Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jasmine wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived in Perlano.
During her research on Emilio, she’d been too focused on the man himself to spare many glances for the postcard-worthy images of the De Luca vineyards.
Now, as James drove Emilio and her through the massive gates, she realised exactly how impressive his family’s legacy was.
The beauty of this place, the scale of wealth, was unimaginable even for her. As she got a clearer look of the house, she thought it barely a house at all. It looked like some sort of boutique hotel, or a resort amongst the vineyards.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Emilio said as the tyres beneath them crunched on the gravel path.
‘So are you,’ she replied. The closer they’d got to this place, the more subdued he’d become, until he was completely silent, a frown etched on his forehead. ‘Is there anything I should know before going in?’
She could handle herself in any company, but Emilio came from a seriously old-money family. In New York that meant different traditions and norms; Jasmine could only imagine the same would be true here.
‘Only that we will be sharing a room.’
‘ What? Emilio, we have rules in place.’ Jasmine was already way too attracted to her husband. Sharing the same space with him in their private moments would only weaken her resolve. She didn’t need that.
‘And I plan to honour them. But we are in my family home. You are my wife. It would be strange to sleep apart. It’ll be fine. Just trust me.’
Could she? After a lifetime of being let down by men who should have been there for her, Jasmine wasn’t sure. It would take a lot longer for Emilio to earn that.
‘Then give me a reason to. Tell me why we’re sharing.’
Emilio was silent for a moment, his teeth grinding together.
Just when she thought he wouldn’t take that step she needed, he answered.
‘The head of the household staff here is incredibly loyal to my brother. I don’t want her to think our marriage isn’t strong, or not what it seems—or to pass that suspicion on.
’ He glanced at her, his voice taking on a tone of resignation.
‘I haven’t forgotten the rules, Jasmine.
If we have to share a bed, we’ll find a way to make it work, but I will look for a solution that respects your boundaries first.’
‘Fine.’
‘Does that mean you trust me?’ He gave her the smallest of smiles, but it was half-hearted at best. It was as if Emilio had lost his colour, his vibrancy, here.
‘I wouldn’t push it.’
This time, Jasmine waited for him to open the car door for her.
After what he had said on the plane, she figured it wouldn’t have been easy for him to be back here so soon after his mother had passed.
And, with her gone, she could only imagine the other memories that would haunt him.
She understood how a mother’s love could keep the worst memories at bay.
Emilio took her hand and led her to the door. Before they reached it, it opened and out stepped an older woman, her black hair streaked with grey and tied back in a bun.
‘Emilio?’
‘ Buonasera , Isabella.’
The old lady smiled at him and it seemed as if she was about to reply, when Jasmine saw her eye catch their linked hands. The rings.
‘Emilio,’ Isabella said, voice full of concern, ‘What did you do?’
That was an odd question—no congratulations? Was it because he’d married Jasmine or was there something else going on here?
‘Make sure my wife is comfortable.’
‘Of course.’
‘Jasmine.’ Jasmine extended her hand. Isabella took it, shaking it with warmth in her eyes, and Jasmine was relieved that the very obvious coolness in the air was not intended for her. It just made her more curious to know what had transpired.
‘Welcome to Perlano, Jasmine,’ Isabella said, in heavily accented English.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll show you to our room,’ Emilio said, before they could say any more.
He hadn’t let go of her hand during their entire interaction with Isabella, and now he led her through the house.
It was somehow even more spectacular inside than out.
Parts of it seemed historic—Jasmine had no idea how old—while others seemed modern, carefully styled to fit with the rest. She wondered how much of it had been altered over the years.
Wondered what it would be like to be part of a history like this.
She stuck close to Emilio as he led her up a flight of stairs. She could feel the heat of his body radiate through his suit, the warmth that she was growing so accustomed to.
Their room was situated in the corner of the house and painted in a dark green.
There was a sturdy carved four-poster bed against the one wall with dark wood accents.
The air of masculinity in this room was unmistakeable, but Jasmine could see how the man who’d dreamt up this room would have such a wonderland of a garden in New York.
And, when she walked to the window, she could see the gardens were just as stunning, with a hedge maze and a breath-taking fountain.
‘This is where we will sleep,’ Emilio said. ‘I’ll bring in our luggage. You can get comfortable.’ He was out of the door before she even had a chance to ask him if he was okay. She wanted to go after him, but if he had left it meant he wanted a moment to himself and she had to respect that.
And, after all, weren’t her rules in place to prevent her from becoming emotionally attached to him?
That didn’t mean she didn’t want answers.
She was curious about so many things. Who Emilio really was.
What had happened in the past. What his family was like.
And she had never in her life stayed anywhere as old as this place.
So, despite Emilio’s words and her own exhaustion, what she really wanted to do was explore.
She hadn’t been told she wasn’t allowed to…
and, as a De Luca herself, surely she now had the right?
She left the room and made her way along the top floor, opening doors and peeking inside.
Many seemed to lead to guest rooms, but there was only one that she thought could rival Emilio’s room for the best view.
When she looked out of the large window, she saw rolling hills of vineyards, all lush and green.
The bed was positioned in such a way that whoever lay there would be able to see them lying down.
She continued exploring and found a library and an office which also had a view of the vineyards. Every wall had some sort of painting; some looked ancient.
Finally, she came upon a small staircase—probably intended for staff. Eager to see where it led, she went down the winding stone steps that led to a door that was slightly ajar. Beyond it, she could hear voices. One of them was unmistakeably Emilio’s.
‘Does Enzo know you’re here?’ A woman said—Isabella, Jasmine realized—just as she was about to step through. Something made her pause to stop and listen. ‘With a wife, no less!’
‘Lower your voice,’ Emilio instructed. ‘And, no, he doesn’t know, and you won’t be telling him either.’
Jasmine was torn. She wanted to know what was being kept from her, but also knew she shouldn’t be caught eavesdropping either.
Quietly, she turned and retreated upstairs, her heart racing and a tingling in her chest. Why wasn’t Enzo to know they were there?
Why had Isabella, who’d seemed genuinely welcoming to Jasmine, twice now spoken to Emilio without that same warmth?
Surely Emilio couldn’t keep their presence in Italy a secret from his brother?
Prior to their wedding, being seen in public had been the plan.
None of this made any sense.
She paced the room, wringing her fingers. There was very obviously a secret being kept from her. Another man withholding information. Another man she shouldn’t trust. A man she was having a baby with, whom she was married to.
She had been understanding enough, but no more. Emilio was going to tell her the truth.
When he walked into the room carrying their luggage, the words were out of her mouth before he could even close the door. ‘What’s going on, Emilio?’
‘What do you mean?’ He closed the door with a soft click.
His calm infuriated her even more. A stiffness formed in her neck. ‘I heard you and Isabella,’ she said in a sharp tone. ‘Enzo doesn’t know about me or that we’re here.’
‘Were you eavesdropping on me?’ His eyes flashed. As if she should be the one ashamed of their actions, when he was the person keeping secrets! Just like Richard. Just like Zara.
‘I was exploring and overheard you, then came straight back here to give you the opportunity to be honest with me,’ she said lowly, barely able to keep the growl out of her voice.
‘It’s nothing you have to worry about,’ he said, placing the bags on the tufted ottoman at the foot of the bed.
‘Like hell it isn’t!’ Jasmine had to take a breath to stop her temper taking over.
‘You’ve dragged me across the world for a “honeymoon” that isn’t happening.
I could have been home working. It’s a sacrifice for me to be here, Emilio, so I demand answers.
What was that between you and Isabella? Why shouldn’t Enzo know we’re here? ’
‘Jasmine.’ Emilio pinched the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slumped. When he looked at her, his eyes appeared haunted.
In that moment, he seemed so weary, so tormented, that it almost took the wind out of Jasmine’s sails, but she still had a right to know. Otherwise, she would leave. She’d had enough of disappointment, of secrets. She couldn’t be lied to again.
‘What. Is. Going. On?’
‘I don’t want Enzo to know we’re here. I don’t want to give him a reason to come here.’
She remembered their chat on the plane, and why they were in Perlano. How Emilio’s father had left nothing to him. He’d clearly favoured Emilio’s brother.