With that ominous warning, Olivia spun around and wrenched open the door to the fifth floor. He followed her silently down the narrow, dark corridor until they came to the last door. Olivia’s knock was answered by a tall, fair-haired young man in his late teens.
Olivia performed the introductions while Sophia’s younger brother looked him up and down. James’s smile of greeting was reserved although not hostile, his handshake firm.
“Sophia, Olivia and your husband are here,” James called down the corridor. He stepped back so they could enter. Soon the hallway was crowded with bodies, but all Luca cared was that at last Sophia was in his arms. He breathed deeply of her scent, burying his face in her hair, holding her tightly against him. She trembled and for a moment he thought she might cry, but then she pulled back and raised her head.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice weak.
“Always,” he replied past a lump in his own throat.
She gave him a watery smile before glancing around. “Right, show’s over. Go back to the sitting room and I’ll introduce Luca to you all properly,” Sophia ordered the amassed spectators.
For the next ten minutes all eyes stared at him, the mysterious husband conjured out of thin air. He offered his condolences and sipped a cup of strong tea while fielding questions about his work, his life and why they hadn’t invited anyone to the wedding.
Sophia was getting tenser beside him with each question. He wanted to get her away, give her some space, time to deal with the turmoil he knew boiled just under the surface.
“Amore, in my haste, I forgot to pack my toothbrush. Do you think you could show me to the shop where I can purchase another?” It was a lame excuse but all he could come up with at the moment.
“Of course, let me grab my bag.” She rushed out of the room as though it were on fire.
He plastered on an apologetic smile and excused himself as well, mumbling something about being back in a few minutes. Olivia gave him a conspiratorial wink as he passed.
• • •
Sophia pulled in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to relax them. Her whole body was tense, in fight or flight mode. If Luca weren’t at her side, she’d jump on the Tube and just ride around and around till they kicked her off.
“Did you really forget your toothbrush?” They wandered toward the high street.
“No, I thought you needed a break from the interrogation,” he replied. He took her cold hand in his warm one. Some of the warmth crept up her arm and her heart fluttered at Luca’s caring.
“Then let’s pop into the pub and get a drink,” she said, steering him toward the local.
He held the door for her, and she inhaled deeply of his cologne as she passed by. All she wanted was to be held in his arms, sheltered from the guilt and emptiness she’d thought she’d dealt with long ago.
“What do you want?” Luca’s voice near her ear sent a shiver of longing through her. Okay, maybe being held in his arms wasn’t all she desired.
“Want?”
“To drink?” An answering flare of passion lit his eyes, as though he read her thoughts.
“Actually, just a ginger ale.”
Luca’s eyes searched hers before he stepped toward the bar. She found a quiet corner table and waited for him. The pub wasn’t busy as the after dinner crowd hadn’t come in yet. This was the first time she’d ever had a drink here; it was her father’s hangout. A few regulars stared at her as if trying to determine if she was one of Charlie’s girls, but thankfully they weren’t interested enough to come over and ask.
The clink as Luca placed the glass on the table in front of her brought her back to the present. She could hear his phone buzz on his belt and wondered how long before he answered it. When he sat across from her rather than excuse himself to take the call, she glanced at his face. He took a sip of his red wine, put the glass down, and stared into her eyes.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she answered.
“No, you are not.” He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, daring her to lie to him again.
“How do you know how I feel?” This was too much—first coming back here, her mother dying, and now her husband lecturing her on how she should feel.
“I know when you are genuine and when you are putting on a front. You are pretending to be fine. I will not have you faking it with me. I am tired of your acting. If you cannot be truthful with me, then maybe it is time we put an end to this charade.”
Excruciating pain filled her chest and she tried to drag in a deep breath to ease the burning. Instead all she managed was a couple of quick pants. This couldn’t be happening, not today. And why was the man who hated public scenes doing this here, and now? Maybe he was too busy to wait until they got home.
“You want a divorce?” She blinked rapidly to keep the tears back; she would not cry in front of him. A look of contrition crossed his face before being replaced by a blank mask. Under the table, her right hand flew to her left, holding her rings tightly. She couldn’t bear the thought of taking them off.
“I want you to stop pretending, amore.”
Blinding fury incinerated the sense of loss and betrayal. How dare he accuse her of pretending when he was the biggest faker in this marriage? “And I want you to stop calling me amore, because we both know I’m not your love. Through this whole marriage I have been exactly what you wanted me to be: the elegant wife to be paraded in front of your business acquaintances, the efficient housekeeper to make sure your underwear is clean and your desk dusted regularly—”
“The enthusiastic lover?” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. She may be faking all the rest, but that was one area of their relationship where no acting was required. He didn’t need to know that.
“Yes, exactly.” She took a long drink, hoping to quell the rising nausea.
“It is not enough.” His harsh tone grated her heart to shreds.
“Not enough?” Several heads turned in their direction at her raised voice. In the silence that followed, she heard his phone vibrate again. “I’ll tell you what’s not enough. It’s not enough that I hold second place in your life, and your work is first. I’m sorry that my little family issue has pulled you out of her bed. Go on, your real love is calling, answer it!”
Luca unclipped the mobile from his belt, pressed a couple icons on the screen, and held the now silent phone out to her. Thirty-six missed calls. Forty-two unanswered emails, all with little red flags and marked URGENT.