An Inheritance of Shame(50)

I’m sorry. I should never have had you.

His mother, ashamed and defiant.

No one had wanted him. No one had loved him. He’d learned to live without love, had trained himself not to want it. And now Lucia came once more into his life, with her hope and her love and her fear.

He knew she was afraid he would let her down, no matter what she said. He knew it because he felt it too. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if he just stopped now? Admitted it couldn’t work, it wasn’t in him? Wouldn’t it save them both a lot of heartbreak? And God only knew Lucia had had enough, with his own abandonment and the death of their daughter—

‘Signor Corretti? There have been messages.…’

Yanked from his thoughts, Angelo glanced impatiently at his receptionist, a woman who had worked for the Correttis and whom he hadn’t had time to replace, as she half rose from behind her desk.

‘Leave them on my desk.’

He stalked into his office, felt the beginnings of another migraine pulse at his temples. He snatched the scrawled messages on his desk and scanned them, the pain at his temples pulsing harder as he realised what this day had cost him.

A message from one of Corretti Designs’ shareholders, the banker from Milan who was having second thoughts about Luca remaining as CEO. Another message from Battaglia, wanting to speak to him about the regeneration bid. A message from Alessandro Corretti, his unacknowledged half-brother, who wanted to set up a meeting about that same bid.

Angelo dropped the sheaf of messages. One damned day might have set back all his plans. Who even knew what opportunities he’d missed while he’d been dallying with Lucia, chasing dreams he had no right to harbour, not even for a moment?

Dio, he’d been so stupid. So weak.

Resolutely he sat down at his desk and pulled the phone towards him. Any thoughts of Lucia, of love, had deserted him completely, replaced only by cold, hard purpose. This was why he was here. This was what he had come for.

Lucia gazed at her reflection. The dragonfly clip sparkled in her hair, which she’d styled into loose waves. The sapphire blue of the dress glowed against her skin. She wore cheap shoes.

Funny, but Angelo hadn’t thought of that. Neither had she. Dress, check. Jewelry, check. Shoes? A pair of scuffed pumps she’d had for nearly a decade. And as for her underwear…if they ever got that far, Angelo would encounter plain white cotton that had definitely seen better days.

Sighing, she turned away from the mirror.

She wasn’t even sure if any of it mattered. It had been five days since Angelo had dropped her off after their day together, and she hadn’t seen him at all. Hadn’t received so much as a phone call or text message or note. This was all starting to seem horribly familiar. The hope, the dread, the silence.

They hadn’t even lasted a week.

Stop it, she told herself. He’d been busy, of course he had. He was an important man, with important deals to make. She understood that, even if she didn’t like it. Trust was a choice.

Taking a deep breath, she went into the living room to wait for Angelo. His assistant had sent a message earlier that day that he would pick her up at five. Well, here she was. She only hoped he hadn’t changed his mind…about anything. About everything.

At ten minutes past five Lucia started to worry. At quarter past, she began to doubt. And at half past, she felt horribly resigned—and that was when she heard quick footsteps on the stairs and a sharp rap at the door.

She opened the door, saw Angelo’s gaze sweep over her quickly before he looked away. ‘I’m sorry I’m late.’

She nodded, accepting his terse apology even as questions clamoured in her throat. ‘What happened?’ she asked, keeping her voice light, mild, and Angelo just shrugged.

‘A business meeting ran late. Shall we?’ He held out his arm and after a moment’s pause Lucia slipped her hand through it. She could feel the tension vibrating through Angelo’s arm, his whole body. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

That old fear lurched inside her, and she almost pulled away. Almost turned around and went straight back into her apartment. She didn’t want this, hated the sense of clingy desperation that flooded through her, just as it must have flooded through her mother. Justify. Excuse. Appease. And all to keep a man around.

Trust is a choice.

‘Is something wrong, Angelo?’ she asked evenly, and he glanced back at her, his expression sharp and almost hostile until, with effort, he smoothed it out.