A Shadow of Guilt(5)
Gio took another full glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. He’d lost count of how many he’d had but the alcohol was having a nicely numbing effect on his brain. He’d walked straight into the debacle of the century. Expecting to find his cousin’s family jubilant and gloating with their new merger of power, he’d instead found small huddles of guests in the sumptuously decorated reception room, all whispering excitedly of the runaway bride.
The unfolding scandal was so unexpected that it defused much of his simmering anger at the thought of having to play nice with his family. He had caught a glimpse of his older half-sister, Lia, but he’d instinctively shied away from talking to her, never quite knowing what to say to the tall serious woman who’d been brought up in his grandparents’ house after her mother, their father’s first wife, had died.
Thinking that surely he couldn’t be expected to stay here now, Gio decided that he’d more than done his duty and slugged back the champagne before putting the empty glass down. He made his way out of the main function room into the corridor and passed by an anteroom where the wedding band were setting up and doing a sound check. Gio shook his head in disbelief—clearly the word hadn’t reached this far yet, or perhaps his formidable aunt Carmela wasn’t going to let a runaway bride stop her guests from dancing the night away?
Something suddenly caught Gio’s peripheral vision. He stopped in his tracks. He was passing another room now, a store room. He could see that it was the figure of a woman sitting on a chair in the empty room, surrounded by boxes and other chairs piled high. Her head was down-bent, glossy chestnut hair caught up in a bun. Shapely legs under a black skirt. A white shirt and jacket. Slim pale hands clasped on her lap.
As if she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, her head started to come up. Déjà vu was so immediate and strong, Gio nearly staggered back from it. No, he thought, it couldn’t be her. Not here, not now. Not ever. She was only in his dreams and nightmares. Cursing him. Along with the ghost of her brother.
But now her head was up fully and those glorious tiger eyes were widening. It was her. The knowledge exploded something open, deep inside him. Something that had been frozen in time for seven years. He saw colour leach from her cheeks. So much more angular now that her teenage plumpness had disappeared. So much more beautiful. He could see her throat work, swallowing.
She stood up with a slightly jerky move. She was taller than he remembered, slimmer and yet with very womanly curves. The promise of the burgeoning beauty that he remembered had been truly fulfilled. So many things were impacting Gio at once that he had to shut them all down deep inside him.
He had alternately dreaded and anticipated the possibility of this day for a long time. He couldn’t crumble now in front of her. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury.
He walked to the entrance of the room and totally redundantly he said, ‘Valentina.’ And then after a pause, ‘It’s good to see you.’
Valentina was in shock. More shock heaped on top of shock. Without even realising she was speaking out loud she said, ‘You’re not meant to be here.’ The sheer force of my will should have kept you away. But she didn’t say that.
Gio’s mouth turned up on one corner in a tiny movement that wasn’t quite a smile, ‘Well, my cousin is, was, the groom so I have some right to be here.’ He frowned slightly. ‘What are you doing here?’
Valentina’s brain wasn’t working properly. She answered almost absently, ‘I’m the caterer.’
Gio was so much taller and broader than she remembered. Any hint of boyishness was gone. He was all stark angles and sinuous muscle and power. The suit hugged his muscular frame like a second skin. The white shirt and white bow tie made him look even darker.
His hair was still messy though, giving him a familiar devil-may-care look that rang bells somewhere dimly in Valentina’s consciousness. His eyes were a light brown and a wicked voice whispered that she knew very well they could look green in certain lights.
She used to watch him and her brother for hours as they’d egged each other on in a series of daredevil stunts, either on horseback or on the mud bikes Gio had had first on his father’s property, and then later, on his own property. But by then they’d been proper adult motorbikes and he and her brother had relished their death-defying races. She remembered the way Gio would tip his head back and laugh; he’d looked so vitally masculine, his teeth gleaming whitely in his face.
She remembered turning fifteen and seeing him again for the first time in about four years, because he’d been living abroad in France, building up his equine business. He’d returned home a conquering hero, a self-made millionaire, with a bevy of champion thoroughbred horses. But that had had nothing to do with how she’d instantly had an altogether different awareness of him. Her belly would twist when she saw him, and then there were the butterflies, so violent it was like feeling sick. Her gaze had been shamefully captivated by his tall rangy body.