“Getting dressed.”
She yawned, stretching her arms. “Is the baby awake?”
“No, not yet.”
He thought of how he’d quoted love poetry last night, and he felt sick. It didn’t mean anything, he told himself. A man could not be held to account for what he might say in the arms of a beautiful woman.
But he knew what was really happening. Why he’d slept in her arms last night better than he ever had before. And that he must not—could not—let it happen. Because the moment he relaxed, the moment he surrendered to emotional weakness, everything would crumble beneath his feet.
Stay in control, he ordered himself, clenching his hands at his sides. You feel nothing.
“Stefano?”
“I have to go,” he said flatly.
“What?” She sat up in bed, looking shocked. “Go where?”
“I must return to Paris to start the search for Mercurio’s new designer. And then London, to see if I can convince Fenella Montfort to sell her shares.”
But even as he spoke, he knew there was no way to buy Zacco now. Not unless he sold everything he owned outright, and maybe not even then. The woman had made it clear she had no desire to sell.
But Stefano had to give Tess some reason for his departure, and he couldn’t explain the real reason. Not when he barely understood it himself.
“Oh.” Tess looked down at her body, still covered by the luxurious cotton sheets. She gave him a forced, cheerful smile. “I guess it was silly of me to think we could stay in Sicily forever. Of course not. You run a billion-dollar conglomerate. So when do we leave?”
“I’m leaving now.” He paused. “You and Esme will remain.”
“What?” She clutched the sheet higher, over her naked body that just hours before had been hot and tangled beneath his own. “No!”
“You will do as I tell you.” He couldn’t bear to look at her beautiful, anguished face. Turning away, he stuffed a few more things in his suitcase.
“This is because I told you I love you, isn’t it?” Tess’s voice trembled. “I knew this would happen! I knew it!”
Stefano looked away. Outside, he could see the hills leading to a pink horizon over the distant Mediterranean and, beyond that, Africa. Without a word, he pulled on a crisp white shirt and tucked it into his trousers. Sitting in a nearby chair, he laced up his black leather shoes.
“Please, Stefano,” she whispered. “Just talk to me.”
His stomach tightened, but he forced himself to face her.
Tess’s hands were clasped, her thick black eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks.
Dawn broke, and sunlight flooded the bedroom from the east-facing windows, frosting Tess’s beautiful face with warm golden light. As their eyes locked, he felt strangely vulnerable. And no wonder. He’d never revealed so much of his heart to any other living soul.
Just that thought made the world start to spin again and that sick feeling rise in his chest.
“I just have to go.” He looked away. “I will return in a few days. When I do...” He set his jaw. “We’ll talk.”
“Stefano, don’t go,” she whispered. “Please.”
Stefano felt a hard, rough twist in his chest at the pain in her voice. He crushed his feelings just as he’d been trained to do. Snapping the small suitcase shut, he kissed her forehead, then left without another word and without looking back.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.