LITMIR.BIZ

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but once that it is out of the way, I need to make a decision.’

      ‘Whether to move back to Italy?’

      Dante nodded. ‘Every doctor I have consulted tells me that Alex needs a routine, that she needs a solid home base—at the moment I am having trouble providing that. Katrina is only too willing to help, but…’ He hesitated and took a long sip of his drink. Matilda held her breath, willing him to continue, to glean a little more insight into the problems he faced. ‘She wants to keep Jasmine alive, doesn’t want anything that might detract from her daughter’s memory, which is understandable, of course, only sometimes…’

      ‘It’s a bit much?’ Matilda tentatively offered, relieved when he didn’t frown back at her, relieved that maybe she understood just a little of what he was feeling.

      ‘Much too much,’ Dante agreed, then terminated the conversation, standing up and gesturing. ‘I will show you the guest room, it’s already made up—then we can eat.’

      ‘I might just grab a sandwich or something when I get my things,’ Matilda started, but Dante just ignored her, leading her through the house and upstairs, gesturing for her to be quiet as they tiptoed past Alex’s room, before coming to a large door at the end of the hallway.

      Clearly Dante’s idea of a guest room differed from Matilda’s somewhat—her version was a spare room with a bed and possibly an ironing board for good measure. But Dante’s guests were clearly used to better. As he pushed open the door and she stepped inside, Matilda realised just how far she’d been relegated by Katrina. Till then the summerhouse had been more than OK, but it wasn’t a patch on this! A massive king-sized bed made up with crisp white linen was the focus point of the fabulously spacious room, but rather than being pushed against the wall and sensibly facing a door, as most of the population would have done, instead it stood proudly in the middle, staring directly out of one of the massive windows Matilda had till now only glimpsed from the outside, offering a panoramic view of the bay. Matilda thought she must have died and gone to heaven—ruing every last minute she’d spent struggling on in the summerhouse when she could have been here!

      ‘I won’t sleep,’ Matilda sighed dreamily, wandering over to the window and pressing her face against the glass, like a child staring into a toy-shop Christmas display. ‘I’ll spend the whole night watching the water and then I’ll be too exhausted to do your garden. It’s just divine…’

      ‘And,’ Dante said with a teasing dramatic note to his voice that Matilda had never heard before, ‘it has running water.’

      ‘You’re kidding.’ Matilda played along, liking the change in him, the funnier, more relaxed side of him she was slowly starting to witness.

      ‘Not just that, but hot running water.’ Dante smiled, sliding open the en suite door as Matilda reluctantly peeled herself away from the view and padded over. ‘See for yourself.’

      The smile was wiped off her face as she stepped inside. Fabulous it might be but she couldn’t possibly use it, her frantic eyes scanning the equally massive window for even a chink of a blind or curtain.

      ‘No one can see.’ Dante rolled his eyes at her expression.

      ‘Apart from every passing sailor and the nightly ferry load on its way to Tasmania!’ Matilda gulped.

      ‘The windows are treated, I mean tinted,’ Dante simultaneously explained and corrected himself. Even a couple of hours ago she’d have felt stupid or gauche, but his smile seemed genuine enough at least that Matilda was able to smile back. ‘I promise that no one will see you.’

      ‘Good.’

      ‘Now that we’ve taken care of that, can we eat?’

      This time she didn’t even bother to argue.

      Wandering back along the hallway, Dante put his fingers to his lips and pushed open Alex’s door to check on his daughter. Matilda stood there as he crept inside. The little girl was lying with one skinny leg sticking out of between the bars of her cot, her tiny, angelic face relaxed in sleep. Matilda felt her heart go out to this beautiful child who had been through so, so much, a lump building in her throat as Dante slowly moved her leg back in then retrieved a sheet that had fallen from the cot and with supreme tenderness tucked it around Alex, gently stroking her shoulder as she stirred slightly. But Matilda wasn’t watching Alex any more. Instead, she was watching Dante, a sting of tears in her eyes as she glimpsed again his tenderness, slotted in another piece of the puzzle that enthralled her.

      When he wasn’t being superior or scathing he was actually incredibly nice.

      Incredibly nice, Matilda thought a little later as Dante carried two steaming plates into the lounge room and they shared a casual dinner. And whether it was the wine or the mood, conversation came incredibly easily, so much so that when Matilda made a brief reference to her recent break-up, she didn’t jump as if she’d been burnt when Dante asked what had gone wrong. She just gave a thoughtful shrug and pondered a moment before answering.

      ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Matilda finally admitted. ‘I don’t really know when the problems started. For ages we were really happy. Edward’s career was taking off, we were looking at houses and then all of a sudden we seemed to be arguing over everything. Nothing I did was ever right, from the way I dressed to the friends I had. It was as if nothing I did could make him happy.’

      ‘So everything was perfect and then out of the blue arguments started?’ Dante gave her a rather disbelieving frown as she nodded. ‘It doesn’t happen like that, Matilda,’ Dante said. ‘There is no such thing as perfect. There must have been something that irked, a warning that all was not OK—there always is.’

      ‘How do you know?’ Matilda asked, ‘I mean how do you know all these things?’

      ‘It’s my job to know how people’s minds work,’ Dante responded, but then softened it with a hint of personal insight. ‘I was in a relationship too, Matilda. I do know that they are not all perfect!’

      According to everyone, his had been, but Matilda didn’t say it, not wanting to break the moment, liking this less reticent Dante she was seeing, actually enjoying talking to him. ‘I supposed he always flirted when we were out and it annoyed me,’ Matilda admitted. ‘We’d go to business dinners and I didn’t like the way he was with some of the women. I don’t think I’m a jealous person, but if he was like that when I was there…’ Her voice trailed off, embarrassed now at having said so much, but Dante just nodded, leaning back on the sofa. His stance was so incredibly nonjudgmental, inexplicably she wanted to continue, actually wanted to tell him how Edward had made her feel, wanted Dante to hear this and hoping maybe in return she’d hear about him, too. ‘He wasn’t cheating. But I wondered in years to come…’

      ‘Probably.’ Dante shrugged. ‘No doubt when you’d just had a baby, or your work was busy and you were too tired to focus enough on him, not quite at your goal weight.’ He must have registered her frown, her mouth opening then holding back a question that, despite the nature of this personal conversation, wasn’t one she had any right to ask, but Dante answered it anyway. ‘No, Matilda, I didn’t have an affair, if that’s what you are thinking. I like beautiful women as much as any man and, yes, at various times in our relationship Jasmine and I faced all of the things I’ve outlined, but I can truthfully say it would never have entered my head to look at another woman in that way. I wanted to fix our problems, Matilda, not add to them.’

      And it was so refreshing to hear it, a completely different perspective, her doubts about opening up to him quashed now as she saw the last painful months through different eyes.

      ‘In the end he spent so much time at work there really wasn’t much room for anything else…’

      ‘Anything else?’ Dante asked, painfully direct, and Matilda took a gulp of her drink then nodded.

      ‘You know, for months I’ve been going over and over it, wondering if I was just imagining things, if Edward was right, that it was my fault he couldn’t…’

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