thing,’ she checked. ‘Will you be coming back to the same hotel on Sunday night?’
He was about to say no, but then remembered that Bella was to be a bridesmaid at the wedding that wasn’t taking place.
No doubt she would be busy mopping up Sophie’s tears.
‘Yes,’ Matteo said. ‘For one night.’
Oh, he could have flown out of Bordo Del Cielo early on the Monday morning and still made his flight to Dubai, but there was safety in distance and he needed that distance from Bella.
He hung up the phone and told himself he didn’t care about Bella. She had chosen that life, he reminded himself.
He had emptied not just his wallet that night, he had given her his heart, he had promised to take care of her, and she had thrown it all in his face.
Yes, he accepted her mother had been ill and that would account for her not being at the airport.
It didn’t account for later, though.
Was it male pride that had let her walk off?
Was it her shameful past that had kept them apart?
It wasn’t love he had found that night, it had been sex, that was all, he tried to tell himself.
Good sex.
But, no, he’d had plenty of that since then.
What had it been about that night that clung to him? A night that was as present as a damp cloud, seeping into everything, ensuring nothing was as bright or as clear as it had been then.
She was still beautiful, still slender and just as beguiling.
He wanted her.
Not just again. Matteo wanted Bella in his life.
No matter the others.
But, no, it wasn’t just his ego and male pride that held him back.
She didn’t want scrutiny and yet the press would make mincemeat of her, Matteo well knew.
They had a strange fascination with the dark, good-looking Italian who dated London’s elite. It didn’t quite sit right with them so they did their best to expose his past in any way they could.
They would expose hers, that much Matteo knew.
She would be named and shamed at every turn, her picture plastered everywhere, her mother’s past played out, and there would not be a thing that Matteo could do about it.
Bella had struggled just to get through breakfast today. Imagine dropping her right into his world and the poison that would await.
He had to forget her, yet that one night stretched for a lifetime. One night with so many fragments, so many pieces, like little stars dropped into thoughts and dreams.
He could not fight it.
Yes, he had dreamt about it, recalled it in his sleep.
Now, awake, finally he allowed himself to fully remember. To recall in detail a time that, though long buried, refused to be laid to rest.
What he could not know was now, on the night before they returned to the town they had grown up in, Bella, who was making her friend’s wedding gown, had put the garment down in her lap and stared unseeing as she recalled the beautiful and painful memories too.
Five years ago
THE PACKED COURTROOM smelt of wood oil, anticipation and fear.
The trial was over and the verdicts were about to come in and Bella looked down at her hand, which was holding Sophie’s.
She had nails now.
Not long nails but they looked like tiny new moons on the ends of her fingers and that was what hope looked like, Bella thought.
With Malvolio behind bars, Matteo was in charge of the hotel, and under new management it had thrived.
Oh, she still worked long hours but there were two meal breaks now for the staff, with food provided. Hot chocolate and rolls for breakfast and usually pasta and sauce for lunch or supper, depending on the shift you were working. Louanna, the chef, would save a serving for Bella, which she would take home to her mother.
And so, instead of arriving home drained, hungry and exhausted, Bella would come home tired but, having warmed her mother’s meal, there was still enough left in her tank to take out her sewing.
Matteo had said that the maids could keep their tips, which meant that the maids worked harder.
That was hope.
Bella could now buy fabric and she’d had her scissors sharpened.
She was starting to see a way out of the life she had been born into but, as she sat in the courtroom, Bella knew all that could end today.
‘It will be okay,’ she said to her friend as Luka stood to hear his fate.
It had to be okay. Luka had only returned to Bordo Del Cielo to break off his engagement with Sophie—the woman that he had been promised to since childhood.
Yet a police raid that evening, six months ago, had seen Luka, Malvolio and Paulo arrested.
Now he stood on trial for the sins of his father.
Surely, Bella thought, the judge would have seen that Luka had had nothing to do with Malvolio’s dealings.
Bella let out a breath as Luka stood. As nervous as she was about the result, her eyes flicked, as they did all too often, to Matteo Santini.
His beautiful face was expressionless.
Matteo’s suit was, as always, immaculate. Despite the heat in the courtroom his jacket was on and his tie beautifully knotted—not even the top button of his shirt was undone.
He looked as relaxed and vaguely bored as he might if he were waiting for a movie to start, Bella thought. One could never guess, if they didn’t know, that he was waiting for the verdict about to be delivered on his closest friend.
Then again, Bella thought, was Matteo really close to anyone?
His dark eyes drifted around the room and came to rest on Sophie but then they moved to Bella and for a small second their gazes locked.
She blushed as she always did whenever Matteo was near, or when at work he had rare occasion to speak with her.
Not that he noticed, for already his eyes had left hers and had moved back to watch the verdict.
* * *
‘Luka Romano Cavaliere—non colpevole.’
