by Alexia Adams
“You know, only the promise that soon I will be unzipping this dress allows my fingers to do this. Helping you put on your clothes goes against every fiber of my being.” Luca’s breath was hot against her ear and when he kissed her neck, making her knees wobble. It took every ounce of willpower she had to step away from him.
She grabbed the matching wrap and took a moment to admire him. He was dressed in a grey suit with a white shirt and pale pink tie. His black hair was brushed back and her fingers itched to run through it and release the curls. She preferred him slightly disheveled, a satisfied smile on his face. In private anyway. Now he looked every inch the powerful businessman, intent on securing the deal. Only tonight’s business was pleasure. Another shiver coursed through her already sensitized body. They may have had two nights together already, but that didn’t mean she’d had enough of him, or, it seemed, him of her.
The maître‘d sat them at a table on the terrace, next to the lake. She took a quick look at the menu handed to her, but her thoughts were too jumbled to decipher the contents. “I can’t decide what to eat; it all looks so good. Would you order for me, Luca? I’d like a surprise, something I haven’t had before.” Tonight seemed like the perfect time to try new things.
Luca ordered their meal while she stared at the twinkling lights across the lake. “If you like surprises, then you should appreciate this.” He handed her a small velvet box.
They had exchanged wedding bands at the registrar’s office, but he’d not given her an engagement ring. She hadn’t really thought anything of it. Jewelry wasn’t a big thing for her, probably because she’d never had anything of value. With slightly shaking hands, she opened the small box and her hand flew to her throat.
“Oh, Luca, it’s exquisite,” she breathed. Inside the box lay a large pear-shaped, faceted emerald surrounded by smaller diamonds on a gold band. The cut of the stones looked old; however, the brilliance of the gems gave it a timeless elegance.
“I know it’s not a huge diamond like you were probably expecting and deserve. I will buy you those as well. This is the family ring. My father gave it to my mother, and his father before him. It has passed down to the first male to give his bride for over a hundred years. My mother has been keeping it for me. She gave it to me this afternoon to give to you.”
“It is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. I will treasure it until the day I hand it over to our son to give to his bride.” The legacy of the piece was almost overwhelming. She’d never had anything with family tradition to add to its value.
Luca slid the ring on her finger and then raised her hand and placed a slow kiss on it, all the while holding her gaze—his eyes promising much more of the unexpected.
Without her even noticing, the waiter placed their first course on the table. She lifted a taste of the creamy soup to her mouth when a chill coursed down her spine.
“Sophia? Sophia Stevens? Is that really you?” A husky voice with a polished English accent called out.
She dropped the spoon as if scalded. It clattered against the china bowl, spewing its contents across the place setting.
Seven years. How could she still remember the voice after seven years? How could it cause terror to well up in her heart after all this time? She’d thought she’d exorcised that particular ghost, and now it had come back to haunt her in the flesh. Seeing her face on the magazine a couple of days ago had been bad, hearing her voice now was worse.
Luca glanced at her as she grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Black spots danced before her, obscuring his concerned face. She tried to reassure him with a smile, but it never formed. Before she could even take in a shaky breath, the owner of the voice appeared at their table.
The woman was tall with long, blonde hair, the color as natural as a Saharan waterfall. She wore heavy makeup and a deep red dress that left little to the imagination. The neckline, if it could be called that, as it was nowhere near her neck, revealed an abundant amount of breast, which Sophia would bet were not natural either. The hemline only made it to mid-thigh, showing an ample amount of leg, teetering on strappy sandals with six-inch heels. A cloud of Poison perfume enveloped her, an apt choice of scent given the wearer’s venomous personality.
“Kathy Summers.” Sophia exhaled sharply. It was as though someone had punched her in the stomach, she was barely able to breathe. Trying to stop herself from shaking, she squeezed Luca’s hand tighter.
“Actually, I’m called Kate now—now that I’m famous,” the other woman said smugly. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned a blinding white smile on Luca.
“Yes, I’ve seen your face, and other assets, in the papers. But I don’t remember you having such a posh accent. Whatever happened to your north London drawl?” She waited while the actress stopped devouring Luca with her eyes and looked at her once again.
“Ah, we’re a long way from Tottenham now, dahling.” Kathy wrinkled her nose, as if disgusted to be reminded of her past. “What are you doing in Italy, Sophia? I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I’m not surprised.” The bile that rose from her stomach tinged her words with bitterness. The blood that had drained from her face earlier came back in full force as a flash of pure anger and hatred filled her. “The last time I saw you, you were covered in my blood.”
• • •
Luca’s stomach clenched at Sophia’s words. Was his wife in danger? He started to rise from his seat but sat back down as her grip on him tightened. Her eyes begged him not to escalate the already unpleasant scene.
He recognized the woman from the restaurant in London. The one who had caused Sophia to flee on that occasion as well. He’d looked her up; she was some sort of B-list British soap star, known more for her body than her acting ability. But he still had no idea where she fit into Sophia’s past.
“Yes, well, that’s ancient history.” The artificially enhanced actress looked around as if to make sure no one else heard Sophia’s comment.
“Not when you look at the scars every day.” Sophia’s jaw clenched at the words. “I think your friends are looking for you.” She indicated the group of people waving at Kate.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Kate dismissed Sophia with a nod but flashed another dazzling smile at him. She sauntered over to her dinner companions with an exaggerated swing of her hips.
Sophia was extremely pale. Although she was making a valiant effort to hold herself together, she started to twitch. His heart burned.
“I, um, I need to leave. I have to get out of here, get away from her. Please,” she looked beseechingly at him, “please, can we go home?”
“Yes, of course.” He rose and helped her out of her chair. Her whole body was shaking now and he kept his arm around her for support. “Come to the car. Someone will collect our things tomorrow.”
Within minutes, Sophia sat in the passenger seat of the Maserati, cocooned in a blanket he’d pulled out of the back. He stole quick glances at her as he wove through the streets of the town, noting that she was still pale. At least the trembling had stopped. Once they were on the motorway, he stepped on the accelerator and the powerful car hungrily ate up the miles. Soon they were pulling through the gates of the villa and into the driveway.
His stepfather appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing only a burgundy dressing gown, as they entered the hallway. He held a phone in his hands.
“It is okay, Thierry,” Luca reassured the other man. “It is just us, no need to call the police.”
Thierry took one look at Sophia’s distressed expression and didn’t inquire the reason for their unexpected return. “Sure, call up if you need us,” he replied before returning to the bedroom.
“Come into the snug; it is more comfortable,” Luca said. He gently steered Sophia toward the room at the back of the house. “I will get you a brandy to help calm your nerves.”
He poured the drinks while he struggled to come up with some way to comfort his wife. Should he encourage her to
talk or simply hold her so she knew he was there for her? He wasn’t equipped to deal with such deep emotional trauma. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with a hammer and nails or a bridging loan. Being a businessman now wasn’t going to help. He needed to be a husband.
Glancing at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, he could almost see Sophia shrinking back within herself. Was her independence a protection, a way to shield herself from further hurt? Maybe it wasn’t that she didn’t want him in her life. Perhaps she was afraid to let him in because she’d been hurt by someone close to her before. Any progress they’d made in their relationship, the understanding, the partnership would all disappear if he failed her now. He took a deep breath and got ready to fight for their future.
• • •
Sophia sank into the overstuffed sofa, breathing a little easier now that she was home. Taking the brandy snifter Luca offered her, she motioned for him to sit next to her. She wanted his arms around her, to feel the safety of his embrace. As if sensing her need, he pulled her against him, rubbing her arm up and down.
The amber liquid burned as it went down her throat before settling in her stomach. Comforting warmth infused her whole body. After a couple of sips, she felt able to unclench her fist without her body starting to shake again.
“I’m so sorry I spoiled our honeymoon,” she said at last, her voice hesitant and unsteady.
“I am not worried about that,” Luca replied. “I am worried about you. Can you tell me what happened?”
Her heart beat faster. He’d left the beautiful hotel without any questions, not even asking why. Not considering her a fool for getting upset so easily.
“I think I’d better start at the beginning … with my family,” she began. She’d tried so hard to distance herself from her past, yet it always caught up with her. Even 900 kilometers away it found her, threatening to destroy her current life. She took a deep breath.
“My parents, Charlie and Janice, married young. My dad worked as a bricklayer and my mum had come down from Manchester to pursue her dreams of being an actress in the theater. They met at a football match. They were cheering for opposite teams but were seated next to each other. By the end of the game, they were madly in love and Dad for once didn’t care that his team lost.
“Neither of their families were particularly pleased with the marriage, and I don’t remember ever seeing my grandparents. My parents didn’t have much, only their dreams. Mum was still auditioning for parts in various productions and Dad had ideas of running his own construction company.” If she told her story as though it had happened to someone else, she could keep it together. Some days, especially since she started living in Italy, it almost felt like it was someone else’s life. She paused, trying to put her jumbled thoughts in order.
“After a few years, my brother Ben came along, followed within a year by my second brother, Paul. Shortly after Paul was born, my dad had an accident at work. He fell off some scaffolding and broke his hips and both legs. For a while they weren’t sure he’d be able to walk again. He managed that, but couldn’t work anymore as a brickie. I guess it was then that Mum realized she would never be an actress and now she had to support her family. With no real training or experience, so took whatever jobs she could get.
“I was born when Paul was three years old. By this time the family was living mostly on social benefit. My dad practically lived at the pub or at football matches. He always found money to attend the games. Sometimes he would do some work to make a little extra to go to the away matches, all the while collecting the dole. My mum worked part time at the local grocery store and did a few cleaning jobs.
“When I was three, my sister Sarah was born and two years later James came along. We were five children living in a three-bed council flat in north London. The lift always smelled of pee, and the stairwell was the location of daily drug deals.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the images in her head. Taking another sip of the brandy, she hoped its warmth would burn away the emptiness inside.
“By the time James was born, my dad had almost completely opted out of family life. When he was home he was watching the telly, or more usually fast asleep in front of it. As soon as Mum came home from work, he was off to the pub. I used to lie awake at night, waiting to hear the door open and close, to know he was home safe before I could fall asleep. Dad never shouted; he never hit us. He just ignored our existence—quite a feat in a small flat with five children.
“Mum tried to be a good parent, but she was always tired. And looking back now, I realize, drained by disappointment. She’d make us tea—fish fingers and chips or something out of a can. Mum didn’t really cook, which is why I never learned. As soon as Ben was old enough to look after us, she, too, went out most evenings, over to her sister’s house a few streets away, coming home in time to tuck us into bed, most nights.”
“Why didn’t your aunt come over to your place if she lived so close?” Luca looked into her eyes, as if to reassure her, to show his concern.
“My aunt didn’t like children. She never married and preferred the quiet life; she was a bookkeeper for a local business. Auntie had a nice little terraced house and hated coming to the ‘nasty flat’ as she called it.” Sophia took a deep breath and continued with her story.
“Ben, my oldest brother, was wonderful. He was only a child himself, yet he helped us younger ones with our homework. He taught James to read. He would put on puppet shows behind the sofa using Dad’s socks and an oven mitt. He always had a smile and knew how to cheer us up. Most of the boys his age were down the park playing football; Ben was at home reading us stories using funny voices for the characters.” She smiled at the memories, but there were tears in her eyes. Luca ran his hand down her hair, offering her comfort.
“If something exciting happened at school, or if we did well on a test, it was Ben we told, not our parents. All our hopes and dreams or daily disappointments we laid at Ben’s door. He was so young for such responsibility, yet he never complained. He never told us to get lost or find someone else to talk to. He would’ve been such an amazing dad.” Her voice caught on the last sentence. Telling Luca was harder than she’d expected. She couldn’t pretend her past didn’t matter when his strong arms were around her, providing the security she’d so desperately needed then. The comfort she so desperately needed now. If he pulled away, she’d fall apart. And she wasn’t sure she could put the pieces back together again.
Instead, Luca lifted her so she was sitting across his lap. She put her empty brandy snifter down on the coffee table and leaned back. The steady beat of his heart against her ear, and the warmth of his body against hers, gave her the strength to continue.
“Paul was a bit rebellious. He didn’t like sitting at home with a ‘bunch of babies,’ as he used to call us. He would go and hang out with his friends, quite often getting in trouble. But he always managed to slip in the door minutes before Mum came home, pretending he’d been there the whole time. Paul was very clever, and though he never seemed to do any homework or studying he always had good grades, so Mum and Dad thought nothing was wrong.
“I was the cleaner. I used to clean the house spotless so Mum wouldn’t have to do it when she came home. I hoped it would make her happy and make her want to stay with us. I was always annoyed at the other children for making a mess. Paul used to call me uptight. I guess it was my way with coping. At least my surroundings could be clean, neat, tidy, orderly, even if my life was a mess.
“Sarah cried a lot, always whining and complaining. I think she was starved for affection. That’s probably why, even today, if a man shows any interest in her, she immediately falls in love with him. She’s always lurching from one bad relationship into another.” Despite being only three years apart, she’d never felt very close to her sister. They were polar opposites in temperament. She’d always thought Sarah’s sensitivity a weakness. Now, however, having had a taste of Luca’s tenderness, she could understand her sister a
little more.
“James, my younger brother, was beautiful. He had curly, blonde hair and bright blue eyes and dimples when he smiled, which was often. People used to stop in the street when we walked by and comment on what a beautiful child he was.” Her voice broke and she took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I don’t think I’ll ever complain again about being an only child,” Luca commented.
“Oh, it wasn’t all bad. I do have some happy childhood memories. Paul once stole ten pounds out of his friend’s mother’s purse. But then he felt guilty for doing it. So rather than buy smokes, which had been his intention, we went to the park and he bought us all chips and ice cream.” She smiled genuinely for the first time since meeting Kathy. Getting all this off her chest made her heart was a little lighter. Luca held her tightly, one hand rubbing her back in a comforting gesture. Maybe he wouldn’t be put off by her past, consider her unworthy.
“Things went okay for a couple of years. We all did pretty well in school. Paul got selected for the track team and so had something more positive to focus his energies on. Although Mum and Dad were still kind of living their own lives, the rest of us were close-knit and we got on as best we could. We were five children living in a small space, so of course there were fights. Yet somehow, instinctively I guess, we all knew we had to stick together to survive.” She took a deep breath and barely whispered the words. “But when things went bad, they went bad very quick.”
Chapter 11
Sophia’s shudder went straight through Luca. Her pain became his. It was the first time he was truly connected to his wife, outside of the bedroom. The depth of his desire to protect her surprised him. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted her to need him, to rely on him, to trust him. He pulled her closer, and she rested her head on his chest for a moment.