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All the best parts of their relationship had been played out in this exquisite corner of the island. They’d strolled hand in hand along flower-decked streets, they’d enjoyed leisurely meals in one of the many intimate piazzas, but nowhere they’d stayed had been as perfect as this. As private, as exclusive—as romantic. ‘When did you buy it?’
‘I bought it while we were married but it needed a lot of attention. It was supposed to be a surprise.’
The shock of it made her heart skip a beat. ‘While we were married?’
‘It was my gift to you. From the moment I saw how much you loved the place I wanted to find somewhere. It took me eighteen months to persuade the owners to sell. Another six months to make the necessary alterations.’ He breathed deeply. ‘And then you left.’ The raw emotion in his voice brought the lump back to her throat and her eyes met his.
When he held out his hand, she hesitated because voluntarily putting her hand into his felt like a big step and she wasn’t sure she was ready to take it. She experienced a painful moment of indecision and then she slid her hand into his and heard him exhale slowly.
It was a huge leap of faith and he apparently understood that because his fingers closed tightly around hers as he led her round the side of the house to a terrace that overlooked the sea.
‘So, what do you think? Does it meet with your approval?’
Laurel looked up at the castello and felt overawed by the beauty of it. His wealth had always been part of who he was, of course. It was impossible not to be aware of it, but it had never interested her particularly. She’d always thought there was nothing his wealth could buy that could move her.
Until now.
She turned her back and discovered that from the terrace she was looking at a one hundred and eighty degree view that took in the snow-covered peak of Mount Etna and the dazzling emerald sea of the bay of Naxos. And on the terrace itself, just metres from her feet, a series of infinity pools cut into the slope, each cascading into the one beneath, the insistent rush of water soothing in the humid heat of the day.
‘I think you have delusions of grandeur,’ she croaked and he laughed and pulled her into his arms in a possessive gesture, not giving her the chance to reject that spontaneous intimacy.
‘The pools are inspired, don’t you think? You always loved to swim so I told our architect to make use of the gradient to create something special. I always thought it was a good idea but I must admit it surpassed my vision.’
‘You saw us living here?’
‘Yes, for some of the time, at least. It was good enough for DH Lawrence and Truman Capote so it must have something special.’
Yes, it was special. Special in every way. But the most special thing about it was that he’d done this for her.
He’d done this for her while she’d been working the same punishing hours that he’d been working. She’d accused him of being a workaholic and now she was discovering that at least part of his working day had been devoted to building somewhere that she was going to love. Not somewhere he’d lived as a rich single guy but somewhere he’d chosen with her in mind.
Somewhere that was their own.
Her impression of him shifted into a different shape. Thoroughly confused and hating that feeling, she pulled away from him and he sighed.
‘Now what’s going through that head of yours? Tell me what you’re thinking.’
She was thinking that this house, the fact he’d built it in the place she loved most on earth, was an enormous gesture. But it was a gesture with meaning. He’d built it for their future. For the family he’d imagined having. It was all part of his master plan. Looking at the olive groves, she imagined two small versions of Cristiano playing in the shade and then splashing in one of the beautiful turquoise pools.
Maybe he had loved her in his own way. Looking at what he’d created here, she was almost ready to believe that.
Which made the sense of loss even more painfully acute.
They ate lunch on a shaded part of the terrace, surrounded by the lavish gardens and fragrant citrus groves.
Laurel ate fish with lemon and herbs picked from the garden, her cheeks pale and her eyes tired as she pecked at her food. The dogs lay by her feet in a state of dopey adoration, refusing to leave her side as they panted in the heat.
And he was as bad as the dogs, Cristiano thought wryly as he waited for her to confide in him. He knew exactly what was on her mind. It didn’t take a genius to guess and he could have raised it but he wanted to see if she would do it without his prompting.
Aware that confidences were hardly likely to be forthcoming when things were so tense between them, he chose to steer the conversation onto neutral territory. ‘Where have you lived for the past two years?’ He watched, hiding his concern as she toyed with the fish on her plate, her usually healthy appetite clearly challenged by their problems.
