‘Is it always like that?’ Erin asked, shocked, as the car pulled up to the marina.
‘That? That was nothing. You wait until after the wedding, when news of his affairs and her heartbreak come out. That’s when the fun really begins,’ he said bitterly with a laugh, as he got out of the car and held out his hand for her to take.
As she stepped onto the smooth concrete track that led down to the floating wooden pathway that wound between the world’s most expensive yachts, she saw nothing but him. And the pain that he tried to hide.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘Of course. Honestly? I’m just bored of it all now,’ he said, turning away to walk back to the yacht.
She stared after him with solemn eyes, not making a move to follow him, heartsore and sad. She had not been fooled by his father’s false charm—so different from his son’s. She had not been fooled that Luca and his fiancée had just ‘stumbled’ across them at a bar that Enzo was known to enjoy. She had not been fooled by the easy extension of an invitation to the wedding. Enzo’s father had needled him for money, and it hadn’t been the first time.
She thought back over what he’d said of his childhood, what she’d uncovered in her research. The publicity around his parents’ divorce. How he’d been used like a pawn...
And then it hit her. Truly hit her. She could not continue with Gio’s scheme. She couldn’t go through with it, she couldn’t continue to pretend like it didn’t matter, like Enzo didn’t matter. Because he did matter. And no, she might not be getting something from him, but she was most definitely using him.
‘What?’ he asked when he realised she wasn’t following him.
‘I...’ She shoved down that thought. She would deal with that later. Because right now, he was more important. He was themostimportant thing to her.
‘You don’t have to do that. Not with me,’ she said, quietly.
‘Do what?’ he asked with a shrug.
The carelessness. She’d thought all along that it was how he lived, that he genuinely didn’t care. But it wasn’t just other people he was careless with. It was himself. And she hurt for him. She hurt, because she realised that’s how people were with him. They were careless withhim.
‘You don’t...’ She trailed off, holding back her words. ‘Have tolie.’
Chapter Nine
Enzo didn’t knowwhether to laugh or cry.
He didn’t have to lie?Hedidn’t?
He didn’t know whether it was audacity that had her saying that or something a little like the opposite.
But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but be seduced by the romantic fantasy that they had both woven, of some kind of deeper, more meaningful relationship. And perhaps he could pretend just a little longer that shewasthere for him. That she did care.
He held out his hand to her, and together they made their way back to the yacht, the stillness of the night punctuated by the clacking of boats’ metal lines slapping in the wind and the occasional bird call. They gravitated to the upper deck as if by silent agreement and as he poured them both a drink, he thought about where to start.
With her question? Was he really okay?
He crossed to join her where she stood, looking out over the Quay Saint Pierre, and the bustling restaurants and bars that bordered the marina. It was the first time he didn’t want to be there, losing himself to the bright lights and happy conversations, the easy smiles and sensual distractions. No. His father was getting married. And he knew what that meant.
That meant his mother calling on the phone, determined to find her own new fiancé. More requests for interviews, more requests for money. It meant the reminder that once again, he was nothing to them but a source of cash, or a pawn to be used on some years-old chess game between his parents.
Erin looked at him with a solemn aquamarine gaze, tendrils of the hair she’d taken down flowing in the gentle breeze. Overhead was one of the most spectacular starscapes in the world, and still she outshone it. She was, he realised, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
His fingers flexed around the glass that he offered out to her.
‘It’s always been like that,’ he confessed, and he wondered whether she would ever understand the shame of it. The raw, guttural shame of knowing that he’d never been wanted by his parents. Never been loved.
‘In part, because my father is almost completely incapable of loving anything but himself. Both my parents, actually. Everything they do is about either feeding their own ego or their own bank account,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders as if he could dismiss it that easily.
‘What about you?’
He looked down at the floor, wondering how much of himself to expose to her, shocked by how much he wanted to show her everything.
‘They love me as a means to an end,’ he said defiantly, lifting the glass to his lips, his eyes on her, watching and waiting for the slightest response to tell him of her thoughts. But her face was nearly ruthlessly blank, waiting for him to continue.
