Awakened by the Scarred Italian
‘Why didn’t you?’
She kept looking at him, even though it was hard. ‘Because you were back in my life. I didn’t tell you because I’d convinced myself I owed it to you. I was afraid that if I told you everything you’d despise me even more than you already did.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Even though I denied it to myself I still loved you, I would have done anything to be with you—even let you take your revenge out
on me.’
Ciro looked shell-shocked. ‘What you went through...for two years... When I think of that man and what he could have done to you if you hadn’t been brave enough to fight him off...’ He stood up abruptly and stalked out of the café.
Shocked, Lara sat there for a moment, before throwing down some cash and grabbing the wedding dress. He was outside on the empty street, a fist up to his mouth. When she got close he turned away from her, but not before she’d seen the agony on his face. Moisture on his cheeks.
‘Ciro—’
His voice was thick. ‘Don’t look at me. I can’t bear it, Lara. To know what you went through because I was too much of a coward to own up to my feelings...’
Lara went and hugged him from behind, resting her head against his back. The parcel fell by her feet, unnoticed.
Eventually he turned around and she sucked in a breath at the ravaged look on his face.
‘How can you ever forgive me?’
A weight lodged in her gut. She’d never expected to see this: Ciro feeling guilty. She was the guilty one.
She reached up and wiped away the moisture on his face, her heart aching, because she knew that even though Ciro might have feelings for her it wasn’t love, and she would have to walk away again.
‘It was my fault—’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘No. Never say that again. It was your uncle. Lara, I’ve had him investigated. You have no idea how corrupt he was. What he did to you was the tip of the iceberg. He was involved in fraud, and in trafficking women in and out of the UK.’
Lara’s hands dropped. ‘My God...’
‘Lara... I’m so sorry.’
She was unable to speak. She’d never expected the cruel irony of Ciro feeling guilty. Saying sorry.
He took her hand. ‘This isn’t a conversation for here. Come with me to the townhouse—please?’
Lara knew that she should pull back. She’d heard all she needed to. Ciro was right. It wasn’t her fault. Or his. They’d both been used as pawns. But she couldn’t pull away—not just yet. Soon she’d have a lifetime to try and forget him.
‘Okay.’
Ciro picked up the wedding dress and led her over to his car, where she got into the back. When he got in on the other side, he surprised her by pulling her into his arms, enfolding her close. She closed her eyes and guiltily revelled in his strength. It wouldn’t last. He just felt guilty. But she’d take it while she could.
Amazingly, she fell asleep, with Ciro’s heartbeat thudding against her cheek. She was only vaguely aware of the car stopping, of Ciro lifting her out and carrying her. There was another familiar voice. And then she was being put down on a soft surface and a warm blanket was being pulled over her.
She struggled to wake up but Ciro’s commanding voice said, ‘No, go to sleep, Lara. You need to rest.’
* * *
When Lara woke the next morning it was early. Just after dawn. It took a minute for her to realise that she wasn’t in her disinfectant-scented room at the hostel. She was in a luxurious bed.
Ciro’s townhouse.
She sat up and looked down, grimacing. She was still dressed in her T-shirt and jeans. A faint smell of beer and fried food wafted up. She got up and went into the bathroom, stripping off and stepping under the shower.
As the water sluiced down over her body she finally allowed herself to remember the previous cataclysmic evening. The outpouring of emotion. The pain on Ciro’s face.
The fact that he didn’t love her but that he was sorry.
Lara hugged herself under the water for a long moment, willing back the emotion. She had to hold it in until she left this place. Then she could grieve. Finally.