Читать книгу The Italians: Cristiano, Vittorio and Dario: Once a Ferrara Wife... / A Dark Sicilian Secret / Blackmailed Bride, Innocent Wife - Jane Porter, Annie West - Страница 8

CRISTIANO downed the glass of whisky in one, trying to blunt the savage bite of his emotions as he waited on the terrace of the villa for Laurel to make an appearance.

He’d promised himself that he would be icily calm and detached. That resolution had lasted until she’d stepped off the plane. His plan to make no reference to their situation had exploded under the intense pressure of the reunion. The conflicting emotions had been like a storm inside him, made all the more fierce by her own lack of response. Laurel had turned hiding her emotions into an art form.

Wishing he had time to go for a run and burn off some of the adrenalin scalding his veins, Cristiano lifted a hand and slid a finger into the collar of his white dress shirt. Deprived of one stress reliever, he reached for another and topped up his glass with a hand that wasn’t quite steady.

She still blamed him. That much was obvious but, even now, she wouldn’t talk about it.

Immediately after the event he’d tried, but she’d appeared to be in shock, her reaction to the miscarriage far more extreme than he would have anticipated.

His own sadness at the loss of their baby had been tempered with a sense of realism. Miscarriages happened. His own mother had lost two babies. His aunt, one. It was Laurel’s first pregnancy. He’d been philosophical.

She’d been inconsolable. And stubborn.

Apart from that one message on his voicemail, the one telling him not to bother to cut short his meeting because she’d lost the baby, she’d refused to talk about what had happened.

Sweat prickled the back of his neck and he wished for the millionth time he hadn’t switched off his phone before going into that meeting.

If he’d answered the call, would they be in a different place now?

Contemplating the celebration that lay ahead made him want to empty the bottle of whisky. He was in desperate need of an anaesthetic to dull his senses and relieve the pain.

Maybe it was because his own marriage was such a total disaster that he hated weddings so much.

Part of him wished his sister had just eloped quietly, but that had never been on the cards. She was marrying a Sicilian man in true Sicilian style and he, as her older brother and the head of the family, was expected to play a major part in the celebrations. The family honour was at stake. The image of the Ferrara dynasty. He was expected to celebrate.

‘I’m ready.’ Her voice came from behind him and this time he made sure that he had himself fully under control before he turned.

Even prepared, the connection was immediate and powerful.

It was like being trapped in an electrical storm. The air around him crackled and buzzed with a tension that hadn’t been there before she’d stepped over the threshold.

Ready? He almost laughed. Neither of them would ever be ready for what they were about to face. Their estrangement had attracted almost as much attention as their wedding. There would be no cameras tonight, but that didn’t mean the guests wouldn’t be interested. With that macabre fascination that drew people to stare at the wreckage of car accidents, everyone was waiting to see how he was going to treat his scandalous estranged wife.

Looking at her, he felt the attraction punch through his gut. Her body was slim and supremely fit and wrapped in a dress of fine blue silk. On most women the dress would have been monumentally unforgiving. Laurel had nothing that needed forgiving. Her body was her brand and she dressed to showcase it and drive her business. It wouldn’t have surprised him to see her web address stamped on her hemline. Ferrara Fitness. He’d been the one who had spotted her potential and persuaded her to expand—to broaden what she offered from the personal to the corporate.

She wasn’t beautiful in a classical sense, but her guts and drive had proved a greater aphrodisiac than sleek blonde hair or a perfect D cup. Only he knew that her restrained appearance and tiger-like personality hid monumental insecurities.

From the outside no one would ever have guessed that on the inside she was such a mess, he mused, but he’d never met anyone more screwed up than Laurel. It had taken months for her to open up to him even a little and, when she had, the cold reality of her childhood had shocked him. It was a story of care homes and neglect, and just a brief glimpse into what her life had been was enough for him to begin to understand why she was so different from most of the women he met.

Had it been arrogance, he wondered, that had made him so sure that he could break down those defensive barriers? He’d demanded trust from someone who had never had reason to give it and, in the end, it had backfired badly.

Any residual guilt he might have felt about his own behaviour at that time had long been erased by his anger that she hadn’t even given him a chance to fix his mistake. She’d ended their marriage with the finality of an executioner, refusing both rational conversation and the diamonds he’d bought her by way of apology.

Dark emotions swirled inside him and he studied her face for signs that she was regretting her decision. Her features were blank, but that didn’t surprise him. She’d trained herself to reveal nothing. To rely on no one. Extracting anything from her had been a challenge.

Even now she chose to keep the conversation neutral. ‘You changed the room overlooking the garden from a gym to a cinema.’

She would have noticed, of course, because that was her job. And Laurel was one hundred per cent committed to her job. Which was why they’d wanted her involved in the business. From the moment her success with one very overweight actress had been blazoned over the press, Laurel Hampton had become the personal trainer that everyone wanted. The fact that she’d agreed to advise the hotel had been a coup for both of them. He had her name on his brand and she had his. It had been a winning combination.

Hampton had become Ferrara.

And that was when the combination had exploded.

‘I watch sport. I don’t need a gym when I’m here.’ Cristiano felt a flicker of exasperation. Their marriage was writhing in its death throes and they were discussing gym equipment?

Something glinted around her neck and he frowned at the thin gold chain. The fact that she was wearing jewellery he didn’t recognise racked his tension levels up a few more notches and drove all thoughts from his brain. He hadn’t given her the chain, so where the hell had it come from?

He pictured a pair of male hands fastening the necklace around her slender throat. Someone else touching her. Someone else persuading her to part with her secrets—

It was something that hadn’t occurred to him before now.

Only when he heard the splintering sound of glass on ceramic tiles did he realise he’d dropped the glass he was holding.

Eyeing him as she would an escaped tiger, Laurel backed away. ‘I’ll get a brush—’ ‘Leave it.’ ‘But—’

‘I said, leave it. The staff will sort it out. We need to go.

I’m the host.’

‘Everyone will be speculating.’

‘They wouldn’t dare. At least, not publicly.’

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Sorry. I forgot you even manage to control people’s thoughts.’

Suddenly Cristiano wished he hadn’t dropped the glass. God only knew he needed something to get him through the next few hours. The gold necklace glinted in the sunshine, taunting him. Following an impulse he didn’t want to examine too closely, he grabbed her left hand and lifted it. She made a sound in her throat and tugged but he simply tightened his grip, shocked by the emotion that tore through him when he saw her bare finger.

‘Where is your wedding ring?’

‘I don’t wear it. We’re no longer married.’

‘We’re married until we’re divorced and in Sicily that takes three years—’ Teeth gritted, tone thickened, he held tightly to her hand as she twisted her fingers and tried to free herself.

‘It’s a bit late to be possessive. Marriage is about more than a ring, Cristiano, and more than a piece of paper.’

‘You are telling me what constitutes marriage? You, who treated our marriage as something disposable?’ Outrage and fury mingled in a lethal cocktail. ‘Why remove your ring? Is there someone else?’

‘This weekend isn’t about us, it’s about your sister.’

He’d wanted a denial.

He’d wanted her to laugh and say, Of course there isn’t anyone else—how could there be?

He’d wanted her to admit that what they’d shared had been rare and special. Instead she was dismissing it. She’d consigned it to the dustbin of past mistakes.

Driven by an emotion he didn’t understand, he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her against him. If he’d been more controlled he might have asked himself why he was trying to goad her, but he didn’t feel controlled. The fact that she seemed indifferent simply intensified his urge to draw a response from her.

Caught off balance, she swayed against him. That brief whisper of contact was all it took. Thin blue silk proved an ineffectual barrier and the heat spread from him to her. He heard her breathing quicken and felt the powerful surge of desire as his body acknowledged her response. It confirmed what he already knew—that the chemistry between them was as powerful as ever. Not indifferent, he thought with grim satisfaction. It was the one emotion she couldn’t mask. In a moment he’d be kissing her and he knew from bitter experience that once they kissed that was it. There was no turning back from it and it seemed that even after her betrayal that hadn’t changed.

‘There is no one else.’ Her voice reflected all those painful emotions right back at him. ‘One lousy relationship in a lifetime is enough.’

The words acted like a bucket of cold water over the flickering flames.

Cristiano released her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her. If he’d felt like laughing he would have laughed at himself. All his life women had thrown themselves at him. He’d taken it as a right that he could win any woman he wanted. And then he’d met Laurel and been slapped in the face with his own arrogance.

He stepped back from her, needing the distance. ‘We’re expected to attend this dinner. Let’s get it over with.’

For once, the mask slipped. ‘I’m going to call Dani and explain that I’m tired. She’ll understand.’

It was true that her face was pale and her eyes huge but he knew that her reluctance to socialise had nothing to do with fatigue.

Cristiano wondered how far he could push her before she stopped guarding her every word. The ridiculous thing was, they had yet to talk about what had happened. She’d refused to have that conversation. ‘Why would your conscience bother you now when it didn’t bother you two years ago? Or is it just cowardice because you’re embarrassed to meet my family? You came because of your loyalty to my sister so let’s see that loyalty in action.’ He’d never seen anyone so pale but before he could say anything she turned and walked quickly past him up the narrow path that snaked through the pretty gardens and led to the main part of the hotel. Apparently accepting her fate, she kept walking, her high heels tapping on the stones, her hair twisted into a severe knot that exposed her slender neck.

His gaze slid lower, to the dip of her waist and the curve of her bottom.

Squats, he thought savagely. She’d sculpted that bottom from squats and squat thrusts. So what?

His mood turbulent, Cristiano strode after her, resisting the temptation to flatten her against the nearest tree and demand to know what had been going through her crazy, mixed up mind when she’d smashed everything they’d created together. He wanted to force the issue she was avoiding out into the open. But most of all he wanted to rip that delicate gold chain from her throat and replace it with one of the jewels he’d given her when they’d been together. Something that announced to the world that she was his.

Unsettled by the depths to which his thoughts had sunk, it took him a moment to register that Laurel had stopped dead in the entrance to the terrace.

‘Laurel.’ Santo stood there. Santiago, his younger brother, hot-headed and overprotective, who felt responsible for the current mess because he was the one who had appointed Laurel as his personal trainer when he’d committed to run the New York City Marathon. Without that introduction, Cristiano never would have met her.

Santo glowered at her, his expression uncensored.

Laurel met that threatening stare without flinching. Despite his heightened emotions, Cristiano felt a flicker of reluctant admiration. Here she was, surrounded by people who felt nothing but animosity for her and she faced them head on. She barely reached his shoulder and yet it didn’t occur to her to back down. Laurel was a fighter.

And that was part of the problem, he thought wearily. She was so used to defending herself that persuading her to lower her guard was virtually impossible.

Knowing that if they were to stand any chance of getting through the evening without an explosion he had to be the one to keep things calm, Cristiano stepped forward and took control. ‘Is Daniela here?’

‘She’s waiting to make an entrance.’ Santo’s icy gaze was fixed on Laurel, who stared right back, almost willing him to come at her.

Eyeing the stubborn lift of her chin, Cristiano felt a flash of exasperation. ‘You’re neglecting our guests, Santo.’ Deciding that a show of solidarity would calm the situation, he forced himself to take Laurel’s hand and was shocked to find it ice-cold. Her fingers shook slightly in his. Surprised by that outward manifestation of emotion, he glanced at her face but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead she tugged at her hand but he held her fast. Perhaps if he’d done that two years ago she wouldn’t have flown, he thought grimly. Her crazy, disastrous childhood had left her with insecurities deeper than the ocean. On the surface she was a bright, competent businesswoman. Underneath she was emotional quicksand. He’d thought he could cope with that. He’d thought he was sane and well adjusted enough for both of them. He’d been wrong.

As Santo turned away to greet some guests, Laurel turned to Cristiano with a fierce stare. ‘You don’t need to protect me.’

Cristiano released her. ‘I wasn’t protecting you. I was protecting my family. This is Dani’s night and we don’t need a scene.’

‘I had no intention of creating a scene. You’re the ones who can’t hang onto your emotions. I’m perfectly in control.’

And that was the problem. It had always been the problem.

Cristiano bit back the comment he wanted to make. ‘We’re not going to do this, Laurel. Not here. Not now.’

‘I don’t want to do it at all.’

‘Laurie?’ Daniela’s voice came from behind them and then there was a flash of vivid green and a soft swish of silk as she pushed past Santo and flung her arms around Laurel. ‘You’re here! I have so much to tell you. I need to sneak you away for just five minutes so that I can show you something.’ Without giving Laurel the chance to respond, she took her hand and drew her away from Cristiano and towards the villa.

And Cristiano watched her go, wondering how his sister had managed to penetrate that protective shell while he’d been locked out.

Having dispatched the latest arrivals to the terrace with a glass of champagne, Santo joined him, his face like a storm cloud.

‘Why did you agree to this?’ ‘It was what Dani wanted.’

‘But the last thing you need. Tell me that you’re not, even for a moment, thinking of taking her back.’

Cristiano watched Laurel from the terrace, arm in arm with his sister. She moved with the grace of a dancer and the strength of an athlete, the subtle sway of her hips unconsciously sensual. Her knowledge of sports physiology was encyclopaedic and as for how she was in bed—

He clenched his jaw. ‘I’m not thinking of taking her back.’

‘No?’ Santo’s eyes followed a pretty blonde as she walked past and waved at him. ‘Some men wouldn’t blame you if you did. Laurel is undeniably hot.’

‘If you don’t want to give our sister away with a black eye,’ Cristiano growled, ‘don’t describe my wife as “hot”.’

‘She isn’t your wife. She’s your soon-to-be ex-wife. The sooner the better.’

‘I thought you liked Laurel?’

‘That was before she left you.’ Santo was still looking at the blonde. ‘My advice? She isn’t worth the effort. Let some other man have her.’

A red mist rose up from nowhere and the next minute Cristiano had smashed his fist into his brother’s jaw and had him pinned against the wall.

It took Santo a moment to recover from the shock and then he hurled his weight against his brother and switched positions. This time it was Cristiano who found himself slammed against the wall. Hard stone pressed through the thin silk of his shirt and he felt the iron strength in his brother’s hands holding him trapped. Trapped, along with all that anger.

‘Basta! Stop, the pair of you.’ It was Carlo, a lifelong friend of Cristiano’s who was also the family lawyer handling the divorce. He wrenched the two men apart and stood between them as Santo touched his fingers to his bruised jaw, his eyes on Cristiano.

Slowly, Carlo released his grip on Santo’s shoulder. ‘Calma.

Calm down. I haven’t seen the two of you fight since you were sixteen. What is going on here?’

Santo’s eyes were fixed on his brother. ‘I suggested he should let another man have Laurel.’

Cristiano stepped forward again but Carlo’s hand planted itself in the centre of his chest.

Surprisingly calm, Santo stepped back and adjusted his bow tie. ‘Help yourself to champagne, Carlo. We’re good.’

The lawyer glanced towards the terrace but mercifully no one seemed to have noticed the disturbance. ‘Are you sure? A moment ago you were out of control.’

‘I was never out of control—’ Santo licked his split lip ‘—but I wanted an answer to a question and now I have it.’ As Carlo reluctantly left them alone, Santo gave Cristiano a long, steady look. ‘If this is love I’m glad I’ve managed to avoid it for so long because it looks like hell from where I’m standing.’

Cristiano felt the back of his neck tingle. ‘It isn’t love.’

‘No?’ Blotting blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, Santo lifted an eyebrow. ‘If it’s not, you might want to ask yourself why you knocked me in the dirt for the first time in almost two decades.’

‘You suggested—’ He couldn’t even bring himself to say the words and Santo gave an unapologetic shrug.

‘It was a test of how far you’ve come in the last two years. The answer is not far.’ He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waitress and handed one to his brother. ‘Drink. You’re going to need it. I thought you were in trouble before, but you’re in bigger trouble than even I imagined.’

‘Cristiano just punched Santo. Which is a nightmare actually because now he’ll have a bruised jaw in my wedding photos.’ Hitching up her dress so that she wouldn’t crease it, Dani knelt on the window seat so that she could get a better look at the courtyard below. ‘And now Santo’s got him pinned against the wall. I haven’t seen them fight since they were teenagers. My money’s on Cristiano but it could be a close run thing.’

Imagining Cristiano still and lifeless, Laurel flew to the window in a panic. ‘Is he hurt? Oh, God, someone should pull Santo off—’

‘Cristiano is fine. He’s still the stronger of the two.’ Dani shot her a look. ‘I thought you didn’t care about him any more?’

‘Just because I don’t love him any more doesn’t mean I want to see him hurt.’ Laurel licked her lips. ‘What do you think they’re fighting about?’

‘You, of course. What else?’ Dani glanced enviously at Laurel’s waist. ‘You look good for someone in the middle of a relationship trauma. I’d do anything for your abs.’

‘Anything except exercise,’ Laurel said drily and Dani grinned.

‘You know me so well. I lift my wine glass. Doesn’t that count?’

Laurel turned her head to look out of the window again. ‘I don’t want them fighting over me.’ The thought of Cristiano injured made her feel physically sick. Telling herself that was a perfectly normal reaction, she sank down onto the window seat next to Dani. ‘Go down there and stop them.’

‘No way. I might get blood on my dress. Do you like it? It’s by that Italian designer that everyone is wearing.’ Dani smoothed the fabric. ‘It’s traditional to wear green the night before the wedding. But you know that, of course, because you wore that gorgeous green dress the night before you married Cristiano.’

Laurel’s chest felt ominously tight. The feeling had grown gradually worse since that awful car journey from the airport. Nothing she did could calm it down.

Recognising the warning signs of an impending asthma attack, she discreetly opened her bag and checked that she had her inhaler. For her the trigger had always been stress and her stress levels had been steadily rising since she’d arrived in Sicily. ‘I don’t want to talk about my wedding.’

‘You chose a better shade of green than me. In the end I went for emerald but I’m wondering if forest would have been better. Because my hair is so dark, I decided I needed the brightness of colour.’

‘How can you even think about clothes when your brothers are fighting?’

‘I grew up watching my brothers fight so it’s not a big deal, although I must admit it’s much more fun now they’re both more muscular. You only need to worry when their shirts come off.’ Dani craned her neck to take another look. ‘You should be flattered. It’s pretty cool having men fighting over you. Romantic.’

‘It isn’t cool and there’s nothing romantic about two men who can’t control their tempers.’ Laurel wished she could just stay here. Hide away for the whole evening. ‘I don’t want them fighting.’

‘Physically they’re evenly matched, but a man defending the woman he loves is probably stronger, which is why Cristiano has the advantage. I love those shoes you’re wearing. Did you get those in London?’

Laurel sprang from the window seat and walked the shoes to the far side of the room where she couldn’t be tempted to look down into the courtyard. ‘Cristiano doesn’t love me. We barely tolerate each other.’

‘Right. Which is why you’re pacing and he’s pounding Santo. You’re both so indifferent to each other.’ Exasperated, Dani dragged her gaze from Laurel’s feet to her face. ‘Do you know how many women have chased after Cristiano since he hit his teens?’

Laurel was horrified by how much that thought bothered her. ‘Why is that relevant?’

‘He picked you. That means a lot. I know he isn’t always easy, but he does love you.’

‘He picked me because I said no to him. Your brother isn’t good with the word no. I was a challenge.’

‘He picked you because he fell in love with you. And that is a huge thing for him.’

Amongst his family and colleagues, Cristiano held a godlike status, Laurel acknowledged numbly. He walked on water. His word was law. ‘We should be talking about you. Are you excited about tomorrow?’

‘Of course I am! I’m as excited about my wedding as you were about yours.’

‘That was completely different.’

‘How?’

‘You’ve been planning this wedding for over a year.’

‘And you were married in a hurry in the family chapel because neither of you could wait any longer. I happen to think that’s more romantic.’

The conversation was like treading on a pine cone in bare feet. It was prickly and uncomfortable. ‘It was impulsive, not romantic.’ Laurel rubbed her hands down her bare arms to warm them. ‘If we’d spent a year planning it we wouldn’t be in this mess now.’

‘My brother has always been decisive. He doesn’t take ages to think about something.’

‘You mean he ploughs his way over people. He doesn’t believe anyone else can have an opinion worth hearing.’

‘No, I mean he knows what he wants.’ Dani gave her a long look. ‘Ouch. Things obviously became pretty rough between you. Do you want to talk about this?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Before he met you, he never mentioned marriage,’ Dani said softly, clearly torn between her loyalty towards her friend and her brother. ‘For a man like Cristiano that was the ultimate declaration of love.’

The ultimate declaration of love.

It was unfortunate he’d thought his responsibility ended there.

He’d put the ring on her finger. The ultimate gesture to go with the ultimate declaration. And that was his part of it done. All she had to do was fall into place and treat him with the same unquestioning deference as everyone else.

He’d hurt her and she was supposed to forgive.

Instead of which he’d hurt her and she’d hurt him right back. And now she was back here and they were hurting each other again and she wanted it to stop as quickly as humanely possible. ‘I should never have come and you shouldn’t have put us all in this position. Why on earth did you insist on having me as maid of honour?’

‘Because you’re my best friend. We’ve been best friends since we bonded over the grim accommodation at college. Your room was bigger than mine. I needed access to the space.’

Best friends forever.

‘You choose the oddest moments to be soppy.’ Laurel stood stiff. Just because her friendship with Dani meant everything to her didn’t mean she could articulate her feelings.

‘You don’t give your love easily but when you do it’s forever. I know how much you loved Cristiano.’ Like an interrogator, Dani advanced on her. ‘Every time we’ve seen each other over the past two years you’ve dodged this issue, but I’m not letting you dodge it now. I want to know what went wrong. Give me details.’

Somehow Laurel made her lips move. ‘I left.’

‘Yes, but why?’ Dani took her hands and hesitated. ‘Cristiano told me that you had a miscarriage. Don’t be mad at him for telling me. I made him tell me what had happened. I just wish you’d called me.’

‘There was nothing you could have done.’

‘I could have listened. You must have been devastated.’

Devastated. Did that word begin to describe what she’d felt that day?

Dani’s hands tightened on hers. ‘You must have felt dreadful. But I can’t believe you walked out because of that. I just can’t. Did he say something? Do something?’

He’d done nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Not even interrupted his meeting.

It was typical of sweet, sensitive Dani to guess that her brother wasn’t blameless but the last thing Laurel needed or wanted was reconciliation.

She wasn’t punishing him or sulking. She was protecting herself.

And she’d carry on protecting herself because that was what she had always done.

‘I know what men are like.’ Dani refused to give up, as stubborn as her brother in many ways. ‘Mostly insensitive, with a huge streak of ego. They invariably say the wrong thing and if we get upset about it they accuse us of overreacting or being hormonal. Sometimes I could strangle Raimondo.’

‘You’re marrying him tomorrow.’

‘Because I love him and I’m training him to not be an insufferable jerk. Cristiano is my brother but that doesn’t make me blind to his faults. Maybe we’re all to blame because we depend on him so much.’ Dani let go of Laurel’s hands. ‘When Dad died it was a hideous time. Mum was a mess—I was just eleven, Santo was still at school. Cristiano flew home from the States and took charge. And we all leaned on him—’ she pulled a face ‘—and we’ve been doing it ever since. Because he turned Dad’s dream into reality, this hugely successful global business employing thousands, everyone thinks he walks on water, but I do see how stubborn and arrogant he can be. Tell me what he did to you, Laurie. Was it the whole “taking charge” thing? That always drives me mad.’

Laurel’s heart was hammering. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, Dani, but it isn’t going to change anything. It’s finished. We can’t go back. And I wouldn’t want to.’

‘You were perfect together. So perfect it was actually a bit sickening to watch, to be honest. But it gave the rest of us faith that love really does exist. Even cynical Santo was shocked by the change in Cristiano. We’d never heard him laugh so much.’

Feeling like a fish on a hook, Laurel glared at her friend. ‘We barely knew each other when we got married.’ But she’d taken that chance. Allowed herself to live for the moment. ‘It’s no good you trying to turn this into a fairy tale, Dani. There is no fairy tale. I can’t help that you want it to be something different. Not every episode of hot sex ends in a happy ever after.’

Daniela’s dark eyes brimmed with tears of distress and frustration. ‘You and Cristiano should be together.’

‘Is that why you refused to meet me at the airport? So that we’d be thrown together? You don’t know what you’re doing.’ Laurel felt cornered. ‘You have to stop meddling. A lot of people could end up hurt.’

‘People are hurt, Laurel! My brother is in agony and I have to stand by and watch him being all strong, and I know you’re hurting too—’ tears slid down her face and Dani swore softly as she wiped them away with the palm of her hand ‘—and now I’m going to ruin my make-up. We’re not going to be able to have photographs at the wedding at this rate. Laurel, for God’s sake, whatever the hell happened, just forgive each other and move on.’

‘I am moving on. I’ve moved on.’

‘I mean with him, not without him.’

Laurel was tired of fighting. ‘It was wrong of you to interfere. Wrong of you to put us in the same villa—cruel—’

‘When you were together before, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other—’ Dani blew her nose. ‘I thought maybe if you were trapped together you might be able to sort it out.’

‘Well, we can’t.’ She should have known this couldn’t work. The Ferrara family were like chain mail—all intertwined and linked together into a strong whole. ‘I’ll leave first thing tomorrow. I shouldn’t have come.’

‘You’re my maid of honour! I want you here for my wedding.’

Laurel looked at her in frustration. ‘My being here is tearing this family apart.’ And it was tearing her apart. Being this close to Cristiano was far, far more painful than she ever could have imagined possible. The pain of it was a dull, throbbing ache that nothing would ease.

‘Don’t leave!’

‘We’re not eighteen any more. A lot has changed.’ Laurel stood rigidly, wondering when her friend had become so selfish that she only thought about her own needs. Being here was killing her. ‘You have your little cousins as attendants.’ Four dark-haired minxes who were running round creating havoc beneath them, enchanting everyone with their unselfconscious enjoyment of the party.

‘I want you, and I want you and Cristiano back together.’

Some might have called Dani shallow, but Laurel envied the fact that her polished view of the world had never been tarnished. That she still believed good things happened to good people.

‘There’s a party in your honour going on downstairs. We should go down.’ She eased herself out of her friend’s embrace and this time Dani didn’t resist.

Laurel remembered all the times they’d giggled together in their student rooms and had a sudden yearning for the simplicity of those days.

Some people thought it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Laurel thought they were mad.