Page 35 of Bound by a One-Night Vow

‘Where will you live? I could put you up on the sofa for a night or two but—’

‘It’s all right. I’ll find my own place. I’m not exactly destitute.’ Yet.

* * *

Andrea arrived at his villa in Positano the following day with the expectation Izzy would be there once she’d had time to cool off. His hotel staff had told him she had left the hotel late but they had no idea of where she had gone. He’d done a quick ring around but hotel security was tight on giving out guest details, which was something he totally supported. But it was frustrating to spend the night pacing the floor with a host of ghastly scenarios flooding his brain. He’d tried calling her but her phone was switched off. He didn’t leave a message because he wasn’t sure what to say. Come back, I need you were not phrases he used. To anyone.

Gianna greeted him with her usual cheery smile but her expression faded when she saw he was alone. ‘Where’s Izzy?’

‘I was hoping she’d be here.’ Andrea’s stomach curdled anew with disappointment. A dark and bitter disappointment that yet again she had failed to do as he’d expected. As he’d hoped.

Gianna’s dark brown eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘Why didn’t she come back with you? What’s going on?’

‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘But where is she?’

Andrea strode past the housekeeper to go to his office. ‘I don’t want to be disturbed. Take the week off. Take a month off.’

He sat at his desk and stared at his computer screen. How had it come to this? He had been hoping Izzy would be back by now. He had given her twenty-four hours. How much longer did she need to see what a stupid thing she was doing? She was sabotaging her future. She was throwing away her chance of financial freedom. It was a ludicrous thing to do. No one in their right mind would walk away from that amount of money.

But money wasn’t everything...

Andrea clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. Yes, it damn well was. Money might not buy happiness but it got you off the street. It got you out of the gutter and into a lifestyle that was the envy of others. It fed you and clothed you and transported you to places you’d only ever dreamed of as a child living in abject poverty.

He pushed back his chair and paced the floor until he was sure he would bald the carpet. He might have plenty of money but he had never felt so powerless. He was used to being in the driving seat of his life. He was the one who started and ended his relationships. He wasn’t used to being left hanging, hoping for what he couldn’t quite say. His pride had taken a hit. That was why he was feeling so out of sorts. What else could it be? He had been so sure Izzy wouldn’t compromise her chance to inherit. She wanted her grandparents’ house more than anything. He knew what it felt like to want something so badly nothing else mattered. Was she disappointed? Crushed that her dream of buying back that property was now out of her reach?

He went over to the window to look at the view from his office. The ocean sparkled below, the sun shone with brilliance and warmth but inside he felt cold and empty. He was like a king confined to his castle, surrounded by wealth and possessions that failed to deliver the contentment they had before.

Andrea rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. He needed to do something. Anything. Work was his panacea, wasn’t it? The least he could do was buy the wretched property for her. Call him a sentimental fool but he couldn’t stand by and let her miss out on that house. He sat back at his desk and searched online for the property details. Within an hour he had made an offer—way too generous, of course, and it would take a few days for a building inspection to be completed and a legal contract drawn up, but he wanted that property for Izzy and what he wanted he made it his business to get.

Well...mostly.

Work was what he needed to get back on form. Hard, relentless work. He had to stop thinking about Izzy and focus on something else. He needed to pour his frustrations into ticking off tasks. He was not going to let Izzy’s desertion undo him. He hated to think what the press would make of their break-up once they heard about it.

But he was determined they wouldn’t hear it via him.

* * *

Izzy found a temporary bedsit and a few days later hired a car and travelled down to take one last look at her grandparents’ house. The day before she’d received a call from the owners to say a buyer had approached them and, due to the generosity of the offer, they’d felt compelled to sell rather than wait another few months. They were apologetic but pragmatic and Izzy could hardly blame them. She had been expecting such a call ever since she’d first hoped to buy the property. It was always going to be risky without having drawn up a legal agreement, but she hadn’t been in the position to draw up anything.

She had just hoped. Vainly, foolishly, naïvely hoped.

But going down now to the house was her way of saying goodbye to the dream she’d had of reclaiming it. She’d heard nothing from Andrea since she’d arrived in London, although she had noticed a couple of missed calls the night she’d left Venice, but he hadn’t left a message. She’d been bracing herself for the press to report on their failed relationship but so far there had been nothing. It was ironic to think of all the times in the past where she had courted scandal and now the sudden break-up of her marriage to Italy’s most eligible bachelor had failed to rate a mention.

The country lane lined by hedgerows on the way to her grandparents’ house brought a prickly lump to Izzy’s throat. How many times had she been down this lane with Hamish by her side? Not enough. Nowhere near enough but those few precious memories were all she had left to treasure. Every field, every tree and wildflower were like old friends greeting her. There was the old oak she had stood under and watched in wonder as Hamish had built a tree house specially for her. There was the little bridge over the babbling stream that she and Hamish had walked over on their way to his favourite fishing spot. There was the copse of trees where they’d had a picnic and he’d played hide and seek with her. She could almost smell the fragrance of her grandmother’s home-baked treats, could almost hear the sound of her grandfather mowing the lawns on his ride-on mower because he enjoyed the task so much even though there had been a gardener.

This was where Izzy had felt closest to her mother and she had hoped by reclaiming the house she would somehow feel her mum would be proud of her.

The Georgian house finally came into view and her heart stuttered when she saw the ‘SOLD’ notice on an estate agent’s sign by the entrance gates.

Izzy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. So it really was over. Even after the phone call from the owners she had still hoped it wasn’t true. But it was true. Her dream was destroyed. But strangely it didn’t feel as devastating as she’d thought. The house looked tired and in need of some urgent attention. The garden was overgrown and the paintwork on the house faded and even peeling in places. But even if the house were beautifully restored, would she have been happy without someone to share her vision of it with her? The only someone she wanted to share it with was Andrea and he didn’t want to share his life with anyone, much less her.

It was just a house that had once been a happy place but the people who had made it happy were no longer there. But in a way they lived on in Izzy’s heart. It was up to her now to honour her mother’s and brother’s and grandparents’ memories by living a fully authentic life, not settling for second best or half measures.

Izzy turned the car around and drove back along the lane, leaving her childhood memories—and a little part of herself that would always belong there—behind.

* * *

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