31. Esmé
31
ESMé
T he second Matteo shut the gallery door behind him, my heart shattered to a thousand pieces. Everything felt wrong. He wasn’t here, making me laugh. He wasn’t massaging my shoulders or stroking my hair, and he wouldn’t be in my bed tonight, either.
I cast my eyes around the gallery. There was still so much clearing up to do, but I couldn't summon the energy.
Claudette sat on the corner of my desk, watching me with her large green eyes. “No judgment, please. I’ll clean up tomorrow.”
Instead, I crossed to the cupboard behind my desk and picked out a bottle of wine, running my fingers over the label with a shake of my head. Montepulciano. The irony.
I poured myself a large glass and sank into my chair. “What a mess,” I said to Claudette. She just stared at me, and I sighed. “Of course, you were too busy chasing mice or birds to catch the action.”
I leaned over and picked up the laptop projector remote that lay on my desk. “Look,” I said, pressing play. The wall flickered to life once more .
I watched the video. Twice. The sight of my bottom—and Matteo’s hands on it—still made me groan. But on closer watching, his chivalrous “hands-on’” help wasn’t the only thing that held my attention.
It was the way he cared for me. The tenderness in his touch, the gentle smile on his face as he whispered encouragement, the unmistakable glow in his eyes when he looked at me even when I wasn’t looking back.
I swallowed hard, my head and heart tangling in a whirlwind. Had anyone else noticed? Or was I losing my mind?
A quiet knock at the door pulled my attention, and I paused the video. I checked the clock. Almost midnight. Who on earth would be here this late?
I rose from my chair, crossing the room with near-silent steps on the floorboards. It had to be Matteo. I was surprised he’d left when I’d asked him to. His absence had been a relief. If he’d stayed even a minute longer, my resolve would’ve shattered.
I turned the lock and opened the door. “Matteo?”
“No,” replied a deep, crisp voice. “It’s Gio.” He stepped into the light from above the door and I swallowed. He hovered on the step, looking grave. “Is Matteo here?”
“No.”
“Then may I come in?”
I stepped away and let him inside, following his still-suited back into the centre of the gallery. “Gio,” I said in a quiet voice. “I'm so sorry. I’ve let you down in so many ways. I want you to know how much I’ve valued your guidance, but I understand if you want nothing more to do with me.”
He paused. “And your new gallery?”
I let out a dry laugh. “What new gallery? I think we both know that Rome is even further away from me now than ever.”
Gio sighed, looking at the projection of Matteo and me on the wall. He shook his head, then crossed to my desk .
“Is this Claudette?” He ran the back of his hand over my little cat’s head.
My heart skipped a little. “You know about her?”
Gio smiled. “It may surprise you to know that my grandson and I actually do talk.” He looked back at the projection on the wall and chuckled. “I take it you’ve discovered what my grandson does with his spare time?”
I nodded. “I have. He told me you didn’t know.”
He pulled his brows together. “I heard whispers in Rome. It didn’t take me long to find out. I never told Matteo I knew, though.”
I stared at the wall, at Matteo’s beautiful face. “Then you know he’s all over the internet?”
“I do, but …” Gio shook his head like he couldn't fathom it. “Jumping, climbing, falling out of planes. I knew he liked adventure, but I didn’t know how much.”
I smiled, remembering the warmth of his grandson’s arms. “He’s incredible. He loves art, too, but it’s not his real passion. Not like it is for you and me.”
Gio sat on the corner of my desk with a groan. “May I join you?” he asked, nodding to the open bottle of wine on its top.
“Of course,” I said, pouring him a glass.
He took it from me with a quirk of one eyebrow. “You know, I’m sad he didn’t feel he could tell me. His adventures seem like such a big part of his life.”
I returned to my seat, taking a sip of my wine. “I think he didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Gio chuckled. “I must be some kind of monster in his eyes. I’ve watched his videos. Watched them all. He looks so happy.”
“He is. I suppose we can’t all be art connoisseurs.”
Gio’s smile dropped. “But what will he end up doing with his life? I worry about him. I lost his father. I don’t want to lose Matteo, too.”
I played with the stem of my glass. “Don’t worry. Matteo will always succeed.” I cast my mind back to the day on the zip line, to the people who’d recognised him. To Marianne and Alessandro Rossi. “People love him. They go out of their way for him. And you know, he has so much respect in his field.”
He scoffed. “Respect?”
“Yes. He’s very good at what he does. You must have seen how many followers he has? They look up to him.” I thought back to the blond man on the zip line platform. The adoration in his eyes. “They idolise him, even. And he’s been offered contracts and endorsements. He could build a solid business out of what he does, particularly with your backing. If he knew you were supportive, I don’t doubt Matteo would make you proud. He loves you.”
Gio smiled and took a sip of wine. “And what about you, Esmé? Do you think you can put up with his ‘spirit’?”
I swallowed. Just how much had he guessed about us?
He tipped his head to the side and pointed to the wall full of Matteo and me. “I see him look at you like this and I think of his father. The way he looked at Matteo’s mother. Like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.”
My breath escaped me, and I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“My son was a lot like Matteo. Impetuous and high spirited, but he fell in line with my wishes. He joined me in the business. He probably begrudged me, but in the end, he made me proud. A lot of that was because of Isabella, Matteo’s mother. She was more like you. She grounded him. He knew she would always be there.”
At the intensity in his eyes, my heart sped up.
He chuckled. “Even if it was just to rein him in.” He turned his steely eyes on me. “You strike me as a little more grounded than my grandson.”
I gripped the stem of my glass tighter. “What makes you think I have any influence over him? ”
He gave me a look, like I was crazy. “I’m not blind. Anyone can see there’s something between you.”
The hair on the back of my neck raised. “I … um …well …”
“Please. Give an old man a little credit. And just so you know, I’m not upset.Perhaps I’m a little surprised, but then my grandson has never followed any path I expected.”
My stomach twisted. So, he knew. Or at least suspected. And he wasn’t upset—yet. He had to know Matteo was nearly five years younger than me. But how would he handle the scrutiny I dreaded?
When he considered how it might look to others? Would he see me as an opportunist, taking advantage of his grandson’s youthful enthusiasm? Or worse—would he assume Matteo was just playing around, indulging in a fling that would fizzle the moment he got bored?
The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle, and I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.
“Matteo and I have become … close.”
He shook his head slowly, but his smile was still in place. “You’re being very diplomatic.”
“Fine. We’re very close. And I know it’s not an ideal situation. He’s a little younger than ….” The words died on my lips as his canny eyes swept over my face.
“He is, but only by a few years. He can be remarkably mature when he needs to be. He dealt with the death of his parents with barely a complaint.”
I took a sip of my wine, grateful for the change in subject. “He said he doesn’t remember them. What he remembers most is the ideal that he was held to. The stories you told him about them. You and Maria were the only parents he knew.”
Gio’s eyes widened, and I bit my lip. Did my words overstep a boundary? Were they too on the nose? But with the absolute mess of the exhibition under my belt already, what did I have to lose ?
Again, Gio looked at the vision of Matteo on the screen—his arms closed around me, his grandson’s eyes shining bright.
“I always made him feel like he was never good enough,” he murmured.
I shook my head slowly. “He is good enough. Your grandson is incredible.”
After a silence that seemed to stretch across the ages, he shifted, my desk creaking under his movement.
“Are the two of you …” He paused as if picking his words carefully. “Together? In a relationship, I mean.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yes,” I whispered. It was the first time I’d said it out loud and damn, it felt good. Iris and I had skirted around the question, but with my admission, a warming calm settled over me. “It’s not something either of us rushed into or intended, but I think your grandson is wonderful and everything you should be proud of.”
Gio sighed, tickling Claudette behind the ear. She purred and head-butted Gio’s hand. She seemed to like him as much as she liked Matteo.
“I won’t say the news is a shock. After seeing the two of you tonight, I could see there was some … some regard. And he would forever talk about you on our calls. But I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have suggested he work with you if I’d known it would lead to something more.”
His words stung, lodging deep in my chest. He might not be upset about our relationship, but that didn’t mean he was pleased about being entangled in my life and business. Matteo and I had made everything more complicated.
“We never meant to deceive you. I know we’re probably not what you had in mind, and some might say we’re taking a risk.”
Gio quietly laughed. “I know something about risk.” He leaned over and topped up our glasses. “Although I love Matteo’s grandmother very much, she wasn’t my first love. My first love was deemed unsuitable by my family .
She was older than me. Not by much, but in their eyes, she wasn't acceptable. Things were different back then, and my family was traditional. They refused to let me see her. I was young, and I went along with their wishes. As much as I adore Maria, I often wonder what would’ve happened if I’d taken a chance and gone against what they expected of me.”
Gio smiled at Claudette, tapping his nail against his glass. Eventually, he sighed. "I like you, Esmé. You make sense to me. Your knowledge is impressive, and your taste undeniable. So, despite tonight’s chaos—and everything that’s come to light about you and Matteo—I’ll still invest in your gallery."
My body filled with a fizzing energy, and I put down my glass, spilling drops of red liquid on the desk. “You’re serious?”
He glanced at the spill with a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes.He chuckled. “I am. And perhaps over time, with your guidance, Matteo will take an interest in the family business, too. Maybe you’ll help him keep both feet on the ground and not dangling over cliffs.”
I huffed a laugh. His offer was laden with unspoken conditions—conditions of Matteo and I working out—staying together; but I didn’t care. “I don’t know what to say.”
He shrugged. “Then say nothing. Take my money and make me more. That's all I ask.”
Somehow, I doubted that. “But what if …?”
“You won’t,” he said. “The two of you will be just fine.”
My skin prickled. He’d known I was about to ask what would happen if Matteo and I went our separate ways.
Gio cleared his throat and shifted off my desk. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. I know you must have a lot to do.”
I stood too. “Thank you, Gio.”
He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. I wouldn’t invest if I didn’t trust your judgement.” He chuckled. “Now I just need to work out how to keep news of tonight’s events away from Maria. She’s in New York on a shopping trip with friends. Hopefully, the gossip won’t travel that far. I’d prefer to soften the blow beforehand.”
Gio’s eyes sparkled as he ran them over my face. “Goodnight, Esmé. I’ll be in touch. And if, as I expect, you see my grandson before I do, please give him my love.”
Gio gave Claudette one last tickle, then left the gallery with a tinkle of the bell. My pretty white cat jumped down from my desk, weaving around my feet.
“Are you missing Matteo as much as I am?” She looked up at me with her green eyes. It was odd having her here in the gallery alone. The two of them travelled as a pair these days.
I pulled in a thick breath. Even if I didn’t have my dignity, I still had Gio’s investment. I still had Papa, Luc, Iris … and … if I wanted him, I still had Matteo. He was unlike anyone I’d been with before—impulsive, fearless, unapologetically alive. He didn’t waste time worrying about what others thought, and I could only imagine the freedom of letting go the way he did.
I picked up my drink, my entire body pulsing with energy. Letting go? He’d told me to let go on the zip line. And when I had, did I regret my choice? Not for a second.
If I were truly honest, I wanted nothing more than to let go—with the man who’d stolen my heart somewhere between the sky and the slopes.
I drained my glass. Then with trembling fingers, I picked up my phone and made a call.
After four rings, a sleepy voice greeted me. “Hello?”
“Iris. I’m going to ask you to talk me out of something.”
“Hang on,” she said.
I heard a rustle of sheets, a man’s mumble and a softly closing door.
“What’s up?”
I steadied my breath. “I think I’m in love.”
“You think?”
“Okay. I’m pretty sure. ”
I heard her muffled laugh. “Sure?”
I rubbed my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought I was in love with Didier, but when he left, I felt more relieved than anything. Like being with him was more of a habit, you know?”
“So, tell me how it feels this time? I assume we’re talking about Matteo?”
“Of course it’s Matteo. What do you take me for?”
She giggled. “Well, after tonight I’m surprised you haven’t been fighting off propositions. Your bottom looked majestic up there on the wall.”
I groaned.
“So, back to your sordid love life. How does being with Matteo feel?”
A smile crept onto my lips. “He makes me feel alive. I know he's younger than me and a bit crazy, but he’s sweet and thoughtful. He looks after me and makes amazing pasta.”
Iris chuckled. “Well, if he can make pasta, he has my vote. What else?”
My heart warmed as I thought of him. “He makes me laugh. I look forward to seeing him and when he’s not around, I look for him. I want to be with him all the time.”
She sighed. “Well, I think he’s fun. I’ve seen the way you look at him. He makes you glow. I’ve only met him a few times, but I couldn’t say the same about Didier. You looked more like you were spending Christmas with an elderly relative rather than a hot, slightly younger Italian love god.”
I giggled. “Oh, you’ve met him, then?”
“It’s hard not to notice.”
I paced in a circle on the gallery floor, trying not to trip over Claudette. “I know you’re right, but …”
“Let me guess. You’re worried a casual fling will ruin your reputation? That people will think he’s too young?”
“Am I that obvious? If we’re laying it all out, then yes. I’d hate anyone to think I took advantage of him for his grandfather’s investment.”
“Well, the people who count won’t see it that way, and I think you’d regret not taking the chance. Not every risk ends in failure, you know.”
I chewed on the side of my lip. “What about Papa? What would he think?”
“Oh, you mean when you tell him you're madly in love with someone who can cook, makes you feel amazing, and treats you like a princess? I think he’ll be just fine. But if you think it's necessary, I’ll talk to him, just to soften the blow.” She paused. “Though don’t worry, I won’t show him the forest footage.”
“Oh God, I hadn’t thought of that. What if he saw my …”
“Relax. When does your dad use a cell phone or a computer? And what would he be doing searching for videos of hot French women’s bottoms?”
My laugh rang around the gallery. “True.”
I thought of Matteo again. Matteo in my arms, Matteo’s smile and Matteo's hands on me. At the memories, my skin prickled, and a pressure built in my chest. “You’re right. Why can’t I live a little? Thank you, Iris.”
"You’re very welcome," she giggled. "Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to wrap myself around my gorgeous husband. You get some sleep, then go forth and enjoy yourself. You only get one shot at life—don’t waste it firing duds."