‘I’m sorry. I’m tired,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘I think I’m going to—’
‘I won’t keep you for long,’ he promised.
He guided her towards the back of the yacht, the staff giving them whatever space they needed. He leaned against the safety rail, the evening warm enough despite not wearing the jacket he’d given to Rin. The yacht was anchored so the only breeze was the one that came off the Tyrrhenian Sea.
Guilt twisted in his gut. A perverse part of him had wanted to punish her, to give her a little taste of vengeance, but not like this.Nothinglike this. If this was how she reacted to the dress...then what would happen at the altar?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning to face her, the moonlight making her glow. ‘I should never have suggested you wear that dress.’
She shook her head, not blaming him, but also not realising that she should have.
‘It’s not about the dress.’
‘Well, itis—’ he insisted before she cut him off.
‘It’snot,’ she said definitively, with a little more of the strength he associated with Rin Carter. ‘Someone else could have worn that dress and laughed it off,’ she admitted with a helpless shrug.
‘But not you?’ he asked, wanting to know why. Wanting to knowmore.
Her fingers stroked the black silk lapels of his jacket where she’d drawn it around herself.
‘When I was younger...’ she started, hesitantly, ‘at school, a few children spent a significant amount of time making me the butt of their jokes,’ she said, her head angled out to sea, the line of her profile as stark as her words. ‘And it hurt. And itstillhurts,’ she admitted with a shrug.
‘You were bullied?’ he asked in surprise. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. ‘Because I was different? Because I was tall? Because I sounded different? Because I have red hair? Because they thought we had money when they didn’t? We didn’t either. But that didn’t matter. I’dhadmoney, and that was enough.’
‘What did they do?’ he asked, despite himself. This, he knew, instinctively, was therealErin Carter, and it wasn’t just some sob story either.
‘Hid my clothes after gym practice or swimming, took pictures of me changing. Started rumours. That my father was a drug dealer in London. That I was having sex with one of the teachers. That I had STDs. I can keep going, but I think you get the picture.’
Enzo swallowed. Horrified at how cruel those children could have been. It must have been terrible for her. He knew a little of what that was like. The lies printed in papers for the world to see. How they ate away at you. How you were advised to ignore it and it would all go away. But it didn’t. If you ignored them, they just got worse.
So Enzo had forced himself to stop caring. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. He’d brazened it out and made it a joke, the way he thought that Rin would have done about the dress.
But she hadn’t.
Rin. His fiancée. His now very public fiancée. He cursed. Did she even know what she’d gotten herself into? Tangling with him like this? What on earth would make her do such a thing? He shook his head and looked out to sea.
‘You know that marrying me will draw attention? A lot of it.’
He saw the line of her jaw tense.
‘From the press. There will be articles written, photographs taken. Things that will make you look good and bad. Things will be dug up about you. They will actively put you in situations that are meant to provoke. To taunt. To do anything to incite a newsworthy response.’
When he’d been a child, the press had done everything in their power to goad him into answers about his parents, into providing his thoughts, or his feelings about their infamous arguments and public divorces. They’d tried to bribe teachers and friends and gone through rubbish bins and hacked email accounts.
‘I know,’ she said, determinedly.
‘You’re prepared for that?’
‘Yes,’ she said with a conviction and determination he couldn’t read. A generous man would think it love. A cynical man would think it desperation.
‘Are you sure?’ Enzo no longer knew whether he was asking her or him.
‘Of course,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I cannot wait to marry you, Mr Rossetti,’ she said, her smile more game than anything.
He shook his head, disappointed. And shoving aside the thought that wondered what it could have been like if she wasn’t trying to con him and he wasn’t trying to win. And for just a moment, he gave up the fight. Wanting to give her something. Wanting to offer her some salve for her hurts.
