Chapter Ten
MIRA SENSED ROCCO had pulled back in some way.
Maybe he was just distracted with work, she chided herself. Not everything was her fault. It was an old habit to think so, but when they returned to his apartment, he barely said a word as they readied to attend a charity auction.
On the way to the event, as the silence in the back of the car became oppressive, she steeled herself and said, “I’ll go back to my hotel in Naples tomorrow.”
“Why?” He snapped his attention from his phone to her.
“To check on the villa.” And allow them to part without any drama. The sense of rejection was still enormous, but she’d rather drive their parting and do it before she became so deeply attached to him that it would physically hurt to be parted from him.
“There’s nothing to see. We’ll go when they have the full proposal ready. I’ve asked for specific people to be assigned to it. They’re in high demand, so it’s taking longer for everything to come together. Don’t worry about it. I’m monitoring it personally.”
She wasn’t worried about the villa. She was worried about overstaying her welcome in his home.
She could always go home to Berlin, she supposed, but she wasn’t anxious to return to her empty apartment or roam a city where she might bump into Axel and his new bride once they returned from their honeymoon.
She didn’t have close friends, but she had enough acquaintances who would ask about her broken engagement and this new one with Rocco.
She didn’t know how to explain any of it, especially if it was falling apart.
“I have to go to Brazil.” Rocco cursed at his phone and dropped it into his pocket. “What do you have going on? When could you be available?”
“Let me see.” She touched her chin. “I don’t have a job, so… An hour from now?” She was being facetious, but it was a reminder that she needed to make some decisions about her future.
“It can wait a day or two,” he said drily.
“Do you really want me to go with you?”
“Do you not want to go?” He frowned.
“I would,” she said truthfully. “I’ve never been anywhere in South America.” And she wanted to spend more time with him.
“I’ve only seen the inside of boardrooms myself. I’ll have my assistant book us a river cruise.”
“Really?” She blinked, surprised. Shyly pleased. She had been worried he was growing tired of her, but apparently his withdrawal really was just distraction with work.
“Why not?” he said.
They left two days later. After a few days in Rio de Janeiro, where Mira poked around museums while Rocco went to his jobsite and had his meetings, they flew into the heart of the River basin, landing in Manaus.
There, they boarded a private yacht that cruised them in and out of river arms for four days and nights, allowing them to spot pink dolphins and massive anacondas, sloths and spider monkeys.
It was magical and gave her time to consider what she wanted to do with her life, especially after they viewed some ancient petroglyphs.
“I want to study archeology,” she told Rocco when they were eating lunch on their last day, cruising back to Manaus to catch their flight and begin their journey home.
“Oh?” He glanced up from his tablet. They finally had service again so he was checking his emails. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I have to see what’s out there.”
He nodded and his gaze went back to his emails.
She should let him work, but she’d lived so long with every single decision critiqued by Otto she had to ask, “You don’t think it’s weird that I want to go back to school?”
“No.” His gaze came up again. “I’m only surprised because you told me once that you prefer numbers over people. Archeology is the study of civilization, isn’t it?”
“You don’t think payroll is archeology?” she asked with mock affront. “Why did this person miss work? Where is the proof that they worked the hours they’re claiming? It’s nothing but digging.”
“You track their movements through the clues in their expense claims?” His mouth twitched.
“Exactly. Someone leaves you a cryptic note that you need the Rosetta Stone to decipher. Archeology would be a lateral move for me.” She popped a morsel of guava into her mouth, smirking as she chewed and swallowed.
“I bet there’s a whole discipline on the evolution of accounting.”
“Can you imagine?” she chuckled. “I only went into accounting because I didn’t think I had a choice about working at Vorstoben. Now that I’m out, I can’t imagine going back to the corporate world.”
“No? I’ve only had a handful of business meetings with you, but you’re very good at what you do. Your proficiency with something that doesn’t interest you tells me you’d shine very brightly with something that does. If that’s archeology, pursue it.” He rolled a shoulder in a why-not shrug.
A swell of emotion arrived in her chest. No one had encouraged her like that since her mother was alive. She was touched. Deeply.
Rocco was already dropping his attention back to his tablet. She didn’t resent it. They’d been in and out of service while they’d been cruising, so he had a lot of work to catch up on, but she wanted to walk around and hug him.
Several times on this trip, she had started to bring up their future, wondering where they stood. Each time she’d backed off because things were so good she didn’t want to spoil it by pushing for a commitment he might not be ready to offer.
The more time she spent with him, however, the more her feelings for him grew. Especially when he acted like that—with praise and respect and support, making the prospect of their eventual parting harder to contemplate.
She opened her mouth, not sure how to ask, How much longer do you think you’ll want me?
“We have a dinner the night we get back,” he said with an absent grimace. “We won’t stay long, but they’re important clients. I’d like to make an appearance. Do you mind?”
“No, that’s fine,” she said easily.
A little longer, she acknowledged with a glow of relief.
Silvio was still not speaking to him. Rocco was making no effort to mend fences on his side, either. He knew what Silvio wanted—for him to cut things off with Mira and send her back to Berlin none the wiser.
Eventually Silvio’s wife, Claudina, reached out.
“I’ve never seen him in such a foul mood,” she said. “He won’t talk to me about it. Come see us. Work this out,” she coaxed.
He invented a pressing appointment in Lisbon then spent a few days there with Mira, mostly on the topless beach.
He didn’t want to give her up. That was the bald truth. Not even for Silvio.
Yet he knew that if and when the truth did come out, he would lose her. Even if he told her the truth himself, and swore her to secrecy, he had already left it too long. She wouldn’t forgive him for keeping such important information from her.
Silvio wouldn’t forgive him for telling her.
No matter what he did, Rocco stood to lose one of them, possibly both.
He had to question why was he risking his relationship with Silvio. The years between losing his aunt and meeting Silvio had been the most aimless of his life. Silvio had provided him an anchor. A sense of pride in who he was and a belief in his own ability to build a future for himself.
His relationship with Mira was still new. It shouldn’t matter this much to him, but she also instilled in him a sense of pride and purpose. He experienced a distinctly masculine pleasure in having such a bright, warm woman at his side whom he could provide well for.
When he looked into his future, he saw her there with him. He didn’t want to throw that away.
How had Silvio kept such a secret from his wife all this time? After six weeks of hiding it from Mira, Rocco was ready to crack.
He shook off his brooding, preferring to stay in the moment with Mira. Her head was tucked against his shoulder, her hair silky as he absently combed his fingers through it.
Six weeks since she had burst into his office. Six weeks since she had become his lover. Not a day passed that Rocco didn’t question his priorities. As tremendous as their sex life was, he knew he shouldn’t allow his libido to rewrite his life.
Nevertheless, he had found himself making small adjustments in all aspects of it, ones that felt threatening after so many years of striving to create the wealth, security and daily life that he wanted.
The single-minded achiever in him demanded he continue to acquire and push forward, but Mira’s presence in his life had him veering into taking vacations, and doing nothing more productive than working a tendril of her hair between his finger and thumb, and allowing her to come between him and his closest friend.
It was becoming a habit for him to go into work late or skip an evening engagement so he could do exactly what he was doing right now: sprawl on the sofa on the terrace with her, drinking wine and nibbling on whatever antipasto Florenza had left for them, mellow from recent lovemaking.
Sometimes they talked, other times it was like this, a comfortable silence.
At least, it was comfortable until she said, “Cambridge has an archeology program that interests me.”
“In England?” He stiffened in dismay and reached for his wineglass. “We have more than a dozen universities here in Rome. You can’t find one with a program that appeals?”
“There are, but…” She sat up and curled her knees so she was on her hip, facing him, no longer touching him. “I’ve been thinking about getting my own place here, but—”
“Mira.” A very old, clammy sensation encased him, one that yanked him from this space of everything being good and right into darkness and the unknown. Into such a grave loss, he didn’t know if he could withstand it.
He dropped his hand off the sofa back to close it around her upper arm, urging her to silence so he could ask, “Do you not like it here?”
“In Rome? Yes. It’s busy, but—”
“Here.” How had he missed it? He had thought she was content. That he was providing her everything she needed. “Or do you mean you want to buy something as an investment?”