A Shadow of Guilt(53)
She didn’t like to remind herself that they’d avoided this morning-after scenario the other day when she’d confronted him about the tattoo and had a minor meltdown. Outside the bedroom was a long corridor but Valentina could see stairs in the distance, the stairs that Gio had carried her up last night.
When she went down to the ground floor she could see the huge front door wide open, revealing the courtyard and Gio’s motorbike where he’d left it. Flowers trailed haphazardly from pots around the door. Rooms led off the main entrance and Valentina peeked into them. They were slightly more done up than the bedroom but they were still quite bare, with the minimum of furniture.
She came to what had to be the main living room. The walls were white and there was one long low white couch near the middle of the room. A coffee table and a TV seemed incongruous in the huge ascetic room and again Valentina’s chest twisted with an emotion she didn’t want to look at.
‘There you are…’
Valentina whirled around to see Gio leaning against another doorway she hadn’t yet noticed, arms crossed. He was wearing a dark T-shirt and faded jeans which hung precariously off those lean hips, the top button open. His jaw was dark with stubble and Valentina recalled how the new growth had felt against her inner thighs only short hours before.
She blurted out, ‘I was just looking for you.’ She gestured to the clothes awkwardly. ‘Thank you … for these.’
He shrugged minutely. ‘They look far better on you than they ever did on me.’
Valentina blushed, the enormity hitting her of being here in Gio’s house … the morning after the night before.
‘Do you want some coffee?’
Seizing any opportunity to block out the revelations coming thick and fast in her head Valentina said quickly, ‘Yes, please … and then I really should be getting back to the track.’
Gio lifted a brow as she walked towards him and she stalled.
‘It’s Sunday, the only thing happening at the track will be the massive clean-up and move-out as people start to transport their horses home. And anyway, it’s lunchtime, half the day is already gone.’
Valentina blanched. Lunchtime. Sunday. No escape. Almost desperately now she said, ‘My parents … I should see my parents.’
Gio had turned and was walking away, down another long corridor towards the back of the house. He said over his shoulder, ‘I rang the clinic earlier and your father is doing fine. They’re advising the minimum of fuss before he is taken to Naples tomorrow afternoon.’
Valentina scowled at Gio’s back and then immediately felt guilty. He was doing so much for them. Past a constriction in her throat she said, ‘Thank you … for checking up on them.’
They were in a huge kitchen now and Gio turned to face Valentina, a small smile playing around his lips as if he knew very well what she’d just been thinking. ‘You’re welcome.’
Valentina sucked in an involuntary gasp; unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was pristine. A glorious mix of old and new. Slate floors and rustic wooden worktops blended seamlessly with steel and chrome. Her inner chef sighed with sheer joy. ‘This is … stunning,’ she breathed out finally, walking towards the central island and running her hand reverently over the surface.
She heard the dry tone in Gio’s voice. ‘My housekeeper, Eloisa, insisted on the kitchen being finished. It’s all to her spec, not mine. She’s away this week, visiting family in Messina.’
Valentina thought of the huge cavernous and undecorated rooms. Thankfully Gio’s back was to her as he busied himself with the coffee pot. Unable to stop herself, Valentina asked, ‘You’ve lived here for nearly ten years—but it’s as if you haven’t settled in yet.’
Gio turned around, his face curiously blank, and handed Valentina a tiny cup of espresso. The fact that he knew how she liked her morning coffee made her belly swoop.
Gio took a sip himself and then said, ‘In a way I haven’t … when I got back from Europe and bought this place it needed a mountain of work.’
Valentina recalled the ongoing construction work whenever she’d been to the castello in the past. That’s why she’d never been inside before now.
Gio was continuing. ‘That took almost two years … and then …’
Valentina’s hands clenched so tight around the tiny piece of porcelain that she had to relax for fear of breaking it in two. The significance of what he’d said sank in. Quietly she finished, ‘Mario died …’