From Venice with Love

If her grandmother was here on this balcony with her, she’d be poking Charlotte with a bony finger right about now. Clicking her tongue.

That should be you in that gondola, Charlotte Jane, she’d be saying. Kissing some gorgeous young man whose baby you can’t wait to have. You don’t know what you’re missing, child, and it’s the most important thing in life.

But Charlotte knew all too well what she’d be missing far too soon and hearing her grandmother’s voice so clearly in her mind was the final straw.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Hot, burning tears that felt like acid. No surprise there. They were pretty concentrated given that she hadn’t shed a tear for six years now. They were such a sign of weakness. Feminine weakness.

She knew there was no point in trying to stop them.

Thank God nobody could see her.

The room Nico had been given at the hotel Bonvecchiata was luxurious. He eyed the huge bed, pulled at his tie to loosen it, and looked forward to putting his feet up for a while before heading off to the symposium dinner.

What a day!

Shedding his jacket, Nico walked to the tall windows of his room and looked through the ornate iron grille to find he had the bonus of a canal view. A gondola floated past with a young couple locked in each other’s arms.

Nico smiled. Nice. His gaze drifted lazily and then it caught.

His smile faded.

There was a balcony on the floor beneath his. Charlotte Highton was standing there, her shoulders bowed as if she carried the weight of the entire world on them.

And she was crying?

Dio, but this woman was so full of contradictions. For a moment Nico stared in fascination. He would never have believed that she was capable of showing such a depth of emotion. But why was she so upset?

Did it have anything to do with being unable to present what she’d intended to present this morning?

Because of the trouble he’d unwittingly caused for her?

For another, long moment Nico kept staring, unsure of how to unravel the conflicting emotions being stirred in his own gut. Why did he feel such a strong urge to try and help this prickly, complicated woman? It was more than having contributed to a bad start to her day. More, even, than being curious about how someone’s personality could have changed so much in just a few short years.

Being aware that there was some indefinable extra motivation should be enough of a warning to stop him getting involved any further, but did he want to listen to that warning?

He turned away. Stared at the huge, inviting bed for a moment. And then, with a soft growl, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

CHAPTER THREE (#u59054e4a-4530-5c5f-823e-93de9793cc1c)

OH…NO.

As if she could cope with her day getting even worse!

Of all the people to discover her at her lowest point in so many years, it had to be Nico Moretti.

Charlotte did her utmost to stem the tide of her tears. She turned her back on Nico and leant on the balustrade of the balcony, gripping the roughened concrete so hard she could feel tendrils of pain in her fingers that flickered into her arms. She fixed her gaze on the canal beneath and blinked again and again, trying to clear the wetness that didn’t want to stop. Why couldn’t it go back where it had come from, instead of continuing to roll down her face in these humiliating tears?

He didn’t say anything. He just came to stand beside her. He, too, seemed to be gazing at the view and he spread his hands on the balustrade as if the only reason he was there was to admire their surroundings.

Charlotte’s panic ebbed a little as he just stood there, a silent presence.

She’d never had company during the most unhappy periods in her life. Her first instinct, even as a young child so bereft at the loss of her parents, had been to hide. To cry alone. And feel alone. To accept that life was a terribly lonely business and you just had to deal with that.

There was comfort to be found in simply being close to another person. To feel the presence of another living, breathing human.

The fact that Nico wasn’t saying anything made it easy to accept his presence. She didn’t have to try and find excuses or explain anything, and to have someone there who was clearly prepared to accept the state she was in made it feel as if it was okay not to be coping. As if she had support.