You mean because in the past I have never been drawn to the idea of having babies?’ Silvia nodded.
‘It is true.
I admit it.’ She paused.
‘But who should know better than you, Elena, how much Angelo needs an heir? And I have come to realise that, when you love a man, you wish to give him everything he wants.’ Her smile widened.