Italian Bachelors: Irresistible Sicilians

Would the light ever return?

Had Luca been through her dressing room in her absence, looking for clues as to where she had gone? When he’d finally realised that she’d left him, had he been tempted to throw all her clothes onto a bonfire?

His mother had said he’d kept all her possessions in case she returned to collect them.

No matter how hard she tried to push the image out of her head, all she could see when she closed her eyes was the agony etched across his features when he described the effect her disappearance had had on him.

The raw emotion that had resonated from him had almost sliced her in two.

Surely he didn’t really need it spelled out why she had left? Who in their right mind would knowingly bring a child into such a dangerous world? It was different for him. Luca had been born and raised in it. To him, it was normal.

That had been made abundantly clear two days before she’d left.

* * *

She’d been in her cottage painting. For the first time ever, the smell of the turpentine she used to clean her brushes and thin her paints had made her queasy. Truth be told, she’d been feeling nauseous for a few days, had assumed she’d picked up a bug. Her usual boundless energy had deserted her too, so she’d decided to call it a day and get an early night.

She hadn’t even opened the door to their wing when she heard the shouting.

Luca and Pepe often rowed but this had been a real humdinger of an argument, vicious, their raised voices echoing off the walls of the corridor surrounding Luca’s office. A loud smash had made her jump back a foot.

For an age she had stared at the office door wondering whether she should go in and defuse whatever was going on between them or leave them to get on with it. There was always the risk she could walk in to them throwing stuff at each other and inadvertently get caught in the firing line.

Before she could make up her mind, the door had flown open and Pepe had stormed out, almost careering into her.

He’d stopped short. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know you were there.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she’d said. ‘Is everything okay?’

A stupid question. Even if she hadn’t heard them argue, one look at the thunder on her brother-in-law’s face would have answered it.

‘Ask your husband,’ he had replied curtly.

When he had left their wing, he had slammed the door hard enough for her to feel sorry for its hinges.

She’d entered Luca’s office and found him pacing in front of the window, a glass of Scotch in his hand. A large trail of coffee stained one of the white walls, a smashed cup on the carpet below it.

‘What’s the matter?’ she’d asked. ‘Who’s been throwing inanimate objects at the wall?’

He’d spun around to face her, his features contorted in the same thunderous expression as Pepe’s.

‘I thought you were in your studio,’ he’d snapped.

Unused to having that tone of voice directed at her, she’d flinched.

‘I’m sorry,’ he’d muttered, shaking his head. ‘It’s been one of those days.’

‘I heard you arguing with Pepe. What was that about?’

‘Nothing important.’

‘It must have been important that way you two were shouting at each other. And smashing things.’ Deliberately, she had kept her tone even, hoping it would be enough to defuse his rage and calm him down enough to talk to her.

‘I said it was nothing important.’ He had downed his Scotch then pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged his arms into it.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’

‘Out where?’

‘I have business to attend to.’

‘It’s nearly ten o’clock.’

‘My business does not conform to office hours.’

‘So I’ve noticed.’

His gaze had snapped to her. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Your long hours used to be here, on the estate, with me. Since you went into partnership with Francesco, I hardly see you, not properly.’

‘I’m part owner of two casinos and a handful of nightclubs,’ he’d said, speaking through gritted teeth. ‘They are nocturnal businesses and need hands-on management.’

‘I am well aware of that.’

‘Then what are you complaining about?’

‘I’m not complaining.’ Then her voice had shaken. There had been something so...feral about him at that moment, a wildness that wasn’t just due to his unshaven, dishevelled appearance. Luca was usually so perfectly groomed. ‘I’m worried about you. You’re working too hard. It’s not good for you...’

‘I shall be the judge of what’s good for me,’ he had interrupted with a snap. ‘You work long hours yourself.’

‘And when I’m tired I stop, as I have this evening. You’re working yourself into the ground and you’re drinking too much. You’ve been stressed for weeks. Months. Look how you were with me at the casino last night...’

‘I’ve apologised for that.’

‘I know, but I still don’t know what was going on...’

‘Nothing was going on and I would thank you to stop harping on about it!’ His voice had risen to a shout. Before she’d had time to blink, he’d swept all the contents of his desk onto the floor where they landed with a clatter.

She had stared at him with wide eyes. Her heart had hammered beneath her ribs. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘How many times do I have to tell you to stop interfering?’ he’d shouted. ‘My business dealings are none of your affair.’

‘Of course they are—we’re married.’ She’d always known Luca had a temper on him but it had never been directed at her before; not like this. But she would not back down. Not this time. ‘I’m your wife, not a child. You used to talk to me about everything but now you won’t confide in me at all, not about anything, not the business, not your argument with your brother, not anything.’

He’d thrown his arms in the air. ‘I don’t have time for this, bella. I need to go.’