Serena’s chest was tight with some unnamed emotion. The dark forest around them made her feel as if nothing existed outside of this place.
Hesitantly, she finally said, ‘I wasn’t addicted to Class A drugs...I’ve never taken a recreational drug in my life.’ She tried to block out the doubtful gleam in Luca’s eyes. ‘But I was addicted to prescription medication. And to alcohol. And I’ll never touch either again.’
Luca finally moved back and frowned. Serena felt as if she could breathe again. Until he asked, ‘How did you get addicted to medication?’
Serena’s insides curdled. This came far too close to that dark memory and all the residual guilt and fear that had been a part of her for so long. At best Luca was mildly curious; at worst he hated her. She had no desire to seek his sympathy, but a rogue part of her wanted to knock his assumptions about her a little.
‘I started taking prescribed medication when I was five.’
Luca’s frown deepened. ‘Why? You were a child.’
His clear scepticism made Serena curse herself for being so honest. This man would never understand if she was to tell him the worst of it all. So she feigned a lightness she didn’t feel and fell back on the script that her father had written for her so long ago that she couldn’t remember normal.
She gave a small shrug and avoided that laser-like gaze. ‘I was difficult. After my mother died I became hard to control. By the time I was twelve I had been diagnosed with ADHD and had been on medication for years. I became dependent on it—I liked how it made me feel.’
Luca sounded faintly disgusted. ‘And your father...he sanctioned this?’
Pain gripped Serena. He’d not only sanctioned it, he’d made sure of it. She shrugged again, feeling as brittle as glass, and smiled. But it was hard. She forced herself to look at Luca. ‘Like I said, I was hard to control. Wilful.’
Disdain oozed from Luca. ‘Why are you so certain you’re free of the addiction now?’
She tipped her chin up unconsciously. ‘When my sister and I left Italy, after my father...’ She stalled, familiar shame coursing through her blood along with anger. ‘When it all fell apart we went to England. I checked into a rehab facility just outside London. I was there for a year. Not that it’s any business of yours,’ she added, immediately regretting her impulse to divulge so much.
Luca’s expression was indecipherable as he stood up, and he pointed out grimly, ‘I think our personal history makes it my business. You need to prove to me you can be trusted—that you will not be a drain on resources and the energy of everyone around you.’
Boots on, Serena stood up in agitation, her jaw tight with hurt and anger. She held up a hand. ‘Whoa—judgemental, much? And you base this on your vast knowledge of ex-addicts?’
His narrow-minded view made Serena see red. She put her hands on her hips.
‘Well?’
Tension throbbed between them as they glared at each other for long seconds. And then Luca bit out, ‘I base it on an alcoholic mother who makes checking in and out of rehab facilities a recreational pastime. That’s how I have a unique insight into the addict’s mind. And when she’s not battling the booze or the pills she’s chasing her next rich conquest to fund her lifestyle.’
Serena felt sick for a moment at the derision in his voice. The evidence of just how personal his judgement was appeared entrenched in bitter experience.
Luca stepped back. ‘We should eat.’
Serena’s anger dissipated as she watched Luca turn away abruptly to light the camping stove near the fire. She reeled with this new knowledge of his own experience. And reeled at how much she’d told him of herself with such little prompting. She felt relieved now that she hadn’t spilled her guts entirely.
No wonder he’d come down on her like a ton of bricks and believed the worst. Still...it didn’t excuse him. And she told herself fiercely that she didn’t feel a tug of something treacherous at the thought of him coping with an alcoholic parent. After all, she still bore the guilt of her sister having to deal with her.
Suddenly, in light of that conversation, she felt too raw to sit in Luca’s company and risk that insightful mind being turned on her again. And fatigue was creeping over her like a relentless wave.
‘Don’t prepare anything for me. I’m not feeling hungry. I think I’ll turn in now.’
Luca looked up at her from over his shoulder. He seemed to bite back whatever he was going to say and shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
Serena grabbed her backpack and went into the tent, relieved to see that it was more spacious inside than she might have imagined. She could only do a basic toilette, and after taking off her boots and rolling out her sleeping bag carefully on one side of the tent she curled up and dived into the exhausted sleep of oblivion.
Anything to avoid thinking about the man who had comprehensively turned her world upside down in the last thirty-six hours and come far too close to where she still had so much locked away.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Luca heard movement from the tent and his whole body tensed. When he’d turned in last night Serena had been curled up in a ball inside her sleeping bag, some long hair trailing in tantalising golden strands around her head, her breathing deep and even. And once again he’d felt the sting of his conscience at knowing she’d gone to bed with no food, and her feet rubbed raw from new boots.
What she’d told him the previous evening had shocked him. She’d been taking medication since she was a child. Out of control even then. It was so at odds with the woman she seemed to be now that he almost couldn’t believe it.
She’d sounded defiant when she’d told him that she’d been addicted by the age of twelve. Something inside him had recoiled with disgust at the thought. It was one thing to have a mother who was an addict as an adult. But a child?
Serena had given him the distinct impression that even then she’d known what she was doing and had revelled in it. But even as he thought that, something about the way she’d said it niggled at him. It didn’t sit right.
Was she telling the truth?
Why would she lie after all this time? an inner voice pointed out. And if she hadn’t ever done recreational drugs then maybe she really hadn’t planted them on him that night... He didn’t like the way the knowledge sank like a stone in his belly.
The crush and chaos of the club that night came back to him and a flash of a memory caught him unawares: Serena’s hand slipping into his. He’d looked down at her and she’d been wide-eyed, her face pale. That had been just before the Italian police had separated them roughly and searched them.
The memory mocked him now. He’d always believed that look to have been Serena’s guilt and pseudo-vulnerability, knowing what she’d just done. But if it hadn’t been guilt it had been something far more ambiguous. It made him think of her passionate defence when he’d questioned her trustworthiness. And why on earth did that gnaw at him now? Making him feel almost guilty?
The flaps of the tent moved and the object of his thoughts emerged, blinking in the dawn light. She’d pulled her hair up into a bun on top of her head, and when that blue gaze caught his, Luca’s insides tightened. He cursed her silently—and himself for bringing her here and putting questions into his head.
For possibly being innocent of the charges he’d levelled against her.
She straightened up and her gaze was wary. ‘Morning.’
Her voice was sleep-rough enough to tug forcibly at Luca’s simmering