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Amelia was a free agent. It was her life, her choice. She had to do what was right for her. Heart thumping hard against his ribs, he looked left and right, as if still hoping he might see her, before accepting that she had undoubtedly slipped far away from him already.
If she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be.
They’d walked quite a way, and even with his long stride it was fifteen minutes before Benedetto made it back to the marina, to the boat he’d moored earlier that day with a strangely light heart. He grimaced as he stalked towards it and then stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the slim figure already on board, staring straight ahead. Frowning. Looking out to sea. Expression worried. Anxious.
His step quickened.
He stood short of the boat, staring at her, disbelief burning like acid in his gut. She turned to face him, her face mournful, confused, her eyes haunted, her cheeks stained with tears and he hated himself then for having anything to do with inflicting this pain on her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, moving quickly, stepping into the boat, crouching down before her. ‘I should never have brought you here.’
She shook her head, evidently unable to speak. ‘It’s not Crete.’
‘I don’t mean Crete. I mean away from Valencia. I should never have got involved.’
A sob tore from her chest. He moved closer, cupping her face.
‘You don’t have to do this, Amelia. I’ll take you home.’
‘I don’t know where home is,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know who I am.’
One of the deckhands approached their boat, looking to untether it, and protectiveness for Amelia, who was no longer in sunglasses or a hat, overrode everything else. He stood to shield her from view, slipped the deckhand a tip then sat beside her, ensuring she stayed out of view until they were alone again.
Even when they were, Benedetto remained where he was. ‘Listen,’ he said gently. ‘This was a mistake. I didn’t understand you, or the situation.’ He put a hand on her leg, needing to feel her, to reassure her and also himself. He had to fix this. ‘I’ll take you back to Valencia.’
‘You’ve already told Anton I’m coming.’
‘I’ll tell him I made a mistake. I’ll tell him no one can force you to do anything you’re not ready for. He’ll be pissed—at me—but he’ll get over it. Because it’s the right thing to do. This should always have been your choice, Amelia. I apologise for not appreciating that sooner.’
She turned to look at him, her love-heart-shaped face so sorrowful that he groaned and pressed his forehead to hers. ‘Please stop looking as though your world is ending. I made a mistake, but I’m going to fix it. It’s going to be okay.’
‘No, it’s not,’ she whispered, so haunted he wanted to stop the world and make everything and everyone in it do whatever was necessary to cause Amelia to smile. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He didn’t. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that forcing her to face it was wrong in a thousand kinds of ways. He could never be an instrument of pain to her. ‘Come on,’ he said softly, kissing her cheek with an odd, twisting feeling in the centre of his chest. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’
On the yacht, Amelia excused herself, numb to the core, needing to warm up with a shower. She stayed in there a long time, staring out of the darkly tinted window at the shore, imagining how things might have been now if she’d followed through with her escape. She’d formed a very quick plan as they’d wandered the streets, hand in hand, only hours earlier. She’d identified a travel agent, and located a bank, so she could access her trust fund.
There was no way to pull out money without revealing her identity but by the time any enterprising bank teller managed to sell the salacious information to a tabloid photographer, Amelia would have been long gone, booked onto a cruise ship off the island, where she would have stayed sequestered in her room until they put into port in a larger city, within reach of an airport.
And nobody would have been any the wiser.
But she hadn’t been able to do it.
She missed her family. Even though she was terrified it might lead to heartbreak and pain for them, having come this close, the pull of Catarno and everything she’d walked away from was drawing her back, regardless of the risk.
And Ben? a voice in the back of her mind prompted. What role did he play in this? She tried to see through the wool in her mind, to understand. Their relationship still didn’t mean anything. It was just temporary. But she would be lying to herself to pretend his offer to help hadn’t lent strength to her. If the worst was to happen, was there anyone else she’d rather have at her side?
‘What the hell do you mean?’ Anton’s voice came down the phone line with obvious surprise and Benedetto’s hand tightened on the device.
‘We’re wrong to force her to come back.’
‘You’ve got her on your boat, but you’re saying you won’t bring her to Catarno?’ he repeated. ‘Why the hell not?’
‘She’s adamant she can’t come home.’
‘This is where she belongs.’
‘Then she’ll come back of her own volition. It’s not up to you or me to force her.’
