* * *
She went into his arms and they came about her. She felt the bare wall of his chest against her breasts, his hands around her waist, holding her while she wept.
After a long while her tears dried, and she could cry no more. He let her straighten. As she did so, she became aware of a discreet but insistent knocking at the door. Frowningly, Luca released her, opened the door. Two men in dark suits stood there.
‘Is everything all right?’ one asked.
His voice was polite, but wary too. The other one, Bianca realised, was looking past Luca at her.
‘Are you all right, madam?’ the second one asked her directly.
With a start, she realised who they were, why they were here, and what they were seeing. Luca wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, chest bare, feet shoeless. Herself with her face swollen with tears. They had presumably, she realised, received a report of Luca hauling her into the lift.
She gave a laugh—a shaky one. ‘Thank you, yes, we’re fine. I promise you. Thank you so much for your concern,’ she said.
‘Yes, thank you,’ corroborated Luca. ‘I apologise for my…alarming behaviour. You see…’ he turned to address the hotel’s security team ‘…I wanted to propose to my fiancée, but I was somewhat…precipitate.’
The first security guard looked suspicious. Confused. ‘Fiancée…? Propose to her…?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Bianca said.
‘And complicated,’ added Luca.
‘But I’m absolutely fine,’ Bianca assured the two men. ‘Truly I am.’
‘So you see,’ said Luca, ‘I’m sure you’ll understand that we wish to be a little…private right now?’
Two pairs of wary eyes went from Bianca to Luca, then to Bianca again. She smiled at them reassuringly. And there must have been something in that smile to make them reassess the situation. Or perhaps it was the radiance in her face…the glow of happiness in her eyes. The look of love about her…
‘Then please accept our apologies for having disturbed you,’ the first one said dryly.
‘Not at all,’ said Luca graciously.
He shut the door, turned back to Bianca. But he did not come to her. Instead, he stayed where he was. Went down on one knee. Lifted his face to look up at her.
‘Will you marry me, Bianca?’ he said.
And it came from his heart. From his very being. From all that he was and ever would be.
She’d thought she had cried all her tears. Thought there were none left to shed.
She was wrong.
* * *
She was crying again, and with an oath in Italian, Luca lurched to his feet.
‘Bianca!’
He knew alarm was in his voice, and a lot more. He caught her hand and kissed it. Hung on to it tightly.
‘You dowantto marry me, don’t you? I mean, we can live in sin…or just go on beingfidenzatoto each otherfor the next hundred years…but wouldn’t youlikea wedding? Most females would, or so I’m told, and to be honest I’d probably quite enjoy one too.’ His throat tightened. ‘I know Matteo would. We could do it for him. Because, you see…’ his voice changed, became sombre ‘…whatever the outcome of his treatment, and wheneveryou tell him about your real father, I know… Iknow, Bianca…that it will not kill his feelings for you.’ And now he gave her hand a little shake of remonstrance. ‘Any more than it will kill mine for you. Because it’s you, Bianca, who we care about…feel for.Youwe love. You I love.’
He lifted her hand to his mouth, grazed her knuckles in the time-honoured gesture of homage.
‘Say yes,’ he said to her as he lowered her hand again. ‘Say yes and make me the happiest of men. It’s taken me six long years to deserve to be happy, but now I truly think I do. We’ll take care of Matteo, you and I together, until the end comes. And when it does—whenever that should be—he will know that his fantasy, his dream…’ his voice softened ‘…has become the truth. A truth that will last our lifetimes.’
He paused, his gaze pouring into hers. Her eyes were diamonds, with the last tears to be shed.