A Scandal Made At Midnight - Page 39

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THENEXTWEEKpassed in a golden haze of happy moments. Not for the first time since meeting Alessandro Rossi, Liane wondered if she should pinch herself. It certainly felt as if she were dreaming.

They spent the days lazing in the garden or villa, walking through the hills or wandering through the sun-soaked towns, playing boules or cards or taking a dip in the pool. Sophia often accompanied them, developing a friendship with Liane as she watched her easy camaraderie with Alessandro. Christina worked from home during the day, although she joined them in the evenings for dinner, with laughter and conversation, sometimes long into the night, although never too long, leaving Alessandro and Liane plenty of time together.

‘Sophia is thrilled to have Alessandro here for so long,’ she told Liane one evening, while they were waiting for the others to join them in the drawing room. ‘He usually only stays for a day or two, and it’s been a whole week.’

‘Has it?’ Liane felt as if the days had flown, each one more precious than the last, for who knew when they would end? She’d told herself—and Ella, when she’d texted to check in—that she was simply enjoying letting it all happen, the moments as they came, and she was, oh, she was.

For beyond the fun-filled days there were the pleasure-filled nights...as night after night she and Alessandro explored each other’s bodies, drove each other to new heights of both passion and intimacy, limbs tangled, hands seeking, hearts thudding as one.

Could you do those things with someone, Liane had wondered more than once, and not fall in love with them? She was already realising, more and more with each passing day, she couldn’t. With every day she spent with Alessandro she fell deeper and deeper in love. She’d even stopped trying to keep herself from it, knowing there was no use, and understanding for the first time why Ella was so willing to tumble headlong into relationships.

It was fun. It was wonderful to look at someone and have your stomach fizz, your heart fill. To lie in someone’s arms and listen to the thud of their heart, to roll over and see the smile playing on their lips as they drew you closer for a kiss. To feel that closely attuned, that dearly beloved.

Was there anything more wonderful, more magical, than falling in love?

Well, yes, Liane knew there was. It was knowing that person loved you back.

Sometimes, when she caught Alessandro looking at her, or when he held her in his arms and stroked her hair after they’d made love, both of their hearts still racing as the aftershocks of their climax shuddered through them, she could almost convince herself that he did. Or at least, perhaps, that he could, if he let himself. He was capable of it, surely; whether he was willing was another matter.

Sometimes, as they wandered through the market of a nearby hill town, buying a jar of olives swimming in brine and a crusty loaf of bread for an impromptu picnic, she told herself it didn’t matter if he loved her or not. This was enough—his attention, his affection, his body in her bed. Did she really need more than that? Wasn’t she happy enough, at least for now?

Then she’d catch him looking pensive, a shadow coming over his face as he became remote, and it felt like the sun disappearing behind the clouds, a darkness coming over the whole earth. His answers would become clipped, his gaze distant, and her heart would thud an erratic beat as she wondered if he was thinking of ending it between them. She thought she saw it in the tightening of his mouth, the flicker in his eyes, and a few times she felt he’d been on the cusp of saying something. It’s been fun, but...

It had been longer than she’d expected, she knew, longer than she’d even hoped. She shouldn’t, she told herself, even be surprised. Really, she should be ready.

In those moments she knew she couldn’t live in the balance, always wondering, worrying what would come next. She might not crave the spotlight, but she no longer wanted to live in the shadows. Not like that, anyway. If he couldn’t love her, it would be better to end it, surely.

And yet...they’d only known each other a handful of weeks. Couldn’t she give him time to develop the feelings she knew she already had? If he could just tell her he wanted to try...

But he never did.

Ten days into their idyll, seeming more remote than ever, he shut himself away in his study for most of the afternoon and Liane half wondered if she should pack her bags. She gazed out at the lemony sunlight spilling over the gardens and hated the thought of leaving this wonderful place where she’d briefly known so much happiness. But perhaps it would be better to leave before Alessandro told her to...if she had the strength. Was that what was going to happen?

Wouldn’t she rather be the first to say, It was fun, but...? A sense of self-preservation told her she would, and yet even so she was reluctant. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye...

Just then her phone buzzed with a call from Ella.

‘So, it’s been ten days,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘Are you guys engaged yet or what?’

‘Ella!’Liane couldn’t keep from sounding horrified. What if Alessandro overheard? Not, of course, that he would. He was still holed up in his study, ignoring her. ‘Don’t talk like that, please. As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about whether I should go home.’

‘What?’ Ella sounded shocked. ‘Why?’

‘To keep myself from getting hurt,’ Liane stated flatly. It was too late for that, though, wasn’t it? ‘Alessandro said this would end when he said it would,’ she told Ella. ‘And I’d like to think I have a little more self-respect than to wait for him to tell me to go.’

‘He’s not going to end it,’ Ella insisted. ‘He loves you.’

‘Ella, we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks,’ Liane reminded her painfully. ‘And I’m not sure Alessandro even knows what love is, or, more importantly, if he wants to. He’s told me he doesn’t, as a matter of fact.’

‘That may be true,’ Ella answered slowly, ‘but maybe he needs someone to point it out to him.’

‘And you think I should?’ The thought terrified her. If she told him she loved him and he rejected her, and he would reject her, surely... There was a reason why she stayed in the shadows, wasn’t there? The spotlight was far too bright, too dangerous. ‘I don’t know if I can do that.’

‘I’m not sure you should at this point,’ Ella replied thoughtfully. ‘I think he actually needs to see it for himself.’

‘How?’ Liane cried. If only it were simply a matter of seeing...

‘I know how.’ Ella sounded alarmingly certain.

‘You do?’ Liane exclaimed. ‘Ella, don’t even think of... I don’t even know what. But don’t.’

Ella only laughed. ‘What could I really do from France?’ she asked innocently.

‘I don’t know, but please—’

‘Sometimes,’ Ella cut across her, ‘love needs a little helping hand. Or at least a mirror.’

And with that she hung up, leaving Liane both fuming and afraid, wondering what on earth Ella could be up to now. But did it really matter? Would Ella’s interference, whatever it was and no matter how well meaning, make a difference to Alessandro’s feelings? To his heart?

Liane glanced out at the gardens, now gilded in evening sunlight; from the open window she breathed in the faint fragrance of lilac. The flowers she loved so much, she’d seen earlier that day, were browning at the edges, their blooms already fading, releasing the last of their sweet, sweet scent, as the season turned and summer came on with its relentless heat and endless blue skies.

Maybe that was just how life happened; one season gave birth to another. She and Alessandro had had something special, but that was all it was—a season, a moment in time. Perhaps she was foolish in longing for it to be more. To wish for the fairy tale...

And yet why shouldn’t she at least try? Perhaps she was stubborn, or merely hopeful, but she wanted to be brave enough to tell him how she felt, or at least how she thought she felt. It was all still so new, she could admit that, but it was still something... Maybe, just maybe, she could be brave enough to step into the spotlight once more.

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