Chapter Eleven
MIA WALKED ON her lunch breaks—a half hour of sunshine and solitude.
Sometimes she checked in with Adele—who’d finally accepted the additional support that Sante had been desperate to supply—but mostly she processed the time with Sante, trying to lock it into her memory so she could savour every sensation.
Somehow, two weeks had passed since that first weekend in Sicily.
The time had passed in a dreamy blur of sizzling sweet torture in the office before the too-quick delights of nighttime—dining in his apartment, debating over the best songs of the century, destroying each other on the gaming console before teasing higher stakes games in bed.
The weekends in Sicily were slower, lazier, decadent.
She caught up on the sleep she’d missed through the week while Sante worked in the garden or read.
He still worked so hard so she liked to play with him—putting on music, dancing naked in the glasshouse, reading, eating…
and spending hours in bed. Her adjustment to helicopter flights, fridges full of delicacies and walking into perfect homes prepared by discreet staff was shamelessly effortless.
Every aspect of this lifestyle was utter luxury but her most favourite thing was the attention from him.
Sante spoilt her in the best possible way—with his focus and time.
It was so good she was struggling about missing it even before their affair was ended.
Because this was an affair and she reminded herself of the fact daily.
She didn’t like to open up emotionally. It was simpler to live lightly, never scratch beneath the superficial. She enjoyed a job, or a new place but moved on before anything went wrong—but she kept in touch with many people, revisited places. She just was always careful not to stay too long.
Sante preferred not to open up as well—he retreated to his sanctuary, not letting anyone past his guard and given what he’d been through, she didn’t blame him.
And while he’d opened up with her, it was partly only because of their shared past. His isolation increasingly bothered her.
She remembered that summer back at her father’s estate when she’d been jealous of and fascinated by her brother’s best friend.
She remembered hearing their banter, their competitiveness, their laughter.
For all this time since, Dario had kept the sad facts of Sante’s childhood private and now Mia couldn’t understand why he’d believed their father about Sante’s behaviour after the accident—why he would accept that Sante hadn’t just abandoned him but taken money to stay away.
Their friendship hadn’t just been severed, but Dario still seethed with resentment.
Her brother’s awful injuries still caused him pain and it must’ve been hard to see his former friend succeeding back when he was so broken.
But Dario had worked stupidly hard to ‘catch up’ on the time he’d missed.
He still worked stupidly hard. So did Sante.
Initially, they’d created complementary products but despite their past closeness, ‘doesn’t play well with others’ was stamped across both their report cards now.
It shouldn’t be. They’d been on the same team once, and while Sante mightn’t agree, he was effectively building himself a team here in Rome.
He and Dario had so much in common. If they could clear the air maybe they’d see they weren’t each other’s nemesis.
Knowing the truth about Sante—that he hadn’t taken any money—might lighten her brother up.
And hiding her affair from him felt wrong to Mia.
Because this was more than a physical thing.
She cared about Sante and she didn’t want either him or her brother to be so alone.
Maybe she could make a difference to them. Maybe she could bring them together.
Impulsively, Mia pulled out her phone.
‘Mia?’ Dario abruptly answered on the third ring. ‘What’s up—is everything okay?’
He sounded so concerned—did he think she’d only phone if something was wrong?
‘Everything’s fine.’ Her pulse accelerated. ‘I just thought it had been a while since we caught—’
‘I figured you’ve been working on board somewhere sunny,’ Dario said.
‘I was, but I’ve taken a temporary position in Rome. Funny thing, actually.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and went for it. ‘I’m working for Sante Trovato’s tech incubator.’
For a moment there was no response. Then she heard a door slam.
‘Can you repeat that please, Mia?’ Dario’s voice suddenly sounded much nearer, much softer, much more serious.
Mia immediately overcompensated—smiling to inject lightness into her voice. ‘I’m working with Sante Trovato. You remember—’
‘Of course I remember.’
Mia tried to soften her own tension and remain calm. ‘I didn’t realise when I took the job that he—’
‘Mia!’ Dario groaned. ‘Listen to me,’ her brother added urgently. ‘You need to stand up and walk out of there right now.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Yes, you can. He has no hold over you, Mia. He’s bad news.’
But Sante did have a hold—on her heart. ‘If you really want to know, I’m involved with him.’
‘What?’ Dario’s question cracked like a whip.
It was just like the way their father asked whenever she’d screwed up in his eyes. Because that was what she did, right? Messed up. Was too impetuous. Was stupid.
‘Are you sleeping with him?’ Dario almost choked. ‘Why would you fall for his false charm?’
Which showed how much Dario actually knew because Sante was not charming. He was guarded and prickly with everyone.
‘No, Mia,’ Dario added. ‘You know he’s a user. You know he’ll just take what he wants, then leave. No goodbye. No backwards glance. He’s only interested in what he can get out of people and then he’s gone.’
Mia would have agreed with that assessment only a couple weeks ago but working with him, being with him, she’d gotten to truly know him. ‘You’re wrong, Dario. He didn’t abandon you that night. And he never took money from Dad. He cares about—’
‘About his needs,’ Dario argued. ‘He’s using you, Mia. It’s a cheap double win—he gets what he wants from you and he gets at me.’
Cheap. Sex. She stiffened at the implication that that was all a man could want from her.
And Dario believed he was the true target in Sante’s interest in her—why? Because he was more important? The firstborn with the balls and the brains and thus the title.
Dario got horrible attention from their father, too, but he was valued more—he was wanted if only to be the heir—and that still hurt.
‘Maybe what’s going on between him and me has nothing to do with you,’ she said.
‘It has everything to do with me. He wants to score points against me and he’s using you to do it.’ Dario scoffed again. ‘Don’t be this naive, Mia.’
Actually, she wasn’t. She’d been thriving just fine on her own for the past few years. Travelling, working hard, managing the money she earned. But her brother still didn’t think that she was capable.
‘What do you think is going to happen here, Mia? You can’t trust him. I don’t want to see you hurt—’
‘I won’t be,’ she defended fiercely. ‘And if you met him—’
‘That’s never going to happen.’ Dario’s disbelief streamed through the phone.
‘Not even if I ask?’ she murmured. ‘Dario?’
There was silence down the phone.
‘The only way I’d meet him is on the day he marries you,’ Dario said brutally. ‘Is that going to happen, Mia?’
‘No, because that’s not what I want,’ she shot back. ‘You know I like my independence. There’s nothing more important to me. I just thought you should know that he’s not the awful man you—’
‘He’s worse and—’
‘Can’t you trust my judgement?’ she interrupted. ‘Can’t you consider this for me?’
Dario sighed heavily. ‘Mia, I can’t. I know you. You’re so like Mum—too generous, too impetuous. You dive headlong into situations that don’t serve you—’
He broke off and she heard him cursing beneath his breath.
Right. He thought she was screwing up her life. He was tarnishing her with their mother’s failings just as their father had. Mia’s anger sparked. ‘Maybe I’m like her in daring to enjoy—’
‘Mum was an addict, Mia. You don’t know—’
‘You don’t give me any credit for being able to understand anything, but you’re the one who doesn’t understand subtleties and shades of grey and that reality might not be as binary as you’d like it to be.
I’m not a child anymore. And I’m not Mum.
I’m capable of evaluating evidence and making rational decisions—’
‘Sleeping with Sante Trovato isn’t a rational decision. Please, Mia. He’s using you.’
Using her to hurt Dario. Using her just for convenient sex. Dario couldn’t consider otherwise. Mia couldn’t possibly be wanted for anything other than her connections or her body.
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, and she was because she heard the pain in her brother’s voice.
‘I shouldn’t have talked to you about it.
I shouldn’t have tried to—’ She broke off with a jerky inhalation.
‘Don’t worry, okay? I am leaving here soon and it will be over so just forget I ever said anything about it. ’
She ended the call before he could reply and shoved her phone into her pocket.
She was in control of herself here, wasn’t she?
But Dario’s cynicism didn’t seed doubt, it made her fully face her own actions.
Her own feelings. She had been impetuous in starting the affair with Sante and she was under no illusions that she had started it.
It should’ve been a short-term fun fling—not heavy or serious.
She’d not meant to feel anything deeply for him.
But now she saw she’d not been daring to enjoy physical pleasure with him; she’d dared her heart.
She just hadn’t realised it. And now it was too late.
She liked him. She more than liked him. And she didn’t want this to end.