An Inheritance of Shame(8)

‘Who was that woman you were with?’ he asked suddenly, and she blinked in surprise.

‘Her name is Maria Dibona. She works here, with me.’

‘I gathered that.’ Angelo turned towards her, but she couldn’t tell anything from his face besides the fact that he still seemed angry. But then Angelo had always seemed angry, except perhaps for when he’d been sad. And the few times he’d made her laugh, when they were children…precious memories she kept locked away, deep inside. Memories she couldn’t let herself think about now. ‘Why was she crying?’ he asked, and she shrugged.

‘Her son has left suddenly for Naples. She misses him.’

Angelo said nothing for a moment, but his eyes blazed into hers and his mouth twisted downwards. ‘And you were comforting her?’

Where was this going? ‘Trying to. Sometimes there’s very little comfort to be had.’

He didn’t answer, but she saw a flash of recognition in his eyes and she knew he thought she’d been talking about them. What little them there was. And had she? Perhaps. Perhaps she wasn’t above such a sly implication.

‘You still live in Caltarione,’ he said suddenly, a statement, and she raised her eyebrows.

‘Obviously you must know that, since you’ve looked at my employee file. What is this about, Angelo? Why have you brought me up here?’

She saw, to her surprise, a faint flush touch his cheekbones. He glanced down at some papers on his desk. ‘We were friends once, weren’t we?’

Once, not now. His meaning was clear. ‘As children, yes,’ she said flatly.

‘I want to know what has happened to you in these past years.’

‘Oh, really? Funny, then, that you never called or wrote. Not a postcard or email or anything. If you wanted to catch up on old times, Angelo, I’m sure you could have found a way other than summoning me to your office like some scolded schoolgirl.’ His blush deepened, and his eyes glittered. ‘I didn’t—’

‘Didn’t think of me once in the past seven years while you were away becoming a billionaire? How surprising. And yet you’re angry because I took a job working for the Correttis.’ She shook her head. ‘You may not have made any promises, but you’re still a hypocrite.’

‘You’re angry with me,’ he said, and she forced herself to laugh, the sound hard and humourless.

‘Angry? That takes too much effort. I was angry, yes, and I’m annoyed you think you can order me around now. But if you think I’m hurt because you stole from my bed—’ She stopped suddenly, her breath catching in her chest, and swallowed hard. She knew she couldn’t continue, couldn’t maintain the charade that what had happened seven years ago hadn’t utterly broken her.

So she simply stared, her chin tilted at a determinedly haughty angle, everything in her willing Angelo to believe that she didn’t care about him. That he hadn’t hurt her. Let him believe she was only angry; at least it hid the agony of grief she couldn’t bear to have exposed.

‘I’m sorry, Lucia,’ Angelo said abruptly, and Lucia could only stare. He didn’t sound sorry.

‘For what?’ she asked after a taut moment when neither of them spoke.

‘For…’ He paused, a muscle flickering in his jaw, his eyes shadowed with some dark emotion. ‘For leaving you like that.’ Lucia let out a shuddering breath. She’d never expected an apology, even one so grudgingly given. She didn’t speak. Angelo stared.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ he finally demanded.

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘You could accept my apology, to start.’

‘Why should I?’

Angelo’s jaw dropped, which would have made her laugh save for the leaden weight of her heart. ‘What?’

‘Just because you’ve finally deigned to say sorry doesn’t make me ready to accept it.’ Or act like all that was needed was a carelessly given, barely meant apology. She wanted more than that. She deserved more than that.

Except, of course, Angelo had nothing more to give. And whether or not he said sorry for the past made no real difference to either of their futures. Why had he brought her up here? Looking at him now, his face taut with annoyance or maybe even anger, Lucia thought she could hazard a guess.

She was no more than an item to be ticked off on his to-do list. Come back to Sicily, buy a hotel, deal with Lucia. Get any messy emotional business out of the way so he could move on to more important things. She supposed she should be grateful she’d warranted any consideration at all.