‘I went through hell last night,’ he bit out, his resolve to remain calm, impassive, flying out of the window. ‘Knowing the storm was approaching and you were here alone while I was stuck on the mainland—’ He broke off, jerked a hand out of his pocket and thrust it into his hair. ‘Mon Dieu, Marietta!’
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I can imagine how worried you must have been,’ she said, and for some reason her placatory tone of voice only riled him further. ‘I was worried about you, too,’ she added. ‘But we’re both fine—aren’t we?’
He begged to differ. He did not feel fine. He felt as if someone had mashed up his insides with a chainsaw. ‘You could have been seriously injured—you were injured,’ he ground out.
‘A few scratches,’ she dismissed. ‘Nothing more.’
‘Thanks to Luc and Philippe rescuing you—which they wouldn’t have needed to do if you hadn’t been so damned stubborn and insisted on staying here by yourself.’
She bit her lip again, her eyes clouding. ‘I’m sorry, Nico...’
She reached out, closed her fingers around his wrist, and he thought that simple touch might be his undoing.
He forced his hand to hang by his side. ‘Forget it. It’s over now,’ he said. And he didn’t mean only the storm. He watched Marietta’s face, saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes.
She withdrew her hand.
‘Does it have to be?’ she asked after a moment.
He stared down at her. ‘I told you—’
‘I know what you told me,’ she interrupted. Her chin lifted. ‘And I’m not suggesting any kind of commitment. I’m just suggesting that maybe...once I’m back in Rome...we could see each other occasionally.’
An uncomfortable pressure built in his chest. Had he not contemplated that very arrangement just yesterday? He suppressed a humourless laugh as an even greater irony occurred to him—having Marietta on a casual basis wouldn’t be anywhere close to enough.
He hardened his voice. ‘I don’t do relationships—casual or otherwise.’
‘Why?’
Her soft challenge poked at something inside him. Something that already felt bruised. Raw. ‘Don’t push, Marietta,’ he warned. ‘I made it clear from the outset that I couldn’t offer you anything more. I thought you understood.’
She rolled forward and he stepped back.
‘I understand that you’re afraid, Nico,’ she said softly, and stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze with another firm lift of her chin. ‘I understand that you’ve loved and lost and now you’re afraid of getting close to people, afraid of caring for anyone—because if you do you might lose them.’
Nico’s blood ran cold. He felt as if she’d crawled inside him. Into the darkness he tried so hard to keep hidden.
It was shocking. Exposing.
Anger rose, swift and defensive. He paced away, turned back. ‘Are you calling me a coward, Marietta?’ He stalked towards her. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’
Marietta’s head snapped back. Nico’s comeback was harsh, unexpected, landing a sharp dent in her bravado. Not that her courage had been bulletproof to start with. Mustering the nerve to seek him out and talk so frankly with him after he had avoided her all afternoon hadn’t been easy.
‘What do you mean?’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘You don’t see it, do you? You’re so goddamned proud, so independent—you wear it like a suit of armour so that no one can get inside it.’
She stiffened. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry about last night—’
‘I’m not just talking about last night!’ He cut across her, a vein pulsing in his right temple as he stared down at her. ‘You accuse me of being afraid—’
‘It wasn’t an accusation!’
‘But what are you afraid of?’ he finished.
She gripped the arms of her chair, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. ‘Nothing.’
‘I think that you’re afraid to admit you can’t do everything on your own,’ he carried on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘To admit that you might actually need someone.’