Lucy Gordon - The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage

He made a sound of impatience. ‘Do these trivial details matter?’

‘They’re not trivial. They’re the way you are. Everything labelled and in its little box. I’ve just told you that our engagement is off, and you’re angry because I’ve stepped out of my box into one you don’t know how to label.’

‘I’m angry because I don’t understand a word of this. Nothing you say is reasonable.’

‘Is it unreasonable of me to want to marry a man who cares about me, the way you don’t?’

He took a quick breath and seemed about to say something, but checked himself. When the words did come out they were calm. ‘I thought we’d-managed to grow closer-’

‘Not close enough. You’re possessive, and you try to organise every step I take, but that isn’t love.’ She sighed. ‘Well, maybe you’re right and I have been unreasonable. I should have worried about love much sooner, shouldn’t I? Like, the day we met. I’m sorry. I didn’t know myself very well then. I do now, and different things matter. Love matters.’

‘Love?’ he echoed.

‘Oh, Marco, you sound as though you’d never heard the word. There’s no love between us, is there?’

He was very still now. She had his whole attention. ‘It would seem not,’ he said quietly. ‘How stupid of me not to have understood.’

‘It’s my fault. I misled you, made you think I could live without it, like you.’

He regarded her sardonically. ‘And when did this suddenly become so important?’

‘Only recently. Do you remember the night of my father’s party?’

‘Do you? ’ he flashed unexpectedly.

‘Vividly. But it’s no good is it? You can’t create what isn’t there. I’ve tried to play it your way, but I can’t do it, and it would only break us apart in the end.’

‘Maybe you give up too easily.’

‘I thought you prided yourself on being a realist. You’re not being realistic now. It’s not going to get any better, Marco. We’re both what we are. It’s too late to change.’

She watched his face, longing to see in it some softening, some hint that even now he could search his heart and discover that he didn’t want to lose her. Behind her brave front she knew that a loving word from him would have sent her joyfully into his arms. But no word came.

Instead, into her mind slid the memory of something he’d said in one of their discussions about business, ‘It’s like playing poker. When the deal collapses you keep a blank face.’

The deal was collapsing and his face was as blank as death. His complexion was even a little grey, and there was a strange, withered look in his eyes, as though the life was draining out of him.

‘Yes,’ he said at last in a voice of stone. ‘It’s too late for change. I thought-well, I was wrong. You can’t change just because you want to.’

In the silence that followed she had the strange feeling that he was at a loss, something she’d never known in him before.

‘What happens now?’ he asked at last.

‘I’ll leave as soon as I’ve spoken to your mother. When I get back to London-’

‘London? You were talking about staying in Rome.’

She surveyed him ironically. ‘You actually remember that conversation? I thought you pressed the “Delete” button the way you do when something doesn’t suit you. I did mean to stay in Rome, but I see now that I can’t. I have to get right away from you. When I’m home I’ll arrange to repay the money I owe you.’

‘There’s no rush. I promised you easy terms-’

‘No, I want to pay it all at once.’

‘You can’t afford a lump sum, we both know that.’

‘I’ll manage it somehow. It’s better if I’m not in your debt.’

Suddenly his face wasn’t impassive any more, but twisted with bitterness. ‘You can’t wait to be rid of me, can you?’

The injustice was like a knife in her heart, making her reply with equal bitterness to cover her pain.

‘I thought you’d be glad to see me gone, now that you know the proposed merger isn’t coming off. Cut your losses and don’t waste time over a dead deal. Your own principles, but useful for me, too.’

She heard the quick intake of breath before he said, ‘I seem to have taught you more than I knew. I can recall a time when you were too generous to say something so cruel.’

‘Marco-’

‘You’re quite right of course. Whatever made me think it worthy of discussion?’

‘Nothing is worth discussing any more. It’s over. There’s no more to be said. You’d better hurry, you have a meeting.’

She almost ran out of his office, not knowing whether to cry or hurl something at him. How dare he confuse her with that air of suppressed pain! She knew him too well to be fooled. It was no more than his trick of putting her in the wrong. But right now she couldn’t cope with it.

Telling Lucia was the hardest part, although the older woman was understanding.

‘I always knew there was something wrong,’ she sighed. ‘Even in Venice I sensed it. But I suppose I saw only what I wanted to see. I’m afraid Marco gets that from me.’ She squeezed Harriet’s hand. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s very simple. Marco and I made a business deal, but I found I couldn’t stick to the terms. My feelings got all tangled up, the very thing we agreed wouldn’t happen.’

‘But he wants you so much-’

‘Yes, he wants me, as he’d want anything that he’d decided suited him. But it’s not enough.’

‘Are you saying that you love him?’

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ she said, on her guard, remembering that Lucia would probably report all this to her son. ‘How can you love a man who doesn’t need to be loved?’

‘Every man needs to be loved, and Marco perhaps more than the others, because he fights it so hard.’

‘Yes, he fights it, and I can’t get past that. I don’t want to spend my life fighting.’

‘Can’t I say anything to persuade you?’

Harriet shook her head. ‘The hardest thing will be leaving you. You’ve been wonderful to me.’

‘We mustn’t lose that,’ Lucia said eagerly. ‘Now that we’ve found each other you must promise to stay in touch.’

Harriet promised, and the older woman put her arms around her. There were tears in her eyes. ‘When will you leave?’ she asked sadly.

‘There’s a plane at noon tomorrow.’

‘I’ll go to the airport with you.’

Harriet was half inclined to leave behind her new clothes. It didn’t seem right somehow to take from a woman she was disappointing so badly. But Lucia insisted that every last gown was packed.

‘Cara Etta,’ she said earnestly, ‘Forgive me for saying this, but I couldn’t bear for you to go back to looking as you did before.’

Over supper they tried to cheer each other up, and not admit that they were both waiting for Marco. Lucia glanced at the clock several times until Harriet said, ‘He isn’t coming, you know.’

‘Of course he’s coming. He won’t let you go without saying goodbye.’

‘He doesn’t need to say goodbye. He’s already “signed me off”.’

‘Don’t start to talk like him, my dear. That way of seeing the world hasn’t made him happy.’

‘I don’t know what would make him happy,’ Harriet sighed. ‘I just don’t think it’s me.’

‘And you?’ Lucia asked. ‘Could you have been happy with him?’

‘Can one be happy without the other being happy?’ was the only answer Harriet could make.

A heavy ache was pervading her, as though her chest housed a stone where her heart should be. As the hands of the clock ticked on she faced the fact that Marco was going to let her go without another word, and despite her defiant words about “signing off”, that hurt badly.