Page 37 of Innocent's Wedding Day with the Italian

‘Oh. Well...thank you.’ Knowing it would be churlish to refuse after he’d gone out of his way to book her onto a flight, something she hadn’t thought of doing for herself, Rebecca perched on the sofa with both feet firmly on the floor, and had a quick sip of her perfectly made gin.

Why hadn’t she thought to book herself onto a flight? The notion hadn’t crossed her mind, not even when she’d considered fleeing in the middle of the night.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

‘No.’ The cramped feeling in her stomach had returned.

‘Neither am I.’ He took another, even bigger drink of his Scotch then cradled the tumbler in both hands and gazed moodily into the amber liquid.

‘The shares, Enzo?’

His lips tightened and his shoulders rose. A swirl of emotions played over his face before his features rearranged themselves into something unreadable and he met her stare. ‘Do you remember me telling you that your grandfather turned down a much better offer for the business so he could partner with me?’

‘Is this relevant?’

‘Yes. Are you not curious as to why he chose the riskier option of partnering with a young man whose only jewellery store was making a loss? Our deal paid his debts off but if we’d failed, he would have been left with nothing.’

She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Honestly? I don’t care. Probably he admired your burning ambition, but you didn’t fail so why does this matter?’

‘I had not proved myself in any way for that ambition to be anything other than a dream. I’ve come to believe the reason your grandfather took that risk was because he thought he saw in me a way to make amends to his conscience for what he did to your mother.’

Rebecca shot to her feet so abruptly she knocked the table and sent gin and tonic sloshing over the rim of her glass. ‘You said you wanted to discuss the shares and the business, not give me a history lesson.’

‘It is one and the same thing.’

‘Then I don’t want to hear it.’ She stomped to the box of tissues on the side and grabbed a handful of them.

‘I know you don’t but as you intend to walk out of my life for good at any minute, I ask that you do me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say.’

Lifting the glass, she flattened the tissues over the spilt liquid. ‘I don’t want to hear justifications for his behaviour.’

‘There is no justification for that. He should never have forced your mother into making that choice and should never have cut her off because of it. It was his inability to admit to his mistakes that stopped him making amends to her.’

Abandoning her efforts to clean the spill, Rebecca angrily wiped her hand on the side of her dress and walked quickly to the door. ‘Forget it. I don’t want to hearanyof this.’

‘I know you don’t, but you have to.’

‘No.’

Before she could reach the door, Enzo had passed her to block the exit.

Folding his arms over his chest, he stared emotionlessly down at her.

Rather than argue, she turned to leave by the wide French door that opened onto the garden.

‘It is locked. If you want the key, it’s in my back pocket. The dining room door is also locked.’

She spun back round.

He was still blocking the door, body and expression immovable.

Another wave of déjà vu. Another full circle reached.

‘You will hear what I have to say, Rebecca,’ he said quietly but with an implacability that sent shivers lacing her spine.

‘Don’tcallme that,’ she whispered, taking a step back.

‘Rebecca. Rebecca Emily Foley. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Rebecca, I have respected your wishes as to what I can and cannot say and how I refer to you—’

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