Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,24

she knew she would shatter and reveal the truth.

A truth she had not only sworn never to reveal but a secret she had been paid handsomely to keep.

And so, instead of rolling into him, instead of drawing closer, Mia returned to her taciturn self and her response was a brittle, ‘I don’t have to answer that.’

‘No,’ Dante said, ‘you don’t.’ But how he wished she would.

Dante pulled his arm from over his face, but still they could not look at each other. He had another question for Mia. ‘Was it worth it?’

‘Which part?’ Mia asked, and her voice was hollow as she looked up at the ceiling, knowing he was asking about what had just taken place, while also looking at the sum of the lie she’d been living these past two years. ‘Being savaged by the press and called a gold-digger and a whore for marrying your father? Being derided by your family at every turn? Or sleeping with you?’

‘All of it?’ Dante said. It was an important question, because if she said yes, then he might just take her up to his bed and not give a damn as they breakfasted together in the morning and to hell with the world.

But for Mia, self-preservation had kicked in. She’d been vilified so many times for her marriage to his father that she could not bear the thought of word getting out about a sordid affair with her late husband’s son on the evening of his funeral. ‘No,’ Mia said, for such was her shame right now. ‘If I could, I would pay the money back, with interest, just to have avoided this.’

It was the most horrible ending to something so lovely and still neither could meet the other’s eyes. She got up and headed to her suite, deciding that Dante could pick up the clothes in the lounge, for she would never be wearing them again.

Mia showered quickly and threw on some fresh clothes, and then carried her cases down the stairs.

It took several journeys, but when she went to call for a car, he appeared, somewhat dressed. Well, he had on his suit trousers and his white shirt but it was untucked and his feet were bare. ‘I’ll drive you to the airport,’ Dante said.

‘Please don’t,’ she replied.

‘Mia.’ He caught her wrist as she went to walk off and told her what she already knew. ‘We didn’t use any protection.’

‘No.’ She felt a bit sick at the thought of that, for she was usually so meticulous and organised and was still reeling that she could have lost control like that.

‘You need to go to a farmacia...’

Mia stood, still unable to look at him as Dante handed out emergency contraceptive advice as if he were an expert! Though she guessed he was more than used to it.

‘You’ll take care of it, Mia?’ He did not call her bella; he would be remembering her name. Because Dante always took care, and was aghast at his own lack of thought. ‘Mia?’ he checked.

‘Yes,’ she hissed.

‘Because you do not want to be pregnant by me.’

‘I get it!’

‘Do you?’ he checked. ‘It would be a scandal like no other and, aside from that, I never want to have children.’

‘I get it, Dante.’ She gave a tight smile. Mia was well aware he liked his single lifestyle, without consequences. ‘All care and no responsibility.’

‘But I didn’t take due care.’

She looked at this reprobate playboy. No, she did not want to be pregnant by him. ‘Then I shall.’

Perhaps to make up for his lack of assistance in bringing the cases down the stairs, he did help load them into the car, but there was no kiss, no Dante standing on the stairs, waving goodbye.

Of course not.

Before the car door had even closed he was back in the house.

There could be no happy ending to this.

It was appalling, what had just taken place.

And both of them knew it.

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS DANTE who alerted Mia that there might be an issue.

For a few weeks there had been silence from Italy.

After a turbulent flight back to England, Mia had headed to the small flat that was part of her inheritance from Rafael.

Michael’s wife, Gemma, had been keeping an eye on it, and, aware of Mia’s impending return, the place had been aired and there was bread and milk and suchlike. Mia bypassed all that and had headed to the bedroom where she’d lain, still in her coat, curled up on top of the bed covers, utterly conflicted. A