Chapter Eight #2
So while she was perfectly au fait with the world of wealth, she hadn’t been expecting a place like this when Dante had said he was bringing her home.
It wasn’t so much ostentatious as biblically perfect.
It was as if the Garden of Eden had been brought back to life, right here in the foothills of Tuscany.
The whole property was surrounded by thick, lush pine trees, making it impossible to see beyond them.
But as the car entered through the wrought iron security gates, gravel crunching beneath the tyres, the property opened up to reveal gentle undulations, so darkly green they were almost impossible to believe.
There were more pine trees inside, too, but here they were dotted over the lawns, creating long, dark shadows that would be utterly perfect to sit beneath on a too-hot summer’s day.
She could practically feel how the grass would be cool, the air degrees more bearable there.
She turned to face Dante, face showing surprise. ‘This is where you grew up?’
His eyes raked her face. ‘You’re surprised.’
And wasn’t that the truth? She felt an unexpected hangover from the flight. The sense that Dante wasn’t at all as she’d thought. And now Charlotte was here with him, at his family estate, being forced to grapple with that on the fly.
‘You just—,’ her voice faltered, and she grimaced. ‘I suppose I am.’
‘Why?’
She turned back to her window and looked out once more, as the car cruised past a pond with a small timber jetty. Birds flew low over the pond, dipping down from time to time, as if looking for small fish.
Out of nowhere, she imagined Dante as a young boy, sitting on the jetty, feet dangling in the water.
‘It’s just so,’ she sought for the right word. ‘Natural.’
He made a sound, a gruff syllable of agreement. ‘And?’
‘You’re—,’ she turned back to look at him and something shifted into place, like all the lenses of a kaleidoscope being brought into focus.
She was wrong to be surprised. Dante San Marino was nothing if not elemental and wild.
True, he concealed that side of himself in his bespoke Sa-ville Row suits and urbane, arrogant manner, but she’d seen otherwise.
She’d seen the side of him that was untamed and raw.
Formed by the elements and totally wild, in so many ways. Best not think of that now, though.
‘Never mind,’ she said, focusing her attention through the middle of the car now, between the two front seats and the front windscreen.
As the car swept around a corner of the drive, an amazing citrus grove came into sight.
Not filled with small offerings, either, but rather, enormous, bushy citrus trees, heavy with blossoms, ready to start growing fruit.
She could just imagine how sweet it would smell.
Beyond the grove was the house and at the sight of it, Charlotte lost her breath completely.
It was the quintessential Tuscan villa, with the sand-coloured lime washed walls and terracotta tiled roof. But it was also enormous and gracious, with a hot-pink bougainvillea scrambling up one side and large pots standing sentry at the double width front door, each with an established fig tree.
‘Dante,’ she whispered, eyes wide, lips parted, unconscious of the way he was staring at her. ‘It’s so utterly perfect.’
He made another gruff sound. ‘That’s one way to win your way into my grandmother’s affections.’
She blinked, trying to focus, to remember what she was doing here. Remembering that she needed to bring her A-game and that that started now.
Fortunately, it would not be at all difficult to show an admiration for this place. It was truly like heaven on earth.
‘It’s incredible,’ she repeated, turning to face him. Out of nowhere she felt a wash of unexpected feelings, a rawness, and tears threatened.
She swallowed the ridiculously vulnerable emotion away. ‘Are you ready?’ She infused the words with a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt.
His eyes roamed her features, and she had the unsettling sense that he’d perceived her momentary wrong-footing. But he smiled then, reached down and put his hand over hers. ‘You’re going to be a brilliant fake fiancé. Try not to worry, cara.’
Cara. Not Shaw. Somehow, just that single term of endearment threatened to undo a part of her she desperately needed to hold onto. Which was absurd, because he’d called her this before and it hadn’t made her heart beat like a trapped bird against her ribcage.
What on earth was happening to her?
As she stepped out of the car and was immediately enveloped by the heady fragrance of citrus blossoms, sunshine, nectar and pollen—so overpowering her nose tingled with the suggestion of a sneeze—she knew the answer.
Magic.
This place was sheer and absolute magic.
* * *
Allegra San Marino was both exactly like Charlotte had imagined, but also the complete opposite all at once.
As Dante had described, his grandmother was incredibly elegant, in a pair of cream, wide-legged trousers and a pale-yellow singlet, that showed her toned arms and tanned skin.
But she was also naturally very beautiful, with dark grey hair that she had coiled into a bun at the base of her neck and skin that looked to have been very well cared for all her life.
She had eyes like Dante’s, so dark they were almost black but glittery and perceptive, watching Charlotte from the moment she stepped from the car.
Allegra moved out of the shadows of the front entrance, onto the small, tiled portico.
Her nails were neat but manicured, and her smile was broad and welcoming, even when there was a hint of something in her eyes that spoke of doubt. Worry.
Which made precisely zero sense. If there was anyone on earth who was more than capable of handling themselves, it was Dante.
Even if he was hotter than Hades and richer than sin, and therefore probably batting off fortune hunters with a stick, this was Dante. A man who didn’t suffer fools gladly and who would never be taken advantage of by anyone.
Whether because he too perceived a slight hint of concern in his grandmother’s features, or just because he’d primed himself to give an award-winning performance from the minute they arrived, Dante was at her side even before Charlotte realised he’d gotten out of the car He had one arm around her waist as he pulled her to his side and leaned down to whisper, ‘This will not work if you look like you’re about to get a root canal, Shaw. ’
He was right, of course. There was a lot riding on the next week. She had to nail this. She glanced up at him and tried to imbue her features with an emotion she’d never personally felt—nor wanted to feel—love and smiled wide.
Apparently it worked. Or at least Dante registered the change, because his eyes widened for a moment, his lips compressed and the fingers at her side dug in a little, almost as if he couldn’t help but tether himself to something real and physical, before walking forwards, his arm around her waist bringing her with him, whether her legs would oblige or not.
‘Darling,’ Allegra spoke in accented English, presumably out of deference to Charlotte. And Charlotte was glad. While she spoke passable Italian, it had been a while since she’d used it, and she suspected it was pretty rusty. ‘Welcome, welcome,’ she cooed.
Dante dropped his arm from around Charlotte’s waist for a moment, so he could wrap his petite grandmother in an embrace and kiss her cheeks.
‘It is good to see you, my Dante,’ she said, face lighting up as if a thousand globes were behind her eyes.
‘But you look too thin. You are not eating enough,’ she tsked, then turned to Charlotte.
‘He is never well looked after, except for here.’
Charlotte suppressed—just—a laugh, as she nodded and assumed an expression of serious contemplation.
‘He is at risk of fading away,’ she murmured, thinking the exact opposite.
While there wasn’t an ounce of unnecessary fat on Dante, that was because his body had been sculpted into a form of muscle and strength.
He was definitely not a waif. Allegra just had whatever the grandmotherly equivalent of rose-tinted glasses was.
Dante arched a brow and even though he didn’t speak, Charlotte could practically hear his thoughts. You’ve never complained about my body before.
True that.
‘And you have brought someone home with you,’ Allegra continued, walking, with a slight limp, until she was close enough to look properly at Charlotte.
‘Yes, Nonna. I wanted you to meet Charlotte, so that we could tell you our news, in person.’
Allegra went quite still, not quite touching Charlotte, though it had been her intention, Charlotte deduced, a moment ago. ‘Your news?’ She turned back to Dante, her back ramrod straight.
Dante was similarly still, assessing. This, after all, was the moment of truth for him. To see how well his grandmother would take the engagement and if it would alleviate the worries that he’d confided in Charlotte the older woman had been experiencing.
‘We’re getting married.’
Allegra paled a little, looking from Dante to Charlotte and back again. ‘I’m sorry. Did you say—are you actually engaged?’
Her eyes dropped to Charlotte’s hands, which were shaking a little.
The ring was right there though, sparkly and beautiful, and, she realised, just the kind of ring Dante’s grandmother would expect him to give the woman he loved.
A gold band would never have sufficed. Not if this was to seem genuine.
So he’d chosen something big and stunning, whilst still keeping to her request that it not be a diamond that could be seen from outer space.
‘To this woman?’ Allegra repeated, glancing at Charlotte. Charlotte felt sympathy for Allegra because this news had clearly come totally out of the blue.
A muscle ticked in Dante’s jaw as he stepped forward.
Charlotte had thought he might be going to comfort his grandmother, to offer her support, but instead, it was Charlotte he crossed to, wrapping an arm back around her waist and pulling her to his side.
She partly resented it—because it was just the kind of thing a man might do if he thought a woman needed his protection, for him to act like a shield, and that was definitely not Charlotte’s shtick. She didn’t need anyone and never would.
At the same time, his show of loyalty—even when she knew it was make-believe—was as warming as it was unnecessary.
‘I know this must seem like a surprise,’ Charlotte murmured, wondering if it was making things better or worse for her to speak, but knowing that she had too much riding on the success of this introduction to risk a negative impression. ‘Dante insisted we tell you in person.’
‘I wanted you to meet my fiancé,’ he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at Charlotte, doing an impersonation of a totally besotted fiancé that was every bit as spot on as her own had been a few moments earlier.
‘I presumed you must be bringing a lady friend,’ Allegra said, apparently bringing her surprise back in control.
‘I just didn’t know how serious it would be.
My darling,’ she approached Charlotte now, eyes blinking rapidly.
‘Forgive me for my reaction. My grandson has always—how do you say it? Played his cards at his chest?’
Charlotte smiled kindly, relieved that the first hurdle was actually more of a minor speed bump.
‘We’ve only just become engaged,’ she promised. Then, with sincerity, ‘You’re the first person we’ve told.’
Allegra’s eyes lit up. ‘This calls for a celebration,’ she clapped her hands together.
‘Rosaria! Rosaria!’ Her voice was loud and she turned quickly, striding back inside the doors of the house.
‘Prosecco on the terrace,’ she called, before whirling around to face them.
‘How wonderful. Now, come on, I must hear absolutely everything,’ she said, finally reaching for Charlotte and drawing her into an embrace.
‘Welcome, my darling girl. Welcome to our family.’
Charlotte smiled, even when it felt, strangely, like a small part of her was withering and dying in response to such unexpected and wholesome kindness. And love. The kind of love she’d always shunned because it was easier to shun love than it was to seek it and know the pain of rejection.