Her father had been a cruel man, and she had always believed her mother was a fool for loving him. Strangely, though, over these last weeks, she had come closer to understanding her mother than she ever had while she lived, and that tore at her heart. She’d been so hard, so unforgiving. She’d never understood why her mother couldn’t move on, forget about her father, and get a life, and she’d made her views perfectly clear. Now, she winced at the guilt that ate at her because she’d discovered for herself that love wasn’t something you could switch off at will. She had always believed she didn’t want love, but would she really turn her back on these feelings? With Luc, she had felt complete. Now it was as though the very center of her was missing. A big, gaping hole only Luc Severino could fill.
Right from the beginning, she had told herself that there was no future for her and Luc, but it had been fear. She had been terrified of falling in love, of giving over her hope of happiness to a man who she had sensed from the start had the ability to take her over, body and soul.
When his mother had come that last day, it was as if Lia had expected it, but even so the truths she told were worse than anything Lia could have imagined, and it had knocked her feet out from under her. If only Luc had told her himself—but then she realized with an almost blinding insight that perhaps Luc had been afraid as well. It seemed an impossible concept, but she remembered his face at the airport. The pain in his brilliant green eyes.
How could she do this to him? She had never even told him she loved him.
She didn’t want to speak to him on the phone. She needed to see him face-to-face. Would he even be in the country? Should she go to his office?
She hurried inside and picked up her bag, searching through it until she found the card from The Crazy Frog. Her fingers were trembling as she pushed the numbers.
“Can I speak to Harley Watson, please?”
She sank down into the seat behind her while she waited. Her hands tightened around the phone as she heard the receiver being picked up at the other end.
“Mr. Watson, it’s Lia Brent.”
He was silent for a moment, and Lia swallowed trying to clear the lump in her throat.
“Lia? What do you want?”
He sounded unfriendly, and Lia swallowed again and forced herself to go on.
“I want to see Luc. I thought you might know where he is. If he’s back in the country.”
“He’s back. He was here a couple of nights ago. Not in good shape.”
She didn’t know what to say to that and remained silent.
He sighed then spoke again. “Give me a bit of time and I’ll chase him down for you. Call you back.”
Lia released her breath then gave him her number. “Thanks,” she muttered.
“Just make sure you put things right.”
She was about to put the phone down when he spoke again. “Lia?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your mum,” he said. “You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“And your dad.” He was silent for a moment. “Well, maybe I’m not sorry about him.”
Lia put down the phone slowly. Just talking to Harley seemed to bring Luc closer, and for the first time since they had parted she felt a sense of excitement.
Her mind refused to concentrate on anything after the phone call. Now that she had made the decision, she was in a frenzy of anticipation.
…
She had a lesson at two o’clock, and Harley hadn’t called. She got changed and still no phone call. If he didn’t call back by the time she finished work, she was going into London anyway. She would go to Luc’s office, to the apartment. She would hunt him down, and whatever he felt now, she would tell him she loved him, that she would trust her life to him.
Her pupil, Molly, was one Lia had worked with before, and she forced herself to concentrate, finally managing to immerse herself in the work. She heard a car drive up but ignored it.
“Lia?”
She spun round. He was leaning on the wooden fence, dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and red tie, incongruous in these surroundings, as though he had just stepped out of an office. For a moment, she wondered if she had conjured him up. His face was expressionless, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, but she could sense him watching her.
“Harley said you phoned.”
She nodded.
“You wanted to see me. I drove down as soon as Harley called me.”
His voice was as expressionless as his face, but his hands gripped the railing, his knuckles tight with tension.
She walked slowly toward him, coming to a halt just in front of where he stood. Reaching up, she removed his glasses. She needed to see his eyes.