Page 198 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

‘A rejection like that, from someone she thought she could trust and who she thought she loved, she may never be completely over it. That kind of wound has a way of staying with you so that, even twenty years later, that sting of rejection feels just as sharp as the day it was inflicted,’ Domenico imparted with all the certainty of someone who had experienced it himself and Rae’s eyes lifted to his, the troubled blue of her gaze deepening to the colour of the darkest, deepest sea. It was that which alerted him to just how much he had inadvertently given away about himself. ‘But she will move on. You just need to give her time. It doesn’t happen overnight.’

Rae was still watching him, curiosity now burning in her gaze.

‘What happened all those years ago that hurt you so badly, Domenico?’ She leaned in closer, her eyes fixed on him with a compelling clarity and directness from which he felt there was no escape. ‘You can tell me.’

‘We were talking about Imogen,’ he reminded her, growing more uncomfortable by the second under her intense gaze.

‘Now I’m asking about you,’ Rae responded. ‘What happened? Who rejected you?’

Domenico looked off to the side. He had no intention of breaking his silence on the past. It was something he never talked about, but their conversation had unlocked an unpleasant memory that had started to snake through him and his usual tactic of pushing it aside was not working. In the strangest upending of emotion, he was struck by the desire to share it, to dispel it from his mind, and before he could examine that sudden urge, try to curb it, his lips were moving and he was answering her, information he had never spoken aloud before spilling out.

‘My mother.’ He faced Rae again. ‘She lived here in Venice for a period when I was younger. By that time, I’d discovered who she was and when I found out that she was moving here I got so excited. I thought she had to be coming here because of me.For me.To see me, maybe have me come and live with her. It wasn’t like I wanted to leave Elena—I loved her—but this was my mother. I’d been dreaming about meeting her for a long time.’

He paused, needing a moment, but the words were in a rush to escape. ‘Every time the doorbell went during those days and weeks I leapt to my feet, so sure that it would be her. But it never was. She never came. Then one day Elena had taken me out for lunch and she was in the same restaurant. She walked straight past us and looked right at me. But, instead of smiling or stopping, she just looked right through me with those cold, hateful eyes and it was like I’d been burned. All I wanted to do was cry, but I didn’t want to disappoint Elena, so I just held it in...’

Feeling emotion pressing at the backs of his eyes at the stinging recollection, Domenico shook his head, wanting to move on, erase that too intense moment. But looking across at Rae certainly didn’t help. She was absorbed in all that new information. Having omitted all the finer details of his story, all she’d ever known about his childhood was that Elena had taken him in when his own mother had been unable to care for him. He’d never wanted her to know the whole ugly truth of how unwanted he’d been, fearful that with that knowledge she’d start to find him lacking too.

‘But, like I said, Imogen will find a way to move on. She’s strong. She’ll be okay.’

Rae’s eyes were stuck on him and he knew that, in spite of his attempt to draw attention back to her problem and her sister, Rae was thinking only of his story in that moment.

‘How didyoumove on from that?’

Domenico was quiet for a second as he relived it, remembering the hurt and the confusion. Remembering how those emotions had spread through his body like a virus and how hard he’d fought against that anguish.

‘I made the memory and feelings as small as I could and locked them in a little box where they could do no further harm,’ he told her dispassionately.

Rae’s hand had reached out and was curled around his fist, warm and soft, and the urge to twine his fingers through hers, to accept that comfort, was overwhelming.

‘Did you ever see her again? Your mother.’

The lump in his throat was so large it was a second before he could answer. ‘Only from afar.’ But those sightings of her were tattooed into his brain too, because she hadn’t been alone. She’d had her children with her—the children she had kept, the ones whose existence she had welcomed and celebrated. Whilst he’d remained ignored. ‘And no,’ he added more sharply than he intended as he anticipated her obvious follow-up question, ‘she doesn’t still live here. It’s been years since I set eyes on her.’

‘I’m sorry, Domenico. I don’t know what to say other than that.’

‘You don’t need to say anything.’

He didn’t need sympathetic words, or platitudes. He didn’t need to talk about it. It was a reality that he had borne for years and talking about it would change nothing, and yet didn’t the burden of it suddenly feel a little lighter, its sting a little less potent?

His phone rang but, without breaking their eye contact, he swiped a finger across the screen to reject the call and, before Rae could cajole any more confessions out of him, he moved on. ‘Are you ready for dessert? Your favourite is on the menu—tiramisu.’

Just as he reached for the menu, his phone buzzed once again.

‘Mi scusi.’With a quiet growl of annoyance, he snatched it up, intent on giving the caller an earache for disturbing him, not once but twice. But then he sighed as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, hanging up with a promise to be at the office soon. ‘I’m sorry, Rae. There’s a crisis with a new deal we’re working on and I need to go and deal with it in person or it could fall apart.’

He was aggravated, and not just because his prize deal had hit a snag, but because it meant cutting short his evening with Rae.

She smiled across at him. ‘It’s okay. Don’t worry. I couldn’t eat another bite anyway.’

Her words didn’t dispel his niggle of guilt, or the feeling that he would prefer to stay with her, even though he didn’t understand why he was feeling that sudden yearning for closeness with her.

‘I’ll sort the bill and walk you back to the palazzo.’

‘You don’t need to do that. You need to hurry. I can get myself home. It’s not far.’

‘You’re not walking back alone. That’s final,’ he added when she opened her mouth to protest, the thought of her navigating the darkened streets alone sending trickles of fear seeping down his spine.

Throwing down a set of bills on the table, Domenico took her hand, leading her from the restaurant and making their goodbyes. Only a few of the photographers who’d been documenting the arrivals of Venice’s social elite remained, but they eagerly snapped yet more shots of Rae and Domenico as they exited onto the street.

---