her car, her head high, her slender back straight.
And that’s how he’d remembered her. Cool, elegant, an ice maiden. But that wasn’t the woman before him now.
“Where have you been, Lucio?” Ana’s voice sounded uncertain and her unblinking eyes held his.
“On a trip.”
Her uncertain smile faded, as did some of the joy from her eyes. “You said you’d never leave me.”
He frowned, puzzled. “We agreed—”
“To be together,” she interrupted fiercely, finishing the sentence for him. And her expression darkened for a moment before she struggled to smile once more. Lucio could feel her struggle. She was trying to make it light between them but on the inside she was hurt. Angry.
“I’m here now,” he answered, unable to think of anything else to say even as his mind raced. She’d been the one to send him away, but that didn’t matter now. He could see that Ana was confused and he felt the urge to protect her, shield her, from memories that hurt. “Everything will be fine now.”
But her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, biting her lip. “It’s too late,” she said sadly.
“What’s too late?”
She hunched her shoulders and her body quivered. “They’ve done terrible things, Lucio. Things I can’t even tell you.”
His heart faltered. And then he remembered the doctor’s caution, the warning that Ana wasn’t herself, and that her memory wasn’t what it’d once been.
She must be talking about the illness, he reassured himself. No one had harmed her. He might not like her family, but they loved Ana. Dante loved Ana.
“Of course you can tell me,” he said gently. “You tell me everything. You always have.” Once, he silently corrected. Once you told me everything. Once we were as close as two people could be. But that was long ago and it’d been years since they were so open, so free, so hungry together.
“You told me to wait at the café. I waited and waited but you never came. What happened? I was so afraid and then my mother’s people came and they brought me home.”
He didn’t know what to say.
There was only one time when they were separated, forcibly separated, and that was years ago. That episode was the darkest point in his life, the point where all seemed lost.
She took a step away and her hands went to the pockets of her jeans. “Do you know what it’s like to be left? To be abandoned in the middle of the night?” Her rigid shoulders drew her white cotton blouse taut. She still had such a beautiful body, her breasts round and full, her torso lean, her hips curved beneath the faded denim. “I felt so lost, so confused. And I’ve been waiting for you ever since. Waiting for you to come find me again.”
But he had found her again. He’d found her three and a half years ago and they’d moved here, and later married, but their happiness hadn’t lasted. It hadn’t worked the first time. And it hadn’t worked the second, either. Their passion, their attraction couldn’t handle the brunt of reality.
Yet that was all water under the bridge. Clearly she didn’t remember anything since that terrible night five years ago.
“You said you’d be there for me,” she whispered, eyes blazing now, furious. Accusing. “You lied to me. You weren’t there when I needed you most.”
“I’m here now.”
Her brilliant green gaze held his, and she searched his eyes, her full lips pressed into a mutinous line. He didn’t know what she was searching for. He didn’t know what she hoped to find.
“Are you going to stay?” she asked at length.
The air felt bottled in his lungs. “As long as you want me to stay.”
“I want you to stay forever.”
The innocence of her answer, the childlike honesty, made him ache. His chest burned, his heart felt as if it were on fire. She was torturing him.
She’d been the one to send him away, he heard a voice protest inside his head. She’d been the one that wanted the divorce. Insisted on the divorce.
But that didn’t matter now, he silently argued. Right now she needed him. And that was all that mattered.
She grabbed the lapel of his leather coat between her hands. “Look at me,” she commanded, staring up into his face, her eyes almost feverishly bright. “Look me in the eye and promise me that you’ll stay.”
He leaned over, kissed the top of her glossy head. “I’m staying, Ana.” He whispered the words in her ear. “I promise.”
Lucio became conscious that they were still standing on the front steps of the villa with Renaldo. A woman in a white uniform hovered on the other side of the door. Everything was so public, he thought. Nothing was ever private anymore.
“Now can I come in, Ana?” he asked, tipping her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Will you let me come inside, and take my coat off, and just be with you?”
Ana’s heart melted at the warm intensity in Lucio’s dark eyes. This was the way he used to look at her, this was the way he used to love her. With so much passion. And so much conviction. This was the Lucio who was going to take her away.
“Yes.” She slid her hands into his, happiest when touching him. “Come inside, but I warn you, this place is just the kind of house you hate.”
“It’s not so bad,” he answered, his voice almost strangled.
She saw his mouth tighten. She knew he preferred simple things and this villa was typical of the Galván’s aristocratic lifestyle. “It is. It’s pretentious. Packed with antiques and knickknacks and expensive art. But we don’t have to stay here much longer.”
He let her lead him through the long entry. “And where would we go?”
Ana wanted to shrug, answer something light and frivolous. But she didn’t feel light on the inside. She felt wild, driven. Obsessed.
“Ana?” he gently prompted.
She balled her hands into fists. “I want him back. I need him back.” Her voice dropped. “Oh Lucio, I have to get him back.”
Lucio’s brow furrowed. His dark eyes met hers. “Who, Ana? Who are you talking about?”
“The baby.”
“What baby?”
She pressed her fists to her chest, trying to contain her fear. “Our baby.”
Gingerly he reached out to touch her cheek. “Ana, there is no baby. You miscarried.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. We don’t have children.”
She hated the rush of wild emotion. “We
