Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
E VE WAS TRYING to go back to resenting Dom. In some ways she did, because she was even more obsessed with him than before their time on the island. It took all her control not to stalk him online or find the number to his head office and try to reach out.
For what, though? They had no future. Putting their family history aside, he was the last sort of man she’d want as a partner. He was too much. Too gruff and dynamic and good-looking and powerful in the ways that he affected her. Her ankle was mostly better, but anytime it gave a twinge, she thought of him throwing her over his shoulder like a caveman, or smirking about removing the condom, or wrapping her ankle so tenderly.
The truth was, she wished she only thought of him when her ankle twinged. It was more a case of thinking about him and feeling a pang through her whole body.
Why? Why him ?
She feared she would live out her life as a spinster because she seemed to possess whatever instinct or imprinting gene made wolves and geese mate for life. It wasn’t love. It was the sort of pair bond that formed as a survival tactic. There was no logic to it. It simply was.
At least, that’s what she told herself this infernal reaction was. If she allowed herself to believe this weird bond went any deeper, into liking his dry humor or feeling touched that he’d brought her breakfast, she only felt raw inside because she knew it wasn’t the same for him. He’d made it clear their affair was a one-night thing and purely physical. Their parting had been circumspect without even a kiss, the silence since then profound.
Piqued by that and Nico’s high-handed behavior and her realization that she was entirely too reliant on her family, she’d come to Italy—where she owned a home. Kind of.
This was the house where Nonno Aldo had brought his bride, Maria, after he had stolen her from her wedding in America. They’d had two years and their first child, Romeo, here before returning to America to bail out the Winslows. They’d held onto this villa and, after losing her husband, this was where Nonna Maria had lived out her golden years.
After she passed, Eve’s father had wanted to sell the house because it was small and impractical, not to mention turning into a money pit with age. Eve had a lot of fond memories of visiting Nonna here. She had begged him to hold onto it until she was able to access her trust, at which point she’d got a mortgage and began making it her own.
It was impractical, made up of three floors built into a hillside. It was tall and skinny, with small rooms and narrow windows. But it was very cute with its red clay tile roof and its shutters in robin’s-egg blue. There was an outdoor kitchen, a small pool, and terraced grounds holding fruit trees and ornamental shrubs that wore autumn colors of scarlet and copper and sunny gold. The view of the deep blue lake was outstanding.
Eve was currently supervising much-needed repairs to a retaining wall while waiting for a headhunter to get back to her when her housekeeper, Odetta, tugged her attention from the work she was surveying below her.
“Signorina?”
Eve turned to see Dom on the terrace above her.
Surprise nearly knocked her over the edge and onto the workmen.
Dom was still gorgeous, the bastard. He wore a lightweight suit in sage-gray. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. His hands were in his pockets, his attention seemingly on the view, but she felt his gaze follow her as she crossed the lawn to the bottom of the stone steps cut into the hill.
She took her time climbing them. Questions were tumbling through her mind and conflicted emotions bounced like pinballs in her chest. She couldn’t help leaping to worrying that something catastrophic had happened. An exposé of some kind? She’d been staying off socials and off grid, trying to reset her life, but clickbait websites never took a break.
The closer she got, the tighter her skin felt. She subtly cleared her throat, fearing her voice would come out thin and high.
“If you’re looking for your next development property, this one is not for sale,” she said.
He took his sunglasses off and looked directly into her soul. “It’s beautiful.”
Her throat contracted around a squeak that she barely managed to suppress. Why did he have to be so damned edible? That mouth. She wanted to press her lips to his and nuzzle the scent in his throat and lean against the column of his body. She wanted to touch him. Feel him. She wanted to take his hand and lead him straight up to her room without another word except maybe “yes,” and “more,” and “harder.”
She turned so she was facing the water, trying to hide her libidinous reaction.
“My grandmother would have spent her whole life here if she hadn’t had to go back to America and bail out the Winslows. Will you make coffee, please, Odetta?”
Her housekeeper melted away and Eve waved at the table and chairs farther along the paved stones of the terrace.
Dom didn’t move. He tucked his sunglasses into his jacket pocket and gauged the distance to the workmen before asking in an undertone, “Are you pregnant?”
“No.” He’d taken precautions, if he didn’t remember. Even during that risky third time, he had pulled out as promised. Plus, the timing had been wrong. And she’d taken the pill, exactly as she had promised.
Despite how impossible it had been that she could be pregnant, she had still shed a couple of tears when her cycle had arrived as faithfully as tulips in spring. It was yet one more foolish reaction in a list of foolish overreactions this man provoked in her.
“I had to ask. I’ve been wondering.”
“Is that why you’re here?” A humorless laugh scraped the back of her throat. “You could have called.”
“I don’t have your number.” He moved to hold a chair for her before taking one for himself. “Why did you leave Visconti Group?”
“Reasons.” She shrugged that off.
“Me?”
“No. Family stuff.” She frowned pensively at the water. “I didn’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. We agreed,” she reminded him with a sidelong look.
“They might have made assumptions.”
“They might have. I didn’t stick around to find out. Did your family? Make assumptions?”
“Probably.” His mouth curled slightly. “My situation is different. My sisters are from my father’s second marriage. We’re not as close as you seem to be with your brothers.”
“I’m not that close to them. They’re a lot older than me. Well,” she allowed with a tilt of her head. “I’m close with my middle brother, Jackson. He’s here in Italy. I used to stay with him on long weekends when I was at boarding school, only flying home for the longer breaks. He’s the one I feel most similar to. Nico is driven and ambitious. Bossy,” she summed up with a grimace. “Christo is very laid-back and fun to be around, but kind of impossible because he does what he wants. Jax and I are middle of the road. Sensible. Mostly,” she added ironically.
Dom hadn’t asked for her to tell him all that, but he seemed to listen intently, then said, “My sisters are all younger. Five of them.” He splayed his fingers. “I didn’t spend much time with them growing up so I don’t really know them.”
“Is your mother still alive?” She realized she didn’t know.
“She is.” He nodded absently. “She’s in New York and lives with her partner, but never remarried. It would have affected her support payments. My relationship with her is distant for a lot of reasons.”
“Such as?”
“I never fought to see any more of her than my father allowed, which was only a few weekends a year. We don’t really know each other.”
“Do you wish she’d fought for you?”
“No,” he dismissed easily. “We both knew to pick our battles with him. And sometimes I wonder if she saw too much of him in me to make it worth it for her.”
“The fact you’re here tells me you’re not that much like him,” she said with an ironic tilt of her mouth. “In what ways are you like him?”
“I’m practical. Determined. I can be ruthless. Like the way I left you in Australia, not looking back. Not even thinking until later that there might be someone else to worry about.”
“There isn’t,” she murmured, stomach doing somersaults above her empty womb. “This is probably the longest personal conversation we’ve ever had. Did you come all this way for that ?”
“No.”
“What then?” Her voice became a ghost of itself.
The indent at the corner of his lips deepened with humor.
“Oh, don’t .” Her breath shortened. All of her nerve pathways contracted with anticipation.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he mocked. “But I came to propose we marry.”
If the entire mountainside had fallen down upon her, she couldn’t have been more caught off guard.
“We can’t. Why would you even want to?” Did he have feelings for her after all? That thought sent her own thoughts scattering. Her heart tripped and thumped, trying to take flight. Adrenaline zinged through her system, urging her to flee because she didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to examine how she felt about him .
“The feud doesn’t serve anyone. It has to end,” he said simply.
All her ballooning thoughts condensed into a wet sack and fell back to earth. This had nothing to do with her, then. Nothing to do with emotion or attraction or even sex.
A sting of scorn rose beneath her skin. She fought to keep her reaction off her face, but felt as though she wore a stiff mask.
“What makes you think our marrying would end it?” she asked.
“I’ve spoken to your brother. He saw the advantages.”
“You’ve spoken to Nico.” That was a kick in the stomach she hadn’t expected. “And he agreed? What do you need me for?”
“This is how warring kingdoms reconcile, Evie. It’s one of the few tactics that has worked in every culture for millennia.”
Trading women as chattel? She bit back those ripe words.
“Can I show you something?” she asked, working at keeping an innocent expression on her face.
He blinked, puzzled, then curious. He shrugged. “Sure.”
She led him through the house and out the front door to the paved pathway that led from the porch to the road above. A pretty wrought-iron rail lined the path. It was covered in grapevines and bunches of green grapes not yet ripe. On the other side of the porch was a small garden filled with Nonna’s roses. A few late blooms perfumed the air with lemon and raspberry and vanilla. A silver car was parked on the road above. His, she presumed.
Dom stood beside her, head swiveling. “What am I looking at?”
“My answer.” She walked back into the house and slammed the door.
As she turned the lock, she heard his crack of laughter.
She waited, but there was no knock, no demand she let him in. Moments later, there was only the roar of his car’s engine.
She left her forehead pressed to the door, bereft that he had given up so easily.
Worry pierced her, too. Had this been a real chance to end hostilities? And she’d allowed pride to take over and throw it away? Maybe she had just poured fuel on a feud that she agreed did need to end.
In a state of turmoil, she made herself go back out to the terrace and drink the coffee Odetta had made while she brooded over yet another proposal that had fallen short of her romantic dreams.
Maybe I want too much, she fretted.
Then, not even an hour later, a florist delivered a unique blown glass vase filled with a stunning arrangement of fragrant lilies and sunny daisies and romantic pink roses. The card read:
I’ll pick you up for dinner at seven.
Be ready or I will not do wicked things to you later.
“Oh, you wish!” she cried.
And meant it. Mostly.
Actually, she very much wanted him to do all the wicked, sinful, carnal things they’d done in the Whitsundays. But she wanted that lovemaking to be something they wanted. She didn’t want it to be something he used to manipulate her, but she was very worried he could.
When she found herself in her closet staring blankly at her wardrobe, she realized she would have to do something she’d been avoiding. She called Nico.
“Eve,” he answered abruptly. “Where are you?”
“You know where I am because you sent Dom Blackwood here to propose a marriage you arranged. How do I get it through your thick skull—”
“Stop,” he commanded. “Listen. You need to know two things.”
After a beat of surprise, she lowered onto the tufted bench at the foot of her bed. “Such as?” she asked loftily.
“Dad’s health isn’t great.”
“What?” Her heart lurched. She put out a hand to steady herself while her reflexive ire at being the youngest and always left behind skyrocketed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Mom is the only other one who knows,” he said gruffly. “It’s his prostate.”
“Cancer?” Her heart stopped.
“No. But he’s embarrassed to talk about it. They’re still figuring out how to treat it, but you need that information as you think about Dom’s proposal.”
“Because Dad’s not immortal? Marrying a Blackwood could kill him, Nico.”
“If you decide to marry Dom, I’ll talk to Dad,” Nico said heavily. “Make him see why it’s a good idea.”
“It’s not a good idea,” she cried, letting her pent-up emotions get the better of her. “You and Dom are grown men. Quit fighting. You don’t need me in the middle of it.”
“We do,” he said grimly. “ I do.” He drew a breath, signaling reluctance to continue. “I said there are two things you need to know.” This one sounded like a biggie.
“Tell me,” she insisted as the silence drew out.
“You know we took a bath when the economy tanked. I made some decisions—for which I take full responsibility,” he stressed. “But they were based on the assumption that you and Logan were locked and loaded.”
“Oh, my God.” She closed her eyes and covered them with her free hand, glad she was still sitting down.
“Mom made it sound like you two were going to happen. Logan did,” Nico insisted.
“But you didn’t ask me .”
“No. I didn’t. I’m asking you now, though.”
“Asking me what, exactly?” She dropped her hand and popped her eyes open, but she could only see a blur of blue beyond the window. A cold shiver entered her chest.
“To consider Dom. Seriously.”
“Nico.”
“He knows he has my back to a wall. This isn’t Mom wanting you to marry her bridge partner’s son. This ends the attacks and gives us new resources. This is something we need, Li-li.”
He hadn’t called her that in years. It was the pet name the family had used when she was very small.
Bring your dolls into my room, Li-li. I won’t let the boys bother you.
“Are you still there?” Nico asked.
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“I know I was holding you back at work. I thought I was protecting you from seeing how bad things were. That’s how Dad always did things. He carried the worries so no one else had to. Being on the inside comes with a lot of responsibility. Hard choices and heavy burdens. It’s not as great as you thought it would be, is it?”
“It’s not fair to put them on me now! Like this,” she said crossly.
“No, it’s not. And I know you like to see yourself as Nonna Maria, living life on your own terms, willing to run away and elope for love, but she left her family high and dry when she did that, Eve. Are you going to do the same?”
She swallowed a sob of helplessness.