A Facade to Shatter (14 page)

“Yes,” he said firmly. “That is exactly what I intend to say.”

Lia’s chest ached, and not from her fainting episode. She’d gotten overheated, her grandmother had told her. She’d fainted on her terrazzo, though Zach had caught her before she’d hit the hard marble. And then he’d carried her up to the house and ordered someone to call an ambulance.

Now she was here, feeling like a fool for getting too hot and fainting. She was also getting flustered
by Zach’s presence. By the words she could hardly believe he’d uttered.

They made her heart sing. But she was also afraid.

“I want you to come home,” he said. “I want to be with you.”

Lia swallowed. “I’m not sure I can do that,” she said softly.

His expression was stark. Terrified.

“Leaving was hard,” she continued, resolutely ignoring the ache in her heart, “but I’ve started to live my life without you. And if you drag me back, if you pull me into your life and then decide you can’t handle a wife and child, I’m not sure I will survive that heartbreak a second time.”

“I went to see a doctor,” he told her quietly. His hand was still wrapped around hers, and she felt the tremor shake him as he said those words.

“Oh, Zach.” There was a lump in her throat.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t have dreams. I’m pretty sure I will have them. But I know how to deal with them now.”

He stood, moved until he was so close she could reach up and touch him if she wanted to.

He pressed her hand to his heart. It beat hard and fast beneath her palm.

“I told the doctor about the gun and how I couldn’t pull the trigger. And I’m taking medicine, Lia. It helps
with the fear and anger. I didn’t want to take it before. I thought I could handle it myself. But the truth is I can’t. No one can. We aren’t meant to handle these things alone.”

Her vision blurred again, but this time it was due to the moisture in her eyes. “I’m glad you got help, Zach. Really glad.” She turned her hand in his and squeezed. “But I’m still not sure coming back is the right thing. You hurt me when you sent me away, and I can’t be hurt like that again. I can’t let our baby be hurt, either.”

He looked suddenly uncertain, as if he’d come across a roadblock he hadn’t expected.

“And if I said I love you?”

Her heart went into free fall before soaring again. She told herself to be realistic, practical. To not simply accept what he said at face value because she’d wanted it for so long. She’d been disappointed so many times by her need to be loved. She would not let it rule her now.

“Why do you love me, Zach? Why now?”

He sank onto the chair beside the bed again. His eyes were intense, burning, as they caught hers and held.

“I love you because you give me hope. Because you see the good in me instead of the bad. Because you believe in me. Because you made me believe in
myself.” He sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring. His voice, when he spoke again, was fierce. “I’m glad I lived, Lia. I’m glad I’m here with you, and even if you send me away, even if you never let me back in your life again, I won’t regret a single moment I spent with you.”

She felt a tear spill free and slide down her cheek. She dashed her hand over her face, as if she could hide her tears from him.

But he saw them, of course.

“It kills me when you cry,” he said softly. “And it kills me to think I caused it.”

Her heart squeezed. “I’m not crying because I’m unhappy. I’m hormonal.”

It wasn’t the truth, of course, but she stubbornly didn’t want to admit she was crying because of him. She’d cried too much over him this past month already.

“I love you, Lia. I don’t want you to cry. I want to make you happy. Always.”

She was trembling hard now, but she turned away from him and tried to focus on the cars moving in the parking lot outside. How could she cross this bridge again? How could she make herself vulnerable once more to all the vicissitudes of a relationship with this man?

“I—I want to believe you. But I’m not sure I can.”

“You can,” he said. “I know you can. Isn’t that what you said to me?”

She dropped her chin to her chest and sucked in a huge breath. She had said that to him. She’d said it and she’d been angry when he hadn’t listened. When he’d denied it and sent her away.

How could she do the same thing to him? How could she be a coward, when he ultimately had not? He was facing his fears, finally. How could she be any different?

“I will try,” she said softly. “That’s the best I can do.”

She left the hospital that evening. She’d thought she was going back to her grandmother’s house, but when Zach turned a different direction, she could only look at him. He glanced over at her.

“I’m taking you to our home,” he said. “It will be more private for us.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware we had a home in Sicily.”

He shrugged. “Actually, it’s a rental. If you like it, I’ll buy it for you. And if you don’t, I’ll buy you another one somewhere else.”

A little thrill went through her, in spite of her resolve to take this slowly and carefully. She’d agreed to try to believe he loved her, and that this could work
between them, but she hadn’t actually thought about what that would entail. Of course they would go to a home they shared. And of course they would be alone together.

So much for her resolve when her pulse picked up at the thought.

Zach took her to a large, beautiful villa with a view of the sea. She could tell because the lights of homes carpeting the island below them gave way to a vast inky darkness. The lights of a ship moved alone on that black surface, isolated from civilization.

She stood on the balcony and let the sea breeze ruffle her hair, feeling like that ship, adrift on an immense sea of uncertainty and fear.

“You should be sitting,” Zach told her. “You’ve had a rough day.”

“In more ways than one,” she replied.

“Yes.”

She felt bad for saying it then, for making him quietly accept her lingering animosity. But it was the only thing standing between her and complete capitulation, so she nursed it in wounded silence. Until it burst from her, like now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to him. He stood so near, hands in pockets, dark eyes trained on her.

“Don’t be. I deserve it.”

She sighed. “No. I’m just afraid, Zach. Afraid it won’t be real.”

“Maui,” he said, his voice so quiet, and her heart pinched because he knew.

“Yes, Maui.” She took a deep breath. “We had such a perfect time there. I thought there was something between us, and then it stormed and you became a stranger to me. You showed me that I didn’t matter, that nothing we’d shared mattered.”

“I’m more sorry for that than you know. But I was damaged, Lia, and I was afraid of that damage somehow spilling over onto you. You, the sweetest, most innocent woman I’ve ever known. How could I tarnish that brightness of yours with my darkness?”

“You can’t be undamaged now,” she said, shaking her head. “Not in a month. Not ever. So how do you propose to reconcile what you think of as damage—which I think of as life, by the way—with our relationship now? Will the first dream or episode send you running again?”

He sighed. “I deserve every bit of your condemnation. No, I am not undamaged. But none of us are, are we? I’m learning to cope with that.” He paused for a moment. “I found the medal you left behind. I put it with the others. And they’re in my desk drawer at home, where I see them every day when I open it. I earned them with my blood and sweat and tears. And
I owe it to those who gave their lives for me to honor their memories by not running from my own.”

A chill slid down her spine as he spoke. And she knew, deep in her heart, that what he said was true. That he’d turned a corner somewhere in his journey and he was finally on the way to healing.

She took a step toward him, reached up and caressed the smooth skin of his jaw. “Zach,” she said, her heart full.

He turned his face into her palm and kissed it. “I love you, Lia Corretti Scott. Now and forever. You saved me.”

A dam burst inside her then. She went into his arms with a tiny cry, wrapped herself around him while he held her tight. This was what it meant to love and be loved. To belong.

“No, I think we saved each other.”

“Does this mean you still love me?” he asked, his voice warm and breathless in her ear.

She leaned back so she could see his face. His beautiful, beloved face. “I never stopped,
amore mio.
I never could.”

“Grazie a Dio,”
he said. And then he kissed her as a full moon began to rise from the sea, lighting their world with a soft, warm glow.

L
IA WOKE IN
the middle of the night. She sat up with a start, certain she’d heard a cry. It was raining outside, a typical summer storm. A jagged bolt of lightning shot across the sky, followed by a crack of thunder.

The bed beside her was empty, the sheets tossed back. She grappled on the nightstand for the baby monitor, but it was gone. Sighing, she climbed from bed and put on her robe. Then she padded out the door and down the hallway to the nursery.

Zach looked up as she entered. He was sitting in the rocking chair, cradling their son in his arms while the baby cooed and yawned. Zach smiled, and her heart lurched with all the love she felt for the two men in her life.

“I believe it was my turn,” she said tiredly.

“I was awake,” he said, shrugging.

“A dream?” she asked, thinking of the storm and worrying for him.

“I was dreaming, yes,” he said. “But not about the war.”

“You weren’t?”

He looked down at their baby, his sexy mouth curling in a smile. “No. I dreamed I was flying. And then I dreamed I was on a beach with you.”

“What happened then?”

“I could tell you,” he said, slanting a look up at her. “But I’d far rather show you.”

Heat prickled her skin, flooded her core. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said softly.

“Give me a few minutes.” His gaze was on his son again.

Lia pulled a chair next to the rocker and sat down beside him. Zach reached out and took her hand in his, and they sat there with their baby until his little eyes drifted shut. Gently, Zach placed him in his crib—and then he took Lia by the hand and led her back to their bedroom.

Later, as she lay in his arms and drifted off to sleep, she knew she’d gotten everything she ever wanted.

Love. Family. Belonging.

Read on for an exclusive
interview with Lynn Raye Harris!

BEHIND THE SCENES OF

SICILY’S CORRETTI DYNASTY

with Lynn Raye Harris

It’s such a huge world to create—an entire Sicilian dynasty. Did you discuss parts of it with the other writers?

Oh, yes! We started an email loop and discussed where to set the Corretti estates and whether the wedding, which kicks off the whole thing, would be in a chapel or a cathedral, etc. We also discussed character interactions and how they felt about their histories.

How does being part of the continuity differ from when you are writing your own stories?

Well, one of the hardest parts of writing a continuity is finding connection with the characters. When they are your own creation it’s much easier to find that connection than when you are given a brief about them. But it eventually happens, and then you have fun!

What was the biggest challenge? And what did you most enjoy about it?

This time, for me, the biggest challenge was writing an American hero. That’s probably an odd thing
to say, since I am an American, but I found Zach far more difficult because of it. Add in his military service, and I really had a difficult time. Not because I don’t know anything about the military—but because I know too much! My husband was in the air force, though he didn’t fly planes, and I’m pretty familiar with military life. It was a challenge to balance that element in the story, probably because I was too concerned with making it correct.

As you wrote your hero and heroine was there anything about them that surprised you?

Zach told me something that surprised me. He tells Lia, too, so you’ll get to see what it is. It’s a very dark thing, and we both ached for him that he’s been living with this guilt and self-loathing.

What was your favorite part of creating the world of Sicily’s most famous dynasty?

The research! Who doesn’t like looking at pictures of Sicily and reading about the culture? Regrettably, my characters don’t spend a lot of time there, but it was still fun!

If you could have given your heroine one piece of advice before the opening pages of the book, what would it be?

Chin up, babe.

What was your hero’s biggest secret?

I can’t tell! It’s in the book.

What does your hero love most about your heroine?

Her sweetness and strength. She believes in him and that means a lot.

What does your heroine love most about your hero?

He’s honorable and he cares a great deal about doing the right thing.

Which of the Correttis would you most like to meet and why?

Oddly enough, I think I’d like to meet Teresa Corretti! She’s the matriarch who kept the whole thing together when it should have failed long before. She’s a strong woman used to dealing with lots of arrogant men. I imagine she’s the strength behind the family throne, really, though they don’t quite know it.

Caitlin Crews

She understood that she would have to live with this. That this was a defining moment. That her life would be divided into before and after this scorching hot dance, and that she would never again be the person she’d believed she was before this stranger pulled her against him. But his eyes were locked to hers, filled with wonder and fire, and she didn’t pull away. She didn’t even try—and she understood she’d have to live with that, too.

And then he made it all so much worse.

‘You cannot marry him,’ he said, those dark green eyes so fierce, his face so hard.

It took her longer than it should have to clear her head, to hear him. To hear an insult no engaged woman should tolerate. It was that part that penetrated, finally. That made her fully comprehend the depths of her betrayal.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded. But she still let him hold her in his arms, like she was something precious to him. Or like she wished she was. ‘What makes you think you can say something like that to me?’

‘I am Alessandro Coretti,’ he bit out. She stiffened and his voice dropped to an urgent, insistent growl. ‘And you
know why I can say that. You feel this, too.’

‘Coretti …’ she breathed, the reality of what she was doing, the scope of her treachery, like concrete blocks falling through her one after the next.

He saw it, reading her too easily. His dark eyes flashed.

‘You cannot marry him,’ he said again, some kind of desperation beneath the autocratic demand in his voice. As if he knew her. As if he had the right. ‘He’ll ruin you.’

Elena would never know what might have happened then, had she not jerked her gaze away from Alessandro’s in confusion—and seen Niccolo there at the side of the dance floor, glaring at the two of them with murder in his black eyes.

Elena was amazed that it was possible to hate herself so much, so fully. And that the shame didn’t kill her where she stood.

‘How dare you?’ she hissed at Alessandro, all her horror at her own appalling actions in her voice. ‘I know who you are. I know
what
you are.’

© Harlequin Books S.A. 2013

Special thanks and acknowledgement are given to Caitlin Crewes for her contribution to
Sicily’s Corretti Dynasty
series