Page 43 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir
‘What?’ Nico couldn’t keep from goggling at her. ‘Emma—’
‘Look, I’ve been left a lot in my life, okay? I know when things are starting to go south, and I try not to stick around. So spare me the post-mortem and I’ll be on my way—’
‘No, absolutely not.’
‘That’s what you said!’ she exclaimed, her tone turning shrill, desperate. ‘“Emma? Absolutely not.” Iheardyou, Nico.’ Her voice broke on his name and everything in him ached with remorse.
‘You might have heard those words, Emma,’ Nico said as gently as he could, ‘but you came to conclusions that were, I promise you, entirely wrong.’ He glanced at the boat, the wind picking up that was ruffling the water, and then reached for her arm.
She jerked away. ‘Don’t—’
‘Please, let’s talk about this rationally, back in the house.’ He longed to take her in his arms, but he kept himself from it, at least for now, when she would only resist. ‘I can explain everything, Emma, I promise.’
She stared at him, tears filling her eyes, one slipping down her cheek and making his heart break. He’d caused this. He’d fed into her insecurities because he’d been too proud to explain everything properly, to admit how he’d failed, by not remembering. By not keeping her safe, as he’d vowed. By not wanting to admit that his family had turned on him utterly, rejected him more than he’d ever imagined. He’d been arrogant and autocratic, he realised, just as she’d teasingly accused all those weeks ago, and all to hide his own pain—a pain he should have shared with her, instead of trying to handle it on his own.
‘Emma,’ he said softly. ‘Please.’
‘I trusted you, Nico.’ Her voice was soft and sad. ‘I—’
She stopped abruptly, and, with a thrill of hope, he wondered if she’d been going to say she loved him—as he loved her. How he’d wanted to tell her, and yet this business with Antonio had completely taken him over, body and soul. He hadn’t wanted to say the words to her until he could be sure he could keep her safe. Until their futures were secure.
Until he had no weakness to admit.
He’d told himself it made sense, but he knew now it had been nothing more than pride. Pride—just as his father had clung to his pride. Not wanting to be humiliated, to be seen as weak, the object of pity, because his own cousin had tried to kill him and was still walking free.
Gently he reached for her arm again. ‘Please, can we talk?’
After what felt like an age but was only a few seconds, Emma bit her lip and nodded. ‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘We can talk.’
He clasped her hand in his as they walked back to the villa in a silence that felt more resigned, at least on Emma’s part, than tense or angry. He wondered if he could convince her. He knew he needed to.
‘So what is there really to say?’ she asked without preamble when they were both in the villa’s drawing room, its French windows open to the terrace that looked out to the sea.
‘There is a lot to say, as it happens.’ He took a steadying breath, determined to stay reasonable. Understanding. ‘But it would help first if you’d tell me what you thought I said, on the phone. What you thought I meant.’
Her eyes filled with tears again and she blinked them back angrily. ‘Wasn’t it obvious?’
‘Not to me.’
‘You were going to divorce me. Or send me away. Or—something.’ She hunched her shoulders, folding her arms, as if she could keep out the whole world.
Nico’s heart ached for the woman before him, who had been rejected so many times she didn’t trust love when it was staring her in the face. And why should she, when he hadn’t been humble and brave enough to tell her?
‘I wasn’t, Emma,’ he said gently. ‘I had no intention of doing any of those things, because I—I love you.’
Her eyes widened and her lips parted but she said nothing, just stared at him, and so he continued, ‘I should have told you before. I wanted to, but—events overwhelmed me. Events I’ll explain in a minute. But the important thing is, the only thing really is, I love you. I realised it at the gala, watching you shine. Seeing you be the woman I’ve known you could be, the woman at my side whom I love, the woman who makes me the man I want to be. Or at least, to try. I realised it then, at the gala,’ he amended, ‘but I fell in love with you before. Not in a single moment, but over time—time that I spent with you. And I know we agreed that love was off the table, but what is love, if not this?’ His voice rose in challenge. ‘You and me together, enjoying each other’s company, caring about the other person, wanting the best for them, no matter what it is? Isn’t that love? Not some ephemeral fairy-tale feeling, but reality. Action. Fact.’
A tiny, incredulous smile quirked her mouth. ‘That was quite a speech.’
He let out a shaky laugh, because the truth was he felt incredibly vulnerable for admitting for so much, when she hadn’t said she loved him yet. Considering her actions today, maybe she wouldn’t. ‘Thank you,’ he managed. ‘I meant every word.’
Emma stared at him, unfortunately looking far from convinced. ‘Why have you ignored me for the last few days?’ she asked. ‘Shut me out, ever since the gala? And what were you talking about on the phone, if not that?’
‘I didn’t mean to ignore you,’ Nico told her. ‘Although I accept that is how it looked and felt. I was very much consumed with—a business matter.’ Some business matter, he thought, and yet even now he was reluctant to admit to her what had happened. How he had been betrayed.
Her eyebrows rose. ‘Abusinessmatter?’
‘At the gala,’ Nico confessed slowly, ‘my memory came back. From the crash.’ Emma’s eyes widened once more and he continued more resolutely, knowing he needed to be honest, ‘I remembered being on the plane. It had been deliberately sabotaged. The pilot emptied the fuel tank and then parachuted out. I confronted him before he jumped—he told me he was sorry, and that...that Antonio, my cousin, had arranged it all.’