However, he’d never thought Chloe would steal from him. But it was just one more thing to make her pay for.
His strong fingers tightened on the steering wheel and his eyes narrowed dangerously. A minute later he reached a tiny village. He slowed the car, and took the turning that led to the church. He drove a short distance along the narrow lane and then pulled up onto the grass verge, waiting for the crowd of pedestrians leaving the church to pass.
He knew that it was the day of her friend’s funeral. He’d seen to it that he had been kept very well-informed about Chloe’s actions since she walked out on him.
Suddenly he caught sight of a small figure dressed in dark grey walking unsteadily across the churchyard.
It was Chloe.
A strange sensation lodged in the pit of his stomach and he felt his heart start to beat faster. He was out of the car in an instant, ignoring the curious looks he was drawing from some of the villagers. He only had eyes for Chloe.
He strode across the churchyard towards her, the soft grass muffling his footsteps. She did not see or hear him approach, and sat completely motionless on the bench beneath the flowering cherry tree, engulfed in a private moment of sorrow.
He was about to speak but he hesitated, feeling an unaccustomed stab of uncertainty. Her eyes were closed as she wept, tears sliding silently down her white cheeks as she held a baby nestled in her arms. Her grief for her friend was so personal—he knew that his presence was an intrusion.
Suddenly she opened her eyes and stared up at him. A flash of surprise passed across her features.
‘Lorenzo.’ Her wide green eyes were luminous with tears in the warm afternoon sunshine, and her pale skin looked almost translucent. ‘Oh, God, I can’t believe you’re here.’
Hearing her say his name with such feeling sent an unexpected surge of emotion powering through his veins. He wanted to reach out and smooth the moisture from her cheeks, but instead he clamped his arms stiffly by his sides.
‘Really?’ he said, knowing his tone was harsh, especially after witnessing the depth of her grief. But the intensity of his reaction to her had caught him off guard. He wasn’t accustomed to being affected by other people’s emotional displays. ‘I thought that, by stealing my money, it was your intention to draw me out.’
‘The money…that’s why you’re here?’
Chloe looked up at him, her pulse still racing from the shock of opening her eyes and seeing Lorenzo standing there. He looked so strong and vibrant—and, despite everything, he was the most welcome sight in the world.
For a moment she let herself believe that maybe he was there because he knew she needed him—knew how sad and alone she felt. She had no doubt that he was aware of everything that had happened to her since she’d left Venice. Information was another essential currency to Lorenzo.
‘What other reason could there be?’ he said, his piercing blue eyes boring into her.
She drew in a breath, suppressing the irrational surge of disappointment that rose up within her. But really she’d known that, if Lorenzo cared for her at all, he would have come before this.
‘I’m going to pay the money back,’ she said. ‘I needed it urgently.’
‘For what?’ Lorenzo demanded. ‘What was so urgent that you couldn’t wait until you found some other way of paying? That you needed to take my money immediately and without permission?’
‘I had to pay for this,’ Chloe said, sweeping her arm around with a distracted gesture, unable to believe how cold and unfeeling he seemed. ‘My savings are gone, my credit card is maxed out. I’ve had no income for months, but I’ve been looking after Liz and…’
She stopped abruptly, suddenly wishing she hadn’t said so much. The state of her finances was none of Lorenzo’s business.
It was a shock to find herself face to face with him again, and one heartbreaking thought kept going round in her head: he had no interest in her—only in what he thought she’d taken from him. Could he really have come all this way to berate her over the comparatively small amount of money she’d spent?
‘I used the money to pay for the funeral,’ she stated bluntly. Surely even Lorenzo wasn’t so hard-hearted that he would begrudge that.
‘You should have asked me,’ he said coldly.
‘I didn’t need to ask,’ she said. ‘The account is in both our names. I never wanted to use a penny of that money, but I’m not going to apologise for it, because I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Liz deserved a proper funeral.’
Lorenzo stared down at Chloe, registering an undercurrent of uncertainty showing through her expression despite her continued defence of her actions. He knew she was still emotional, and he felt unwelcome feelings churn in his own stomach in response.
This was not what he had expected when he’d married Chloe—that three months after their wedding they would be meeting for the first time in an English churchyard and arguing over a stranger’s funeral expenses.
He’d chosen her to be his wife because he thought she’d be reliable and stable, the way she’d been as his PA. He wanted his marriage to be straightforward and uncomplicated, not like the often hysterical and unpleasant scenarios he’d witnessed growing up as his father worked his way through a string of unsuitable wives.
But nothing had worked out the way he intended. Chloe had walked out on him. Then she’d chosen not to get in touch—even when she was in financial trouble.
‘You were too proud to ask for help,’ Lorenzo said. ‘You’d sooner steal my money than talk to me.’
Chloe let out her breath with a resigned sigh and looked straight up into his eyes.
‘I didn’t think you’d let me use the money. I thought you’d freeze the account or something,’ Chloe said. ‘You didn’t really know Liz. You only met her a couple of times.’
Lorenzo swore with sudden violence. Then frowned at the baby as she started to grizzle and fuss in Chloe’s arms.
‘What kind of man do you think I am?’ he demanded angrily. ‘You truly think I’m so petty I would not pay for a funeral?’
Chloe stared up at him with wide eyes that seemed huge in her pale face, looking as startled as the baby by his loud outburst.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice sounding shaky and uncertain. ‘We might be married but it seems I don’t know you at all.’
Then she looked away, down at the baby in her arms.
‘I can’t do this now.’ She rocked Emma gently and murmured soothing words to her. ‘She’s probably hungry. It’s been a long afternoon and I need to get her back to the cottage.’
She looked small and awkward standing there, wearing an ill-fitting charcoal-grey suit that swamped her tiny frame and was pulled out of line by the baby in her arms. The unforgiving colour drained any speck of warmth from her fair complexion and her light blonde hair hung down in a shapeless curtain nearly to her shoulders.
Next to the fresh green grass and colourful pink blossom she looked starkly monochrome, almost as if she’d stepped out of a black-and-white movie—some old-fashioned, overblown melodrama.
She didn’t belong here—not like this.
The anger that had gripped Lorenzo suddenly dissipated. He had to get her away from this place. It was impossible to talk to her in the churchyard.
‘We’ll go together—just to pick up what you need,’ he said. ‘Then you’re coming with me.’
Chloe