‘I have something for you,’ Dante said, his voice deep, cutting through her thoughts.
She glanced across at him and her heart, newly awakened, lurched with the fulness of her love. ‘You do?’
‘It’s from my grandmother. She wanted you to have it.’
She kept her features neutral, but she heard the distinction he insisted on making. It wasn’t from him. There was no significance to whatever this was, at least, not so far as they were concerned.
‘Here.’ His voice, though, was heavy with emotions. He pulled a black velvet pouch from his pocket, held it in his hands a moment and then passed it across to Charlotte. She felt it between her fingertips, the friction of velvet on fine metal. Curiously, she opened the drawstring and carefully fished out the contents.
A stunning, enormous teardrop diamond was held on a very fine white gold chain. She stared at it for a long time, trying to understand why Allegra would give her such a beautiful piece of jewellery. For even though Charlotte generally despised ostentatious pieces, and this was certainly emblematic of wealth, there was something delicate and beautiful about it. Something that overcome any distaste she might otherwise have felt.
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Yes.’
‘I mean, it’s way too much,’ she said, trying to infuse her tone with teasing lightness when her heart was weighing her down so completely. ‘But I love it, anyway.’
She stared at it, aware that a heavy silence enveloped them, making Charlotte acutely aware of the lapping of the water around her calves.
‘It’s a family piece,’ he said, the words devoid of emotion, but in a way she knew was carefully cultivated. ‘It was my great grandmother’s, then my grandmother’s. My mother loved it and wore it often.’
Charlotte drew in a quick breath, closing her fingers over the necklace for a few brief seconds before slipping it back into the bag, drawing the string tight and holding it towards Dante. ‘I can’t accept it.’
His dark eyes flashed to hers. ‘You have to.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too valuable. Too sentimentally important,’ she corrected. ‘It’s very kind of her, but that’s not what we are.’
His lips pulled to the side. ‘She thinks we are.’
Charlotte’s eyes closed. ‘Of course she does, but she’s wrong.’ Oh, how it hurt to say that!
‘I want you to have it.’
Charlotte blinked and stared at him, her heart rabbiting hard. Did he have any idea what effect that sentence had on her? If he cared for her, if any of this was real, she would take the necklace and wear it every day close to her heart. But it just wasn’t right.
‘I’ll wear it tomorrow,’ she said, softly. ‘So she can see me in it. But after that, you can have it.’
‘You won’t even think about keeping it?’
‘Dante, you just told me it’s an important piece to your family.’
‘We have other important pieces.’
‘This is—too much.’
‘Think of it as a thank you,’ he said. ‘A bonus, for a job very well done.’
She was caught so completely off guard by the transactional nature of his statement that she lost any ability to mask her feelings, to hide how shocked—and hurt—she was by the very idea of that. For a moment, she was sure it was written all over her features, before she managed to flash him a bright smile, as though her heart wasn’t splintering into a billion tiny fragments.
He closed his hand over hers, pushing the velvet pouch towards her chest.
‘She loves you,’ he said, quietly, voice deep. Was she imagining the way those words seemed to come right out of the middle of him, like they were a part of him. Was it just wishful thinking that imbued them with something else? Maybe a little of his own feelings too?
Yes. Of course it was wishful thinking. She loved him and she was desperate for him to love her back. Desperate, just like her mother had been, all Charlotte’s life.
The kind of desperation that had the ability to turn to bitterness, if you weren’t very careful.
‘She’s a very special woman.’ Her voice sounded rigid to her own ears. ‘I’m sorry I won’t get to see her again.’
