Page 52 of The Sicilian’s Deal For 'I Do'

It was Mia’s worst nightmare.

At least, she’d thought it was, until her worst nightmare had morphed into reality and she’d had to endure the offence of Luca’s offer followed quickly by the reality of losing him—and knowing a life without him in it.

She’d tossed and turned at night, wondering if she was crazy to have refused his offer.

It was offensive and barbaric and wrong but, just as he’d said, being together was right, and maybe there was even enough rightness between them to justify her accepting his proposal.

But she couldn’t.

It would have been impossible to live with herself, and with him.

To be discarded by him when it suited, to know that fate awaited her. How could he have asked it of Mia?

But then, weren’t all relationships a gamble? Marrying someone didn’t ensure you wouldn’t be discarded. Loving someone didn’t either—look at his mother. So maybe there really was no hope? Tears, her constant companion since that night, sparkled on her lashes and she didn’t bother to check them. Instead, she threw sunglasses on and continued to eat her ice cream, one small scoop at a time, hoping that the sugar rush would do its job any moment now and make Mia feel, for a while at least, a little better.

Her car was parked by a fountain in the square. She scanned for traffic, waiting for a speeding Vespa to pass, then walked over the road, keys held in her hand as she approached. She almost didn’t see him at first. Between the hot afternoon sun, the ice cream and trying to unlock her old car without spilling said ice cream, Mia quite literally had her hands full. But then a movement, a familiar shift, caught Mia’s attention and she looked across to see Luca Cavallaro standing, feet planted hip-width apart, hands in pockets, eyes watching her. Studying her.

And she was a crying mess.

Great.

Just great.

‘Mia.’ His voice growled out of him, barrelling towards her, and she flinched, because she wasn’t ready for this. She was emotionally exhausted. She still hadn’t recovered from their last interaction; she couldn’t do this again.

‘Luca.’ She wrenched open her car door, but Luca was there, his hand on the top of the metal, his body forming a frame around hers, so she was caught between the car and him. He smelled heavenly. She swallowed, wishing her tears would stop, wishing, wishing, wishing a thousand things, all of them impossible.

‘I heard about your wedding.’

She blinked. It was the last thing on her mind. Strange how right it had felt to end that engagement, compared to when things finished with Luca.

‘It was the right decision.’

Luca’s chest moved with the force of his breathing. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It wasn’t relevant.’

‘To us?’

She bit down on her lip and shook her head.

‘Do you regret it?’

She blinked, the question strange. Why would he even ask that? ‘No.’

‘I’m glad.’

She angled her face away, focusing on the fountain with its rapidly falling water splashing over the side onto the footpath.

‘I had been torturing myself, you know, imagining you preparing for the wedding, getting ready to become another man’s wife. I thought I might stay in Australia. Move there permanently.’

She swallowed hard.

‘How could I come back to Italy, to know myself within reach of you, and never touch you again?’

Her heart splintered. ‘I’m not getting married, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not for sale, Luca.’

‘You never were.’ He pressed his thumb to her chin, drawing her face to meet his. ‘I was completely wrong to make that proposition. I was desperate not to lose you, desperate to help you, but it was still one of the dumbest things I’ve ever said. I’m very, very sorry.’

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