CHAPTER THREE

DOMENICOPACED back and forth over the same length of floor. If he thought about it hard enough, he knew he would find a way out of the situation, some clever escape hatch...but each turn of his thoughts only brought him back to the same place, the same damnable words of Elena's will clanging over and over again in his mind.

‘Are you okay?'

Having thought he was alone, Domenico quickly drew to a stop and raised his head. Alessandra stood in front of the closed door and Domenico pinioned her under his furious glare.

‘What do you think?' Solely by virtue of the self-control honed meticulously over the years, he had managed to regulate his reaction for the remainder of the reading and the interminable process of bidding everyone goodbye, but the tether around his frustration was now frayed perilously thin. ‘I can't believe you knew this was going to happen and didn't warn me,' he hissed, the sting of her treachery arrowing deeper into his skin.

At least now, however, he understood why Alessandra had been so insistent that Rae stay and attend the will reading—but he was far too angry to feel any gratitude to her.

‘You know very well the contents of a will have to remain private until after a person's death,' Alessandra reproached him. ‘I was doing my job, Domenico. It's nothing personal.'

‘It's personal to me,' he snarled.

‘And is that all that is angering you?' Alessandra queried levelly.

‘Isn't that enough?'

‘So it's not about Rae's involvement in Elena's stipulation?' She allowed her words to hang in mid-air for a second before continuing. ‘I won't pretend to know what's going on in your marriage, Domenico, but there's obviously something. Rae has been gone for weeks and you've been in a less than pleasant mood for most of that time.'

He spun away to stare moodily out of the window, fixing his arms across his chest. ‘The state of my marriage is nobody's business but mine and Rae's.'

But as he bit out the words, Domenico knew that wasn't the case any more. A spotlight had been placed on their union—the union on which something incredibly precious to him now rested.

With superhuman effort, he swallowed the curse surging up his throat. Elena had orchestrated it perfectly, forcing his hand from beyond the grave with her stipulation. She knew Domenico would never willingly relinquish ownership of the palazzo, the only home he'd ever known, especially not to the blood relatives who had denied and rejected him, and the last thing she'd want either was her beloved palazzo ending up in the hands of her estranged sister. For both of those reasons she'd known full well he would do anything to prevent that from happening, including reuniting with Rae.

Which was exactly what his aunt had wanted. How many times had she prodded him to go to London, talk to Rae and fix whatever had broken down between them? So often that he'd lost count, but, since he'd flatly refused to do so, she'd decided to take matters into her own hands.

Devious and manipulative as it was, he found he couldn't be angry with her. Even in death, Elena was still trying to protect and take care of him in the same way she always had and, eternal romantic that she was, she'd believed Rae was the one for him. No doubt she'd thought that she could prompt a permanent reunion by forcing them back together for an extended period of time.

But, however much Domenico hated to disappoint Elena, that wasn't going to happen.

Rae had walked out on him without a backward glance. She had shown herself to be as careless and unfeeling as the mother who'd abandoned him on someone else's doorstep. There would be no second chance.

He would never open himself up to more anguish. If there was any other option other than reconciling with Rae, he would take it. But he knew that nothing other than him and Rae being visibly happy together in his palazzo in Venice would satisfy the esteemed Vincenzo D'Aragona, the man Elena had named as executor of her will and therefore the man who would make the final decision on whether Domenico's circumstances complied with the will. He was a thoroughly unimpeachable character who had counselled Elena ever since her husband's death, with unfailing loyalty and affection. Domenico had no doubt that he would follow her wishes absolutely.

Even if D'Aragona had been a less noble character, Domenico was astute enough to know that anything less than the appearance of wedded bliss would leave him vulnerable to a future legal challenge and he wouldn't risk the palazzo in that way. It meant too much to him.

His conviction on that was stronger than anything he felt about Rae or the wretched will.

Closing his eyes and rubbing his temples, he faced the irrefutable facts of the situation and plotted his next step. There was only one.

‘Where are you going?' Alessandra asked as he made a sudden and decisive move towards the door without a word to her.

‘To talk to my wife.'

He really should have spoken with Rae immediately after the reading had ended, because he'd known all along there was only one way out of this mess. But he had needed a moment—several moments—to himself to process it, something he bitterly began to regret as he arrived on the ground floor salon and scanned all four corners, only to find that the room was empty.

With dread starting to roil in his stomach and that loud voice in his head berating him for leaving her alone, Domenico set his powerful legs in motion and raced into the next room and then the next, but in his gut he already knew the search was pointless.

Rae was already gone.

Rae pushed her sunglasses atop her head to keep her long hair from flying in her face as the water taxi raced across the open water to Marco Polo Airport. Yet as she imagined the violent reaction Domenico would have when he realised she had slipped away without a word—again—the speed felt nowhere near enough and she willed the boat to go faster.

Casting a quick look over her shoulder, the reassurance she felt that there was no sign of a vessel powering after her was hollow as she knew that by now Domenico had probably realised she had taken off and would be minutes away from—if not already—hunting her down.

Rae felt awful for sneaking away, but really, what other choice had there been? Elena's bombshell stipulation in her will had changed everything, and now that Domenico's inheritance of the palazzo was contingent on their union—on her—she had known at once there was no way he was going to let her leave.

And she couldn't stay. She couldn't!

She had been back in Venice less than twenty-four hours and there had been too many moments in which she'd caught herself falling back into her old ways. And not just physically, as the previous night attested, when Domenico's touch had penetrated her with embarrassing speed and ease. But emotionally too. For a brief moment back at the palazzo, after the will reading, Rae had been preoccupied with all that it meant for Domenico, reflecting on what he must be feeling and what he needed, prioritising that over what was best for herself. In the blink of an eye, she'd reverted to the Rae of six months ago, to the wife who never spoke up for herself, who hadn't been brave enough to demand that her needs be met, who hadn't known herself well enough to even know what those needs were.

But she wasn't that person any more. The issues that had arisen in their marriage had been enlightening, forcing her to take a good look inwards and consider the life she wanted to have and the kind of woman she wanted to be and, unwilling to let all the agony and heartache of the breakdown of her marriage be for nothing, Rae had wasted no time in fighting to become that person on her return to London.

Reconnecting with her ambition to become a bridal designer, Rae had dusted off her pencils and thrown herself back into the creative process of designing. No longer willing to wait for life to happen to her, she had even screwed up enough courage to contact the woman who'd once offered to invest in her should she ever decide to embark on a career in bridal design and, after her positive response, had been busy making plans for a full-blown collection. Immersing herself in her passion and with her eyes fixed on the bright future that she wanted for herself, Rae had regained her confidence and her voice.

It had never been her intention to surrender those aspects of herself, to lose herself so thoroughly in being with Domenico and the responsibilities she bore as a Ricci bride. But she'd loved him so deeply and wanted so badly to make him happy that, little by little, all else had slipped away.

When she'd become aware of how adrift she'd been feeling, she'd wanted to tell Domenico, to find a way to change. But he'd always been so closed off, always ready to retreat from any intimacy that wasn't physical, and Rae had been scared of being shut down yet again, scared of having to face how tenuous their relationship was. Running had been easier than challenging him, easier than confronting the hard truths about their marriage, but in her heart Rae knew she should have tried harder to have that conversation. A lot harder.

It was a regret that surfaced often, and whenever that thought did poke at her she comforted herself with the reassurance that she had changed and would not lack that courage or conviction again.

But she had, she realised with a nauseating thud of her heart.

Rather than stay at the palazzo and talk with Domenico about their situation, she had panicked and run away. Again.

The water taxi drew up to the airport. Rae thrust a handful of euros into the driver's hand and stepped up onto dry land, that sick feeling continuing to churn in her stomach as she pulled up the handle of her case and strode across the concrete concourse. Only to suddenly find she could take no further steps.

Because if she left like this she knew it would be another regret that haunted her. Not just because she would be condemning Domenico to the loss of his treasured home, but because running away wasn't the answer. It hadn't been last time and it wasn't now either. If she truly believed she had changed, and wanted others to appreciate those changes in her too, then she needed to prove herself. Prove that she was different, that she was stronger. That she wasn't a coward.

Sinking down onto a bench to allow time for her thoughts to settle, it was there that Domenico found her not fifteen minutes later. Standing before her, he towered over her, casting her in the shade of his big body that even in that moment had her breath catching in her chest.

‘I expected you to be on the first flight out of here by now,' he said, his eyes flickering over her as though unsure if she was real.

‘That was the original plan.'

‘So what happened?'

‘I realised that running away wouldn't solve anything. We have to face this.'

She saw something—surprise, perhaps—ripple through his dark eyes before he sat down beside her, her body jolting a little at the sudden nearness and the way the air seemed to change, thicken, with his presence.

‘I'm glad you understand what needs to happen next.'

Rae angled her face towards him, injecting a look of warning into her eyes. ‘I haven't agreed to anything, Domenico.'

‘Of course you have,' he drawled all-knowingly. ‘Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting out here. You would be sitting on a plane, waiting to take off.' He looked at her almost sympathetically. ‘It's only for a handful of months, Rae. Six at the most. Not an enormous amount of time in the grand scheme of things.'

He was right. Six months was not such a long stretch, but her heart gave a kick anyway because it was a struggle to spend six minutes in his proximity without a fever stirring in her blood.

‘Aren't you at all concerned that we haven't been together for the last four months?' she queried, because that was a pertinent fact that he seemed to be conveniently ignoring. ‘That I have not been in this city, or your home, or on your arm for all that time? Do you not think that's going to present a few problems? One day I'm not here and then boom, Elena's will stipulates it and suddenly I'm back.'

‘Elena's will is not common knowledge. It's a private family document.'

Rae made a noise of dissent. ‘You and I both know these things have a way of getting out. Making the rounds as a rumour.'

‘I've never much cared for rumours,' he drawled, his eyes gleaming down at her in a way that made her head spin and all coherent thoughts scatter like marbles. ‘And your argument will not be a problem as nobody is aware that you walked out on our marriage.'

‘Nobody is aware...' Rae stammered in stunned disbelief, her mind doing backflips at the preposterousness of his statement. ‘How is that possible? I left. I haven't been here for months. I haven't been seen. Nobody questioned that?'

‘I'm not in the habit of making public declarations about my personal life,' he stated in that cool, unconcerned tone of his that stymied so effectively the questions he didn't want to answer. ‘And something about my general demeanour seems to prevent the majority of people from probing too deeply. Those who did ask, I made a vague reply about you having a family situation that required your personal attention and attendance. We can continue with that line, say the issue is no longer pressing and, given the situation here, it was time for you to return home.'

‘And which of my sisters do you intend to saddle with some mysterious prolonged drama that required my attention for four months?' she demanded. ‘Maggie or Imogen?'

Domenico replied with a pragmatic lift of his shoulders. ‘The particulars are hardly necessary. The less said, the better. All that matters is that you are back with your husband and living a happy life.'

The panic that had settled once she took control of herself started a slow climb up her windpipe again.

‘Domenico, we are not just going to pick up where we left off, like nothing has happened. We can't... I won't,' Rae stammered.

‘Nor would I want to. I'm not talking about us resuming our married life, Rae,' he clarified with a sharp edge of impatience to his words. ‘The idea of that is as offensive to me as it apparently is to you. I'm talking about pretending. Putting on a blissfully happy show—a show good enough to convince Vincenzo D'Aragona. I'm confident the pretence won't be too arduous for you. After all, you did spend considerably longer than six months pretending to be a devoted, happy wife.'

‘And just how many remarks like that would I be expected to put up with in our joyous reunion?' Rae queried with a lightning flash of her blue eyes.

‘The truth is painful, Rae, isn't it? But worry not, our contact over the next six months will be limited. Of course, in public we'll need to present a deliriously in love front, and we'll need to attend a fair number of public events, but in private we won't need to spend any time together at all.'

‘Why six months? Our anniversary is in four and a half.'

He slanted her a brief look. ‘We can't suddenly split up the day after our anniversary, Rae. Think how that would look. No, we need a buffer period too, so that when we do separate it looks real. Plus the Ricci Ball is a month after our anniversary. It would look better if we attended that together. Some time after that we can start to dissolve the marriage. Leak some rumours of fighting and unhappiness. The strain of Elena's passing, the stress of stepping into her shoes. How busy I am. There are plenty of things we could say. Then we'll divorce. I'll have the palazzo and you can...go your own way.'

‘You have it all worked out, don't you?' she breathed, conceding to herself that it did sound plausible.

He tensed, impatience and determination emanating from him in one jagged pulse after another. ‘I'm not prepared to lose the palazzo, Rae. It's means too much to me. So I will do whatever it takes. But I can't do it on my own. I need your help. I need you to stay here. Please.'

His use of that word was startling in itself, because Domenico never pleaded for anything. He would consider it an abhorrence to do so, a lowering of himself that he simply wouldn't entertain, even in thought. It revealed how desperately in need he was of her cooperation, a desperation that became even clearer when he turned the power of his gaze on her and the restless emotion brimming in the dark depths of his eyes tugged at every heartstring.

‘As soon as the inheritance is settled, we will go our separate ways and I will ensure you are rewarded with a generous sum.'

‘I don't want your money, Domenico.' Rae scowled, loathing that his opinion of her had sunk so low that his instinctive assumption was that she could be swayed by the promise of a payout. His money had never mattered to her.

She was, however, intrigued by the other opportunities that a return to Venice presented. The way she had departed had left matters unfinished between her and Domenico. She had shut him out of her mind as best she could, but she was not over him, no matter how much she insisted to her sisters that she was. Wasn't that why she had not yet taken the step of approaching a lawyer to initiate a divorce? But perhaps these six months could help her find that longed for closure. Perhaps being around him and not sacrificing or compromising anything of herself would reassure her that she had become a different person and that she had made the right choice in leaving. And when the six months was over she would be able to leave the right way, with her conscience and confidence intact and her emotional freedom reclaimed. Helping Domenico was the right thing to do, she didn't doubt that, but it was those ways in which she could help herself that convinced her.

‘And you don't need to dangle any more incentives. I'll help you. I'll be your wife again.'

‘Thank you.' The words were ground from between his firm lips, but Rae could hear the relief in them and that strength of feeling had her mind humming with curiosity about his past once more. Why did Palazzo Ricci mean so very much to him? How had it ended up becoming his home and Elena his guardian? What had happened to his parents? Why hadn't they kept him?

They were just a few of the questions niggling away at her brain, but Rae had so many more that she would have loved the answers to and maybe, she thought with a flicker of interest, the following months would give her the opportunity to find those answers. That would certainly be an added and worthwhile bonus, especially if it helped her put to rest her relationship with him.

Rae got to her feet, adopting a straight-backed pose as she quickly worked out the necessary practicalities. ‘I'll go back to London, tie up some ends there and be back in a few days.'

Confusion pulled Domenico's dark brows together as he rose too. ‘What do you mean, you will go back to London?' He shook his head. ‘You can't leave, Rae.'

‘I need to. For starters, these are the only clothes I have with me...' she began, gesturing to the garments adorning her body.

‘There are plenty of shops here in Venice,' he cut in with impatience and frustration. ‘And your wardrobe at the palazzo has not been touched.'

The thought of slipping back into the clothes of that past life left Rae cold. She had no desire or intention to go backwards and as such his implacable, inconsiderate interruption had her gritting her teeth and replying with forced patience. ‘I have responsibilities in London. I'm not prepared to just abandon them.'

His brows pleated even tighter, his eyes darkening as her refusal to fall in line registered. He'd never known her to be anything other than amenable and accommodating to his wishes and the change was so disconcerting to him, he couldn't hide it.

But then his eyes narrowed. ‘What responsibilities?' he questioned.

‘A job. Bills. My sisters.'

Domenico continued to assess her, thoughts whizzing across his eyes like shooting stars and his jaw tightening in uneasy consideration. ‘Is a man the source of this need to return to London so quickly?'

‘What?' Rae very nearly laughed, so outrageous was the thought.

He moved in a step closer. ‘You heard me.'

She shook her head, still fighting the urge to laugh, which was so at odds with the severity of his expression. ‘No. There's no one.'

‘Because I will not be made a fool of by you for the second time, and that is exactly the type of detail that would undermine my claim and make this whole charade for nothing. So, if that is the case, you need to tell me now,' he commanded with godlike presumption.

Provoked by both his words and his tone, Rae stepped up to him, tilting her head back so their eyes collided, hers fizzing with anger whilst his remained darkly unyielding.

‘Firstly, I don't have to tell you anything I don't want to,' she began audaciously, ‘in much the same way you never told me anything you didn't want to. But, on this occasion, I am prepared to tell you that there is no one. Secondly, this isn't a negotiation,' she said, her spine and her stance strengthening with her newly acquired confidence and conviction. ‘I am going back to London. I'll be gone forty-eight hours, three days at the most. Then I'll be back and the masquerade can begin.'

Domenico stared back at her, looking stunned and momentarily lost for words, and Rae enjoyed the ripples of her victory, because not many people could render Domenico Ricci speechless.

He composed himself within a few seconds, however, and an echo of a smile played at the edges of his too sensual mouth as he responded. ‘Bene. You will go to London.' Rae opened her mouth to tell him that she had neither asked for nor required his permission, but he held up a hand and continued in his low, silken drawl. ‘However, you won't be going alone. I'll accompany you,' he asserted, reaching out to tug her closer, into the shadow cast by his body, until there was very little space separating them, ‘because, cara, the masquerade starts now.'