Peter watchedhim.
“Turo,” he said in a soft voice, “I told you not to fall in love withher.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s overnow.”
“Forgive her. It’s just a damn apartment. Damn it, Turo. You claim to love her, but you don’t have a clue what love is if you’re holding something so petty over the woman’s bashed-inhead!”
Arturo turned and gave him a sad smile. “I forgave her the second she told me. It’s a matter of her forgiving me, and I don’t think that’s going to happen. I walked away, Pete. I walked away when she needed me the most. How the hell can I ask for forgiveness forthat?”
The look on Pete’s face told him his friend more thanagreed.
Arturo openedthe envelope and drew out the documents, frowning. What the hell? It was the deed to the Patrizzi apartment. Inhisname. What thefuck?
“Marcie? Who dropped these papersoff?”
Marcella came in. “Young girl. Short, curly hair. English. Very sweet. What arethey?”
Arturo handed her the documents, and she read them, her eyes widening. “Wow. So, you finally bought theapartment?”
“No. That’s why I’mconfused.”
The phone at Marcie’s desk buzzed, and she went back out, closing the door behindher.
Arturo read through the paperwork again. So, Hero was giving him the apartment? No, no way, this must be a mistake. But there it was in black and white. His dream, handed to him on a plate and it hadn’t cost him apenny.
It just cost him the woman he loved. The realdream.
Fliss insistedon taking care of everything, having Hero’s things moved from the apartment—the apartment where she’d never even spentonenight—to Fliss’s large and beautifully furnished guestroom.
“I’m paying rent,” Hero insisted, and although Fliss rolled her eyes, Hero wouldn’t take no for ananswer.
She and the English woman became close very quickly, and as the weeks passed, Hero even began to help out in the little art store. One day, she was alone in the store when a man she didn’t recognize came in, smartly dressed. “MissDonati?”
Her guard went up immediately. “Who’sasking?”
He had a kind smile. “I work for Signore Bachi. He asked me to bring you this.” He handed her an envelope, nodded, and left thestore.
Hero stared at the envelope. Hearing Arturo’s name left her simultaneously hot and cold inside. God…she both wanted to know what he said and was terrified at the same time. She braced herself and tore itopen.
There was no note, just a check in the amount of five million Euros. The message was clear. Arturo didn’t want any more ties toher.
“Oh, damn it, damn it,” Hero murmured, tears pooling in her eyes. There went the last hope. She stuffed the check back in the envelope and then raised it to her face. She could smell his fresh, spicy scent on the envelope, and a memory came rushing back of his skin next to hers, his lips on hers hungry for her kisses, his arms around her. The way he would brace his arms either side of her head as his cock thrust deep into her, driving her towards ecstasy. The love in hiseyes.
Hero dropped her head and began to cry.Pull yourself together.But she couldn’t. It was a different kind of loss, a fresh one, and the pain wasoverwhelming.
From his hiddenposition outside across the piazza, he watched her. Arturo’s chest hurt as he saw her weeping. Was it from relief that he’d paid for the apartment? Or was it pain over theirparting?
He had lost any anger he felt towards her for the apartment. Hell, he’d lost any passion he’d had for anything now. Arturo knew he could walk over to the shop to see her and beg for her forgiveness…but the thought that she might send him away? His courage failed him. His heart simply would not stand it. He knew now that he’d loved Flavia like the selfish boy that he’d been—he loved Hero like the man she’d tempted him to trulybe.
Arturo turned away and walked quickly to the police station. He might not be with Hero any longer, but he was damned if he’d stop trying to find out who attacked her. The police had questioned him, yes, but he still hadinfluence.
He found out more when he asked to talk to the lead detective. “Signorina Donati was getting threats, Signore Bachi. Death threats. She came to us last week with some of the notes, but there was nothing we could do. That’s all I can tellyou.”
Arturo just managed to keep his temper; blowing up wouldn’t get him any more information. “But someone did attack her? Are you giving herprotection?”
“We don’t have themanpower.”
Arturo was steaming angry when he left the station. Getting on the phone, he asked his security chief to arrange protection for Hero. “But—and this is important—she mustn’t know. They must be discreet, and I don’t want her spied on.” He outlined what else he needed and ended the call. He was so tempted to go back to the little side street with the quaint little art store but stopped himself. It would just cause him more pain. Worse yet, it would just hurt her more, and that he could not justify, no matter how much heached.