An Inheritance of Shame - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,40

I decided you should know. I want you to know. I’m tired of pretending I’ve never cared about you, when I do. So very much.’ She drew a deep breath and he heard how it shuddered through her. She’d laid everything out there for him, and God help him but he had no idea what to do with it. What to say. What he wanted.

Her.

‘So now it’s your turn,’ she said, and gazed at him with a fragile pride, a tremulous determination. ‘You have to decide what you want, Angelo. If you just want sex, find someone else. If you want a fling or an affair, don’t look at me.’ She let out another breath, threw her shoulders back. Angelo felt a surge of admiration for this woman who was so strong, so proud, so brave. She’d endured so much already, and yet she remained unbowed. ‘But if you want something more, something real…if you want to give me—us—a chance, then…’ She smiled, barely. ‘You know where to find me.’

CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS AMAZING how liberating telling the truth could be. After her painful admission to Angelo last night, Lucia had expected to feel raw, exposed. Uncomfortable, at least, from revealing so much. She hadn’t denied or dissembled, hadn’t thrown the truth in his face as a defensive ploy. No, she’d given it to him. Presented it to him like a gift, and it was now his to do with as he wished.

The realisation made her feel buoyant. She had nothing more to hide, and it gave her a giddy sense of both relief and joy. Of course she wondered just what he intended to do with her gift, but she refused to let herself become mired in fear or doubt. For the first time her love for Angelo didn’t feel like a weakness, a burden to bear. It felt like a strength.

Several chambermaids were huddled in the staff locker room when she arrived at the hotel for work the next morning. They broke apart as soon as they saw her, and Lucia felt a ripple of unease at their suddenly hushed whispers, their averted gazes. Emilia was the only one to look at her directly, and the expression on her face was one of savage jealousy, eyes narrowed and glittering, lips thin and pursed.

‘Ciao,’ Lucia said with an uncertain smile. ‘Come va?’

‘Look.’ Maria took her by the elbow and brought her over to a table on the side of the room; a huge bouquet of flowers rested on it. ‘For you.’

‘Me?’ Lucia stared at the gorgeous bouquet—lilies and roses, orchids and carnations. It was the most extravagant, over-the-top bouquet she’d ever seen, and just the sight of it made a silly grin spread over her face. She’d never received so much as a wilted daisy before.

Emilia folded her arms, her eyes sparking maliciously. ‘Payment for services rendered, maybe?’

Maria hissed under her breath. ‘Stai zitto, you foolish girl,’ she snapped.

For once Emilia’s words rolled right off her. Lucia reached for the crisp white card tucked among the blooms and read the message scrawled on it in a bold hand.

I want that chance. Have dinner with me tonight at eight?

Her smile widened even as her heart started beating hard. Chances were wonderful, dangerous things. This could be a chance for Angelo to love her—or break her heart all over again. Shatter it, even, into a million tiny pieces, impossible to put together again, because she’d never given him this kind of chance before. She’d never actually tried.

During her midmorning break Lucia took the service lift to the floor of corporate offices. She felt a blush spread across her face as Angelo’s personal assistant glanced up at her in cool assessment.

‘Is Mr Corretti available?’ she asked, to which the secretary merely pursed her lips. ‘He might be expecting me,’ she added quietly.

‘He’s in a meeting.’

‘Then will you please leave him a message?’ Lucia felt the tingly warmth that Angelo’s short note had given her spread throughout her body. ‘Tell him Lucia said yes.’

The assistant arched her eyebrows, curiosity clearing getting the better of her. ‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all.’

She could barely concentrate on her work for the rest of the day; her mind moved dizzily from anticipation to worry to hope, and then back again. She had nothing to wear. What if Angelo took her somewhere fancy? What would they talk about? A date with Angelo. An actual date—something they’d never gone on before. What if it went all wrong?

By the time she arrived back