Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire
“I suppose that makes him right. It’s true that I’m having a bit of a dry spell, that’s all. I have no intention of rushing past it, however. Nothing is pulling at me enough to make my way back to my workroom.”
She could have dropped the matter at that point; his explanation was reasonable enough. On the surface. But in for a penny, in for a pound. “Does your dry spell have anything to do with losing your wife?”
His noticeable cringe made her want to somehow yank the words back into her mouth, to find a way to undo uttering them. She had no right to pick at the scab of his wound this way.
He must miss her terribly; the pain emanating from him made that abundantly clear. If there was a way to somehow take that pain away, to ease his anguish, Maya would have happily provided it.
But she couldn’t bring his love back. Nothing could.
“It’s been over three years since her accident,” Vito said. His voice was surprisingly flat, as if he were spouting some meaningless statistic.
“It takes more than three years to lessen such pain.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze still focused on the bright lights of the approaching city.
“Indeed it does. Particularly when the pain is so intricately intertwined with guilt for one’s role in causing said pain.”
“It’s natural to feel some responsibility after a tragedy—”
He cut her off before she could continue. “Oh, but I do bear the responsibility. It’s so much more than just a feeling on my part.”
Maya’s mouth went dry at the implication of his words. Vito made it sound as if he’d had a direct hand in his wife’s accident. His hands clenched into tight fists over the railing. “I don’t understand.”
“It isn’t terribly complicated,” he answered, his voice rasping and thick. “See, if she hadn’t married me, Marina would still be alive and well.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVEN AFTER THEY’D docked and disembarked, Maya still hadn’t quite found her voice. She’d been afraid to say anything after Vito made his stunning declaration. So she’d stayed silent, giving him the time and opportunity to clarify or explain.
So far, he hadn’t.
Nor did he seem inclined to do so, Maya noticed, as he helped her step off the boat and onto the wooden boardwalk.
This was all wrong. It was their last night together; their time spent in each other’s company couldn’t be ending on such a mysterious and loaded note. Maya placed a gentle hand on his arm as they approached the center of the square. Even under the current circumstance, the heat of his skin under his silk shirt caused a warm sensation to travel up her arm. Maya still wore his tuxedo jacket.
“Vito, I’d really like to talk.”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “About what I said on the boat regarding my wife’s accident.”
She nodded, but they didn’t get a chance to continue the conversation. A female voice suddenly called through the night air.
“Vito!”
Maya turned to see a tall, statuesque woman in a flowing white lace spring dress approaching the two of them, her arms outstretched and a wide smile gracing her strikingly pretty face. Hard on her heels was Leo. For his part, Vito’s cousin seemed quite surprised to see them.
Vito’s quiet groan wasn’t low enough that she didn’t hear it. He was far from thrilled to see these two.
The other couple reached them seconds later. The lady threw her arms around Vito’s neck and he returned her embrace with one of his own. There was no hint of flirtation or attraction. Simply genuine affection.
This had to be Leo’s wife.
“What a surprise to see you here, cousin.” Leo spoke in English. “And with Maya by your side.” He eyed the two of them up and down.
“A bit dressed up, aren’t you?”
Lynetta didn’t let them answer. “This must be the lovely American lady Leo’s been telling me about.” She jabbed her husband playfully in the ribs. “You didn’t mention how pretty she was.”
Coming from someone who looked the way she did, that was quite the compliment.
“Very glad to meet you,” Maya said, extending her hand. But Lynetta ignored it. Instead, she threw her arms around Maya’s shoulders and planted a kiss on each cheek.