by Abby Green
When the consultant left the room and Valentina had made sure her mother was comfortable in the private room that had been set up for her beside her husband’s, all courtesy of Gio, she left, feeling incredibly weary all of a sudden.
She was surprised to see Gio outside the clinic, not sure what she’d been expecting, but half expecting him to have left. Gio faced her now and held out what looked like a plastic hotel room key. ‘It’s to a suite in the Grand Plaza Hotel. It’s not far from here.’
Valentina blanched. It was also one of the most expensive hotels in Italy. She started to protest but Gio took her hand and curled it almost painfully over the card and said curtly, ‘I don’t want to hear it, Valentina. Take the key and use it. You need to stay somewhere while you’re here.’
Valentina reeled at the further evidence of this cool stranger. As if his silence on the journey over here hadn’t confirmed that something was very wrong. Suddenly she didn’t know where she stood any more; she was on shifting sands. This wasn’t the same man who had been clutching her hair, thrusting so deep inside her just hours ago that she’d wept openly.
‘I have to go back to Syracuse this evening. But I’ll be back to see how the operation went tomorrow.’
Valentina crossed her arms tight against how badly she wanted to touch Gio, have him touch her. To have him explain this abrupt emotional withdrawal. But a deep and endless chasm seemed to exist between them now.
She fought to match his cool distance in a very belated bid to protect herself. ‘You don’t have to come back tomorrow, you’re busy.’
In the same curt tone he replied, ‘I’ll be here.’
He gestured with a hand to where a driver stood by a car at the bottom of the clinic’s steps. ‘Dario will take you to the hotel and wherever you need to go. He’s at your disposal while you’re in Naples.’
‘Gio …’ Valentina began helplessly before stopping at the look on his face. She threw her hands up. ‘Fine, all right.’
Gio stepped back. ‘Till tomorrow.’
And then he was gone, down the steps and sliding into the back of his own car before it left the clinic car park and disappeared into the noisy fume-filled Naples traffic, and in that moment Valentina felt as if something very precious had just slipped through her fingers.
Less than an hour later Gio was watching the bright lights of Naples recede from beneath his small private Cessna plane. His gut ached. His whole body ached with a mixture of pleasure and pain. His hands were clenched to fists on his thighs and he had to consciously relax them. He smiled bleakly in recognition of the fact that he could relax them now because Valentina wasn’t near enough to him to tempt him to touch her.
Standing on the steps of the clinic he’d had to battle not to pull her into him, bury his face in her hair, feel how those soft curves would fit into his body like missing pieces of a jigsaw.
He’d gorged himself on her for the past twenty-four hours. And it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. But it would have to be enough.
When she’d insisted on seeing where Mario had died, it had spelt the end of the affair to Gio as clearly as if it had been written on a board with indelible ink. When he’d left her standing in that garden, he’d been fully prepared for her return, and for her demand to leave straightaway.
But … she hadn’t asked to leave. She’d asked to stay.
And yet it hadn’t filled him with a sense of triumph. She’d said, I want you, Gio, that’s all. And that had reminded him more succinctly than anything else of what was between them. And what wasn’t. There wasn’t even the anger any more.
Valentina had cut herself off from what had happened in the past between them, and she had no problem continuing the physical relationship with him because there was no emotional investment. That’s why she hadn’t reacted the way he’d anticipated to seeing where Mario had died. That’s why she’d had no problem going to the castello in the first place.
Gio accepted a tumbler glass of brandy from the attentive air steward. He threw it back in one gulp and winced as the liquid turned to fire down his throat. He cursed himself for having thought for one weak moment that perhaps emotions were involved.
If anything, Valentina’s emotions where Gio was concerned had become the worst possible of things: benign. Soon, Valentina’s desire would wane and she would look at Gio with nothing but pity. He’d already seen a flash of it when she’d asked about his house and why it wasn’t furnished.
That would be the worst thing of all … to endure Valentina’s pity for him. After everything, that was the one thing he wouldn’t stand for.
The knowledge sat heavy in his gut. He’d always believed that he was empty inside, after years of contracting inwards to protect himself from his father’s cruelty and his mother’s ineffectualness. Mario had been the only one he’d trusted and allowed himself to love like a brother. And Valentina, a small voice mocked gently.
However, that capacity had died and withered with his friend. He’d believed he’d never love again. But he’d been wrong. The knowledge didn’t precipitate joy within him—to discover that he hadn’t lost that ability at all. Valentina Ferranti had the power now to tear him apart, there would be no recovery.
‘I’m not gone yet….’
‘No, Papa, you’re not.’ Valentina smiled but it felt very precarious as tears burnt the backs of her eyelids. She could feel her mother’s steadying hand on her shoulder. The operation had been a big success.
Much to her shame, she couldn’t deny that her seesawing emotions had just as much to do with the huge and silent presence of Gio standing a few feet away in the recovery room, as it had to do with the success of her father’s operation.
He hadn’t wanted to intrude but her father and mother had insisted on him coming in. Valentina could see her father flagging and immediately a nurse stepped in, saying briskly, ‘That’s enough for now. You’ll have plenty of time to visit again tomorrow. He’s going to be here for a while.’
Valentina allowed herself to be hustled out, sharing a quick kiss with her relieved mother, who was staying behind.
Once out in the corridor after Gio had made his goodbyes too, Valentina felt shy and awkward, not knowing how to navigate this new tension between them. It felt like aeons since she’d lain in bed with this man, arms clasped tight around him, her breasts crushed to his chest and her head nestled between his shoulder and neck while his fingers had trailed little fires up and down her spine.
The sense of peace she’d felt in that moment mocked her now.
‘I—’
‘You—’
They both spoke at the same moment and then stopped. Gio said tightly, ‘You first.’
Valentina swallowed. ‘I need to get back to Sicily. My mother needs some things from home, now that they’re going to be here while my father recuperates.’
‘I’m going back now. You can come with me on the plane. I’ll arrange for your return when you need to come back.’
So sterile. Valentina shoved down the hurt and forced a smile. ‘OK, thanks.’ She indicated to the small holdall she held. ‘I packed my things and checked out of the hotel just in case….’
Gio was already striding out of the clinic, issuing terse instructions into his phone, and Valentina struggled to catch up to him, a dart of anger piercing her insecurity. What had she been hoping for? She welcomed the anger because it had been a long time since she’d felt it for this man and it gave her the illusion that she still had a shred of control around him.
On the plane Gio made no effort to converse and stared out of his window in silence. The tension grew as the short flight wore on. Eventually Valentina couldn’t take it any more and undid her seat belt, turning to face Gio’s remote profile.
‘Gio …’ Her voice sounded unbearably husky.
She could see how his whole body tensed before he turned his head, a brow arched in polite enquiry. Valentina wanted to thump him.
Instead she drew up all her coura
ge. ‘Is there something …’ She stopped and cursed. He was so damn intimidating like this.
‘Is there something wrong? You’ve … barely said two words to me since …’ She gulped and forged on. ‘Since we left the castello the other morning.’
For a split second Valentina thought she saw something unbearably bleak flash in Gio’s eyes but it was gone. She had to have imagined it.
Gio sighed audibly and Valentina felt a shiver of trepidation.
‘I don’t think we should see each other again.’
‘You don’t.’ Valentina’s entire body seemed to go hot and then cold all over. Icy cold.
‘Do you?’ That brow was raised again, like a polite enquiry. As if he wasn’t experiencing the same nuclear fallout that seemed to be happening in her body. Valentina had to concentrate on what he’d asked and when she registered how he was looking at her so dispassionately, just waiting for an answer, she blurted out, ‘No!’
She flushed, ‘I mean, yes … I think that’s a good idea. After all … there’s nothing …’
Valentina stopped; she was feeling very light-headed, breathless. Pain was blooming in her chest and Gio was saying from somewhere distant, ‘There is nothing. I think it’s for the best. You have your job to get on with. After the Corretti Cup getting work should be the least of your worries. My aunt won’t stand in your way again.’
Somehow Valentina thought she managed to get out something that sounded like, ‘Yes … thank you …’
The previous couple of weeks flashed through her head, the way Gio had stepped into her life and so comprehensively turned it around. He’d felt obligated; he’d felt the yoke of history heavy around his neck. And he’d desired her. But it was all over now. Finished. Duty and obligation had been seen to and delivered. There was nothing left. A small voice mocked her—since when had she wanted anything else? Anything more?
Then the air steward was interrupting them and telling them they’d be landing in a few minutes. Blindly Valentina found her belt buckle and fastened it. The click seemed to reverberate around her head and she looked out the window as the familiar Sicilian landscape rushed up to meet them and kept telling herself, Breathe, just keep breathing.
Once the plane had landed and they were on the tarmac Gio turned to Valentina. A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘One of my assistants will take you to get your car at the racetrack. You can let him know when you wish to return to Naples and he’ll arrange for your flight.’
Pride stiffened Valentina’s spine and to her everlasting relief she felt strong enough to say, ‘I can take a scheduled flight, Gio, you don’t have to—’
He slashed a hand through the air, making her flinch minutely. And then he cursed softly. ‘Just … don’t argue, Valentina, please. Take my plane.’
Valentina felt like childishly stamping her foot and demanding why the hell he cared if she went by his plane or not when he clearly never wanted to lay eyes on her again. But just then his phone rang and he lifted it to his ear, not taking his eyes off Valentina, as if daring her to defy him. ‘Pronto? ’
As Valentina watched she saw Gio’s face turn ashen. He said faintly, ‘I’ll be right there.’
Impulsively she reached out a hand, scared. ‘Gio, what is it?’
He was distracted, looking for his assistant, who came running before turning back to Valentina. ‘It’s Misfit, he’s been taken ill.’
‘Oh, Gio …’ Her throat constricted and all anger drained away. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
Gio stopped for a moment and looked at her, his assistant hovering nearby, and then he just said with chilling finality, ‘No, there’s nothing you can do. Goodbye, Valentina.’
And then he’d turned and was walking to his low sports car nearby. He swung into the vehicle and with a muted roar was gone. The assistant approached Valentina and took her small case out of numb fingers. ‘Ms Ferranti? If you’d like to follow me?’
Two days later Valentina was returning on Gio’s private plane to Sicily in the early evening. She’d delivered her mother’s clothes and supplies from home. Her father was gaining strength every day and, in all honesty, Valentina knew she hadn’t seen him look better in years. What Gio had done, with such effortless ease, had ensured a renewed lease of life to her parents that they could never have attained on their own.
Gio. Valentina felt numb when she thought of him. She still had to clear her things out of the accommodation at the racetrack but felt too weary to think about it straightaway. Her heart clenched when she remembered how ashen Gio had gone on hearing that Misfit was ill. For the first time Valentina realised fully how no one had been there for Gio after Mario died; Mario had been his only, closest friend. A friendship and trust that had been hard won, and which had encompassed her too, once.
When the plane landed Valentina went to her car which was parked in the car park. She sat in it for a long time before making a decision.
When she approached the closed and unfriendly looking gates of Gio’s castello about thirty minutes later she cursed her impetuosity. A guard approached from an artfully hidden small Portakabin she hadn’t noticed before.
‘Can I help you?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I’d like to see Signor Corretti, please.’
‘Is he expecting you?’
Valentina stuttered, her bravado failing her, ‘N-no, but if you tell him it’s Valentina Ferranti …’ Then he’ll tell them that he absolutely doesn’t want to see you, a voice mocked in her head.
Valentina shivered when the security guard disappeared again. She now had an inkling of what it would be like to be on the other side of Gio’s afffections, and just how much she’d taken his attention for granted.
A long minute later the guard returned and opened the gate saying, ‘He’s at the stables.’
‘Thank you.’ Valentina shifted her gears awkwardly as nerves suddenly gripped her. What was she doing here with some misguided notion that she could somehow comfort Gio when he might need it? You didn’t worry about his well-being seven years ago, her inner conscience mocked her.
Valentina pushed down all the nerves and voices. She owed Gio at least the courtesy of seeing how Misfit was doing. She knew how much the horse meant to him. She pulled up behind some other cars parked near the stable courtyard and got out.
Dusk was falling but she could see light spilling from the main stables and went towards it. When she entered it took a minute for her to see that Gio had his back to her. He was on his haunches at the entrance to one of the stalls. His back looked impossibly broad as it tapered down to those narrow hips. Hesitantly she went forward and wasn’t prepared for when Gio’s voice, sounding harsh and husky, said, ‘What are you doing here, Valentina?’
CHAPTER TEN
‘I …’ THE WORDS FROZE in Valentina’s throat as Gio stood up and turned around. He looked wild. Unshaven, bleary eyed. His hair was mussed up. He looked as if he hadn’t been to bed since she’d last seen him.
She swallowed. ‘I was concerned. I wanted to know how Misfit was doing.’
Gio wiped his hands with a towel and threw it down on the ground, then he stepped back and gestured with a hand. ‘See for yourself, he’s dying. The vet is coming back in an hour to administer the final shot to put him out of his misery.’
Valentina could feel the blood draining from her face. She moved closer to see the huge majestic horse lying on his side with his eyes closed. His whole body was sheened with sweat and his breaths were impossibly shallow.
Eyes huge, she looked at Gio and whispered, ‘What happened?’
Gio’s voice was sterile, clipped. ‘A virus, a very rare virus. It gets into a horse’s brain and induces paralysis among other things. The horse sinks into a coma and dies within a couple of days. There’s no cure.’
‘Gio … I’m so sorry.’
‘Why? It’s not your fault.’
Valentina winced when she was hurtled back in time to the graveyard when she’d told Gio it was his fault
that Mario had died. Never more than at this moment did she have a full understanding of the pain she’d caused with her grief and anger. Guilt, bitter and acrid, rose upwards.
‘Gio …’ Her throat ached. ‘I’m so sorry … about everything.’
Gio looked at her, his eyes burning in his face. With that uncanny prescience that he seemed to have around her, he knew exactly what she meant. His grim smile did little to raise Valentina’s spirits.
‘Once … I wanted nothing more than to hear you say that. To know that you possibly didn’t despise the very air I breathed.’
The ache in her throat got worse. Valentina shook her head. ‘I don’t despise … you, the air you breathe.’
‘It’s too late, Valentina.’ He gestured towards his horse. ‘Don’t you see? It’s all too late. Everything turns to dust in the end—it’s all completely futile.’
Tears pricked Valentina’s eyes now to see the bleak despair on Gio’s face. ‘No, Gio, it’s not all futile, it’s not. It’s terrible that Misfit is dying and I wish he wasn’t but he’s had a wonderful life with you.’
Gio laughed curtly. ‘Just like Mario had a wonderful life until it was snatched out of his hands.’
Valentina reached out a hand but Gio backed away, rigid with tension. He put his hands up as if to ward her off.
Slowly he lowered his hands back down. ‘Do you know that I’ve slowly begun to believe that what happened that night wasn’t all my fault? That it was just a tragic accident.’
He shook his head. ‘We’d finished with the horses and were calling it a night. I still had plenty of time to get Mario home … but then he saw Black Star, loose in the paddock. Mario started to plead again, just for one attempt to ride him, to see if he could possibly have the magic touch….’
Valentina’s heart was breaking in two in her chest. ‘Gio …’
But he wasn’t listening to her, or was ignoring her. ‘I wasn’t going to let him. I said no and walked to the stables with Misfit. When I got back outside, Mario was putting a saddle on Black Star … I could see the stallion was already edgy. I told Mario to leave it alone … but he wouldn’t listen. He’d swung up onto his back before I could stop him, and Black Star went berserk. He jumped the paddock fence but his back leg got caught. Mario went down and Black Star landed on him, crushing him before I could get to him. The damned horse just got up and walked away, dragging Mario behind him until I could get to him and free him … but it was too late.’