Page 51 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

‘And what about you?’ she asked, almost numb with shock at his implacable coldness.

‘That,bella—’ he virtually spat the endearment ‘—is none of your business. My lawyer will be in touch over the dissolution of ourmarriage...’ There was even more venom in his voice. ‘Do not expect anything from me. This marriage meant nothing.Wemeant nothing. Enjoy your life.’

When his long legs set stride again, Issy let him go.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ISSYSATONthe balcony of her cabin on thePalazzo delle Festegazing up at the stars. There were so many of them twinkling down on her from the moonless sky. She wished they injected warmth as far as Earth. Despite the balminess of the night she was huddled under the wrap she’d packed for the unpredictable weather when she returned to London. She’d felt chilled to the bone since Gianni had so coldly and ruthlessly severed her from his life.

And it had been a severing. A member of staff had collected her suitcase from her chalet and walked her to the yacht. Since embarking, she hadn’t caught a glimpse or heard a whisper from Gianni. She’d wandered aimlessly through the familiar rooms, half hoping and half dreading bumping into him. She’d even knocked on his cabin door and still didn’t know if she’d been relieved or devastated that it went unanswered. She’d tried the handle but it had been locked. Probably for the best. She didn’t know what she’d have said to him.

He must have had a change of heart and stayed behind on St Lovells.

Maybe it was better this way. A clean break. It would have happened in a few days anyway. It was just in the few times she’d envisaged it—only brief visions, because nausea had roiled strongly inside her at the images in her mind’s eye—they had parted with tender words. She’d imagined a life spent weaning herself off her internet addiction to him.

She pulled the wrap tighter around her shoulders and wished she could call Amelia, tell her she knew what she’d done but that it didn’t matter because whatever reason had propelled her sister to act so out of character and lie to her must have been important. The more she thought about it, the more it hurt her heart that Amelia hadn’t felt able to confide that reason in her.

But she couldn’t call her. In the days of bliss when she’d been blocking the world from her head, she’d left her phone in Gianni’s dressing room. To take it back would have let the world intrude and she’d been desperate to avoid that. And then everything had crumbled between them and she’d hidden in her chalet until the call to leave had come. She’d been too numb to think about anything.

She wished she was still numb. Now, she felt sick to the pit of her stomach and it hurt even more to know that even if she had remembered her phone, she’d not be able to confide any of the pain she was feeling to her sister.

Or would she?

Gianni’s cold voice kept echoing like a taunt in her ear.Coward.

How was she being a coward? And as for his ridiculous assertion that she had abandonment issues?

A spark of fury suddenly fired in her. If she did have abandonment issues—which she didn’t—hadn’t his behaviour proved her right to have them? And just like that, the coldness left her. Jumping to her feet, Issy paced her balcony, wishing Gianni was on board so she could confront him with the home truths she wished she’d thought of earlier. That it was grossly unfair to call her a coward just because she put her sister’s feelings above her own. That if he thought she had abandonment issues, at least she didn’t cut the abandoner from her life even if they did deserve it, which Gianni’s mother undoubtedly did. That...that...that...

The stars began to blur. And then they began to spin.

Dazed, Issy staggered back to her seat and breathed deeply, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

But it didn’t pass, just built up and up more and more as the truth rose in her stomach and chest and up her throat and she had to cover her mouth to stop the agony escaping.

Shewasa coward. OfcourseAmelia would forgive her. Maybe not overnight but in time she would, just as Issy would forgive her anything, even lying to her about something so dangerous as the Rossi cousins.

Gianni wasn’t dangerous. Not in the way she’d once believed. He was dangerous in the way he could sever a relationship without batting an eyelid. Issy had obsessed over him and witnessed from afar his litter of broken hearts for so many years that taking that final leap—what had he called it? A leap of faith?—had been too terrifying to contemplate. Because her parents’ addictionshadfelt like abandonment, like she wasn’t enough to keep them sober and on this earth with her. Not even enough to keep her mother in the country with her. Yes, she’d long ago accepted it and forgiven them both for it but it had done something to her she hadn’t even realised and so when the chance had come to give herself properly, heart, body and soul to Gianni, she’d cowered in fright because deep down she was so goddam scared he would leave her too. And so she had pushed him away before he could push her and now the truth was demanding she confront it, and she realised he never would have. Gianni would never have left her. It wasn’t that she had tamed the lothario or anything clichéd like that, but a magical alchemy of chemistry and passionate desire sprinkled with a meeting of minds and humour had captured them and woven their hearts together. They belonged together.

And she’d thrown it away. Been too frightened to take what he was so gladly offering.

No wonder he’d been so cold and furious. For the first time since his mother had abandoned him, Gianni had handed his heart over on a plate and Issy had rejected it.

In the distance the dark shadow of approaching land appeared and it was the knowledge that on that island sat the airport from which she would take the flight that would fly her away from him that finally broke her.

Sliding off the chair, Issy fell onto her knees with a thump, opened her lungs and howled.

Gianni had been sat on his balcony for over two hours hardly daring to breathe in case Issy heard him. He’d cursed to hear her step out on her balcony, cursed himself too for not putting her in a cabin far from his.

He wanted nothing to do with her, not even a glimpse of her, and when she’d knocked on his door he’d taken great pleasure in ignoring her. What the hell did she even want with him?

And now he was trapped on his balcony waiting for her to do the decent thing and go back inside so he could wallow in the bottle of Jack he’d brought out here for company.

Movement came. Great! She must be going inside.

No, she was stomping around, which was unusual as she had such a light, graceful tread to her step.

Dammit, all he wanted was to wallow until he reached the bottom of the bottle and be drunk enough not to notice when the yacht docked and Issy disembarked for the final time from his life. He was going to sail on to Barbados and take his jet back to London from there. It was safer that way. No risk of accidentally bumping into her.

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