raged through his veins. He loathed his father’s assumptions and the way he dictated his life, and he told him so.
‘I live in London,’ he shouted. ‘I date models now, glamorous, sophisticated women, not some peasant that you have chosen for me.’
‘I have to go to a meeting,’ Malvolio hissed. ‘We will speak of this when I return.’
Luka said nothing, standing bruised and bleeding and a bit breathless as his father picked up his car keys and stormed out.
He headed up to his old bedroom and stripped off his shirt then went into his bathroom and examined the damage.
There was bruising to his ribcage and on his shoulder where it had met the wall. An old gash above his eyes had opened up and probably needed stitching.
Not now, though.
For now he would patch himself up and then head to the airport. He might call Matteo and ask if he wanted to meet for a drink but they would meet at the airport.
He was done with Bordo Del Cielo.
Sophie.
As he splashed cold water on his face he thought of her.
Yes, this would be hell for her, Luka knew that and it didn’t sit right with him. Perhaps before he left for good he should go and speak with Paulo and maybe Sophie too.
He pressed his bloodied shirt over his eye and went into his suitcase to find a fresh one. He hadn’t unpacked. Luka hadn’t even been back home for an hour before the argument had started.
He heard a knock at the door but ignored it.
Angela could get it, but then he remembered that she was at church.
There was another knock but more loudly this time, and Luka headed down the stairs and opened the door.
The breath that had just returned after his father had knocked it out of him stilled inside Luka now.
His voice, when it finally came, was low and curious, and even though he said but one word there was a slight huskiness.
‘Sophie?’
He was struggling to meet her eyes. In the argument that had just taken place, as he had attempted to wrestle back his life from his father’s control, things had been said about Sophie.
Things she did not deserve.
It had been said in the heat of the moment. Vile words in a vile row and Luka could taste bitterness along with blood in his mouth.
Now, though, as finally he looked at her, there was a pleasant silence. No other thoughts other than this moment.
Her eyes were the same, yet more knowing. Her mouth was full and she was wearing a little make-up.
Her hair was thicker and longer.
And her body—he could not help but briefly look down. The skinny teenager he remembered had left and in her place stood a very beautiful woman.
One whose heart he was about to break.
‘LUKA?’ SOPHIE FROWNED. ‘I didn’t think you were getting here till Wednesday.’
‘There was a change of plan.’
‘What happened?’ Sophie asked.
‘I decided to fly home earlier—’
‘I meant to your face.’
‘It’s just a cut,’ Luka said. ‘An old cut that opened up.’
‘The bruises are new,’ Sophie pointed out, and he gave a pale smile.
‘My father,’ he admitted.
Sophie didn’t really know what to say to that so she cleared her throat and got back to the reason she was standing at the door.
‘I just had a message from Pino. Your father said I was to come here. That it was important.’
‘I can guess why,’ Luka said. No doubt his father had thought that one look at Sophie and he would change his mind. Well, he wasn’t that shallow. He saw her frown as he explained things a little better. ‘I think my father wanted us to be alone.’
‘Oh.’
‘You know how manipulative he can be,’ Luka said.
She didn’t answer. Everyone might think that of Malvolio but no one would ever dare to say it.
‘Come in, Sophie.’ He held open the door and after a moment’s hesitation she stepped inside. ‘We need to talk.’ She followed him through to the kitchen, her eyes taking in his back and wide shoulders, and she felt very small and not in a nice way.
He was so glossy, so sophisticated, he was everything that she wasn’t.
Of course he wouldn’t want her.
And now, from the little he had said, and the way he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, Sophie guessed she was about to be told that.
Yes, she had her doubts about the engagement—yes, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get married—but it felt very different from being told to your face that you weren’t wanted.
‘I just need to sort out this cut,’ Luka said. ‘Take a seat.’
She didn’t.
‘I don’t know where Angela keeps the first-aid kit,’ Luka continued as he went through the cupboards. ‘Here it is.’ Sophie watched as he pulled out a small first-aid kit and even smiled as his long fingers tried to open a sticking plaster while holding the shirt over his eye.
‘It needs more than a plaster,’ Sophie said. ‘You need a doctor to stitch it.’
‘I’ll get it sutured tomorrow if it needs it,’ Luka said. ‘In London.’
He looked up and caught her eye but she didn’t respond to his opening.
She’d damn well make him say it, Sophie decided.
‘I’ll do it,’ Sophie said, because it really was a nasty cut. She took out the scissors then cut the sticking plaster into thin strips onto the kitchen bench, and as she did so Luka spoke.
‘You look well.’
Sophie gave a wry smile. At least he had got to see her in her beautiful dress, she thought with slight relish. She knew she looked her very best and it was a rather nice thing to know when you were about to be dumped.
Let him think she ran around on a Sunday in coral chiffon with lip gloss and jewellery...
And
