Chapter 11
IT WAS WATCHING HIM make lunch that reminded her. Something about the way he cut the vegetables for the platter unclogged something in her brain. A memory from a long time ago, that had become buried beneath the urgency of survival and stress.
“I wanted to be a chef,” she said, without thinking, then quickly reaching for her glass of wine to hide her embarrassment at the confession.
He looked at her thoughtfully.
“When I was a child,” she elaborated. “I loved cooking. I used to watch cooking shows on YouTube, all the time. I actually loved Italian food the most.”
“You couldn’t have pursued this?”
She shook her head. “I really didn’t have time to study.”
“But even in a restaurant?”
“I worked in the local diner, but I was a waitress. And the food wasn’t exactly gourmet.”
“Then it’s something you could still do,” he suggested.
Ally considered that. She supposed he was right, but for now, that felt like a thousand years away. She had to get through her one-year marriage first, and then she’d plan out the rest of her life.
“I am serious, cara. You can do whatever you want. You are a Di Santis.”
She rolled her eyes. “In name only, and for one year. It’s not the same as being you.”
“It is, to the rest of the world.”
“So? How does that help me?”
“There are schools in Rome. You could enrol to study.”
“Your house isn’t in Rome.”
“But I have homes all over the world. You could stay in my Rome apartment, while you were undertaking the course.”
She did her best to ignore the ice that seemed to travel the length of her spine, but her teeth seemed to want to chatter anyway. His suggestion was kind. Generous, even. But it was also a suggestion of separation, and despite everything she knew their relationship to be, and not be—
namely, real—she hated the thought of not being in his sun-drenched villa. Not being by that glorious pool, with the glorious outlook, and this glorious man at her disposal.
“We’re still on our honeymoon,” she said, pleased that she managed to infuse her tone with amused levity. “People would think it weird if we separate already.”
“Then I can come to Rome,” he shrugged. “I have offices there. It’s easy.”
Her heart stammered. He was offering her a way to have her cake, and eat it, too. “Let me think about it,” she said, with a small shake of her head. “I was just a girl,” she added. “I don’t even know if it’s what I want now.”
He looked at her for a beat longer than necessary, so her insides twisted and she felt so very seen, all the way through her soul, and then he nodded, as though they’d agreed to something important and final.
“He’s on a call.” She turned as Paolo stepped onto the sweeping terrace, her heart sinking at the sight of him.
She’d felt confused the night before, at the wedding party. But now, having shared what she had with Luca, it was even worse. For a second, she wanted to push back against the things Paolo had said to her, to tell him he didn’t really know Luca, but Ally knew that was wrong.
She was the one who was out of her depth. She couldn’t let sexual chemistry hoodwink her into believing more was happening than actually was.
“I was just appreciating the view.”
“Seen one beach and you have seen them all.”
“I don’t agree,” she murmured, looking back at the ocean.
“Here, the light lands differently on the water, the colour is different, the wave tops foaming, whereas from Luca’s house, it’s placid and still, and so much brighter.
There, the cliffs are white and mesmerising, easy to see as ancient and grand.
Here? It’s so much more golden. I don’t think they’re at all alike. ”
“You see more than is there.”
“Perhaps you see less?”
His smile was dismissive. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
She thought of how they’d spent the bulk of the day and flushed to the roots of the hair.
Their time on the yacht had been incredible.
She’d adored it. Even when he’d continued to withhold the one thing she desperately wanted, he’d driven her wild in so many other ways, so many times, that she could hardly think straight.
She was absolutely certain a hint of that must have been evident on her features, so she kept her expression averted.
“Of course.”
He grunted, in a manner that was so similar to Luca for a second Ally did a double take. They were brothers, through their father. Of course they had some things in common.
“Why do you hate him so much?”
She was surprised by the question. Not the nature of it, but the fact she’d asked it. Though she’d wondered it many times, it hardly seemed her place to pry. Particularly not with Luca’s half brother.
“I told you.”
“Because you are in competition with him?”
“There is no competing with Luca. Not unless you are prepared to fight to the death. I find I don’t have the appetite for it.”
Something twisted in her gut. She knew Paolo was speaking the truth—his truth, yes, but also, the literal truth.
There was a steel in Luca that told Ally he would do whatever it took to succeed.
Their wedding was one example of that. Yet for a moment, she found it almost impossible to reconcile that version of Luca with the man she’d spent the night with. Generous, thoughtful, sensual…
“But you have been in competition, or he would have secured the company a long time ago.”
“You know about our grandfather’s requirement,” Paolo chided. “Marriage is a prerequisite.”
She nodded slowly, wrapping her hands around the railing.
“And there you were, a perfect bride, just when he needed one.”
She glanced up at Paolo. “You think that’s all this is?”
He hesitated a moment and her heart lifted in a way she knew she should ignore. But then, he nodded once. “I am sorry, but yes.”
She expelled a soft sigh. “I’m happy. You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”
“I did not have you picked for a mercenary.”
She wished she were more on more solid moral ground, so she could properly refute that. “You think I’ve only married him for material reasons?”
“I know you barely know him.”
She laughed then, shaking her head. The ground felt a little more solid. “Believe me, that’s not true. You can ask me anything you’d like about him…”
“Which proves you’re smart and you’ve studied. True knowledge comes over time. True love, too.”
She agreed with him, in her heart, but she couldn’t admit that. Not without weakening her position. “Fortunately, what you think is irrelevant.”
“But my grandfather must believe you.”
“And you think he doesn’t?”
“He’s a shrewd old bastard. I highly doubt even Luca can fool him.”
“Then it’s just as well we’re not looking to fool anyone,” she lied, but her voice trembled a little. “Excuse me.”
She turned to leave but Paolo reached out, wrapping his hand around her wrist. “I’m trying to help you,” he said, urgently. “You should leave, while you can.”
She shook her head. “Let go of me.”
“I’m serious. He’s wrong for you.”
“You make it sound like this is a kidnapping.”
“Isn’t it?”
Her lips parted. How could she tell Paolo that in Vegas, she’d been threatened with an actual kidnapping, and that for all his faults, Luca had been her saviour?
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She jerked on her arm. Perhaps he would have let go then. She would never know for sure, because at that moment, with a face like a thunderclap, Luca stepped onto the terrace and almost flew towards them.
“Let her go!” he shouted and then a fast string of Italian flew from his lips, followed by Paolo’s response in kind. He dropped her hand, or perhaps it was Luca pulling her away that had Paolo dropping it. Luca’s eyes fell to her face, his expression truly terrifying.
“Are you okay, cara?”
She worried at her lower lip, nodding quickly.
“Go inside,” he said. “We’ll be leaving soon. Grab your things.”
She looked from brother to brother, their stances, and held her ground. She could recognise a fight brewing when she saw it.
“No. We’ll go together.” Her voice shook a little though. Paolo had upset her—had frightened her, too—but Luca’s response was doing its own bit to throw her emotions into disarray. He looked as though he was ready to tear his brother limb from limb.
“Leave us,” he said to Ally, firmly.
“No.” Her tone matched his. She glanced at Paolo. The same tension was radiating from him. She realised this was not new for them. They hated each other and they had no idea how to express that.
“Luca,” she reached up and touched his cheek, somehow just knowing he needed that. She reached for his fingers and squeezed them. “Please, let’s go together.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw, tension in every line of his body. He was clearly fighting a war inside, but he nodded once. Without taking his eyes off Allegra, he said, “Do not ever touch her again.”
They left before Paolo could express a reply.
The plan had formed swiftly for Luca. He didn’t want to leave his grandfather’s island and be back at the villa, surrounded by staff loyal to his family, within hours.
He wanted to be alone. Away from the version of him they expected, the version of himself he turned into, whenever they were together.
He wanted to decompress and strategise.
For all the weekend had done what it was supposed to, it was obvious that Valentino had no intention of making this easy.
He and Allegra would need to pull out the big guns to convince him that Luca was a changed man, now settled and ready to be in a serious relationship.
Ready to commit, and let go completely, of his harmful past. To trust and be trusted: one of Valentino’s biggest prerequisites in life, and business.
“Do we have to go so fast?” Allegra asked, so he realised he was stalking across the garden as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. But for Allegra, who was so much shorter, that meant she was jogging to keep up.
He made an effort to slow his pace, but it made him feel as though he were caged.
“I want to get off this goddamn island,” he muttered.
“Okay, but I’m not actually an Olympic sprinter, so…”