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Amelia’s heart was in her throat the whole way. She noticed a thousand tiny details about Benedetto, as if her unconscious mind was trying to commit him to memory, as if she needed to cement him into her soul before leaving.
Leaving.
Was she really going to do this?
Wasn’t it her obligation?
Nothing had fundamentally changed since he’d scooped Amelia out of her life and brought her back here. She was still an illegitimate, secret daughter, the product of an extramarital affair that had the potential to destroy her family and undermine her parents’ place on the throne. She was still a guilty secret. And Daniel was still out there with this knowledge, ready to blackmail her again.
Nausea rose in her throat and she blinked it away, gripping the strap of her backpack more tightly.
The ocean changed colour around them, going from a darker shade of blue to a turquoise so clear it was almost transparent, and gradually they were surrounded by other watercraft—boats, jet skis, holiday pleasure-seekers enjoying the sunshine and salt water.
Benedetto expertly steered them away, towards the marina, pulling them into a dock there and cutting the engine. His smile when he turned to her was completely without suspicion.
Her stomach squeezed painfully and before she could control her unconscious mind, she indulged a secret fantasy of pretending this was real. That they were two different people, with different pasts, who were willing to give this thing a real go, and see where it went...but it was an impossible dream.
‘Ready?’
Her stomach dropped but she nodded. ‘Let’s go.’
A deckhand appeared from the marina to tether the boat, and once they were secured, Benedetto hopped out first then held out a hand for Amelia. She put hers in it, ignoring the spark that travelled the length of her arm, forcing a smile to her face. ‘Where to first?’
They walked the ancient streets of the city, through narrow, winding cobbled paths with brightly coloured buildings on either side. Window boxes filled with geraniums and rosemary burst with brightness and fragrance, potted citrus plants decorated doorways, children played happily around them, and as they crossed the square, a group of old men in vests and caps began to sing happily, spontaneously, bowls of seafood in their laps, a card table set up with food and a rounded bottle of wine.
Amelia’s chest hurt. This was so like her country, her culture, her people, that she felt such a wave of homesickness it almost paralysed her. She stopped walking, looked around, her breathing growing raspy.
‘Amelia?’
‘It’s just...so familiar,’ she said wistfully. ‘It reminds me a lot of home.’
He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll be back soon.’
He’d completely mistaken her feelings. Or perhaps he hadn’t. She was homesick, she did want to go back, in a way. But missing home wasn’t the same as being able to return. She was exiled.
Self-imposed, but no less binding.
They stepped into a very old church on the edge of the square, admiring the architecture, the pillars, but always in the back of Amelia’s mind was the knowledge that this would be the end. That this was when she’d escape. She had to escape. Didn’t she?
But what if she didn’t? What if she stayed with him? What if she agreed to let Benedetto support her—not in talking to her parents about the reason she’d left, but just by being her strength. By helping her get through it. What if he just acted as her friend, nothing more, nothing that would cause issues for him and Anton?
‘You’re distracted,’ he murmured, brushing a hand over her hair.
Her heart slammed into her ribs and out of nowhere, she imagined them in a church filled with loved ones, his touch like this a deeper promise and pledge. Her heart trembled.
‘Am I?’
‘Hungry?’ he prompted, still with no idea how deeply she was considering her next move.
‘Yes,’ she lied, for her stomach was far too knotty for food.
‘I know a good place. Come on.’
She might have expected a fancy restaurant but instead he’d chosen an out-of-the-way seafood café with seating for about twelve people and views over the water. It was intimate, and the privacy of their booth meant she had no concerns about being spotted, so removed her hat and glasses.
They ordered something light, and some drinks, and Amelia imitated a relaxed pose, leaning against the leather banquette, looking out to sea. Their drinks came first, and while they waited for their food, Benedetto made easy small talk, telling Amelia about a project he was working on in mainland Greece, a package of three high-rises.
She listened, genuinely fascinated by his work, his world, his success. Their food arrived and they continued to talk, but in the back of her mind Amelia was angsting over everything. She couldn’t decide what to do, but, ultimately, self-preservation had to win out.
