Page 20 of 2 Books in One Bundle
She looked over at him. ‘And you felt something.’
‘Yes.’
‘If it were me, I’d say it felt like I’d come home.’
Was that right? It couldn’t be. He hadn’t wanted or needed a home in years, and it was freeing.
‘No. Here was a place to start.’
Italy was the country of firsts. This property, his first boutique hotel. Milestones of his success. That was all.
‘Have you ever looked for your birth family?’
‘A little.’
A lie. He’d paid a small fortune to a well-regarded investigator, without success. Matteo needed to shut the conversation down. He didn’t do this, the sharing. It was meaningless, reminding him of all that was wrong in his life rather than focussing on the important things, like moving forwards. Like the anticipation of showing Louisa the next room he had for her. Perhaps receiving another hug. Though how much better would a kiss be? Would...morebe...?
‘Did you find them?’
Louisa had stopped so he did too. He looked at her, face soft, full of what he feared wasempathywhen she shouldn’t really care. No one else ever had. His throat tightened. Matteo shook his head.
‘My birth parents? I’ve accepted I never will.’
She reached out, not with an exuberant full body hug, but with her hand. Touched his forearm, squeezed. Her grip surprisingly strong. He’d always thought of her as so small and fragile, yet he was beginning to think he might have underestimated her.
‘I’m sorry, that must be difficult if you’ve wanted to meet them. Especially if you and your family...’
Her hand was hot on his forearm, burning like a brand. He pulled his arm away. Louisa rubbed her palm with her thumb. Her mouth slightly open. Those moss-green eyes of hers looking at him, as if deep into his soul. He didn’t like that look, or what she might find there if she searched hard enough.
‘I accept my life. It doesn’t bother me. Anyhow, this isn’t about me, it’s about you.’
He smiled, but there was no pleasure in it. The type of smile he’d cultivated to use in business, one that did the job with no emotion underpinning it.
‘O-okay.’
Louisa seemed hesitant as he led her to another room he’d chosen, one that had been an informal lounge. Large French doors leading out onto a paved terrace, decorated with pots of citrus trees, lavender and flowers. One of the best views of the lake from the bottom floor.
As Louisa walked in her gaze turned straight to the corner. Instead of flinging herself into his arms, she ran over to it. Her art desk, where she did her illustrations.
‘Her work’s really something.’
That was what one of his contractors had said, after they’d called him to report successfully moving her things. The jealousy that had spiked through him at those words, whenhe’dnever seen her pictures, was like a knife to his belly. He wanted her to offer. To show him. Yet she didn’t say anything other than to check through the sketchbooks, as if cataloguing whether anything was missing. Louisa opened a drawer, peered inside the desk. Rummaged through everything with gentle, almost reverent hands.
‘It’s all here.’
‘I should hope so. When I ask people to do a job, they do it.’
There was no excitement this time. Not like upstairs. He didn’t know why that disappointed him, or what he’d really expected. She walked over to the doors leading to the patio. Tested one almost as if she wanted to escape, but it was locked. The light shone in from outside, and she was backlit, the skirt of her dress becoming sheer, her legs silhouetted like a soft pastel smudge through the fabric.
She said nothing, just looked out at the lake.
‘I hope you’re happy. I know how important the deadline is to you.’
Louisa reached up her hand to her face as if brushing something away. Then she turned. Her smile was a tremulous, fragile thing. Her eyes a little red, gleaming with tears. It was like a gut punch, striking all the air from him. He started forwards.
‘Louisa.’
Like a few days before, he wasn’t sure why the reaction to her tears was such a visceral thing. As he moved closer, he wanted to take her into his arms, wrap her tight and soothe those tears away. He could. It wouldn’t take much. A few steps.
