trusted her to take the pill and, even though that method of birth control had failed, he’d trusted her enough to believe her explanation.
He’d trusted her enough to confide in her when he first took her out to Tuscany and told her things he need never have said. And then, when they’d got back to England, he’d trusted her enough to give her the key to his apartment. He might not have wooed her with words but words were cheap, weren’t they? Anyone could say stuff to please a woman and not mean it. But Renzo’s actions had demonstrated trust and regard and that was pretty amazing. It might not have been love but it came a pretty close second. And she had blown it.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the yellow blur of daffodils in the vase. She had blown it by refusing to trust him—by not lowering the defences she’d erected all those years ago, when the police had asked her questions and she’d been too frightened to tell the truth, for fear her mother would go to jail. Renzo hadn’t judged her because her mother had been an addict and he wouldn’t have judged her because she’d been a prostitute—what had made him turn away with that tight-lipped face was the fact that she’d lied to him. Again and again, she’d kept her secrets to herself.
So what was she going to do about it? She looked at the bright blue sky outside, which seemed to mock her. Stay here with the midwife on standby, while she waited for the baby to arrive? Day following day with remorse and regret and the feeling that she’d just thrown away the best thing which had ever happened to her? Or have the courage to go to Renzo. Not to plead or beg but to put her feelings on the line and tell him what she should have told him a long time ago. It might be too late for him to take her back, but surely he could find it in his heart to forgive her?
Picking up the car keys, she went to the garage and manoeuvred the car out on the lane, sucking in lots of deep and calming breaths just as they’d taught her in the prenatal relaxation classes. Because she had a very precious passenger on board and there was no way she should attempt to drive to London if she was going to drive badly.
She let out the clutch and pulled away, thinking that she should have been scared but she’d never felt so strong or so focussed. She kept her mind fixed firmly on the traffic as the country roads gave way to the city and she entered the busy streets of London, glad she was able to follow the robotic instructions of the satnav. But her hands were shaking as eventually she drew up outside the towering skyscraper headquarters of Sabatini International. She left the car by the kerb and walked into the foyer, where a security guard bustled up importantly, barring her way.
‘I’m afraid you can’t park there, miss.’
‘Oh, yes, I can. And it’s Mrs, actually—or Signora, if you prefer. My husband owns this building. So if you wouldn’t mind?’ Giving a tight smile at his goggle-eyed expression, she handed him her car keys. ‘Doing something with my car? I’d hate Renzo to get a ticket.’
She was aware of people staring at her as she headed for the penthouse lift but maybe that wasn’t surprising. Among the cool and geeky workers milling around, she guessed a heavily pregnant woman with untidy hair would be a bit of a talking point. The elevator zoomed her straight up to the thirty-second floor, where one of Renzo’s assistants must have been forewarned because she stood directly in Darcy’s path, her fixed smile not quite meeting her eyes.
‘Mrs Sabatini.’ She inclined her head. ‘I can’t let you disturb him. I’m afraid your husband is tied up right now.’
Suddenly tempted by a wild impulse to ask whether Renzo had suddenly been converted to the pleasures of bondage, Darcy looked at her and nodded, but she didn’t feel anger or irritation. The woman was only doing her job, after all. In the past she might have crumbled—gone scuttling back downstairs with a request that Renzo contact her when he had a free moment. But that was then and this was now. She’d overcome so much in her life. Seen stuff no child should ever see. She’d come through the other side of all that and yet…
Yet she had still let it define her, hadn’t she? Instead of shutting the door on the past and walking away from it, she had let it influence her life.
Well, not any more.
‘Watch me,’ Darcy said as she walked across the carpeted office towards Renzo’s office, ignoring the woman’s raised voice of protest.
She pushed open the door to see Renzo seated at the top of a long boardroom table with six other people listening to what he was saying, but his words died away the moment he glanced up and saw her. Comically, every head swivelled in her direction but Darcy didn’t pay them any attention; she was too busy gazing into the eyes of her husband and finding nothing in their ebony depths but ice. But she was going to be strong. As strong as she knew she could be.
‘Darcy,’ he said, his eyes narrowing.
‘I know this isn’t a convenient time,’ she said, pre-empting his dismissal and drawing herself up as tall as she could. ‘But I really do need to speak to you, Renzo. So if you people wouldn’t mind giving us five, we’ll make sure this meeting is rescheduled.’
Almost as if they were being controlled by some unseen puppet master, six heads turned to Renzo for affirmation.
He shrugged. ‘You heard what the lady said.’
Darcy’s heart was pounding as they all trooped out, shooting her curious looks on their way, but Renzo still hadn’t moved. His expression remained completely impassive and only the sudden movement of his fingers as he slammed his pen onto the table gave any indication that he might be angry at her interruption.
‘So what are you doing here?’ he questioned coolly. ‘I thought we’d said everything there is to say.’
She shook her head. ‘But we haven’t. Or rather, I haven’t. You did a lot of talking earlier only I was too shocked and upset to answer.’
‘Don’t bother,’ he said, sounding almost…bored. ‘I don’t want to hear any more of your lies. You want to hold on to your precious secrets, Darcy? Then go right ahead! Or maybe find a man you trust enough to tell the truth.’
She let out a shuddered breath, struggling to get out the words she knew she needed to say. ‘I trust you, Renzo. It’s taken me this long to dare admit it, but I do. I trust you enough to tell you that I’ve been scared…and I’ve been stupid. You see, I couldn’t believe someone as good as you could ever be part of my life and I thought…’ Her voice stumbled but somehow she kept the tears at bay. ‘I thought the only way I could hold on to it was to be the person I thought you’d want me to be. I was terrified that if you knew who I really was, that you would send me away—baby or no baby—’
‘You can’t—’
‘No,’ she said fiercely, and now the tears had started and she scrubbed them away furiously with the back of her fist. ‘Let me finish. I should have celebrated my freedom from the kind of life I’d grown up in. I should have rejoiced that I had found a man who was prepared to care for me, and to care for our baby. I should have realised that it was a pretty big deal for you to tell me stuff about your past and give me a key to your apartment. I should have looked for the meaning behind those gestures instead of being too blind and too scared to dare. And rather than keeping my feelings locked away, I should have told you the biggest secret of all.’
He froze. ‘Not another one?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘The final one—and I’m about to let you in on it. Not because I want something in return or because I’m expecting something back, but because you need to know.’ Her voice trembled but she didn’t care. This was her chance to put something right but it was also the truth—shining, bold and very certain, no matter the consequences. ‘I love you, Renzo. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, when the thunderbolt hit me, too. Because that feeling never went away. It just grew and grew. When we made love that first time, it was so powerful—it blew me away. I’ve never wanted to be intimate with a man before you and I know that, if you don’t want me, I won’t ever find somebody who makes me feel the way you do.’
There