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‘Torment me.’The memory of Emilio’s words still had sparks alighting in her belly.
‘I thought I was in control, Mr De Luca.’Her own words. And Emilio had submitted to her. He hadn’tallowedher control, as if it had been inherently his; he’d recognised that she had needed it and had surrendered to her. He’d been happy for Jasmine fully to be herself.
And she had been.
In a flood, it started coming to her: all the times Emilio had given in to her desires. When she had been unwilling to budge, he had. When she’d wanted a wedding and he hadn’t, he’d given her a beautiful ceremony. He’d taken care of it himself. Unlike Richard, who’d left her to do everything and then never showed up.
She thought about Emilio’s reaction to a dinner meant to test him, and how he had been with her mother. How he had agreed to move in with Jasmine, despite owning a penthouse beyond her wildest dreams, all because he wanted to take care of her and their baby. How he hadn’t forced her to be anything but herself even when he’d been hurting. When she’d stormed out of the gallery, he hadn’t forced her to take his hand for appearances’ sake. He had accepted her anger, her boundaries.
She thought about how relaxed she had been with him. She’d shown him a side that she had tried to smother, but he’d given her a safe space so that she could let go. Indulge her carefree side.
It all made her miss him. Made everything feel a little less bright. Made the sun feel less warm. Made her pine for the man who had looked so broken when she had walked away.
‘Do you think it’s easy to live with what I’ve done? I think about it every day, Jasmine.’
Of course he did, because the goodness in him wasn’t a lie. His remorse was painfully evident.
Richard had never shown remorse for anything he had done in all the time they had been together. Suddenly, she found herself wishing she could magically manifest Emilio by her side. Wished they could talk.
She looked down at the ring on her finger, as if it could help her with these churning thoughts.
Zara followed her gaze. ‘You’re married.’
She was married…to a man Jasmine had compared to Richard time and time again. Now she felt guilty about it. Despite how badly Emilio had hurt her, he and Richard were nothing alike.
‘I am.’
For now, she supposed. She would have to start divorce proceedings at some point. The very thought made her soul rip in two. Maybe afterwards she could bring herself to remove the ring from her finger… But even the thought of that was more than she could bear.
‘Maybe you two will follow suit one day,’ she said, looking at her former friend. ‘After all, Zara, you already have experience planning weddings.’ Zara’s eyes widened and Richard glowered, but Jasmine didn’t care. ‘I’m glad you found each other,’ she said sweetly. ‘You deserve one another.’
And she meant it. They were out of her life. However briefly she had been with Emilio, he’d helped heal this hurt. He’d showed her how she wanted to be treated. Zara and Richard had no power over her any more.
Jasmine turned and walked away, feeling freed from a shackle, and yet her heart had never been heavier. Because now, she realised, what she had lost was love.
She had loved Emilio.
Scattered across the vineyards, in little fragments, were pieces of her heart that belonged to Emilio. When he’d bought her mother a house, when he’d flown her doctor over, when they’d seen their child, when he had taken her to bed afterwards, whispering sweet nothings in a language she didn’t understand, she had fallen in love.
If only he’d been honest with her. If only he’d told her about Gia, maybe it would have been enough.
And now tears tracked down her cheeks. She was consumed by grief for what could have been, and the man she so desperately craved.
***
Emilio climbed into the driver’s seat of his car. Not the Maybach, in which he was usually chauffeured everywhere, but a brand-new German SUV which he drove himself. A car that would be comfortably safe to drive his baby around in. A car that would give Jasmine and him some privacy to talk.
If he could get that far.
He set off determinedly towards Jasmine’s brownstone. But, before he’d even crossed the bridge out of Manhattan, he found himself turning round and driving in the opposite direction, towards his office. Just as he had done every day for the past three weeks.
After the call with his lawyer in Venice, Emilio had tried to call Jasmine several times, but she hadn’t answered. When he’d found out she had boarded a flight back to New York, he had made arrangements to leave as well. He’d landed only hours after her and had immediately bought the car.
The next morning, he was outside her brownstone waiting to take her to work. Waiting for a chance to talk to her. But he’d been denied. Her driver had been there earlier than usual, and Emilio had watched Jasmine walk down the steps, look at him then turn away. She’d got into her car and it had promptly driven away.
He’d wanted to be there for her, wanted to try and make her see why he had hidden the truth from her, but she’d rejected him. Just like everyone else. Except this time, it was entirely his fault. And when he’d seen her, as strong as she’d been the day she’d first walked into his office, as put together as ever, he’d known he was no good for her. She deserved someone better.
But that knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less. Didn’t stop him yearning for her or missing her every single moment of each day. For three weeks he’d sunk deeper into the pit of self-loathing and self-recrimination. For three weeks he’d grown more desperate for the love of his life that he’d let get away.