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СКАЧАТЬ said quietly. ‘Believing the best of someone, someone you love.’

      ‘But that’s it, isn’t it? Because I was so desperate to love him, and believe he loved me back. I wanted to impress him with how good I could be—as good as he was. I wanted to believe the reason I hardly ever saw him was because he was so busy with his important duties, not because he didn’t give a damn. Not because he’d rather screw and spend his way through Europe than spend one unnecessary moment with his son.’ He broke off, nearly panting, the old rage and hurt coursing through him so hard and fast he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

      And he felt so ashamed—ashamed that it still made him angry, still hurt. Ashamed that Liana knew.

      She rose from her desk and he stiffened as she put her arms around him, drew his head to her shoulder as if he was still that desperate, deluded, and disappointed child.

      And maybe he was.

      ‘Oh, Sandro.’ She was silent for a moment, stroking his hair, and he closed his eyes, revelling in her acceptance, her comfort even as he acknowledged that he didn’t deserve it. ‘What was the final straw, then?’ she asked and he stiffened.

      ‘The final—’

      ‘What was the thing that made you leave?’

      He drew a shuddering breath. ‘I found out the truth about him when I was eighteen, at university. It was the first time I’d really had any freedom, and everything about it made me start to wonder. Doubt.’

      She nodded slowly. ‘I know how that feels.’

      ‘And then one afternoon my father’s private secretary called me up and asked me to issue a statement that he’d been visiting me that week when he hadn’t. It didn’t make any sense to me, but I did it. I started really doubting then, though, and the next time I was home I asked my father why he’d wanted me to do that.’ He was silent for a moment, recalling the look of impatience on his father’s face. ‘He’d been with a mistress, some pretty young thing my mother was annoyed about, and he knew there would be a big media fuss if the tabloids got wind of it. He told me all of this so matter-of-factly, without so much as a flicker of guilt or remorse, and I suppose that’s when the scales really fell from my eyes.’ Sandro let out a long, weary sigh. ‘But I didn’t actually leave until three years later. Three years of going along with it all, corroborating his stupid stories, lying to the press, to him, to myself, about everything.’

      Liana’s gaze was wide and dark. ‘And then?’

      ‘And then...’ He’d told more to this woman than he had to anyone else, and yet he still felt reluctant to reveal all. Reveal himself, and his own weaknesses. ‘And then I just couldn’t take it anymore. I hated who I’d become. So I told him I was renouncing my inheritance, that I wanted to start my own business and live my own life.’ It sounded so selfish, even now, after all these years. ‘The funny thing is,’ Sandro made himself continue, ‘I didn’t really mean it.’

      He saw surprise flash across Liana’s face. ‘You didn’t?’

      ‘No, I was just—testing him, I suppose. Pushing him. Because I expected him to beg me to stay, admit he loved me and it was all a mistake and— I don’t even know.’ He let out a ragged huff of laughter as he raked his hand through his hair. ‘How stupid can you be, eh?’

      ‘I don’t call that stupid,’ Liana said quietly. ‘Desperate, maybe.’

      ‘Fine. I was desperate. Desperate and deluded right to the end, because of course he didn’t do any of that. He just laughed in my face and told me to go right ahead. He had another son who would do just as well.’

      And so he’d gone, proud and defiant and so desperately hurting. He’d gone, and he’d stayed away for fifteen years, only to come back because he’d thought his father had finally seen the light. Would finally admit he was sorry, he’d been wrong, he really did love him.

      Blah. Blah. Blah. None of that, of course, had happened. But he’d told Liana enough, and he didn’t feel like admitting to that.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Liana whispered, and brushed a kiss across his lips. ‘For all of it.’

      ‘So am I.’ He kissed her back, needing her touch, her sweetness. Needing to forget all the hurt and anger and disappointment he’d just raked up with his words.

      And she did make him forget it; in Liana’s arms he didn’t feel like the sad, needy boy desperate for love. He didn’t feel like a man racked by remorse and guilt for turning his back on his duty. He didn’t feel like a king who didn’t deserve his crown.

      He just felt like a man, a man this amazing, wonderful, vibrant woman loved.

      And that was all he wanted to be.

      * * *

      That night Liana lay in bed with Sandro’s arm stretched out across her stomach and felt as if the first of the past’s ghosts had been banished.

      But what about hers?

      She recalled Sandro’s innocent question, so gently posed. So Chiara was just one of the unlucky ones?

      She hadn’t told Sandro the truth about that. About her. Chiara had been unlucky because she’d had a sister who had gone blank and still and unmoving when she’d needed her most. She’d had Liana.

      And while part of her craved to tell Sandro the truth, to have him know and accept her wholeheartedly, the rest of her was too afraid because there were no guarantees. No promises that Sandro would accept her, would love her, if he knew how badly she’d failed someone she’d loved.

      Her parents hadn’t. Her father hadn’t spoken to her for months after Chiara’s death; even now he never quite looked at her when they talked. And he never showed her any affection. They’d never been the most demonstrative family—Chiara had cornered the market on that—but since her little sister’s death her father hadn’t touched her at all. Not one kiss or hug or even brush of the hand.

      And could she really blame him?

      She was a hypocrite, Liana knew, for wanting Sandro’s secrets, his pain and shame and fear, and keeping all of hers back. If she’d been able to accept and love him, why couldn’t he do the same for her?

      Because your secrets are worse, your sins greater.

      And yet not telling him—keeping that essential part of her back—felt like a cancer gnawing at all of her certainties, eating her heart.

      How could she keep something so crucial from him?

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      SANDRO ATTEMPTED TO listen as one of his cabinet ministers talked, his voice reminding him of the buzzing of a bumblebee that flung itself against the window of one of the palace’s meeting rooms. He’d been closeted in here with his cabinet for nearly three hours and he’d barely been able to hear a word that had been said.

      All because of Liana.

      Ever since he’d unburdened himself to her he’d felt as if they were closer than ever. He loved her more than ever, for СКАЧАТЬ