Where they went from here, she had no idea. She’d finish the job: apart from her professional pride, she liked Leo Moretti and genuinely wanted to help him. But she and Angelo would be strangers—and it would stay that way.
What a fool she’d been. Hadn’t she even said to Sophie that neither of them was the kind of person who did flings? He’d given her the opportunity to back away and she should’ve taken it. Yes, things might have been a bit awkward for a while, but they would’ve got over it eventually. Whereas this... It was pretty final. And very obvious that he wasn’t prepared to give them a chance.
* * *
Angelo realised there was nothing further he could do here, so he drove back to London. Although he really wanted to talk to Mariana, and he was tempted to drive to her place and sit on her doorstep until she came home, she’d asked him for space—and she’d asked him to think about what he really wanted.
He knew the answer already. He wanted her. But he needed to be sure that he would be enough for her.
But if she could be brave enough to face the fear, so could he.
And he needed to respect her wishes and give her space. Her ex had bullied her; Angelo didn’t want her to think he was out of the same mould. So, much as all his instincts screamed at him to go after her, he went back to his house.
How empty it seemed. Blank walls everywhere—like his life had been. Mariana had opened his eyes to art. Brought colour into his world. Now everything was back to being neat and tidy and colourless. Silent. Even the clock didn’t tick: the hands moved silently. There was nothing to fill the spaces except for his regrets. And fear. If he was completely honest with her, would she give him a chance? Or would all the potential difficulties scare her away?
To take his mind off the situation, he went back to translating his grandfather’s diaries. It felt odd to be working in his office without Mariana there. Over the last few weeks he’d got used to sharing his space with her, and he missed her. Several times he picked up the phone to call her; but then he put it down again. He didn’t want to be like her ex and browbeat her into doing what he wanted. He wanted her to be with him because it was where she wanted to be, not because he’d talked her into it.
And she’d said she would see him in the morning. So he’d be patient and give her space to think and cool down. Even though it was killing him, because he wanted the rest of his life to start right now.
* * *
The next morning, it got to ten o’clock and she still hadn’t arrived. Had she walked out on him for good? Had he completely misread the situation after all and she’d actually expected him to go after her yesterday, so the fact he hadn’t made her think he didn’t want her? Or—a nasty thought struck him—had something happened to her, an accident, and she hadn’t made it home at all?
He’d been as careless with her as Carulli had been with Alice, and he didn’t like himself for that.
He was about to call her to check that she was all right and ask if she’d agree to meet him on neutral ground, just to talk, when he realised it was Wednesday. The day she usually met with her tutor. She was probably at the university right now, and he was completely overreacting. Which so wasn’t him. He was known for being cool, calm and rational at work. Right now, he felt like a hot-headed teenager, all over the place.
Was it really only a week ago that Mariana had taken him to meet Jeremy and then to the National and teased him into responding to the art? It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then. A week ago, he’d found himself hot all over, wondering what it would feel like to make love with her, cross with himself for letting his feelings get out of control in a public place, and more aware of her than he’d been of any woman—including Stephanie.
And now he knew exactly how it felt to make love with her. How warm and sweet and amazing she was. Why had he been so stupid? Why hadn’t he actually listened to what she’d said about wanting more than just a fling, instead of trying to be noble pushing her away? Why hadn’t he told her that it was what he wanted, too—that he knew he came with complications but he’d move heaven and earth to make things work?