Chapter Twelve
MIA COMPLETELY UNNECESSARILY sent a document to the farthest printer simply to have reason to get away from her desk.
As she walked back, she used peripheral vision to see Sante still intensely talking with Paolo in his office.
She let her glance sweep the room and saw Davide watching her.
She dropped her lashes and went straight back to her desk.
He knew. Which meant they all knew. She was such a fool to have let this happen.
She desperately needed to talk to Sante privately—as in off-site—so she could explain exactly why she’d not wanted to talk about his plans here.
She’d thought he would understand given he’d been empathetic about what had happened with Oliver.
And what had he meant by tickets to a concert in London?
Who and what and why had he done that? She ached to know now but ten minutes ago she’d been feeling trash with Dario pitying her, hearing those guys laughing about her and she’d just needed him to stop.
He’d done more than that. He’d shut down. His dismissal—that they were done? That had sounded final.
Five minutes after she’d left Sante’s office, Paolo exited—Sante just behind him.
He walked past her, jacket and bag in hand.
Mia didn’t look up; she couldn’t. She checked the schedule but nothing new had been added.
She heard the bang as the main door closed behind him but she couldn’t chase after him given the curious gazes of the coders.
Instead, she faked being busy—clicking windows on her computer screen as if her life depended on it and overthinking everything. She was totally thrown by that invitation—it was thoughtful and generous and what had he meant by it?
She willed the workday to end. Willed Sante to return. Wished she could get to a space where she could be alone and think. But she couldn’t just leave. She couldn’t go away to London with him and have everyone know it.
An hour later a message pinged on the company-wide message board.
Gone to investigate a property. Back soon. Keep pushing *S.
It was more information than Sante usually offered the team when going away but Mia felt hurt that there was no message directly to her inbox. Nor her phone. She braved up and sent him a text—saying they needed to talk, asking when he’d be back.
Two days later she was still waiting on a reply.
Three days later she’d accepted the reality.
She’d thought he’d get in touch and while he responded to work emails and updates—briefly—his message was clear.
He didn’t want her. Those tersely worded work instructions made her feel worse.
He sent them only because he’d had to. Otherwise, he would’ve severed all ties—on a personal level he had, no texts, no calls. He’d walked out and never looked back.
That was what he’d done to Dario after the accident. What he’d done with that school. And with his foster placement. It was how he dealt—he walked away, stayed away, stayed silent.
‘Are you okay, Mia?’
Mia glanced up and saw Valerio quietly standing near. She couldn’t even interpret his question—whether he, too, knew and was asking with gossipy intent or whether he genuinely cared.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she lied.
She wasn’t fine. She was furious. And even though she knew it was horrible to simply disappear from people’s lives, at 11 am on the third day of Sante’s absence she closed down her computer, shoved her spare blouse into her bag and walked out of the office without a word to anyone.
As soon as she was out in the bright sunshine she grabbed her phone and tapped the screen. Her call was answered almost immediately.
‘Adele?’ She checked. ‘I’m so sorry.’
* * *
Sante’s thundering pulse deafened him to everything. Nothing within him would work properly. He couldn’t even get it together enough to bother walking around the stunning building overlooking a vast coastline. He just stood in front of it and felt like crap. Alone. Again. Again. Again.
He’d gone straight to the airport—so desperate to escape he’d actually flown commercial.
First class, but still, it was cramped and crowded.
He’d walked through the apartment in Monaco and gone straight back to the airport.
Restless as hell. He’d felt a biting drive for space and distance and so he’d gotten onto another flight; this time Melbourne, Australia.
He’d spent more than fifteen hours in the air all up.
Which gave him plenty of time to think. To stew.
He’d thought he’d visit his favourite properties, remind himself what he liked, what he’d achieved, what was most important to him.
All that had happened was that he’d wished Mia was with him.
At every moment. Every place. He’d wanted her with him.
He’d missed her. And he was an idiot because she didn’t want to be seen with him.
She didn’t want to talk with him in private.
Never wanted to leave his apartment in Rome or the estate in Sicily.
Half the time she didn’t want to stay in his bed the entire night.
She wanted to have sex with him, but anything more?
It hurt. Especially because he knew damned well she was an ‘all in’ person—with impulsive warmth, generous with her self, her soul.
It wasn’t hedonism—there was a deliberate direction in her choices.
She’d turned her full-bore attention to him but it had been confined.
She’d wanted him but only if it was quiet.
And he was furious with her for that. Furious with himself for still wanting more.
And his fury surged—unabated, unanswered.
He wanted to know why—to hear the trash reasons from her mouth.
To watch her eyes as she answered. And he needed to tell her how much she bothered him.
He’d made a mistake in running away from the fight. He needed to have the fight with her to be able to forget.
It was days before he got to her apartment. There was no answer when he rang her doorbell. He glanced at his watch and cursed his idiocy. She would be at work by now. The emails had still been coming but she’d not offered anything personal other than that one text he’d not replied to.
He stalked through the office, stopping at her empty desk and glancing around. Why wasn’t she here already? The main door opened and he whirled to face it. Freezing when he saw who’d entered.
‘What are you doing here?’ he muttered huskily. ‘You can’t be here.’
Adele merely raised her eyebrows at him.
‘I thought you were taking three months, not three weeks,’ Sante added.
‘Apparently, my fussing is driving Bruno up the wall and he’ll do better with a break from me. The specialist you got for him is amazing, the cleaner is amazing and his best friend is dropping in. So he’s in good spirits and I’m needed here.’
Why? Sante’s chest felt hollowed out by a spoon. ‘Where’s Mia?’
Adele got busy unpacking her bag at Mia’s desk and wouldn’t look at him. ‘I’ll be in the office three days—’
‘And Mia the other two?’ Sante interrupted.
Adele straightened and looked him in the eye. ‘No, Sante. Mia’s gone.’
He shook his head. ‘She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t let you down.’
‘She’s not the one who’s let me down.’ Adele paused.
His heart thudded and instinctively he pressed his lips together. She was scolding him—about the only person he’d take it from.
‘Mia’s a generous soul,’ Adele added quietly. ‘I’d hoped you might see that.’
Of course he had. The problem was he wanted too much of her generosity.
‘She was right about you,’ Adele added.
Meaning what, exactly? But Adele didn’t say more.
Sante drew breath, softening stiff muscles enough to be able to speak. ‘Where can I find her?’
The older woman sat at her desk and didn’t answer.
‘So, you know we’re…’ He trailed off.
‘Everyone knows you’re together,’ Adele said calmly. ‘Isn’t that part of the problem?’
He frowned. Everyone? Already? In his head that had been inevitable, but while he didn’t care, the thought bothered Mia. A lot. ‘Did someone say something?’
Adele looked at him like he was an imbecile. He frowned. Had they said something off? Was that why Mia had been so uncomfortable that day? Then why hadn’t she said anything to him?
Because he’d not given her a proper chance to.
And she had said something—she’d said they couldn’t talk here.
In his office with all its windows and open-plan space.
And he really was a fool. He’d taken her hesitation so badly—so personally.
He’d immediately assumed her reluctance was regarding his invitation.
He’d been so insecure. So he’d backed off.
He’d disappeared and then she’d disappeared.
And wasn’t that what he’d wanted? He’d known his silence would hurt her.
He’d known his disappearance would drive her away.
He’d been horrible because he’d felt not good enough for her and couldn’t handle the prospect of her rejection.
Now he felt even more horrible because driving her away wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.
It was the complete opposite of what he wanted.
He’d been such a coward. He’d hurt himself.
And he was still so damned insecure he didn’t know how badly he’d hurt her.
But he did know that Mia was empathetic and loving.
When she’d first realised who he was, she’d sided with Dario’s version of their past with almost blind loyalty because she loved her brother deeply.
The magnitude of Mia’s emotions had always attracted Sante—he wanted her to feel deeply for him, too.
For him most of all. He wanted every ounce of her generosity—both body and heart.
He’d wanted it so much he’d gotten scared and pushed her away instead of speaking up.
But Mia needed love, too—the certainty of that body-and-soul kind of love.
She’d never had it and she feared rejection as much as he did.
She walked out when she felt that she’d been too much—but she could never be too much for him.
‘I get that you’re angry with me. I’m angry with me,’ Sante said to the woman who’d been better to him than almost anyone. Because now he understood that she’d chosen Mia to help, oh so deliberately. ‘I screwed up but I can’t fix it if I don’t know where to find her.’
Adele looked up, her gaze serious. ‘Do you actually want to fix it?’
A desperate, desolate ache swept through him.
‘More than anything,’ he admitted hoarsely.
‘But she’s the one who needs to hear why.
Though admittedly, I might need help with how.
’ He leaned against the wall and ran his hand through his hair.
‘Please, Adele, I know you know where she is. Will you tell me?’