The Italians: Cristiano, Vittorio and Dario: Once a Ferrara Wife... / A Dark Sicilian Secret / Blackmailed Bride, Innocent Wife. Jane Porter
vowed. ‘I will change.’
‘You can’t change, Cristiano. You will be in mid-conversation with me and that phone of yours will ring and suddenly I’ll slide to the bottom of your list of priorities.’
‘Never again,’ he vowed thickly. ‘From now on you’re right at the top of that list and you’re staying there. I’ve learned that lesson.’
‘You’re incapable of changing.’
‘Give me a chance to prove you wrong.’
Never had the departure hall of the airport been so quiet. News of the dramatic encounter at the check-in desk for the Heathrow flight appeared to have spread and now it seemed that half the passengers were listening rapt to the exchange, grateful for any distraction from the boredom and unpleasantness of the airport experience.
And now everyone was waiting for Laurel’s answer.
‘People don’t just change overnight, Cristiano. You’re so competitive, you’re programmed to drive your business to the top. And the only reason you’re here fighting for me now is because you’ve lost me.’
The remaining colour disappeared from his face. ‘I can’t lose you. I won’t. I behaved appallingly, that’s true, but at least give me a chance to make it up to you.’
‘You can make it up to me by letting me board that flight.’ She had to get out of here, she thought desperately. She had to get on that plane before she fell for his smooth patter all over again. ‘Thanks for the apology. I appreciate it. And if you really are sorry then the best thing you can do is leave me to get on with the rest of my life.’
The trouble was that there was no smooth patter, Laurel thought numbly. This normally fluent man was stumbling like a teenager on his first date and the struggle affected her far more than any degree of polished sophistication.
Exasperated with herself for still standing here when she should be boarding the plane, she watched as he fumbled in his pocket and drew out a slim rectangular velvet box.
‘I bought you a gift.’
Laurel looked at the shape and relaxed slightly.
A diamond necklace.
This, at least, was a predictable response.
She had a diamond necklace for every row they’d ever had.
‘Goodbye, Cristiano.’
‘No!’ He opened the box and the words froze in her mouth because nestling on a bed of blue velvet was an old rusty key. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘It’s something I bought for you two years ago.’ In the background a flight was called and his expression went from desperate to determined. ‘I’d like you to see what it opens before you make up your mind that we have no future.’
It wasn’t a diamond necklace.
Laurel reached out and lifted the key. It was large and surprisingly heavy. It looked as if it would open a gate of some sort, but she had no idea what gate or where it led.
Cristiano took advantage of her silence. ‘You say that I was thinking of work all the time and not you, but if you come with me now I can prove that wasn’t true. I understand that you can’t suddenly bring yourself to trust me again, but would you at least agree to stay in Sicily for a few more weeks so that I can show you something?’
Despite her reservations, the key fascinated her and it was that, together with the growing awareness that their entangled love life was now the focus of everyone’s attention that weakened her resolve. Tired of playing the starring role in a drama she hadn’t scripted, Laurel looked at him. ‘I’m not promising to stay for weeks. But I’ll stay long enough for you to show me what this opens. Then I’ll decide.’
Her words were greeted by a ripple of approval from the crowd and Laurel felt suddenly trapped. ‘Don’t get any ideas. This isn’t forever. This is—’
‘—just to get us out of this hellhole,’ he muttered under his breath, flashing her a grateful smile that said he was feeling the same way as her.
He picked up her suitcase and the fascinated crowd parted in front of them. As they made it through the obstacle course of holiday luggage to the front of the building, applause broke out behind them and Cristiano rolled his eyes.
‘Are they clapping you or me?’
‘Probably applauding your pecs. You’ve had them on display for the past ten minutes.’
He glanced ruefully down at his open shirt but buttoning it up required releasing her hand or her suitcase and it appeared he was reluctant to do either. ‘I have an excellent personal trainer.’
Seeing his sports car parked at an odd angle in front of the terminal building, Laurel stopped dead. ‘What happened there?’
He viewed the evidence of his own dubious driving with a pained expression. ‘My concentration wasn’t what it might have been.’
‘So it would seem.’ She watched as he stowed her suitcase in the boot. The key was heavy in her hand and still she had no idea what it opened. ‘Are we going back to the villa?’
The horrible feeling that she’d made the wrong decision lingered in her subconscious.
What difference was a rusty key going to make to their relationship?
Should she have held tight to the boarding card and climbed onto that plane?
‘If we go back to the villa we will be mobbed by my well-meaning family. The next part of our conversation is going to be conducted without an audience.’
‘So where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘I’m not big on surprises.’ Reminding herself that all she was giving him was the opportunity to apologise properly and without an audience, Laurel slid into the car. ‘Don’t you think you’d better go home first and change? Pick up some luggage?’ ‘No.’
‘You’re wearing half a tuxedo. You look ridiculous.’ Except that he didn’t. He looked insanely sexy, which just wasn’t fair because he’d literally dragged on his clothes and still had the attention of every woman in the airport.
Including her.
The engine started with a throaty roar and he turned to look at her, his dark gaze colliding with hers. ‘Do you care what I’m wearing? Does it matter?’
Even here, with horns blaring and people staring, chemistry flared hot and fierce.
She just couldn’t make it die, she thought desperately, feeling the air around them grow electric and her nerve-endings start to sing. Shaken, her gaze slid to the gap in his shirt and then back to his eyes. ‘Don’t think sex is going to get you off the hook.’
‘I don’t think that.’ He didn’t smile. He didn’t flirt. For a moment she thought he was going to say something else and then his phone rang.
The timing couldn’t have been worse.
Tense as the string on a violin, she waited for him to answer it.
His hand automatically left the steering wheel to reach into his pocket and then he stopped and she saw the exact moment he made the decision not to take the call.
Laurel sighed. ‘Answer it. Your empire might be crumbling.’
‘Let it crumble.’ Instead of returning his hand to the steering wheel, he closed it over her cold fingers. ‘I know you don’t think I can do this, but I can. I want to. I am going to prove to you that our marriage matters more to me than anything.’
Instead of reassuring her, his words increased her own tension levels because she knew that even if they could somehow put the past behind them, a future was impossible.
She