A Marriage Fit for a Sinner

Smiling, she let him tug her forward. She gasped at the double-figured display of St Anne and St Gerard. ‘Patron saints of motherhood and fertility...’ She stopped reading as her heart dropped to her stomach.

Zaccheo traced a forefinger down her cheek. ‘I can’t wait to feel our child kick in your belly,’ he murmured.

A vice gripped her heart, squeezed until it threatened to stop beating. ‘Zaccheo—’

His finger stopped her. ‘I meant what I said, Eva. We can make this work. And we may not have had the best of role models in parents, but we know which mistakes to avoid. That’s a good basis for our children, sì?’ he asked, his tone gentle, almost hopeful.

She opened her mouth, but no words formed. Because the truth she’d been hiding from suddenly reared up and slapped her in the face.

Zaccheo wanted children, not as a tool for revenge, but for himself. The man who’d known no love growing up wanted a family of his own.

And she’d led him on, letting him believe he could have it with her. The enormity of her actions rocked her to the core, robbing her of breath.

‘Eva? What’s wrong?’ he asked with a frown.

She shook her head, her eyes darting frantically around the room.

‘You’re as pale as a ghost, dolcezza. Talk to me!’

Eva struggled to speak around the misery clogging her throat. ‘I...I’m okay.’

His frown intensified. ‘You don’t look okay. Do you want to leave?’

She grasped the lifeline. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay, let’s go.’

They emerged into bright sunlight. Eva took a deep breath, which did absolutely nothing to restore the chaos fracturing her mind.

The urge to confess now, spill her secret right then and there, powered through her. But it was neither the time nor the place. A group of tourist students had entered the room and the place was getting busier by the second.

Zaccheo led her down the steps. He didn’t speak, but his concerned gaze probed her.

The island seemed twice as crowded by the time they descended the hill. The midday sun blazed high and sweat trickled down her neck as they navigated human traffic on the main promenade. When Zaccheo steered her to a restaurant advertising fresh seafood, Eva didn’t complain.

Samba music blared from the speakers, thankfully negating the need for conversation. Sadly it didn’t free her from her thoughts, not even when, after ordering their food, Zaccheo moved his chair closer, tugged her into his side and trailed his hand soothingly through her hair.

It was their last day in Rio. Possibly their last as husband and wife. Her soul mourned what she shouldn’t have craved.

Unbearable agony ripped through her. She’d been living in a fool’s paradise. Especially since she’d told herself it wouldn’t matter how much time passed without her telling Zaccheo.

It mattered very much. She’d heard his pain when he’d recounted his bleak childhood. With each day that had passed without her telling him she couldn’t help him realise his dream, she’d eroded any hope that he would understand why she’d kept her secret from him.

A moan ripped from her throat and she swayed in her seat. Zaccheo tilted her face to his and she read the worry in his eyes.

‘Do you feel better?’

‘Yes, much better.’

‘Bene, then perhaps you’d like to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked.

She jerked away, her heart hammering. ‘I got a little light-headed, that’s all.’

His frown returned and Eva held her breath. She was saved when Romeo entered. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

Romeo’s glance darted to her. The knowledge in his eyes froze her insides, but he said nothing, directing his gaze back to his friend.

Zaccheo nodded. ‘Sì. We’ll see you back at Paraíso.’

The moment he left, Zaccheo lowered his head and kissed her, not the hungry devouring that tended to overtake them whenever they were this close, but a gentle, reverent kiss.

In that moment, Eva knew she’d fallen in love with him.

And that she would lose the will to live the moment she walked away from him.

Their food arrived and they ate. She refused coffee and the slice of chocotorta the waiter temptingly offered. Zaccheo ordered an espresso, shooting her another concerned glance. Praying he wouldn’t press her to reveal what was wrong just yet, she laid her head on his shoulder and buried her face in his throat, selfishly relishing the moment. She would never get a moment like this once they returned to Casa do Paraíso. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and agony moved through her like a living entity.