photographer. Liam was looking down at her, his arms cradling her. It was the second after she’d woken. The second she’d looked into his eyes. That perfect moment just before he’d encouraged her, when all emotion flowed simply and purely. Wordlessly. So incredibly obvious.
It was what Nico was revered for—capturing the essence. No Photoshop magic needed here. No wonder the guy won every award there was.
She’d no doubt that the shots of Alannah on the boat were magnificent, but none could be as beautiful as this. This was art. And what was most important was there for anyone to see. Love written all over her face. And on Liam’s?
That intensity, yes. But also, in his beautiful eyes, that slight strain of vulnerability.
Pain shafted through her. She wanted to believe in that image so badly. All those years ago he’d been the one to help her through the night when she’d been insanely making Christmas decorations. Because he’d wanted that one thing? He’d wanted to win her from Oliver?
Or had it been more than that? He’d come from nothing, from no family, no love. She’d never really understood how neglected he’d been—on so many levels. He’d worked hard to fit in—using his humour, his sporting ability. But he’d fallen for her. He’d wanted her. He’d given up everything he’d gained in his pursuit of her.
That humbled Vivi now—hurt her—as she realised he’d wanted to help her again. This time knowing there was nothing more. Putting her parents in touch with her was a gesture of generosity—of compassion, caring. The only way left to him to show it. Because she’d pushed him away. She’d rejected him. Once more they’d failed to communicate properly.
He’d listened. But she?
She’d not been honest. She’d not done as he’d challenged her to—she’d not asked for what she’d truly wanted. And she could have.
Vivi stood. She’d go and see her parents. Yes she would. She’d meet Stella. She’d sort out her past. But there was something else she had to do first. She had to lay claim to her future.
* * *
Eighteen hours later she locked her wobbly knees as she knocked on the door, clutching the parcel under her arm. Back in Italy, hoping like crazy he was in his office.
A woman opened the door. She wore shorts. Incredibly stylish shorts that showed off incredibly slim and toned legs. Vivi tried not to panic and asked in painful Italian to see Liam.
‘He’s not here.’ The woman answered in English.
Vivi blinked, her blood chilling. ‘Where is he?’
‘London.’
‘London?’ Vivi felt faint, then frustration kicked in. ‘When did he go to London?’
The pretty woman looked at her oddly and then called to another worker out of Vivi’s sight.
‘When did he go?’ Vivi repeated, her tone rising. Why had he gone to London? Her heart leapt but she tried to jump on it. He wouldn’t have gone to see her. It would be for business. That was it.
‘He goes later today.’ The man had come to the door.
‘Then where is he now? Is he at the airport?’ Had she just crossed paths with him in some mean twist of fate?
The Italians exchanged another glance.
‘I think he’s in his rooms,’ said the man. ‘If you’ll follow me.’
Of course she’d follow. After the mad packing, the long flight, the crazy taxi ride...
‘Liam?’ The guy broke into a string of super-quick Italian.
But Vivi stepped past him and her guide went quiet.
Liam looked up, leapt to his feet. Then froze.
The Italian disappeared, shutting the door behind him.
‘Victoria?’ Liam’s face shuttered the second he said her name. So carefully bland.
‘Yeah.’ Vivi swallowed and walked further into the room, tightening her grip on the packet in her hands. She noticed the bag on the floor near the door. It was small. Just a short trip, then? ‘Am I stopping you from getting somewhere?’
A very faint smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. ‘No. It doesn’t matter.’
Okay. She breathed
It was what Nico was revered for—capturing the essence. No Photoshop magic needed here. No wonder the guy won every award there was.
She’d no doubt that the shots of Alannah on the boat were magnificent, but none could be as beautiful as this. This was art. And what was most important was there for anyone to see. Love written all over her face. And on Liam’s?
That intensity, yes. But also, in his beautiful eyes, that slight strain of vulnerability.
Pain shafted through her. She wanted to believe in that image so badly. All those years ago he’d been the one to help her through the night when she’d been insanely making Christmas decorations. Because he’d wanted that one thing? He’d wanted to win her from Oliver?
Or had it been more than that? He’d come from nothing, from no family, no love. She’d never really understood how neglected he’d been—on so many levels. He’d worked hard to fit in—using his humour, his sporting ability. But he’d fallen for her. He’d wanted her. He’d given up everything he’d gained in his pursuit of her.
That humbled Vivi now—hurt her—as she realised he’d wanted to help her again. This time knowing there was nothing more. Putting her parents in touch with her was a gesture of generosity—of compassion, caring. The only way left to him to show it. Because she’d pushed him away. She’d rejected him. Once more they’d failed to communicate properly.
He’d listened. But she?
She’d not been honest. She’d not done as he’d challenged her to—she’d not asked for what she’d truly wanted. And she could have.
Vivi stood. She’d go and see her parents. Yes she would. She’d meet Stella. She’d sort out her past. But there was something else she had to do first. She had to lay claim to her future.
* * *
Eighteen hours later she locked her wobbly knees as she knocked on the door, clutching the parcel under her arm. Back in Italy, hoping like crazy he was in his office.
A woman opened the door. She wore shorts. Incredibly stylish shorts that showed off incredibly slim and toned legs. Vivi tried not to panic and asked in painful Italian to see Liam.
‘He’s not here.’ The woman answered in English.
Vivi blinked, her blood chilling. ‘Where is he?’
‘London.’
‘London?’ Vivi felt faint, then frustration kicked in. ‘When did he go to London?’
The pretty woman looked at her oddly and then called to another worker out of Vivi’s sight.
‘When did he go?’ Vivi repeated, her tone rising. Why had he gone to London? Her heart leapt but she tried to jump on it. He wouldn’t have gone to see her. It would be for business. That was it.
‘He goes later today.’ The man had come to the door.
‘Then where is he now? Is he at the airport?’ Had she just crossed paths with him in some mean twist of fate?
The Italians exchanged another glance.
‘I think he’s in his rooms,’ said the man. ‘If you’ll follow me.’
Of course she’d follow. After the mad packing, the long flight, the crazy taxi ride...
‘Liam?’ The guy broke into a string of super-quick Italian.
But Vivi stepped past him and her guide went quiet.
Liam looked up, leapt to his feet. Then froze.
The Italian disappeared, shutting the door behind him.
‘Victoria?’ Liam’s face shuttered the second he said her name. So carefully bland.
‘Yeah.’ Vivi swallowed and walked further into the room, tightening her grip on the packet in her hands. She noticed the bag on the floor near the door. It was small. Just a short trip, then? ‘Am I stopping you from getting somewhere?’
A very faint smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. ‘No. It doesn’t matter.’
Okay. She breathed
Similar Books
