Unfinished Business with the Duke Page 14

  ‘I don’t want to get over it,’ Issy stated, the sharp, searing pain at his dismissal ramming into her body like a blow. It had taken every last ounce of her courage to say the words. Only to have them thrown back at her with barely a moment’s hesitation.

  How could he be so callous? This was worse than the last time—much worse.

  ‘Doesn’t it matter to you at all how I feel?’ she whispered.

  ‘I told you right from the start I’m not looking for…that.’ He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. ‘You chose to misinterpret that. Not me.’

  She felt numb. Anaesthetised against the pain by shock and disbelief. How could she have been so wrong about him? How could she have been so wrong about everything?

  She crossed her arms over her chest, forced her mind to engage. ‘I see,’ she said dully, her voice on autopilot. ‘So this is all my own fault? Is that what you’re saying?’

  Suddenly it seemed vitally important that she understand. Why had she made so many mistakes where he was concerned?

  ‘Issy, for God’s sake.’ He stepped close, tried to take her hand, but she pulled back. ‘I never meant to hurt you. I told you what I wanted—’

  ‘Why does it always have to be about what you want?’ she interrupted, allowing resentment through to quell the vicious pain. But as she looked at his handsome face, tense with annoyance, she suddenly understood what it was he had always lacked. And the reality of how he’d played her—of how she’d let him play her—became clear.

  ‘I never realised what a coward you are,’ she said softly.

  He stiffened as if she had slapped him. ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  She scrubbed the tears off her cheeks with an impatient fist. ‘You say all you want is sex, that relationships don’t matter to you, because you’re too scared to want more.’

  ‘That’s insane!’ he shouted. But his angry words couldn’t hurt her any more.

  He’d never wanted what she had to offer—and that was something she would have to learn to live with. But he hadn’t needed to be so cruel.

  They had been friends. She hadn’t imagined that. And maybe one day they could have had more—but he’d thrown it away because he didn’t have the guts to try. And she knew why.

  ‘Your parents hurt you, Gio. They treated you like a commodity and never gave you the love you deserved. You survived. But you’ll never be truly free until you stop letting what they did rule your life.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with them,’ he snapped, with the same closed-off expression on his face she had seen so many times before. He still didn’t get it—but, worse than that, she knew now he never would.

  ‘Doesn’t it?’ she said wearily as she walked past him towards the door.

  ‘Come back here, dammit.’

  She didn’t turn at the shouted words. Didn’t have the strength to argue. What would be the point when she could never win?

  ‘I’m not going to come chasing after you, Issy, if that’s what all this is supposed to achieve.’

  She carried on walking, her heart breaking all over again at the defiant tone.

  She had never been the enemy. Why couldn’t he see that?

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘DO YOU think our new sponsor will want his company’s name on the cover page?’

  Issy’s fingers paused on the computer keyboard at Maxi’s enquiry. ‘Sorry? What?’ she asked, even though she’d heard every word.

  ‘I’m putting the finishing touches to the new programmes. Shouldn’t we add your Duke’s company name to it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she replied, as the all-too-familiar vice tightened across her torso. ‘That’s a great idea,’ she added, with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel.

  She’d left Florence over two weeks ago. And she couldn’t even talk about the sponsorship without falling apart.

  When was she going to get over this?

  She didn’t want to think about it any more, go on replaying every little nuance of Gio’s behaviour during the hours she had spent in his house. Apart from the fact that it was exhausting her, it wasn’t going to change a thing.

  She’d thought she’d made a major breakthrough a week ago, when she’d come to the conclusion that she hadn’t been crazy enough to fall in love after only three short days. She knew now she’d never stopped loving him. In all the years they’d been apart her love had lurked in some small corner of her heart, just waiting to be rediscovered.

  But now she knew how hopeless it was, shouldn’t she be able to move on?

  To start rebuilding her life?

  Gio would have moved on the minute she’d walked out the door. And, however sad that made her, she should be grateful. At least his indifference meant his company hadn’t pulled the theatre’s sponsorship.

  She’d allowed herself to get so wrapped up in Gio she’d completely forgotten about the theatre. Which had added a nice thick layer of guilt to the heartache and recriminations in the weeks since her return.

  Taking a professional attitude now was essential. And if she had to deal with Gio in the future, as a result of his donation, it would be a small penance to pay. The theatre was now her number one priority.

  ‘Why don’t you give the Florence office a call and see what they say?’ she said to Maxi, not quite ready to take the next step.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ring them?’ Maxi asked, a quick grin tugging at her lips. ‘They might put you through to the Dishy Duke.’

  ‘No, that’s okay,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m busy doing Jake’s bio.’ She turned back to her keyboard.

  She hadn’t told Maxi what had happened in Florence, despite a lot of probing, and she didn’t intend to. Talking about it would only make it harder to forget.

  She continued to type, glad when the hammer thumps of the keys shut out Maxi’s call to Florence. But as she tapped in the final piece of biographical information from Jake’s scribbled notes she couldn’t miss the sound of Maxi putting the phone back in its cradle.

  ‘Everything go okay?’ Issy asked, as casually as she could.

  ‘Better than okay,’ Maxi said excitedly. ‘Thank God I happened to call them. The e-mail must have got lost.’

  ‘What e-mail?’ Issy asked, a strange sinking feeling tugging at the pit of her stomach.

  ‘The e-mail informing us about his visit.’ Maxi glanced at her watch. ‘His plane touched down over an hour ago, according to his PA. He could be here in less than an hour.’ Springing up, Maxi began stacking the files on her desk. ‘We should get this place cleared up. I expect he’ll want to come up here and check out the office before he catches the afternoon show.’

  The sinking feeling turned to full-on nausea. All her erogenous zones melted and a vicious chill rippled down her spine.

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ Issy asked, but her voice seemed to be coming from a million miles away. All her carefully constructed walls were tumbling down, to expose the still battered heart beneath.

  ‘The Dishy Duke,’ Maxi said confidently. ‘Who else?’

  ‘When did you say she’d be back?’ Gio lifted the ale glass to his lips, but the lukewarm beer did nothing to ease the dryness in his throat as he glanced round the mostly empty pub.

  He noticed the autographed photos on the wall, the yellowing playbills under glass. Issy had talked about this place often during their time together in Florence. But had he ever really listened, or even bothered to ask her about it? While her assistant had showed him round this afternoon, and he’d been introduced to all the people who worked here and clearly adored Issy, he’d come to realise how much work she’d put into the place and how much it meant to her—and yet he’d been too self-absorbed, too wrapped up in his own fears to notice.

  He’d been a selfish bastard about that, as well as about everything else. How could he even begin to make amends?

  Issy’s assistant sent him a puzzled look, probably because he’d asked her the same damn question approximate
ly fifty times since he’d arrived at the tiny theatre pub two hours ago.

  ‘I’m really not sure. Would you like me to try her mobile again?’ she replied, polite enough not to mention that she’d given him the same answer ten minutes ago.

  He put his glass down on the counter.

  How the hell had Issy got word of his arrival? He’d been careful not to tell anyone but his PA of his plans, just in case she did a vanishing act.

  He stared at the girl, who was looking at him with a helpful smile on her face. He couldn’t wait any longer. Which meant he’d have to throw himself on this girl’s mercy.

  It made him feel foolish, but any humiliation was likely to be minor compared to what he would face when he finally got Issy alone again.

  Don’t go there.

  He forced the panic back. That was exactly what had got him into this mess in the first place.

  ‘I need to ask you a favour,’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. If she said no, he’d have to find out where Issy lived, which could cost him another night. Now he’d finally built up the courage to do this thing, he needed to get on with it.

  The girl’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Of course, Your Grace.’

  ‘Call me Gio,’ he said, straining for the easy charm which had once come so effortlessly. ‘I didn’t come here to see the theatre. I came to see Issy.’

  The girl didn’t say anything, her eyes widening.

  ‘We had a disagreement in Florence.’ Which was probably the understatement of the millennium. ‘I think she’s avoiding me.’

  ‘Oh?’ the girl said. ‘What’s the favour?’

  ‘Call her and tell her I’ve left. I can wait in your office until she gets back, and then say what I need to say.’ Although he didn’t have a clue what that was yet.

  The girl stared at him.

  The murmured conversation of the pub-goers got louder, more raucous, and the musty smell of old wood and stale beer more cloying as he waited for the girl’s answer.

  How had he managed to screw things up so badly?

  Ever since he’d returned home from the office that day he’d known he’d made a terrible mistake. But he had refused to admit it.

  Anger had come first. Just as it had all those years before. He’d spent a week furious with Issy. How dared she delve into his psyche and tell him what he’d made of his life wasn’t enough? He’d thrown himself back into work. Determined to prove it was all he needed.

  But as the days had dragged into a week the anger had faded, leaving a crushing, unavoidable loneliness in its wake. She’d been at the house for only a few short days—how could he miss her so much?

  He’d tried to persuade himself the yearning was purely sexual. And the mammoth erections he woke up with every single morning seemed like pretty good proof. But even he had to accept, as the days had crawled past and the yearning had only got worse, that this was more than just sex.

  Whenever he had breakfast he imagined her smiling at him across the terrace table, and felt the loss. Whenever he woke up in the night he reached for her instinctively, but she was never there. He couldn’t even visit any of the galleries and churches he loved, because without her there he couldn’t see the beauty any more. But what he missed most was the simple pleasure of listening to her talk. The silence had become acute, like a suffocating cell that followed him about, just as it had during his childhood, before he’d met her.

  He’d been sitting in his office that morning when he’d finally acknowledged the truth. The only way to remedy the problem was to get Issy back.

  He didn’t kid himself it would be easy. But he had to try.

  He studied her assistant, trying to hold on to his patience. What was taking the girl so long?

  Finally she pulled her mobile out of her pocket, began keying in a number. As she lifted it to her ear she sent him an astute look. The helpful smile had vanished.

  ‘Just so you know, I don’t care if you are a duke. Or if you’re the theatre’s angel. If you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you.’

  He nodded, knowing the reckless threat wasn’t the worst that could happen.

  ‘Is Maxi still here?’ Issy shouted above the pub crowd to Gerard, one of the barmen.

  ‘Think she’s backstage,’ he replied, pulling a pint of Guinness. ‘Dave had a wardrobe emergency with one of the trolls. I can send Magda to get her.’

  ‘No, that’s okay.’ She was being ridiculous. Maxi had told her over an hour ago that Gio had left. She needed to stop being such a wuss.

  Dipping behind the bar, she sent Gerard a quick wave and started up the narrow staircase to the office. It was after seven, and she still had all the ticket sales from the matinee and evening shows to put on the computer and bank. Staying away all afternoon meant she was going to be here till gone midnight, finishing up, but she didn’t care as she pushed open the door. Maybe she’d be able to face Gio again one day, but why pile on the agony before she was ready?

  ‘Hello, Isadora.’

  She whipped round at the husky words, her heart ramming full-pelt into her ribcage.

  He sat at her desk, looking exactly like the man who had haunted her dreams. One leg was slung over his knee, his hand gripping his ankle, and his hair was combed back from his brow.

  She turned back to the door. Staccato footsteps stamped on the wooden floor as her frantic fingers slipped on the knob. She dragged the door open but a large hand slapped against the wood above her head and slammed it closed.

  His big body surrounded her as she continued to struggle pointlessly with the handle. She breathed in the spicy scent of his aftershave and her panic increased to fever pitch. The ripple of sensation tightening her nipples and making her sex ache.

  ‘Don’t run away, Issy. We need to talk.’

  Hot breath feathered her earlobe. They had been in the same position all those weeks ago at the club. Her response to his nearness had been just as immediate, just as devastating then. But why couldn’t her body be immune to him even now?

  ‘I don’t want to talk,’ she said, her voice shaking with delayed reaction. ‘Leave me alone.’ Her knees buckled.

  His arm banded around her midriff, held her upright. ‘Are you okay?’

  She shook her head. His prominent arousal evident even through their clothes. She tried to pry his arm loose. She couldn’t afford to fall under his sensual spell again.

  ‘If you’ve come here to have sex, I’m not interested,’ she said, the melting sensation at her core making her a liar.

  ‘Ignore it,’ he said as he let her go, stepped back. ‘I came to talk, Issy. Nothing else. I don’t have any control over my body’s reaction to you.’

  She forced herself to face him. ‘Once you’ve said what you have to say, do you promise to leave?’

  Regret flickered in his eyes, and his jaw tensed, but he nodded. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  She edged away from the door, moved to stand behind her desk, needing the barrier between them. ‘Go on, then,’ she prompted.

  He said nothing for what seemed like an eternity. The only sound was the muffled noise from the pub downstairs.

  ‘I want you back.’

  The irony struck her first. A few short weeks ago she would have given anything to hear him say that. But then anger seeped in. How pathetic. To think she would have settled for so little. ‘What do you expect me to say to that?’

  He ducked his head, sank his hands into his pockets. When he lifted his head she saw something she hadn’t expected. ‘I want you to say you’ll give me another chance.’

  It almost made her weaken. The plea in his voice, the look of raw need darkening the chocolate brown. But she knew she couldn’t give in—not after everything he’d put her through.

  ‘I can’t.’ She pressed her lips together, swallowed the ball of misery back down. ‘I’ve already given you too many chances. I’ve loved you ever since we were kids. I don’t want to love you any more.’

  He stepped f
orward, braced his hands against the desk. ‘That’s not true,’ he countered. ‘You didn’t love me when you were a girl. That was infatuation.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ she cried, temper strengthening her voice. How could he ask her for another chance and still belittle her feelings?

  ‘You fooled yourself into believing it, Issy. Because you were young. And sweet.’ He turned away.

  She shook her head. ‘That’s not true. I was immature. I know in many ways I was still a child. But I did love you. Because when I met you again the feelings were all still there.’

  He swung back. ‘No, they weren’t. You detested me,’ he said. ‘You said so yourself.’

  Despite the off-hand remark she could see the anguish in his eyes, and she realised the rash words had hurt him.

  She’d assumed he couldn’t be hurt, that she had never meant that much to him. But what if she had misjudged the strength of his feelings all along? In the same way as she’d misjudged her own.

  ‘Why did you push me away?’ she asked, tentative hope flickering to life. ‘Why didn’t you believe me when I said I loved you?’

  He gave a deep sigh. ‘You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?’

  She heard the turmoil, the resignation in his voice, and hope blossomed. ‘Yes, I am.’

  His eyes met hers. ‘Because I’m not the man you think I am.’

  ‘And what man is that?’ she asked simply.

  He dipped his head, the gesture weary. ‘One that deserves you.’ His voice broke on the words and she realised that finally, after all these years, all the heartache and confusion, the barriers were at last crumbling away.

  ‘Gio, you idiot,’ she murmured. ‘What makes you think you don’t deserve me?’

  ‘I spent my whole childhood trying to make them care about me. And they never did. I knew there had to be a reason. Then you came along and filled up all those empty spaces. And I never even had to ask.’

  ‘But you kept shutting me out.’ He’d done the same thing when they were children, as soon as she’d got too close. ‘Why would you do that?’