She could also see the torment of those dark memories in the lines etched into his face.
She’d witnessed his horrific nightmares. Instinctively she reached out towards him. ‘Ciro, I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen—’
He lifted his hand to stop her words. ‘Basta. Enough. My investigative team haven’t ruled out your involvement with your uncle. You do know you could be prosecuted for this?’
She went pale again—white as parchment. ‘Ciro, please, you have to listen to me... I knew nothing. I was as much a victim as you were. I loved you so much... I was terrified of what my uncle might do. I had no choice.’
Ciro’s expression turned to one of disgust. ‘You loved me? You go too far, Lara.’ He continued, ‘If what you say is true—and I’ll verify that myself—how do you explain not telling me all this when we met again?’
She swallowed. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me—and apparently I was right.’
Ciro’s expression got even darker. ‘Not good enough. The truth is that you colluded with your uncle in sending me a message to stay away from you. You could have just told me you didn’t want to marry me—you didn’t have to go to such dramatic lengths.’
Lara realised that further defence would be futile. She said, ‘Do you remember I asked you if you loved me, that day in the hospital?’
A flash of irritation crossed Ciro’s face. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘I did want to tell you everything. In spite of my uncle’s threats...in spite of the kidnapping... I believed that somehow you’d be able to fight him. But when I knew you didn’t feel the same for me as I felt for you, I believed there was no point in risking your life.’
He looked at her for such a long moment that Lara almost believed for a second that she might have got through—but then he said in a toneless voice, ‘I’ve heard enough, Lara. Enough to last a lifetime. This marriage is over—we’re done. I want you to leave today. Right now. I’ll organise getting you on a flight back to the UK. If you leave with no fuss I’ll consider not pressing charges. To be perfectly frank you’re not worth the legal hassle or the headlines. Now, get out of my sight.’
A numbness was spreading from Lara’s heart outwards to every extremity. She moved jerkily away from Ciro, towards the door. When she got there she stopped and turned around. Ciro was staring at her with such disgust on his face that she almost balked.
She grabbed the door knob to try and stay standing. ‘I love you, Ciro. I always have. I did what I thought was best for you and it almost killed me. The last two years have been purgatory. I won’t apologise for loving you, whether you choose to believe me or not. And I’m sorry I had to lie to you.’
She left then, before he could say anything caustic. He didn’t love her. He’d never loved her, and this was the final lethal blow.
* * *
It all happened with military precision. Staff came and helped her to pack, but she insisted on taking just a small case with the belongings she’d arrived with. A car was waiting to take her to JFK, and she was on-board a flight within a few hours.
She’d had to leave Hero behind, as the dog didn’t have documentation, and Lara hadn’t seen Ciro before she left, so she wasn’t even sure he’d still been there. But one thing was certain. She’d never see him again.
* * *
The following evening Ciro sat in the back of his car as it inched its way down Fifth Avenue towards Central Park and his house. His heart was beating a little too fast and he had to modulate his breathing. It was at times like this that he felt most claustrophobic—when he cursed the kidnappers for doing what they had to him, so that no matter how strong he was mentally he still felt a residue of fear that clung to him like a toxic tentacle whenever he was in a small confined space.
He hated it that he couldn’t just ease his sense of claustrophobia by jumping out of the car to walk, because he’d spark a massive security alert.
The thought occurred to him that when Lara had been in the back of the car with him he hadn’t noticed the claustrophobia as much. He’d been too distracted by her. He scowled at that.
Since the revelations of yesterday, and Lara’s departure, he’d been existing in a kind of fog. He couldn’t recollect what he’d done today, exactly. The puppy had barked pitifully that morning and Ciro had let her out into the garden, where she’d sniffed around disconsolately in between directing accusatory looks his way.
For a man who was used to thinking clearly he was beyond irritated that he was still thinking of her.
Whether or not it was true that she hadn’t colluded with her uncle, she’d known about the kidnapping the day she’d come to him at the hospital. He would never forget the blasé way she’d dropped her bombshell that day. When he’d been lying there, beaten and battered. Because of her! She’d had her chance and she’d said nothing.
Last night had been the first night he’d spent alone in his bed in weeks. He’d had the nightmare again—except this time he hadn’t woken to the cooling touch of Lara’s hand or her tempting body. He’d woken sweating, tangled in the sheets, his voice hoarse from shouting. And this time the dream had been slightly different—it had been one moment, repeated over and over. The moment they’d ripped Lara out of his arms and opened the van door to dump her outside.
Her voice drifted into his head then: ‘Do you remember I asked you if you loved me?’ He did, actually. He shifted in his seat now, feeling uncomfortable. He did recall it, and he also recalled the feeling of panic that had gripped him.
Love.
He remembered thinking of his father and his slavish devotion to his unfaithful wife, how it had disgusted him. If that was love then, no, he didn’t feel that. But there had been something almost desperate on Lara’s face and so he’d made some platitude.
What about the terror you felt when she was taken from you by the kidnappers? In that moment you thought you loved her.
Ciro shifted uncomfortably again. He’d always put that surge of emotion down to the extreme circumstances.
His staff had informed him that her flight had left on time yesterday. She’d be back in the UK now. She could be anywhere. For the first time in two years he didn’t have tabs on her.
Before the car had even come to a standstill outside his house Ciro got out, not liking the panicky feeling in his gut. He went inside, dropping his things, and the puppy sped across the tiled floor towards him, yapping. It was quickly followed by the housekeeper, apologising profusely. Ciro picked Hero up and waved away the apology.
Feeling restless, he climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. He stood outside Lara’s door for a long moment, and then an image of his father came into his head and he scowled and pushed the door open.
It had been tidied, and the bed remade. It was as if she’d never been there. But he could still smell her scent in the air. Lemon and roses.
He put the puppy down on the bed, where she promptly curled up and went to sleep.
Ciro went to the
