LITMIR.BIZ

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it be, when Santino and I were only ever a means to an end?’

      Matteo flinched as he met the accusation in her eyes, because nobody had ever spoken quite so candidly to him. ‘For someone so tiny, you certainly don’t pull any punches, do you, Keira?’

      ‘What’s the point in pulling punches? All we have left is the truth,’ she said wearily. ‘You’ve got what you wanted, Matteo. We’re married now and your son has been legitimised. You have continued the Valenti name and will therefore inherit the estate. You don’t need me any more.’

      Matteo felt his chest tighten and his instinct was to tell her that she was right—and that he didn’t need anyone. He’d spent his whole life not needing anyone because there had been nobody there to lean on, nobody to get close to—why change that pattern now? But some unknown emotion was nudging at his conscience as something deep inside him told him this was different.

      ‘And what if I say I do need you?’ he said hoarsely as he attempted to articulate the confusion of thoughts which were spinning around inside his head.

      Her eyes widened, but he could see a wariness in their depths of profondo blu. ‘You do?’ she queried uncertainly.

      The moment it took for her to ask the question was all Matteo needed to shift things into perspective, because he knew he mustn’t offer her false promises or false hope. She deserved more than that. So stick to the facts, he urged himself grimly. You’re good with facts. Allow her to consider all the advantages of remaining here, as his wife.

      ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘And logistically it makes perfect sense.’

      ‘Logistically?’ she echoed, her voice a little faint.

      ‘Sure.’ He shrugged. ‘If we’re all living together under one roof as a family, it will be much better for Santino. Better than having a father who just jets in and sees him on high days and holidays.’

      ‘There is that, of course,’ she said woodenly.

      ‘And I’ve married you now, Keira,’ he said softly. ‘I have given you the security of bearing my name and wearing my ring. Your future is assured. You don’t need to worry about money ever again.’

      ‘You think that’s what it’s all about?’ she questioned, her voice trembling. ‘Money?’

      ‘Not all of it, no—but a big part of it. And we have plenty of other reasons to keep our marriage going.’ He curved her a slow smile. ‘What about the sexual chemistry which exists between us? That fact that you are the hottest woman I’ve ever had in my bed?’

      She gasped as if she had been winded before staring at him—as if she were looking at someone she’d never seen before. ‘You just don’t get it, do you, Matteo? You list all the reasons I should stay with you and yet you haven’t mentioned anything which really matters!’

      He flinched with pain as he met the undiluted anger in her gaze, but at the same time a strange sense of relief washed over him as he realised that he no longer had to try. She was going and taking their child with him and he would just have to learn how to deal with that. And anyway, he thought grimly—why would he want to prolong a relationship when it could hurt like this? Hadn’t he vowed never to let anyone hurt him, ever again?

      ‘Okay, I get it. What do you want?’

      With an effort he held up the palms of his hands, in silent submission, and the sudden wobble of her lips made him think she might be about to backtrack—maybe to soften the blows which she’d just rained on him, but all she said was, ‘I’d like us to separate.’

      He told himself it was better this way. Better to go back to the life he was used to and be the person he knew how to be, rather than chase after the glimmer of gold which Keira Ryan had brought shimmering into his life.

      ‘Tell me what you want, in practical terms,’ he said flatly.

      He could see her throat constricting as she nodded.

      ‘I’d like to return to London as soon as possible and to rent somewhere before I decide to buy,’ she said, before sucking in a deep breath. ‘But I want you to know that I’ll take only what is necessary for our needs and you’re not to worry. I don’t intend to make a great hole in your wealth, Matteo.’

      And even that got to him, because he couldn’t even level the charge of greed against her. She wasn’t interested in his money, he realised, and she never had been. She’d taken the cash he’d thoughtlessly left beside the bed and had given it away to charity. She’d fought like mad against him buying her a fancy wardrobe. She was a jewel of a woman, he realised—a bright and shining jewel. But it was too late for them. The cold, pinched look on her beautiful face told him that. So let her go, he told himself. Set her free. At least you can give her that.

      ‘That can all be arranged,’ he said. ‘But in turn, I need your reassurance that I can continue to see my son.’

      There was surprise on her face now and he wondered if secretly she had expected him to cut all ties with his own flesh and blood.

      ‘Of course. You can see as much of Santino as you wish,’ she said quietly. ‘I will never deny you your son, Matteo, and I hope you will see him very often, because he...he needs you. You’re his daddy.’

      A lump rose in his throat as he moved away from the blaze of the fire.

      ‘I’d like to say goodnight to him now,’ he said and she nodded and made as if to follow him.

      ‘Alone,’ he gritted out.

      But Matteo’s heart was heavy as he walked towards the nursery—as if a dark stone had lodged itself deep inside his chest. The night light made the room appear soft and rosy and Matteo stared down at the sleeping child. He remembered the first time he had seen him. When he had counted his fingers and toes like someone learning basic mathematics, and had felt nothing.

      But not this time.

      This time he could barely make out any detail of his sleeping son, his vision was so blurred. Too late, his heart had cracked open and left room for emotion to come flooding in, powerfully and painfully. And Santino stirred as Matteo’s tears fell like rain onto the delicate white shawl.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      IT WAS RAINING by the time Keira got back from her walk and she had just let Charlie off his lead when she noticed the letter lying in the centre of the hall table, where Claudia must have left it. She pulled a face. Another one.

      The envelope carried an Italian stamp and the airmail sticker seemed to wink at her. Quickly, she slid it into a drawer to lie on top of all the others, because she couldn’t quite bring herself to throw them away. Her reluctance to dispose of the growing pile of correspondence was just about equal to her reluctance to read them, because they were from Matteo—she recognised his handwriting. And why would she wish to read them and risk making the hole in her heart even bigger? Why was he even writing to her when she’d told him it was better if all correspondence took place between their respective solicitors? Why had he arrogantly elected to take no notice?

      Because she was fighting like crazy not to go under. Not to give into the tears which pricked at her eyes at night when she lay in bed missing the warm embrace of her estranged husband. She was determined to pour all her energies into being there for Santino—into being the best mother she possibly could—and she couldn’t manage that if her heart stayed raw and aching from thinking about Matteo all the time.

      She’d wondered whether his determination to keep in close contact with his son would have faded once she and Santino had left Umbria but to her surprise, it hadn’t. He’d already paid two visits and they’d only been back in England a little over a fortnight. On both those occasions she had absented herself from the house, leaving Claudia in charge of the baby—Claudia who had been happy to accompany her from Umbria when Keira had made the emotional return to

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