A Passionate Reunion In Fiji / Cinderella's Scandalous Secret. Michelle Smart
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‘I don’t.’ At her raised, disbelieving brow, he added, ‘Not in the way I said it.’
‘You made me sound like a fishwife.’
His lips curved involuntarily at the glimmer of humour in her tone. ‘I was lashing out. Being with you…’ The fleeting smile faded away. ‘I can’t explain how it makes me feel.’
‘It just makes me feel sad,’ she admitted with a whisper. Then she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and took a deep breath. ‘When the time is right for us to file the divorce papers, I won’t be wanting a settlement.’
‘I didn’t mean it about fighting you. We can come to an—’
Her head shook. ‘No. No settlement. You’ve given me enough money since we married. I’ve hardly spent any of it. I’ve enough to buy an apartment—’
‘You were going to buy one when you went back to Rome,’ he interrupted. ‘You were supposed to let my lawyer know when you’d found somewhere.’ He’d informed his lawyer and accountant that Livia would be purchasing a home in Italy in her sole name and that funds should be made available to her when she got in touch with them about it, no questions asked. He didn’t care what she spent.
He’d specifically told them to go ahead without notifying him. He hadn’t wanted to know when she’d made that last, permanent move out of his life for reasons he couldn’t explain, not even to himself.
Massimo ran his eyes over his finances once a year when it was tax season and that was for scrutiny purposes. He would have noticed then, he supposed, that she hadn’t bought herself a home.
‘I’ve been renting my old place.’ Actually buying herself a home of her own had felt too final, Livia realised. It would have been the ultimate confirmation that their marriage was over for good.
Had she been living in denial? And if so, what had she been holding out for? Miracles didn’t exist. The cruel truth was that she and Massimo were wholly incompatible and she’d been a fool for believing differently. She’d known it when she’d left. It hadn’t stopped her heart skipping every time her phone had buzzed only to plummet when his name didn’t flash on the screen. It hadn’t flashed once since their separation.
‘Once everything’s out in the open, I’m going to go back to nursing,’ she added, fighting back a well of tears. To cry in front of him would be the final indignity.
He rested his head back against the bathroom door with a sigh. ‘You don’t need to work, Liv.’
The simple shortening of her name…oh, but it made her heart ache. Massimo was the only person in the world who’d ever shortened her name. And then he’d stopped calling her Liv and started calling her Livia like everyone else. And then he’d stopped calling her anything.
Blinking away the tears that were still desperately trying to unleash, she sniffed delicately and gave a jerky nod. ‘I need a sense of purpose. I like knowing the money in my pocket is earned by my own endeavours. I never wanted to be a kept woman.’
His throat moved before he gave his own nod. ‘At least let me buy you a home like we agreed I would. The law entitles you to much more.’
And he would give it, everything the law said she was entitled to and more. If only he were as generous with his time as he was with his money…
But those were pointless thoughts to have. Massimo was who he was, just as Livia was who she was. They’d tried. They’d failed.
She just wished she could find a way to stop her heart from hurting so much.
‘Thank you.’ Swallowing hard to dislodge the lump in her throat, she got to her feet. ‘I’ll leave you to get changed. I’m going to make myself a coffee—would you like one?’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
She smiled and left the bedroom and kept smiling as she made the coffee, smiling so hard that eventually the tears sucked themselves dry and her cheeks ached miserably in their place.
It didn’t occur to her until she was standing under the shower an hour later that this was the first real conversation she and Massimo had had that hadn’t descended to insults and recriminations in over a year.
The cloudless sky had turned deep blue, the sun a deep orange shimmering on the horizon when Livia ventured out of the chalet in search of Massimo. She found him on the wrap-around veranda drinking a bottle of beer and looking at his phone, wearing a pair of old battered jeans and a crisp white shirt, a booted foot hooked casually on his thigh.
It was the first time she’d been at the rear of their chalet and she tried hard not to let sadness fill her as she recalled poring over the architect’s designs for it, imagining all the happy times she and Massimo would spend here. This chalet had been the only part of the complex Massimo had taken a real interest in. They’d chosen to build it high on the jutting mound of earth that, when the tide was low, could be walked to along a sandy pathway created by nature at its finest. This was supposed to be their own private hideaway in their private paradise. Their horseshoe swimming pool, garden and veranda were entirely hidden from prying eyes.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to think about the sleeping arrangements that night. Their chalet only had one bed. It was a huge bed but, still, it was only the one bed. She supposed she could sleep on the sofa. Massimo’s long frame would never fit on it.
His eyes widened slightly when he looked up as she approached and he unhooked his foot and straightened.
The vain part of her bloomed to see his response. Although it was only a family meal they were going to have, she’d applied her make-up and done her hair with care. She’d been mortified to look in the mirror and see a huge smudge of mascara under her left eye.
But it wasn’t vanity that had propelled her to make an effort. It was armoury. When she looked her best it had the effect of boosting her morale and for all the unspoken truce they’d forged, her emotions were all over the place. She needed every piece of armour she could find to hold herself together.
Massimo turned his phone off and tried hard to temper the emotions crashing through him. Livia had dressed casually in a pair of tight white three-quarter-length trousers and a shimmering red strappy top that stopped at her midriff. On her feet were high, white strappy sandals that elongated her frame but did nothing to diminish her natural curves.
A lifetime ago he would have beckoned her over, put his hands on her hips and pulled her to him.
The instant awakening of his loins proved, as if it needed proving, that nothing had changed. He still wanted her with an ache he felt deep in his marrow.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he willed the thudding of his heart to steady.
‘You’re ready?’ he asked.
She nodded.
He finished his beer and got to his feet.
In silence they walked the veranda to the front of the chalet and headed to the lodge. The