Public Wife, Private Mistress - Page 52

'I'm a man.' he returned immediately, his tone dry. 'I'm not supposed to express my feelings.'

'So I'm supposed to tell you everything I feel and receive nothing from you in return. Is that it?'

'No.' He muttered something under his breath in Italian. 'That is not it. But I used to know everything you were thinking. It was one of the things I loved about you. You were so uncomplicated. You didn't play games. If you were happy you fizzed and bubbled and if you were angry you threw things. And you told me that you loved me all the time.'

And he'd never said it back. Never. Not once.

'This is a pointless conversation,' she muttered. 'I walked out because I honestly didn't think that we had anything left to say to each other. Chiara had her mem­ory back. My role was over.'

'Not over,' he breathed, stepping towards her, his ex­pression that of a man with only one mission in mind. 'You should probably know at this point that I have no intention of divorcing you. Ever.'

Her heart skipped a

beat and then she remembered what was behind this.

Chiara.

Finally he knew the truth.

Stasia stared at him, feeling totally numb inside. She should have been overjoyed that he now knew she was innocent but instead she felt strangely flat. What did it change? Nothing.

'It isn't that simple. Rico.' she croaked. 'You didn't believe in me. And if Chiara hadn't suddenly decided to confess, then you still wouldn't believe in me. I can't be with someone like that. What happens next time Chiara decides to hide one of her boyfriends in my bed­room? Are you going to trust me then or do I have to rely on other people to confess? Because that hasn't proved to be a very reliable way of clearing my name.'

Rico stood still, not one single muscle moving as he stared at her. She looked at him with exasperation.

What was the matter with him now? Was he shocked because she'd actually brought the subject up? What had he expected? That this was going to be another one of those subjects that they just ignored? Didn't he re­alize that their problems went deeper than that one in­cident?

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if he was struggling to find the right words. 'Run that past me again—' His voice was strangely hoarse, as if he was struggling with his English.

Stasia frowned. Rico never struggled with his English. He was fluent. 'I was just saying that the fact that Chiara finally told you the truth about that night doesn't change anything,' she said flatly. 'You didn't trust me. And that says it all.'

'Is that so?' His bronzed skin had taken on a greyish tinge and she looked at him in total confusion, not un­derstanding his reaction. All right, so it probably wasn't the most comfortable of subjects, but it was all in the past. Was it really this hard for him to talk about it?

'Rico, we both know that if she hadn't told you then you wouldn't be here now.'

He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again they were totally blank of expression. 'I want to hear in your words what happened that night. And I want to hear it right now.'

'And that's why you came here? To hear me tell it in my own words?' Not understanding why he wanted to go over it again when Chiara had already given him the details, Stasia looked at him warily. 'Why now? At the time you didn't ask.'

'I'm asking now.' His tension was unmistakable and she wondered why he wanted to spend more time on a subject that he was clearly finding it difficult to tackle.

'What's the point?'

'Indulge me.' His voice was slightly thickened and she gave a sigh and glanced around her.

'Here? Or do you want to come indoors?'

He glanced towards her cottage as if he'd forgotten it was there. Then he seemed to stir. 'I think we have endured enough head injuries in the family without me knocking myself unconscious in your ridiculous cottage. Let's walk.'

She hesitated and then gestured towards the lane. 'All right. We can walk down here.' She glanced towards him as he fell into step beside her. His broad shoulders were tense and there was something about the hard set of his jaw that made her uneasy. 'How is Chiara?'

'If you'd stayed then you would have no need to ask me that question.'

Stasia stopped dead and raked her copper hair away from her face. 'Rico, you cannot seriously be saying that to me!' She stared at him with a mixture of incre­dulity and confusion. 'You wanted me there until Chiara regained her memory. And it was perfectly obvious to me that once she did regain her memory my presence was making it worse. Clearly she remembered that she was the ultimate cause of our split.'

'Clearly. Now tell me everything. And leave nothing out.'

So she did.

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