Page 26 of Marriage Made In Hate

A moment later she knew. It was the low, distinctive throaty growl of that lean, mean beast of a driving machine that Luca had arrived in. She stood frozen, listening intently. The growl increased in volume and then, as the car set off, moving away from the house, started to recede.

Relief washed through her. And also something quite different…

* * *

Luca sat back in his first-class airline seat, closing his eyes. He was on a long-haul flight to New York, then Toronto, then Chicago, then the west coast. Two weeks out of Italy.

Matteo had been dismayed, but Luca had been adamant. It was essential he take himself out of the country. Absolutely essential.

He’d made himself text Bianca, to tell her he was off, but would return at short notice in case of any emergency with Matteo. He’d said nothing more.

Her reply had been succinct, simple.

Thank you for letting me know.

He’d made no attempt to contact her since. Nor would he.

Not after the night they’d spent together.

The mistake he’d made.

* * *

Bianca was listening to what Matteo’s doctor was telling her.

When he’d asked to speak to her after a routine appointment to check on his patient she had been scared—had the exertions of the party weakened her uncle further?

And her uncle had been fretful when Luca had disappeared across the Atlantic, although the news had come as an abject relief to her.

His absence, however brief, would give her time—essential time—to strengthen her defences.

However hopeless and impossible that was.

Familiar anguish filled her—too familiar…

And it took her a moment to take in what Matteo’s doctor was telling her.

But when she did, it was the very opposite of what she’d feared.

Her face lit up. This was wonderful news—just wonderful.

And although making contact with Luca was the last thing she wanted to do, this was something she must tell him.

Her spirits lifted, despite the anguish inside her.

* * *

Luca was replying to the email Bianca had sent him.

This was good news—unexpected, but so welcome.

Matteo, Bianca had written, had been deemed sufficiently strong to take part in the immunotherapy trial which—if it should work—would give Matteo real hope, for the first time, of a substantial extension of his life.

Luca’s reply was enthusiastic—how could it not be? But having hit ‘send’, he paused. Steeled himself. There was another message he must send Bianca. An essential one. A personal one.

He got out his phone…started to text.

* * *

Bianca was with Matteo in the library and she saw his face had fallen.

‘Must you?’ he asked.

‘My boss has been very good so far, and as you know, you will be in the clinic for your trial. And because it involves suppressing your immune system you will not be allowed visitors anyway. Now is the best time for me to be in London.’

Bianca’s tone was placating.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Matteo conceded. ‘But with me away, you and Luca could spend so much time together!’

Bianca schooled her reaction. ‘I really do need to be back in London a while,’ she said.

But not for the reason she’d given her uncle.

For one far more essential.

In her head were the words Luca had written to her.

Bianca, after our night together we need to talk.

She felt her heart clench. No, they did not need to talk.

More words echoed in her head. Echoed from six long, bitter, anguished years ago.

‘It’s over, Bianca. Over!’

She did not need to hear that again…

* * *

Luca was back on a plane again—but this time his destination was far closer. He’d returned from America to find Bianca gone. Which had filled him with one purpose only.

Staying only long enough to escort Matteo to the clinic to start his treatment trial, and to assure his fretful godfather that, yes, he was heading for London the very next day, he had booked his flight.

Determination fused within him.

Bianca could run, but she could not hide. He had things to say to her. Things she had to understand. Things he must make clear to her.

His own words to her in his brief text from America echoed in his head.

We need to talk…

Other words echoed, from much longer ago.

‘ It’s over, Bianca! Over!’

As the plane’s powerful engines fired for take-off, Luca tensed.

The two sets of words were fusing in his head.

* * *

Bianca was sitting on a tube train, heading east across the city. It was strange to be doing so. Strange to be in London at all. Alien. But it was absolutely, totally essential. And it was the only safe place for her to be.

Safe from Luca.

Emotion clenched in her.

How could she have let it happen? Let herself succumb to what she knew… knew …she should never have done?

To be in Luca’s arms again had been heaven. But to wake in the chill of the dawn and face what she knew must await her… Ah, that had taken her to a very different place. One she had been in before…

Fiercely she called on her strength of mind, of will. She had fought this before—fought it and won. It had been a bitter, costly victory, but she had done it. She had torn Luca from her life six years ago.

And I can do it again—I must!

Six years ago she might have torn Luca from her life, but this time she knew it was going to be far more agonising.

It was not her life she had to tear Luca from.

It was her heart…

* * *

Luca checked into his Park Lane hotel. He’d made no contact yet with Bianca, but tonight he must. He would invite her to dinner here at the hotel, tomorrow. He would imply it was to discuss Matteo—surely she would agree to that?

Because I have to get her to agree. I have to speak to her!

The imperative was essential. If she didn’t agree to tomorrow, he would keep pressing. What else could he do?

She has to understand about our night together. I can’t afford for her to have the wrong idea about it—make assumptions—misunderstand.

Her return to the UK might have been necessary for work, as she’d told Matteo, and she was taking advantage of the time he would be spending in the clinic, incommunicado. But it might be her continuing to avoid the conversation they must have. To make things clear to her.

Memory was vivid in his head.

Six years ago he’d had to make things clear to her.

Now he would have to do so again.

Whether she wants to hear it or not.