Page 49

As I lay, sweaty and sated, in his arms, his hand absently stroking my belly, his breathing deepening against my hair, my love for him felt huge but also terrifying, because I still had no indication that he would ever need me the same way.

‘Dante, can I ask you something?’ I’d murmured, feeling vulnerable and insecure, because I knew that no matter how well I did in the role of ‘his wife’, I would always want more from him than a partnership based on sex and business. And it bothered me that he seemed so content with the limitations he’d outlined all those weeks ago. Limitations that I’d never agreed to, but which still felt as if they were firmly in place, despite all my progress.

‘Hmm?’ he’d murmured.

‘I know you think love is a weakness. But how can you be so sure you don’t need it?’

He went very still beside me at the mention of the L word. ‘I told you we would not talk of this again, Eva.’

My heart had sunk at the same dismissive tone I recognised from a month ago, as I stared into the darkness.

‘But how can you not want love, Dante…?’ I’d tried to push.

But he’d cupped my breast in his palm, run his thumb over the stiff peak and murmured into my hair, ‘Do you wish me to tire you out again, so we can both get some sleep?’

The familiar weight formed in my sex as he toyed with my nipple, the physical pull as insistent and irresistible as it always was. But instead of giving in to the yearning he could trigger so effortlessly, tears stung my eyes. I forced a fake yawn and dragged his hand from my breast.

‘I’m already exhausted,’ I said.

But when he huffed out a husky laugh and murmured, ‘Va bene, Eva, then stop talking now…’ the empty space in my heart, which I’d been comfortably ignoring for weeks, became a chasm.

He’d gone to sleep. And I’d lain awake, feeling lonely and vulnerable and demoralised.

I’d hoped my run today would lift my spirits and help me get this latest setback in perspective, but as I’d replayed the conversation in my head over and over again, I was finding it impossible to get past the conviction that Dante had erected a brick wall around his emotions a long time ago. And I would never be smart enough, or strong enough, or matter enough to him to break through it.

I let out a tortured breath and slowed to a cool-down walk as Aldo and I turned into the back alley, feeling drained, and not because of the five-mile run.

But then I yelped as something flashed across the path and disappeared under a dumpster.

Aldo drew level with me and yanked out his gun.

‘Signora, what is the problem?’ he demanded as I tugged out my earbuds.

‘Something ran under the dumpster.’

‘A rat,’ he declared as he re-holstered his gun beneath his sweat top.

‘No, I don’t think so… Here.’ I handed him the earbuds and untied the sweater I had around my waist. Then I knelt beside the dumpster, onto the dirty pavement.

‘Signora, che cosa?’ Aldo said, shocked.

But I was already peering under the metal container, to see a tiny canine face with round brown eyes staring back at me, its emaciated body shivering inside a battered cardboard box.

‘You poor thing…’ I whispered, my heart overflowing. The dog was so small it couldn’t be more than a few months old. Its ribs showed through its grubby white fur, but its tiny tail shot up and started wagging when I whispered, ‘Come here, baby.’

‘Do not touch it. It may be diseased,’ Aldo announced, having crouched down beside me, his gun drawn again.

Hearing the stern voice, the puppy scurried back into the box, its ears flattening and its tail curling between its hind legs, terrified.

‘Shh, Aldo—and put the gun away,’ I said as softly as I could, so as not to scare the puppy more.

Aldo grunted but did as I asked.

Slowly, the tiny dog came out of the shadows again. I coaxed it forward. Eventually, it regained its courage enough to sniff and lick my outstretched fingers.

Delight gripped me and inspiration struck, as I recalled Dante’s confession from a month ago. The confession I’d clung to for so long, as proof that he could learn to love me, if he could overcome his fear.

When the puppy finally crawled into my palm, I lifted it out from under the dumpster and wrapped it in the sweater.