An Invitation to Sin

He gave a humourless laugh. ‘And how did that work for you, dolcezza? Because I hated every minute of being respectable. I don’t care what anyone writes about you. I never have and never will.’

The fact he hadn’t sold her out to the press meant almost as much as hearing him say he loved her. ‘He told me I was beautiful. Rafaele…’ The tears were falling again and she brushed them away with her palm. ‘I was homeless and I had no one—my own mother had turned her back on me and my father had sold his story to the press, and he was there for me. Except that he wasn’t. I trusted him—’

‘Shh…’ Luca wrapped her in his arms. ‘He doesn’t deserve a moment of your time and he certainly isn’t worth your tears. Don’t cry.’

‘He’s held it over me for so long. He didn’t even tell me he had the photographs until after our relationship ended. He paid someone to take them from the garden of the house we were using in California. I had no idea. I thought it was just the two of us. I thought we were alone.’ She pressed her face against his shirt and felt safe. ‘And then I ended it and he told me what he had. How he’d use them. No matter where I went or what I did, he found me. And I always knew he was just waiting for the right time.’ She swallowed, relieved to finally be able to tell someone. ‘And the pressure got to me. Do you know how it feels to wake up every day wondering if this is the day the world is going to see you naked? It’s just horrible. And finally—well, I had a sort of breakdown.’

‘I know. I saw the pictures of you but no one knew what happened or where you went.’

‘It wasn’t drugs or drink. It was just the pressure. I wanted to get away. I flew out of LA and on the plane I met Zach.’

‘Zach the friend?’

‘That’s all he ever was. He served in Iraq. We got talking and in the end I went back with him to DC and volunteered in a rehab unit. They didn’t care who I was, they were just grateful for the help. I felt good about myself for the first time in my life. It was Zach who helped me separate the acting from all the mess that surrounds it.’

‘I’m starting to almost like Zach.’ Luca stroked her hair gently. ‘So what made you come back to acting?’

‘I read this script. And Zach helped me see that I love being an actress, I just hate being in the spotlight when I’m not on set. I hate that feeling that everyone is waiting to tear me down. And because of our engagement you’ll be pulled down with me.’ She felt sick when she thought of it. ‘I dread to think what the board said to you.’

‘They told me I had to distance myself from you and that’s when I realised I didn’t want to. I didn’t want it to be fake. I want it to be real.’

‘Are you sure?’ Her smile was wobbly. ‘The real me gets me in trouble every time.’

‘Never with me. You’re forgetting that I grew up with fake. I grew up watching my mother turn herself inside out in an attempt to please my father.’

Taylor touched his face. ‘You’ve never talked about her.’

‘She worked so hard to make him love her.’ His raw confession startled her and she eased away so she could look at him.

‘You don’t have to tell me this.’

‘I want to. I want you to understand. But I’m not good at this—I’ve never talked to anyone.’

‘Why do you say she was fake?’

‘He hurt her again and again and she just came back for more and tried to be who she thought he wanted her to be. He travelled a lot and I used to dread him coming home. She went from being a relatively stable normal parent to an insecure mess. She’d walk into my room at all hours, sometimes she’d even wake me up, and she’d always be dressed in something different, wanting to know how she looked. “You have your grandfather’s sense of style, Luca, tell me if this works. Will he like me in this?”’ His handsome face revealed the strain. ‘For a while, when I was very young, I actually thought that to be loved you had to wear the right clothes. And every time my father rejected her she’d study his latest girlfriend and try and copy the look and she’d ask me again, “Is this better? Do you think he’ll like this?” And when he didn’t I always blamed myself. Maybe if I’d told her to wear pink instead of cream. Or wear her hair up instead of down. Maybe if I’d got it right, she wouldn’t have spent the whole night crying.’

Appalled, Taylor slid her fingers into his.

He’d shouldered responsibility for his parents’ marriage. He’d taken on his mother’s pain.