Marriage Made of Secrets

Hell, he deserved more than mockery. To think that when he finally recognized his feelings, knew just what the woman he’d married meant to him, he couldn’t tell her because he was too damned scared of losing her...

He tossed the glass onto the wooden table, saw it crack in two and barely gave a damn. Resting his head against the chair, he gritted his teeth against the need to do something.

It took the better part of an hour to accept that he could do nothing. Nothing but wait until Ava was ready to listen.

* * *

Cesare jerked awake and surged to his feet. The room was in semi-darkness. At some point someone—most likely Lucia—had drawn the curtains and left a couple of table lamps burning. Without consulting his watch, he knew it was very late.

Probably too late...

He wasn’t sure exactly what had woken him but a feeling in the pit of his stomach sent him rushing from the room.

How arrogant of him to believe he could secure Ava’s forgiveness just by telling her he’d been trying to protect her. Dio, how stupid was he?

He’d wounded his wife badly; he knew that now. But the thought of her walking away from him made him want to grab her and hold on as tight as ever.

He took the stairs three at a time. When his knock went unanswered, he pushed open her bedroom door. Her suite was empty. Fear clutching his soul, he rushed down the stairs, bellowing Lucia’s name. He nearly collided with her as she emerged from the kitchen with one of the other maids in tow.

‘Where is she?’ he demanded.

The look she shot him was a cross between worry and disapproval. ‘Signora di Goia? The taxi came for her an hour ago.’

A rush of blackness momentarily blinded him. ‘What exactly did she say?’

The young maid answered. ‘Nothing. She went to check on the piccolina, then come downstairs with her bag.’

He told himself to calm down, to think rationally. His inner voice just mocked him.

Returning to his study, he threw himself into his chair and clutched his head.

Cesare tried a mere half minute to talk himself out of it before he reached for his phone. His call went straight to voicemail. One minute later he tried again. After half a dozen tries, he left his first message.

Two hours later, doing everything to stem his terror, Cesare tried again. When Ava’s husky tone instructed him to leave a message, he said the only thing he could think of.

An eternity later he ended the call and curled himself into the sofa, clutching his phone. Over and over, he told himself weeping was for the weak.

* * *

The good thing about travelling with one small bag was that she managed to clear Customs within minutes. The bad thing was that the temperature in London, even in early August, was rainy and damp enough to warrant a sweater. Shivering, she contemplated stopping to get one but quickly discarded the idea and headed for the exit.

Her hired car was ready and waiting. Twenty minutes later, she was driving down the familiar route towards the home she’d grown up in.

It was late, long past midnight, when she drew up in front of the semi-detached house on the outskirts of Southampton. The light in the upstairs window in what had been Nathan’s room reassured her somewhat.

Quaking inside, she walked up the short pathway and pressed the bell.

Silence echoed after the jangling of the bell faded away, and then she heard feet thudding on the stairs.

Nathan’s eyes lit on her. ‘Ava, you came.’ He stepped forward and enveloped her in a bear hug.

Surprised by the gesture, she drew in a shaky breath. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

‘I wasn’t sure. You just said you’d think about it and then ignored my calls.’

‘Is he awake? I need to speak to him.’ Before she lost what little courage she had.

Nathan’s eyebrows shot up and he checked his watch. ‘Now?’

‘Please, Nathan, it’s important.’

He frowned, his brown eyes studying her face. ‘What’s happened, Ava?’

I think my marriage may be over and I want to know if I have any family left at all.

A hacking cough came from above and continued for a full minute. When it ended, Ava heard painful heaving as her father tried to catch his breath.

Nathan’s expression was pained. ‘He’s been having a hard time of it. It’s worst at night—’ He stopped when the phone rang.

Curious as to who would be calling so late, she stared questioningly at Nathan.

‘It’s your husband. He’s been calling every ten minutes for the last two hours. Should I?’ He indicated the phone.