Happy Mother's Day!

‘Pact be damned!’ he raged. ‘You make me feel like the stud! The gigolo!’

‘That was the last thing I intended!’ she protested.

He shook his dark head frustratedly, aware that his smooth fluency seemed to be deserting him—but then, he was not used to doing something as alien as articulating his feelings. ‘So we have the baby and we make the marriage. We live in the beautiful house and everything should be wonderful. I even agree that you should work if you wish to—because I know how important it is to you! Because I admire the way you have worked your way up from nothing to achieve everything that you have. I encourage you to go to Paris, because I think that is what you wantwhat you need to make you contented. If work is so important to you, then you should work—but it must be your choice and yours alone. I try to work out what makes you tick—because you refuse to tell me!’

‘Gianluca—’

‘But even that was not right,’ he raged as he cut through her protest with an impatient wave of his hand. ‘Because I was not plaguing you with p

hone calls all day, leaving you free to concentrate on your job—you are still not happy!’

‘I felt excluded,’ she whispered. ‘As if you wanted to get me out of the way and sideline me.’

He shook his head with something approaching despair. ‘Ah, Aisling?’ he asked softly. ‘Why has it all gone so wrong, mia cara?’

Aisling’s heart stilled and her breath caught in her throat, knowing that she was poised on an emotional tightrope. It was one of those moments where there was a chance—just a tiny one, but a chance all the same—of pulling back from the brink of disaster. Of retrieving something golden and precious from the mess they had made of it so far.

‘Because I’m scared,’ she admitted.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Scared of what?’

Of so many things—would it repel him if she told him? Would the cool image he had painted of her crumble before his eyes? And even if it did—oughtn’t she to take that risk? For she had discovered that a relationship could not be built on shaky foundations—and surely honesty, however painful, was the most secure basis of all.

‘Scared of being needy, like my mother. Scared of relying on a man and being left. Scared of not having a career to fall back on if that should happen.’

‘But you are not your mother!’ he objected quietly. ‘And I am not your father. Whatever happens, I would not leave you destitute.’

‘No. Of course not. I can see that now. But patterns of thinking are hard to break when they’ve been in you for a lifetime.’ She tried a smile but it felt more like a grimace. ‘You see the cool stuff is just all a show, Gianluca—a mask I wear to conceal the ugly insecurities underneath. To hide so many things.’ She drew a deep breath now, recognising that she had come so far and she could not back down. That honesty meant just that. Had she really trampled on his heart, as he had claimed? Had she been so busy looking at the popular image of the rich playboy that she had not realised that he might be wearing a mask himself?

‘Including the fact that I love you,’ she declared softly. ‘Deep down, I think I’ve always loved you—but I’ve done such a good job of hiding it that I don’t think you’re ever going to believe me.’

As she spoke, as emotion trembled her voice and softened her features, the mask of which she had spoken seemed to dissolve before his eyes.

Suddenly Gianluca could see what it must have cost her to have admitted that and he could also see what had been left behind in its place—a look of tenderness and passion, devotion and love—shining out brighter than any star viewed from a rooftop restaurant. And it melted his heart.

When he had heard she was pregnant, Gianluca had marvelled at how quickly life could change. That it could be transformed in a heartbeat—by life, by death and by love. Everyone knew that deep down, but most people chose to ignore it. They carried on with their lives, blinkered and unseeing. It was easy to forget that the important things were all around if only you had the courage to reach out for them.

Something had happened when he had first held his newborn son and Gianluca was experiencing something similar now. It was love. Like something which had always been just around the corner and out of sight—only now it had stepped out into the daylight at last, dazzling and transforming.

And along with the breathtaking leap of his heart came the feeling of liberation. That just as Aisling had opened up her heart to him—he was free to do the same. Having Claudio had taught him that expressing emotion did not make a man weak—indeed, that love could empower you with a strength which made you feel you could conquer the world.

Gianluca had been protective of his emotions because women had always wanted more from him than he had been prepared to give, but for the first time in his life he had met someone who had not pushed him for emotional commitment or declaration. And love given freely was so much more powerful than love which was demanded.

He felt infused with the same kind of power which could make an eagle soar over unimaginable heights. ‘You may not believe me when I tell you that I love you, Aisling,’ he said fiercely. ‘But believe me when I tell you this, mia bella … bella—that I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I do.’

Afterwards, Aisling couldn’t remember which of them had moved first—whether he had crossed the room or she had. Or maybe it had just happened like osmosis—one flowing into the other without really trying. Just two people with aching hearts who had found a healing remedy in each other.

EPILOGUE

‘SO WHAT’S it like working with your wife, Signor Palladio?’

Gianluca smiled at the reporter. ‘I’ve worked with her before. It’s how we met.’ And then he shook his head to negate any more questions before climbing into the back of the limousine beside Aisling.

The car gathered speed and she snuggled in next to him. To huge international fanfare, they had signed on theVinoly hotel that very morning and were now going home to the vineyard, to where Claudio was waiting for them.

‘I can’t wait to see him,’ Aisling murmured.

He smiled. ‘Me, neither.’