CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
S USIE B ILTON ’ S SMILE was present and correct.
Her blonde hair was neatly pinned back. Her black dress was immaculate. And her black apron, with the elegant Pearla’s logo spun in gold over one pocket, was neatly tied. She wore the requisite black tights and, because she would be on her feet for the next six hours, black rather sensible shoes.
The team were being briefed by Pedro, the head waiter. But her eyes drifted to the busy kitchen—to Cucou, the head chef, who was laughing as he twirled fresh pasta like a skipping rope.
‘Susie?’
‘Sorry,’ she said, and tore her gaze from the kitchen and back to Pedro.
Having been in Lucca for four weeks, working over Christmas and New Year and taking language courses during the week, Susie understood most of what Pedro said.
‘We have a birthday. The cake is a surprise, so don’t offer birthday wishes until then. And an engagement.’
He smiled, and so did the staff. The restaurant was on the walls of Lucca, and very elegant, and was often a chosen venue to celebrate precious times.
Pedro took them through the choices on the menu tonight. ‘Cucou has prepared a ricotta and spinach ravioli with a walnut sauce...’
Susie found her gaze again drifting to the kitchen, to the slight frenzy taking place as they prepared for a busy night. It was a noisy, busy kitchen, and there were often shouts and sometimes bursts of laughter. She would give anything to be a part of that team...
Maybe one day...
Though not at Pearla’s.
When she’d applied to work here, Susie had told the manager that her goal was to work in the kitchen, that she would do anything...
Anything.
Honestly, she’d be happy washing the dishes or peeling onions. Anything to be given a chance in the kitchen of this beautiful five-star restaurant. She didn’t understand how they would let her loose on the clients, but not in the kitchen.
Actually, she did understand...
It was the reason she was here.
The really good Italian restaurants, even in England, required you to be fluent in the language to work in the kitchen.
She’d tried learning Italian at home, but her ex had rolled his eyes at her attempts. He hadn’t understood how cooking wasn’t just work, it was her passion.
She couldn’t blame him for that. Not her parents, nor her sisters, and none of her friends understood the frustration she’d felt working as a cook in an Italian restaurant that was part of a large chain. Yes, she’d got to cook—but to a set menu. And it had involved a lot of heating up pre-prepared food, or adding the chain’s salad dressing to a standard version of salad. She’d wanted to create her own. But first of all she knew she had to learn...
That was why she was in Lucca, taking lessons each weekday morning at the language school, and to pay her way she was waitressing whenever she got a shift.
‘There’s also a reduced bar menu,’ Pedro was saying, and Susie felt tension in her jaw as the waiting staff were told the kitchen was short-staffed tonight.
Again.
It was common even at the most exclusive venues.
As the staff dispersed the first customers were starting to enter, but Susie held back.
‘Susie...?’ Pedro frowned.
‘I could help,’ she responded in Italian, but she saw the flicker of impatience on Pedro’s face. He really didn’t have time to listen to her stumble through her words, but surely her Italian had improved since she’d arrived?
‘You do help,’ he responded in English. ‘I know it is irregular, asking you to deliver meals...’ He gave a small shudder—food delivery was not usually an option, yet for certain guests exceptions were made! ‘Gio—I mean, Signor Casadio—hasn’t called yet, but if he does...’
‘I meant in the...’ Susie started, but then realised that Pedro had perhaps deliberately misunderstood. He knew she wanted a chance in the kitchen—she’d asked often enough!
‘Susie...’ Pedro sighed. ‘Please, there are guests waiting.’
‘Of course.’
Burning with a blush, she turned and approached her first table for the night. The guests were English, so no practising her language skills there.
It was a busy Friday night—so busy that her blonde hair started spilling out of its pins, and Pedro sent her to the cloakroom to fix it. In the mirror she saw her flushed face and, very rarely for Susie, the glitter of tears in her vivid blue eyes.
‘Susie...?’ Her name was being called as she came out. ‘Kitchen!’
She felt a lurch of hope—but no, Cucou was putting the finishing touches to the birthday cake. It looked stunning, and had been made by the maestro himself.
She watched as Cucou wiped the edge of the plate.
‘Perfect,’ he said, more to himself than to Susie.
‘It looks far too good to eat.’
Susie smiled, trying to make conversation, to be noticed by Cucou, but he wasn’t really listening.
‘It’s my sisters’ birthday today,’ she said in Italian, as Pedro lit the candles on the cake. ‘I’m sure their cake isn’t—’
‘Sister!’ Pedro abruptly corrected Susie’s Italian. ‘ Her cake...’
The correction was unnecessary—for once Susie hadn’t mixed up her plurals or tenses or whatever. ‘No, I meant sisters ,’ she said. ‘They’re twins.’
For the first time Cucou seemed interested in what Susie had to say. He actually asked her a question. ‘Are they identical twins?’
It was the same question everyone asked. Everyone!
‘Si,’ Susie said.
And then she stood there, her lips a little pursed, as Pedro and Cucou proceeded to chat about some identical twin brothers who lived nearby. How, even if they came to Pearla’s separately, they ordered the same meal, inadvertently dressed the same at times.
Typical, Susie thought as Cucou proudly lifted the cake, that the one time he’d spoken to her it was about her sisters.
Out they all walked, Cucou carrying the cake, and Pedro, Susie and the wine waiter behind with champagne, descending on the couple as the lucky birthday lady let out a cry of surprise and delight.
‘How beautiful!’ She smiled at her partner. ‘You never forget.’
Gosh, she really was teary tonight, Susie realised. Only it wasn’t the little party here that was causing her slight upset tonight. It was the little party undoubtedly taking place tonight back in London that had her feeling a little...
It was a feeling she would rather not acknowledge.
Anyway, there wasn’t time—the delightful Signor Casadio had again made good use of his new phone and she was to take over his meal.
It had been New Year’s Eve when he’d first rung the restaurant.
They had been so busy that all calls were going to the machine, and yet Pedro had been startled when he’d heard his voice and had immediately taken the call.
‘Of course, Signor Casadio, it would be our pleasure to bring your meal over.’
Susie had frowned as Pedro had hung up the phone.
‘I thought the restaurant didn’t deliver?’
‘We do when it’s Gio Casadio asking,’ Pedro had snapped, and then dashed off to speak with Cucou.
Susie had assumed the reason she’d been chosen to deliver to him was because she was new and could most easily be spared. Or possibly they’d been forced to acknowledge that she did have some culinary skills. Susie had been told she must cook the fresh pasta once she was there, serve the meal, grate the truffle and cheese, and suggest a wine from his collection.
‘I’ll be there for ages,’ she’d protested.
‘As long as is needed,’ Pedro had insisted, seemingly prepared to take the shortfall in staff despite it being New Year’s Eve.
And today it was still the case, because now, two weeks on, at around 8:00 p.m., Susie pulled on her trench coat and hastily wrapped a pretty scarf around her neck as Pedro came over with the bags.
‘There’s also a fruit compote and a light yoghurt.’ Pedro dropped his voice. ‘For his breakfast tomorrow...’
Susie’s smile was more natural now as she nodded—she was loving how they were very discreetly taking care of this elderly man who had found himself home alone.
For reasons the staff would never discuss...
‘Do you want to take your break straight after?’ Pedro checked.
‘Yes,’ Susie said. ‘Thank you.’
Susie wasn’t just delivering a meal. No, she would be preparing coffee for the morning, putting blankets on the couches...just a couple of little jobs in an attempt to help the delightful Signor Gio Casadio.
Stepping out into the cool night, she walked along the gorgeous walls that surrounded the medieval town.
All her life she’d been walking on walls, Susie thought, though none as glamorous as these, treelined and wide. There were dogs being walked, cyclists... She walked on the correct side and looked out to the very old town, saw the Friday night lights and heard the music.
She felt as if she’d been born outside an exclusion zone.
Always on the edge of the real action and gazing longingly in.
Born thirteen months after stunning identical twins, Susie was very used to not turning heads and going unnoticed. Only it wasn’t the old ladies beaming at the twins and not at her that had hurt...
Well, it had hurt a bit...
It wasn’t even that she’d always felt like an extra at their joint birthday parties...though it had made her feel a bit invisible at times.
As she’d told Cucou, it was their birthday today, and she felt far away from the little party taking place at home. Far from any friends as she stood at the bottom of the career ladder, in a town where she didn’t belong, and acknowledged the ache inside her.
Lonely.
She’d always felt it.
‘Stop it!’ Susie told herself and picked up her pace, refusing to feel sorry for herself.
She had a lot to be happy about. Once her Italian had improved, she would be off to Florence to do a cooking course. And before that her parents were coming to Lucca to spend some time here. Best of all, their visit would coincide with her own birthday.
As for men... With one relationship to her name—one that hadn’t worked out—she was alone by choice.
Single and loving it—wasn’t that how she was supposed to be feeling?
She came to the huge iron gates of Signor Casadio’s vast property—far too big for an elderly man to manage alone.
At the urging of his housekeeper, Susie had arranged for some of the furniture to be moved, fashioning a kind of bedsit arrangement in the dining room, and she adored their chats as she prepared his meals in the attached butler’s kitchen and served his dinner—even if he was rather maudlin.
Last night he’d wept with shame because his grandson had called and seen him in his robe...
‘I hate this phone,’ he’d sobbed. ‘I hate it that Sev saw me like that.’
‘It’s okay,’ Susie had said. ‘I’m sure he didn’t even notice...’
Now she walked up the path, past the fountains and stone benches and bare winter trees, looking up at the dark building and hoping that Gio had heeded her gentle prompts to shave and get dressed.
Walking beneath the portico, she headed around the vast building to the beautiful French windows that led off the dining room. She knocked on the glass and then pushed down the handle, her smile widening in delight when she saw that Gio was indeed dressed and shaved. Not only that, but spread out on the table were necklaces, earrings...the family jewels—and she rather hoped she knew why.
Perhaps Mimi would be getting a ring after all!
Mimi, his housekeeper, had walked out on New Year’s Eve, Gio had told her. She wanted more.
At first, Susie had assumed she wanted more money—but no. She’d gleaned from Gio the fact Mimi wanted more acknowledgement...more respect.
And during her daily talks with Mimi, who was keeping an eye on Gio from a distance, via Susie, she’d found out that Mimi wanted to be more than Gio’s secret mistress.
Susie had blushed at that.
Gio had told her a little about it too...
‘Signor Casadio...’ she said now, and smiled.
‘Ah, Susie...’
He half stood, and she waved him to sit back down. And then, before Gio had time to inform her, she knew there was another person in the room.
‘I have a guest,’ Gio said, with a wry edge to his tone. ‘Usually, I am informed prior to his arrival.’
‘I wasn’t aware I needed an invitation.’
The unexpected guest stepped forward.
He was still in his coat, his black hair a little damp from the rain, and had clearly just arrived. It had to be one of the grandsons—Gio had shown her photos of them, though they were all from a long time ago. Before Gio’s family had been torn apart by a dreadful tragedy.
She knew she should be relieved that one of the grandsons was finally here.
And in a moment perhaps she would be both pleased and relieved that someone was here for Gio.
First, though, she must attune herself to his beauty.
Her skin had to cool from the blush that had emerged, her mouth had to work out how to move, and she somehow had to step down from the high alert her senses had been placed on.
No photo could truly have prepared her, for it wasn’t just his physical beauty, but the dark eyes and the way, though he stood by a wall, he somehow commandeered the room.
‘My grandson,’ Gio informed her. ‘Dante.’
‘Oh,’ Susie croaked, and then made the foolish mistake of attempting small talk while blindsided by beauty. ‘The cheeky one!’
Her little quip dropped like a stone between them.
He wiped the smile from her face with a sharp frown.
It was then that she realised the foolishness of her words. Of talking to this imposing man in the terms Gio had used as he’d reminisced.
Dante was the younger one.
The cheeky one.
The funny one.
The loving one.
She wanted to die. Of all the ridiculous things to say! The impish, cheeky little boy that Gio had spoken about was nowhere to be seen. This man’s lips were almost scathing, with no trace of a smile, and his eyes were suspicious—as if she were some kind of intruder.
Susie rather wished the marble floor beneath her feet would open up and swallow her.
‘Sorry.’ She gave her head a shake, wishing she could retract what she’d said. She was about to flee to the kitchen, but Gio was speaking again.
‘No doubt he is here in Lucca to check up on me.’
‘I live here,’ Dante said, removing his suspicious gaze from Susie as he addressed his grandfather.
‘No,’ Gio said, rummaging through the jewels in front of him. ‘You live in Milan; you have a property here that stands mostly empty. You forgot about home a long time ago.’
‘That’s not true, Gio,’ Dante said.
There was a slight husk to his voice, and he closed his eyes. Both weariness and pain flickered across his features, and then he spoke on.
‘I was here at Christmas, and I’m here now.’ His eyes opened then, and he stared at his grandfather. ‘Where’s Mimi?’
Gio gave no answer.
‘I’ll sort out dinner,’ Susie said into the tense air, and was more than happy to go into the small butler’s kitchen. Trying to pretend he didn’t affect her so, she attempted to be polite. ‘Are you staying to eat?’
‘No,’ Gio answered for him. ‘I’m sure Dante has a date to keep.’
‘Yes,’ Dante said, his eyes still on his grandfather. ‘I shall be staying for dinner.’
‘Sure.’
Susie worked quickly, putting on water for the pasta before she’d even removed her scarf, then preparing Gio’s Moka pot for the morning, filling it with water and coffee and putting it on the little burner.
She was just unbuttoning her coat when Dante came into the kitchen.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Sorry?’ She gave a nervous half-laugh.
‘Why is he here alone?’ he demanded in a harsh whisper.
She could hear the accusing tone...as if it were her fault.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘Call you?’
Under his vivid scrutiny she was perplexed by his question, and trying not to notice that his eyes were as brown as chocolate. A very dark chocolate... Certainly they weren’t sweet.
‘How?’
‘You pick up the phone.’ He snapped his gaze away and commenced walking around the small kitchen, opening cupboards. ‘He’s clearly sleeping downstairs; he shouldn’t be here alone.’
‘I agree, but—’
He wasn’t waiting for explanations. Instead he peered into the rather empty fridge. ‘There’s barely any food in the place.’
And suddenly Susie, who rarely spoke up for herself, decided an exception might well be called for. ‘He’s your grandfather, not mine.’ Her voice came out a little more harshly than she’d intended. ‘I’m doing what I can.’
She took off her coat, hung it on a hook and felt his eyes drift over her attire and down to her black apron.
‘Who are you?’
‘I work at Pearla’s. I’m here delivering an order,’ Susie told him.
He didn’t respond—just stalked off.
Her heart was thumping as she put the pasta into the water and sliced fresh olive bread, still warm from the oven. Her lips were tense, her shoulders too, as she listened to Dante questioning Gio.
‘Where’s Mimi?’
‘At her sister’s.’
‘Why?’ Dante demanded. ‘When did this happen?’
Susie screwed her eyes closed, trying to stay out of it as Gio made some excuse about Mimi wanting a pay rise.
Dante clearly wasn’t buying it. ‘Then give her more.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
‘Are you living down here?’ Dante asked. ‘Sleeping in the dining room?’
‘It’s better to keep only the one room warm,’ Gio retorted. ‘We have to think of the planet, Dante.’
‘Gio! I’m asking seriously, now. What the hell is going on? Sev told me that you were—’
And Susie could stay back no more.
‘Ouch!’ she yelped, and grabbed a tea towel and wrapped it around her hand. ‘Ow...ow...’
Dante came to the door. His coat had been removed and he wore a charcoal-grey suit. His tie was slightly loose, but apart from that he looked dressed for both a stylish office and a photo shoot. Still, as gorgeous as he looked, he was far from sympathetic, and he looked impatiently at her wrapped hand, and then over his shoulder, as if to call for someone.
Clearly he was very used to summoning staff, and she watched as it dawned on him there was no one to summon.
‘What’s wrong?’ Gio called out.
‘Nothing, Gio,’ she responded. ‘Just a little cut.’
‘Susie...?’ At least Gio was concerned.
‘It’s fine, Gio,’ she called to him. ‘Dante’s taking care of it.’
Then she met his eyes and mouthed, Don’t!
‘What?’
‘Don’t mention him being in his robe yesterday,’ she whispered.
He frowned, clearly about to turn away and leave her to bleed to death, but then with a slight hiss of frustration he put the conversation with his grandfather on hold and started opening the cupboards, eventually producing a little first-aid box.
‘He’s embarrassed,’ she said in a low tone as he rummaged in the box for a sticking plaster, though he was clearly listening. ‘He was devastated that Sev saw him in his dressing gown. I promised Gio that Sev wouldn’t have noticed.’
‘Okay.’ He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘He’s dressed and shaved now though?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded, not wanting to break a confidence and choosing not to tell Dante that she’d gently suggested to Gio that he tidy himself up a bit. ‘Just don’t tell him Sev noticed.’
‘Very well.’ He nodded curtly. ‘Let’s sort out your hand.’
He took her wrapped hand and she noticed the contrast of his olive-skinned fingers against her pale forearm. His hands were cold, his fingers long, and an expensive navy watch face peeked from beneath his cuffs. She watched the sweep of the seconds ticking away, far more slowly than the beat of her heart. His touch was deft and firm, and the effect was both unexpected and unknown...
She watched tiny goosebumps appearing on her own flesh, and her nose seemed to twitch as it was treated to a gorgeous citrussy, spicy scent, as if it were trying to decipher whether it was his skin or his hair that smelt so divine.
Mute at his touch, she stood stock-still as he unwrapped the tea towel and exposed her hand.
‘Where?’ he asked, turning her hand in his own. ‘Where’s the cut?’ He peered at her blemish-free hand and the clean white tea towel, then let out a mirthless laugh as he realised her ruse. ‘Were you faking it?’
‘Yes,’ Susie said, only her voice sounded strange...as if her throat was inflamed. Actually, it felt a little as if it was. ‘Go gently on him.’
He frowned and then, still holding her hand, he lifted his head and met her eyes. She knew from both Gio and Mimi a little of this fractured family’s history, and that Dante’s arrogance tonight was because he was scared for his grandfather. Gio had been right when he’d said that that Sev would turn up, or Dante. She hadn’t really believed him—had privately thought that one dressing gown day wouldn’t have his grandsons come running—yet here Dante was.
‘He’s a bit fragile,’ Susie said.
‘Yes.’ He gave a nod. ‘I’ll go gently.’
‘Good.’
‘I’d better put a plaster on you, or he’ll notice.’
‘Indeed,’ she agreed, because Gio was as sharp as a tack.
And so she stood, her heart thumping loudly, as those long-fingered hands peeled the backing off a little plaster.
He looked at her pale hands, as if considering where to place it. Then he chose her palm and positioned it over her life line. And as he lightly pressed it into her flesh he unknowingly answered a question that had perplexed her for months...
Why had she ended a seemingly fine two-year relationship?
Something had been missing.
She simply hadn’t known what.
It had been okay...
But never had she felt this level of attraction.
Pure, unadulterated, physical attraction.
Attraction so immediate and intense that were he to kiss her now it would seem almost appropriate.
She looked to his mouth, and then down to her hand, still held by his, and somehow, rather than kiss his face off, she reclaimed it.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘No problem.’
He, of course, seemed entirely unaware of the seismic shift taking place inside her.
‘The sauce!’ she yelped, certain it must have burnt dry. And yet as she dashed over she saw it was barely close to a simmer. ‘I’ll put the pasta on and then...’ She was trying to recall Cucou’s orders. ‘Wine...’ she said. ‘A Sauvignon will pair nicely with...’
‘Thank you,’ he said, with a slightly wry edge.
He left the kitchen then.
Thank goodness!
Soon she was bringing out plates. They were both seated at the very large dining table and that pleased her, because before Gio had been eating on the sofa. He looked brighter for the company, Susie thought.
Dante must have been to the main kitchen, and was now pouring wine.
‘Thank you,’ he said as she put down the plates. As she went to offer cheese, he took the grater. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said, and grated cheese over Gio’s dinner.
She tidied up the kitchen and filled the sink with hot soapy water, as she did every time, then fetched her coat, pleased to hear the low hum of conversation and even the sound of Gio’s laughter as she pulled it on.
‘I’d better get back...’ she told them. ‘The restaurant’s really busy.’
‘Is your hand okay?’ Gio checked.
‘It’s fine.’ She held up her palm and showed him the plaster. ‘Just a tiny cut.’
She wrapped her scarf around her neck and stepped out into the night, grateful for the chilly air, certain her face was on fire.
It was a relief to close the large gates behind her and step onto the walls.
She’d have liked to sit for a moment, just to relive that moment when time had seemed to slow down...when everything had stopped. To sit for a moment and dwell on a pompous, arrogant man who clearly loved his grandfather deeply.
Oh, she hoped he’d tread gently.
Thanks to Susie’s acting skills Dante was treading gently.
‘You said you spoke to Sev...?’ said Gio warily, resuming the conversation once Susie had left.
Dante was grateful that she’d interrupted him. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass his grandfather.
‘What did Sev say?’
‘That he can’t make the ball.’
‘Can you?’
‘No.’ Dante shook his head.
‘But a Casadio has to be there.’
‘Could you go?’ Dante asked, wondering if this might be his way into a rather awkward conversation.
‘No, that was where I proposed to your nonna ...’
‘I know,’ Dante said. ‘But...’
He wanted to point out that that had been a very long time ago, but he knew it wouldn’t go down well, so he gave up on that suggestion.
‘I really can’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a big case that looks as if it’s heading for court.’
‘You mean a divorce?’ His grandfather’s lips curled slightly. ‘Marriage is sacred.’
‘If I was a criminal defence lawyer, would you blame me for my clients’ sins?’
‘I guess not.’ Gio gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Who’s the client?’
‘I’d rather not discuss it.’
Dante did not bring his work life to the dinner table, and although Gio would only have to glance at the news in a few weeks’ time to find out who his grandson was representing, Dante would not be the one to tell him.
Gio had more immediate concerns. ‘What else did Sev say?’
‘Not much.’
‘It’s good to know you two occasionally talk.’
‘Of course we speak.’
‘Dante!’ Gio rebuked. ‘I might be old, but I am no fool. You two haven’t spoken since...’
He paused, but they’d had this discussion many times over the years, so Dante was certain Gio had been about to refer to the accident.
‘Grief affects people differently,’ Dante said. ‘Sev lost his wife and—’
‘And you two fell out long before the accident.’
There was a clatter as Gio threw down his cutlery and broke the unspoken rule of the Casadio men left behind, venturing into territories that by mutual silent consent they all avoided.
‘The night before Sev and Rosa married the two of you fought...’ He got up and took down a photo, holding it out in front of Dante. ‘You didn’t get that scar from falling while celebrating! And Sev’s hand was so swollen from hitting you, Rosa couldn’t get his wedding band on. I didn’t believe you then and I don’t believe you now. You said something to Sev about Rosa, didn’t you?’
Dante almost lost his poker face, inwardly startled by his grandfather’s question, but he had trained himself well and kept his features impassive as he responded. ‘I just asked him if he was certain that marriage was what he wanted.’
‘Why?’ Gio demanded.
Dante twisted the last of his pasta on his fork, even as the knife in his heart twisted tighter. Gio had loved Rosa, he was certain. There was no way he could tell him that two years prior to the wedding he’d slept with Rosa—nor that she’d told him she might be pregnant in an attempt to trap him and that night he’d been concerned Rosa might be playing the same tricks on Sev.
Instead, he offered a very diluted version of his thoughts around that time. ‘I thought I was looking out for him.’
Gio made a small hissing noise that said what he thought of Dante’s actions. ‘You should never come between a man and his choice of bride.’
‘I know that now!’ Dante said tartly. ‘Thanks for the late advice.’
To his surprise there was a small burst of laughter from Gio, but then his face flicked back to serious. ‘You should have come to me.’
Dante responded with a thin smile.
‘Did Sev tell you I was looking unkempt?’ asked Gio.
‘What?’ Dante feigned a frown.
‘Dante...?’
Had it not been for Susie he would have answered honestly—after all, Gio had invited him to speak. But he looked at his proud grandfather and heeded her plea to tread gently.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about. What do you mean “unkempt”?’
‘I didn’t know it was a video call. Sev caught me at the wrong time.’
‘Okay.’ Dante thought for a moment before he responded. ‘You’re looking very smart now. Are you feeling better?’
‘Somewhat.’ He nodded. ‘Susie said if I shaved and put on my best clothes I might feel like going for a walk...’
‘Did you?’
‘No, but I did take out the jewellery...’
‘So I see.’
He glanced to the coffee table, at the necklaces, bracelets and rings all strewn across it.
‘What else have you been doing?’
‘Not much.’
‘Can you tell me what’s wrong?’
‘Like you, there are things I would prefer not to discuss.’ Gio moved the topic on. ‘How long are you home for?’
‘I’m here all weekend. So I can do whatever needs doing.’
‘The dishes tonight?’
‘I can give it a go.’ Dante’s smile was wry. ‘I’ll sort out a temporary housekeeper tomorrow.’
‘I don’t need that.’ He looked at Dante. ‘If you want to help, then pay a visit to the winery. I haven’t been able to get there...’ He frowned. ‘I know you don’t want anything to do with the place, and I’m sure you and your brother will sell it the second I’m gone, but while I am alive—’
‘Gio,’ Dante cut in. ‘I care about the place.’
‘How?’ Gio asked. ‘How can you care for it from Milan?’
‘Okay, I’ll go,’ Dante agreed, even though it was the last place he wanted to visit.
The helicopter had taken off from there, and it was there where everyone had gathered, waiting for news, or confirmation, watching the fire in the hills. Even the drive there was hell now, winding past churches where weddings and funerals had taken place.
‘What else can I do?’ he asked.
‘I have to sort out the jewels. They haven’t been cleaned and I—’
‘I’ll take them to someone in Milan,’ Dante cut in.
But Gio instantly declined. ‘No! I want them to be taken care of here, where I had them made.’
‘Fine.’ Dante nodded. ‘Gio, can I ask if Mimi is coming back?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gio said.
Dante watched as his grandfather fought with himself, perhaps wanting to talk, yet refusing to.
‘You said you would do the dishes,’ he said eventually.
‘Sure.’
Dante collected the two plates and took them through to the butler’s kitchen. Not completely useless, he went to put them in the dishwasher—but then he saw the sink filled with soapy water.
She’d filled the sink for Gio, he realised.
That was kind of her.
She was kind, he realised.
For the first time in ages...perhaps since university...he did the dishes, rinsed the glasses, then walked back to the dining room that had somehow turned into his grandfather’s bedsit.
‘Are you going?’ Gio asked.
‘I think so.’
‘I was going to watch a film...’
God help me , Dante thought as he sat on the sofa with a large brandy watching Sophia Loren, ever beautiful, in black and white.
‘Your nonna loved this.’
‘I know.’
Because Gio had repeatedly told him.
His gaze drifted from the screen and he noticed the changes since Christmas: more photos had been moved here, as well as the television and his grandfather’s old gramophone. Most confusing, though, they were seated on the heavy couches that belonged in the formal lounge, and there were blankets folded on one.
‘How did the couches get in here?’ Dante asked.
‘Susie,’ Gio said.
‘How?’ Dante asked. ‘She’s tiny.’
But Gio didn’t answer. He was gazing at the voluptuous Sophia, obviously thinking of Nonna.
Dante’s mind drifted to the rather slender waitress who had somehow rescued the night.
‘You should have spoken to me first,’ Gio said suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts.
Dante looked at the screen and saw the film was over. ‘When?’ He frowned.
‘If you were worried about Rosa, you should have come to me rather than go to your brother.’
‘Leave it, Gio...’ Dante warned.
Oh, it really was time to go.
He stood and retrieved his coat. ‘I’ll come over tomorrow, before going to the winery.’
‘Dante, please...you should have come to me.’
‘Gio...’ His eyes briefly closed in weariness, but before he could go on Gio spoke again.
‘I had my reservations about the marriage, too.’
Dante was sure he’d misheard, and was almost scared to move in case he reacted too much only to find out he’d got things wrong. He was a master of the impassive, yet it took him a full second to wipe the flash of shock from his features before meeting Gio’s eyes.
‘But you loved Rosa!’
‘I love Sev,’ Gio said. ‘And because of that I tried to care for Rosa. But I was sure her family were trying to get their hands on my winery.’
‘Did you ever share those reservations with Sev?’
‘Never.’ Gio shook his head. ‘Only now—only with you.’
‘Good,’ Dante said. ‘Because as it turned out he loved her.’ He pointed to his scar. ‘It’s better that you didn’t say anything. When I questioned the marriage, it broke us.’
‘You told him you thought her family had pushed for the marriage?’
‘I suggested it as a possibility,’ Dante agreed.
‘What made you suspicious?’
That he would not be revealing to Gio. His grandfather had been a one-woman man, and had long disapproved of Dante’s rather casual ways. He didn’t need to know that he’d once slept with Rosa...nor the rest of the sordid tale.
And Sev must never know.
‘Just a hunch,’ Dante settled for saying. ‘I was studying property mergers...succession laws.’ He shrugged. ‘Goodnight.’ He kissed his grandfather’s cheeks. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s hope for a better day.’
He walked along the walls, his collar up against the cold, and called Sev.
‘He’s okay,’ Dante said to Sev’s message bank. ‘But Mimi seems to have left. Gio won’t discuss it, of course, but there’s a girl who’s been helping...’
He paused, thinking how terse he’d been with Susie. How tonight could have gone so differently had she not faked a small injury. And on this dark night his face moved into a slight smile.
‘I’m staying for the weekend; I’ll hopefully know more tomorrow.’
Actually, he hoped to know more tonight.
Dante walked further along the treelined walls, loathing being back more with every step, for there were memories everywhere...
‘Dante!’
He could almost hear Rosa calling to him, the sound of her heels as she ran to catch him, and he recalled his annoyance that two years on from their one-night stand she still tried to leap on him when he was home from university.
‘Dante, please.’
He walked faster, but it was as if the past was chasing him tonight.
‘We need to talk.’
Rosa had grabbed at his arm, but he’d shaken her off.
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he’d told her. ‘Seriously, Rosa. Stay the hell away.’
‘Dante, you have to listen to me...’ she’d urged. ‘There’s to be an announcement tonight. Sevandro and I are getting engaged.’
On a hot summer’s day he’d felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. The music festival had been on, and he’d been able to hear the music from the valley beneath pounding, to see the revellers everywhere, and somehow he had known in that moment that his life would never be the same...
‘No.’ He’d shaken his head. ‘Sev’s never so much as mentioned you.’ She didn’t even call him by the name family and friends used. ‘No.’
‘It’s sudden.’ Rosa had nodded. ‘Sevandro spoke to my father yesterday. Dante, please, he cannot know about us.’
‘There never was an “us”,’ Dante had reminded her—as he had many times before.
Usually she begged him to reconsider, but on that day she’d agreed.
‘It was a one-off.’ She’d taken a deep breath, blinking back fake tears. ‘Sevandro can never know. You mustn’t tell him.’
‘You don’t get to dictate our conversations.’
Then he’d looked at the woman whom he knew had tried to get him to commit by using the oldest trick in the book.
‘Are you telling Se v that you’re pregnant?’
‘Don’t be so personal!’
‘Personal?’ Dante had checked. ‘This is personal—Sev’s my brother.’
‘And your brother is in love with me,’ Rosa had said, her voice defiant rather than pleading, no sign of tears. ‘Sevandro loves me. If you tell him what once took place, such a long time ago...’ She’d shrugged. ‘Take it from me, Dante, you will lose your brother.’
Perhaps he should have listened to Rosa, Dante thought now as he came to Pearla’s and leant on the archway nearby.
While he hadn’t told Sev what had taken place between himself and Rosa, he’d tried to broach the topic. He’d used the same excuse he’d given his grandfather tonight, only with a slight twist. He’d told Sev he was studying family law.
To no avail.
On the eve of the wedding he’d been a little more direct, implying that Rosa was trying to force his hand, and that if Rosa was telling him she was pregnant...
He hadn’t even finished speaking before Sev had knocked him out cold. Dante would wear the scar of that attempt at conversation for ever.
And Rosa had been right.
He’d lost his brother...
‘ Ciao , Susie...’
The sound of the name hauled him from dark memories. Glancing over, he saw Susie walking out of Pearla’s. Her coat was open. She tied her scarf, then stood opening and closing her umbrella, which seemed to want to invert...
‘Susie?’
She put her umbrella up before looking at him. ‘We meet again.’
‘And not by chance,’ he said. ‘I would like to apologise...’