‘Even when they don’t love you back?’ he sneered, his voice indicating hers was a foolish feeling. ‘Even when they treat you like an afterthought for most of your life?’
Sadness engulfed her. ‘You can’t help who you love. Or choose who will love you back.’
His eyes met hers for a charged second, before his nostrils flared. ‘But you can choose to tell the truth no matter how tough the telling of it is. You can choose not to start a marriage based on lies.’
Regret crawled across her skin. ‘Yes. And I’m sorry—’
His hand slashed through air, killing off her apology. Walking around her, he slammed the door shut and jerked his chin towards the sofa. He waited until she’d sat down, then prowled in front of her.
‘Tell me of this condition you have.’
Eva stared at her clasped hands because watching his face had grown unbearable. ‘It’s called endometriosis.’ She gave him the bare facts, unwilling to linger on the subject and prolong her heartache. ‘It started just before I went to university, but, with everything going on with my mother, I didn’t pay enough attention to it. I thought it was just something that would right itself eventually. But the pain got worse. One day I collapsed and was rushed to hospital. The diagnosis was made.’ She stopped, then made herself go on. ‘The doctor said the...scarring was too extensive...that I would never conceive naturally.’
She raised her head and saw that he’d stopped prowling and taken a seat opposite her with his elbows on his knees. ‘Go on,’ he bit out.
Eva shrugged. ‘What else is there to add?’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘I never thought I’d be in a position where the one thing I couldn’t give would be the difference between having the future I want and the one I’d have to settle for. You accused me of starting this marriage based on lies, but I didn’t know you wanted a real marriage. You did all this to get back at my father, remember?’
‘So you never sought a second opinion?’ he asked stonily, as if she hadn’t mentioned the shifted parameters of their marriage.
‘Why would I? I’d known something was wrong. Having the doctor confirm it merely affirmed what I already suspected. What was the point of putting myself through further grief?’
Zaccheo jerked to his feet and began prowling again. The set of his shoulders told her he was holding himself on a tight leash.
Minutes ticked by and he said nothing. The tension increased until she couldn’t stand it any more. ‘You can do whatever you want with me, but I want your word that you won’t go after my family because of what I’ve done.’
He froze, his eyes narrowing to thin shards of ice. ‘You think I want you to martyr yourself on some noble pyre for my sick satisfaction?’
She jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t know! You’re normally so quick to lay down your demands. Or throw out orders and expect them to be followed. So tell me what you want.’
That chilling half-smile returned with a vengeance. ‘What I want is to leave this place. There’s really no point staying, is there, since the honeymoon is well and truly over?’
* * *
The flight back was markedly different from the outbound journey. The moment Zaccheo immersed himself in his work, she grabbed her tablet and locked herself in the bedroom.
She threw herself on the bed and sobbed long and hard into the pillow. By the time the plane landed in London, she was completely wrung out. Exhaustion seeped into her very bones and all she wanted was to curl into a foetal position and wish the world away.
She sank further into grey gloom when she descended the steps of the aircraft to find Zaccheo’s limo waiting on the tarmac, along with a black SUV.
Zaccheo, wearing a black and navy pinstriped suit, stopped next to her, his expression remote and unfriendly.
‘I’m heading to the office. Romeo will drive you to the penthouse.’
He strode to the SUV and drove off.
Eva realised then that throughout their conversation on the island, she’d made the same mistake as when she’d foolishly disclosed her condition before. She’d allowed herself to hope that the condition fate had bestowed on her wouldn’t matter to that one special person. That somehow love would find a way.
A sob bubbled up her chest and she angrily swallowed it down.
Grow up, Eva. You’re letting the lyrics of your songs cloud your judgement.
‘Eva?’ Romeo waited with the car door open.
She hastily averted her gaze from the censure in his eyes and slid in.