CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I LIKE THIS ...’ Susie admitted.
‘What?’
‘Lying in bed talking...’
They hadn’t really slept, and now morning was creeping in. No beams of light, but she could see their hands knotted together on his stomach as she lay with her head on his chest. And as brilliant, as dazzling and as whirlwind as the weekend had been, and as fabulous as the sex was, it was these quiet moments, just talking, that she’d cherish deeply. It was where they were closest to one another, and the truth serum seemed to reach its peak dose around dawn...
‘I hear Juliet and Louanna chatting most mornings,’ she told him.
‘Are they partners?’
‘No!’ She thumped his chest lightly. ‘They get up before me, that’s all. I hear them discussing their music, and people I don’t know. It just reminds me...’
‘Of what?’
‘Growing up, I had my own room,’ Susie explained. ‘While my sisters got to share.’
‘ Got to share?’ he checked. ‘Wouldn’t you want your own room?’
She laughed. ‘We don’t all live in mansions. It was a three-bedroom home. Usually the eldest gets their own room, but the twins wanted to be together,’ she explained. ‘All my friends said I was lucky.’
‘But you didn’t feel so lucky?’
‘It sounded as if they were having a party every night. And then came discussions about boys and make-up and...’
‘What about birthdays?’ Dante said.
‘What about them?’
‘I think Gio said you were close in age to the twins?’
‘They’re just over a year older.’ She took a breath. ‘So our parties were all lumped together. It was a case of two against one,’ she said. ‘I always wanted to have a fairy party or dress up...’
‘What did your sisters want?’
‘To go to the cinema, or the zoo, or...’ She thought back. ‘I remember this man with reptiles came to the garden.’ She shuddered. ‘I was very young.’
He laughed. ‘What’s your first memory?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Come on...’
‘I was in my pushchair...’ Clearly, he wasn’t up on the names of baby paraphernalia. ‘A stroller? And I saw a lady smiling and saying nice things about me to my mother. Then the twins came out of the shop with my father and she just started admiring them...’ She gave a muted laugh. ‘I threw my dummy out.’ He frowned. ‘Pacifier?’
‘Ah...’ He smiled. ‘For attention?’
‘I threw it again and again. See? I’m not nice.’
‘Are you jealous?’ he asked.
She was about to defend herself—to answer as she had before and say of course she was not—but she felt hot tears splashing out, along with the truth.
‘So very jealous.’ She left his arms and sat up, almost leapt out of bed, as if startled by her own truth. ‘So damn jealous... The twins, the twins, the twins...’ she parroted.
And out burst almost twenty-five years’ worth of stored bitter tears.
‘Hey...’
Emotional outbursts did not move him, but feeling her crumple, seeing the wet tears, hearing the choking voice, he was both horrified and stunned that their light, playful conversation had turned so dark.
Dante had been provoking her for the truth, but the depth of her pain stunned him. And yet he was oddly pleased to hold the real Susie, to feel this hot ball of emotion in his arms.
‘You can be jealous,’ he told her. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s wrong, though. I love them, but...’ She was really crying now. ‘There was a school play...’
She told him how stunning they’d been as angels...and how heads always turned whenever they passed. And about the shared bedroom again. Out it all came.
‘They even got beautiful names—Cassandra and Celia, I got Susan.’ She halted, as if stunned by her own vitriol. ‘Oh, God, I sound so...’
‘Jealous,’ he said. ‘And no wonder.’ He was practical. ‘Next time your mother accuses you, say, Yes, I am jealous, so perhaps you could be more thoughtful .’
‘I doubt that would work.’ She closed her eyes and took a breath and he pulled her back down. ‘Do you get jealous?’ she asked.
He thought for a moment. ‘No.’
‘What’s your first memory?’
‘I think getting a smack.’ He laughed. ‘I wandered off on the beach.’ He thought of his mother. ‘My mother was furious.’
‘Scared?’
‘Yes. That was the only time I saw her angry. When I was in the jewellers yesterday—’ He stopped. He really hadn’t meant to go there. But then he looked at her wet lashes and reasoned that she’d told him some painful stuff. ‘I remembered being there when my mother chose some stones for a ring. She was laughing. Then a few weeks later we went with my father to pick the ring up. I asked Sev what an eternity ring was.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I can’t recall,’ Dante admitted. ‘You remember I told you that I had people comb the accident site? They found two rubies from that ring.’
‘And you haven’t told anyone?’
‘No, it would be too much for Gio. He cried over a loose stone on Nonna’s choker...’
She frowned, clearly still not getting it.
‘I don’t know if my mother took her ring off, and that was how the stones didn’t shatter in the fire,’ he said. ‘Or...’
She was still frowning, so he was more direct.
‘There was nothing of them left intact.’
‘Oh, God,’ she said, which was entirely the wrong thing, but he found he didn’t mind.
‘It’s fine. Gio doesn’t need to know. They’re in an envelope in a safe. I don’t look at them or know what to do with them. I spend most of my life with people who are fighting over things and I don’t get it. I can’t imagine fighting over a house, or a yacht, or anything.’
‘Why haven’t you told Sev?’
Dante shook his head, and although it was clear he was telling her to leave it, Susie saw he was looking right into her eyes.
It was the first time in her life she’d truly felt close to another person—as if it was in this room, in this conversation, that she completely belonged.
Susie stared into his dark eyes and told herself that was ridiculous.
She had family, friends, work... And, yes, she was loved.
But in this moment, she was in the right place, and nothing and no one could invade it.
His hand brushed back the hair on her forehead, and they were still staring at the other.
‘Suuu-zeee...’ he said, changing the topic in the nicest of ways. ‘I think it’s a beautiful name.’
‘Only when you say it.’
He gave a very gentle smile as they continued to stare right into each other’s eyes.
‘Maybe...’ he said, and moved to kiss her.
She saw his eyes draw nearer, felt the warmth of his skin even before their lips had met, and she knew she was about to be kissed.
It was thrilling, even though she’d been kissed by Dante many times. This kiss was soft, as were his hands, and feeling his mouth on hers caused an involuntary sob...
She revelled in his citrussy cologne and the warm caress of his tongue, in how he stroked the side of her aching breast as her arms coiled around his neck. His head moved down and he took her breast in his mouth. She heard herself moan again, felt the slide of his hands on her hips, the tempo moving to a mutual urgency.
He pulled the pillows from the bed and she lay beneath him. And even though he moved to his elbows it was the lower weight of him that had her breathless. His hungry kiss made her feel as if she were being crushed by desire.
‘Dante...’
His mouth was at her ear, kissing the shell, and there were myriad sensations. His thigh was between her legs, and she was already parting them, and his groan as he squeezed inside her spoke for them both.
She arched up and pressed her hands into him, her body begging for urgent relief, but his thrusts were slow and measured.
‘Slow down,’ he told her, denying her haste.
‘I can’t.’
She spoke not just for her body, but for every part of her. She did not know how to slow things down now he’d appeared in her life. She was aching with desire, tearful at the prospect of missing him, and reckless with her heart. All Susie knew was that she wanted more than she’d had. It was as if everything was in tune—as if loneliness had been banished and she could not hold back.
And suddenly she felt a rush of fury that he was holding back, taking her slowly. So she arched again, impatiently. ‘Please...’
And at her urging Susie found out just how much he’d been holding back.
He took her with an intensity she hadn’t realised until now that she craved.
‘Suuu-zeee...’ he said, as perfectly as he had that first night, calling her name as only he could. Filling her, consuming her, and making her temporarily his.
And she didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want their time to end. Her eyes flicked open, only to be met by his.
A single look that evoked a thousand questions.
‘How?’ she asked as he took her.
For a second she thought he might answer her nonsensical question, but instead Dante closed his eyes, and went back into his head.
‘How...’ she demanded and if she had nails, they would have dug in his back, but instead she clung on. She kissed his salty shoulder and wanted to bite. Again fury rushed through her—for how could he want her in this moment, then say goodbye the next.
And it was goodbye, for he was releasing into her.
How could they be over, she wanted to beg, but there were no words left. Feeling him come, hearing his passionate shout had her fury twisting into desire, delivering an orgasm so deep it took all thought away.
When her eyes opened she saw his were closed as she dragged breath back into her lungs.
‘How?’ Susie asked again, as intimate pulses faded.
Of course he didn’t answer.
Dante rarely allowed emotion in the bedroom.
Pleasure, yes.
But his heart had been sealed so long ago he’d forgotten it existed.
Yet it had emerged in recent days and now it thumped in his chest.
He took in a deep breath, knowing there was no way ahead for them.
He’d heard her question.
How did they do this?
Certainly he didn’t want her to be endlessly here waiting for occasional visits, but nor did he want her whirring her way through the air to Milan.
For what?
They were too close for comfort. What had felt right a moment ago now felt unfamiliar and unwelcome, and he knew he was too dark for her light.
He could hear her talking, apologising for her feelings. Oh, she didn’t allude to the question begged in the throes of lovemaking instead admitting to being embarrassed by her earlier tears and what she’d revealed about being jealous.
‘So there you have it,’ Susie said. ‘The fatal flaw...my Achilles’ heel.’
‘It’s really not that bad,’ Dante said.
And then, as she often did, Susie practised her Italian.
‘Qual è l’azione peggiore che hai impegnato?’
Dante frowned as he deciphered her dreadful pronunciation. ‘What is the worst action I have ever committed?’
He started to smile—he knew she’d got the words wrong, and had been trying to get him to share—but then his smile faded.
He reached down to rescue one of the pillows that had been scattered by their lovemaking, but then he put his hand behind his head and lay flat.
He was tired of carrying his secret.
Possibly he knew his truth would deal with things and push her away for ever.
How?
Dante knew how to end them—‘I slept with my brother’s wife.’
Susie looked over at him. Watched as Dante stared at the ceiling...
‘Is that why...?’
She didn’t finish the question. Of course that would have caused the brothers to fall out.
But then Dante gave a small shake of his head. ‘Sev doesn’t know.’
For a second she wanted to sit up, to hug her knees, to resist looking at him—for surely there were few betrayals worse than that? But she was held by the agony in his eyes, and she knew that whatever her own feelings were on the subject he surely didn’t need to hear them.
She didn’t doubt Dante was already burning in his own guilty hell.
She had never been entrusted with something so big, and she touched his arm, not knowing what to say, but trying. ‘Was it...?’ She tried to keep the shaky note from her voice. ‘Did it go on for long?’
‘It was once.’
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Susie thought he was trying to banish the memory rather than summon it.
‘I was in Milan, a student. I’d just passed my first-year exams.’
She frowned, trying to get her head around things. Surely Dante had been at the end of his studies when Sev had got married? She stayed silent rather than speak.
‘Even back then I never got involved with anyone who came from here. But she was in Milan for a visit and we met up.’ His laugh was both dark and resigned. ‘We were nineteen—you know what it’s like...’
Susie had had no idea what anything was like at nineteen—at least not on the dating front. She’d been awkward in herself, working shifts in a kitchen bar and...
Hiding , Susie realised.
She’d been hiding even back then...
Only her rather pale and drab past wasn’t the issue now, and she listened as Dante told her what had happened between him and Rosa.
‘We both agreed it was to be a one-off.’
Never had Susie been more grateful for her reticence—for holding back and not automatically voicing her thoughts. It meant she hadn’t jumped straight in and was able to speak in an unaccusatory tone.
‘You were nineteen. So, they weren’t married at the time?’
‘God, no.’
He dismissed that as if he were brushing off a fly, and then he looked over at her. ‘But it didn’t end brilliantly. She suddenly seemed to think that our brief hook-up meant we were going out. That was never what we agreed.’
Susie fought not to react—not to show in her features that she didn’t like that term... brief hook-up . Not because of any moral code or such—she just didn’t want it applied to her.
To them.
She didn’t want what they’d found to be labelled as a ‘hook-up’.
‘So, for you it was just casual...?’ Her voice tripped over the words. ‘Like us? Like this?’ she checked, speaking through lips that were possibly a little pale and taut.
But then she checked herself, doing her best to put her own issues with Dante aside—whatever they might be—and do her best to focus on him.
Dante looked at her and wanted to say, It was nothing like us. Nothing like this...
‘We didn’t do a lot of talking,’ he said, and even as he answered he knew he’d said it all wrong.
Her short nails dug into his skin then, and she pulled her hand back as Dante continued.
‘I told her from the start that I didn’t want a relationship,’ he said. ‘I made it clear we were never going to be serious.’
‘But she fell for you?’
‘I don’t know...’
Dante sat up in bed, his elbows on his knees, and Susie lay silent.
Susie didn’t really know what to say, for as she looked at him, gorgeous in the morning light, on the bed still rumpled and warm from their time together, her body still thrumming from the breathtaking attention he’d given her, she could see both sides.
But contemplating how Rosa might have felt wouldn’t be helpful right now—because no matter how sure and brave she’d been at the start, no matter that she’d sworn to hold on to her heart, when they said goodbye it was going to hurt.
Dante had seen her features change, could feel Susie’s eyes on his back, and knew she was struggling to find the words to say.
He sat waiting for relief to come at having finally told someone.
Wasn’t confession supposed to be good for the soul?
It didn’t feel that way, and there was certainly no sense of relief.
He felt ill as he examined what he’d said, and even though Susie didn’t press him for information, he carried on out loud. ‘Rosa wanted to tell people about us,’ he said. ‘She kept calling...asking when I’d be back in Lucca...angling for me to take her to the ball. That would have been practically announcing our engagement...’
‘So, she wanted to get serious?’
‘Oh, yes—and I don’t doubt her parents were behind it.’ He turned and looked at Susie, still lying there, her eyes huge as they met his. ‘They had big plans for their old shack of a winery.’
‘What?’ Her eyes snapped closed and her lips tightened. ‘I’ve heard you be blunt before, but never mean...’
‘Because I save it for those who deserve it.’
Dante shook his head and got out of bed. How the hell was he supposed to tell her all of it if he had to censor every word?
‘Just because you hold everything in, it doesn’t mean I have to,’ he told her.
‘Meaning?’ she bristled.
‘Just that.’
‘I think you can say difficult things and still remain nice.’
‘Fine,’ Dante responded. ‘I’ll tell you nicely , then.’
And so he did. He gave her the cleaner, condensed version.
‘I cut things off, and the rare times I was home I kept well away from Rosa, or even any conversation about her. Two years later I was walking on the walls when Rosa came running. She told me she and Sev were about to announce their engagement.’
‘He didn’t know that you’d slept together?’
‘Of course not.’
‘And you told him just before the wedding?’
‘No,’ he refuted. ‘I tried to broach the subject... I said some things I perhaps shouldn’t have.’ He pursed his lips the way Susie had. ‘Let’s not go there. I’m sure you wouldn’t approve.’
‘Dante...’
Her eyes filled with tears and he could not bear to see them. He hated it that all he ever caused was hurt.
‘Sev let me know my opinions were not welcome,’ he told her.
‘Dante...’ She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he tensed and stood up.
‘So there you have it.’
‘What?’
‘The worst action I have ever committed.’
He walked towards the shower, but she halted him with a question as he reached for the door.
‘You mean sleeping with Rosa, or not telling Sev that you had?’
It was a very good question.
One he didn’t answer.
Couldn’t answer.
Instead, he climbed into the shower, and as the water hit him there was finally relief that he’d told her.
They’d been getting too close; he knew that very well.
Given Susie’s reaction now, that would no longer be an issue.
That was the relief.
Dante was self-aware enough to know that in revealing the truth he was effectively ending them. But better to cut things off now than be standing in a jewellers considering romantic gifts, or walking back into the bedroom and asking if she wanted to come to Milan.
No.
He didn’t want anyone.
But even as the water cleansed him he felt contaminated—as if he brought nothing but despair into the lives of everyone who had ever mattered.
Susie knew she’d handled things badly.
As Dante showered she lay there for a while, knowing damn well that she’d been busy comparing their weekend of passion with what had happened between him and Rosa. And when he’d disparaged Rosa’s family winery, she’d flinched. Not so much at what he’d said, more out of dread that one day she’d be similarly relegated to the past...a little footnote he referred to with derision because she’d been stupid enough to bare her heart.
She’d been shocked at first...worried that he’d been having an affair while Sev and Rosa were married. And when the relief of getting it wrong had hit her she’d been too involved in her own tumbled feelings to really listen to Dante, let alone say the right thing.
Now, as he came out of the shower, she just hoped it wasn’t too late.
‘Dante...’
‘Let’s leave it, hey?’ His suggestion was kind. ‘My car will be here soon. I don’t want you leaving here upset.’
He said it nicely, but the implication was that it might be better for her to get dressed.
‘I’ve thought about it,’ Susie said. ‘While you were in the shower.’
He shot her a slightly incredulous look. ‘Oh? So do you have a solution?’ He buttoned his shirt. ‘I’ve been considering it for more than a decade.’
‘Dante, please...’ She felt like a plane that had been going round and around, attempting to land for a second time, only the conditions on the ground hadn’t really improved. ‘I think you should try telling Sev. It’s been so many years. You’ve both lost so much. Could you write to him?’ she suggested. ‘Like your client did to his wife?’
‘I am going to be dealing with the fallout of that letter today.’ He looked at her then, and actually smiled. ‘I’ve tried, believe me, but I can get never get past the first line... “Dear Sev, sorry if this comes as a surprise...” ’
‘He’s your brother, though, and from everything I’ve heard you were once so close...’ Her voice trailed off as he glanced out of the window.
‘The car’s here,’ he told her. ‘I can drop you off.’
Susie didn’t want to get dressed, but she did.
She didn’t want to leave, but she could hardly chain herself to the bed.
And she did not want to cry, but she felt very much as if she might.
‘Hey...’ Dante did not want it to end like this, and he took her in his arms. ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ she told him.
‘No, you’re not,’ he said gently.
He could see the doubt swirling in her eyes, feel the ache in her to fix something that was broken beyond repair.
And it was.
Of that he was certain.
But even if his car was waiting, and even if he might well miss his plane, Dante chose to take the time to let Susie see just how impossible things were for him and Sev.
‘Will you answer me something honestly?’ Dante asked.
Susie gave a nervous laugh, a little worried as to what he might ask. ‘Am I on the witness stand?’
‘You are,’ he said, and took her face in his hands.
It was just nice to be teased a little as they faced the difficult topic.
‘We’ve had a good time,’ he said. ‘Agreed?’
‘Yes...’
‘And we’re both clear that it should end neatly?’
‘Yes.’
‘With no hard feelings?’
She didn’t answer quite so quickly then, because while there might not be hard feelings in the way he meant them, there were going to be difficult feelings—and certainly they’d hurt.
‘Susie?’ He was awaiting her response.
‘No hard feelings,’ she agreed—because she didn’t regret what had taken place between them, nor ever would.
‘Okay,’ Dante said, and his hand moved to her arm. ‘Now, what if in two years’ time...?’
His hand paused, the fingers hovering over her arm, and she felt her skin goosebump, as if stretching to retain contact.
‘What are the names of your sisters?’ he asked.
‘Cassandra and Celia.’
‘Okay, what if Celia comes to visit, tells everyone she’s met a guy, and she’s hoping he’ll propose this weekend...’
Susie’s heart sank as she envisaged it.
‘His name is Dante...’
She swallowed.
‘And he’s really good-looking,’ he said, coaxing out a smile.
‘Arrogant?’ she checked.
‘Absolutely,’ Dante said. ‘As well as brilliant in bed. Oh, and he’s an attorney in Milan.’
Her smile faded then; this game was so hard to play.
‘I don’t know...’ Her mind darted at the dreadful conundrum. ‘I think I’d tell her.’
‘What if I’d already met the rest of your family and told them we were getting engaged?’
‘I...’ Her certainty was gone.
And the more he spoke on, the more she didn’t know.
‘What if I then caught you alone and told you how much it would hurt your sister if you ever told her?’
‘I’d probably do what you did...’
‘And then I tragically die.’
Susie started to cry as she truly saw the hellish position he was in.
‘Would you tell her then?’ he asked. ‘“Hey, Celia, I never told you at the time, but before you were married Dante and I...”’
‘No.’ She stopped him then. ‘I would never tell her.’
‘There you go.’
Susie stood still, wishing there was something better she could offer, and then she looked at Dante, a man who dealt in broken relationships for a living, and knew he would have examined every angle.
‘I’m so sorry for what happened,’ she told him.
‘It’s hardly your fault.’
‘I am sorry, though; it must have been awful.’
He nodded.
‘It still is?’ Susie ventured.
He didn’t answer; instead he gave her the nicest kiss.
But it was a slow and light kiss, a never-to-deepen kiss, and as they pulled apart Susie ran her tongue over her lips and they tasted of goodbye.
It was time to do this.
‘I should go.’
She pulled on her boots and put her lip balm in her bag, and then she went to the bathroom and packed her toiletries in seconds. She came out as Dante was throwing a couple of last-minute things into his hand luggage.
‘My driver just texted,’ he said. His voice was a little husky, but then it wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. ‘I need a file...’
‘I’ll go,’ she told him.
And there were no more kisses, no suggestions that they might meet again. She sort of waved at the door, but he was ramming a folder into his case, so she clipped down the stairs, pulled on her coat and collected her basket of goodies from the winery.
Dante closed his eyes as he heard the door close.
He’d seen the glittery tears in her eyes and he actually got it for once. Sometimes saying goodbye really was hard.
And he loathed how matter-of-fact he’d been, when he hadn’t felt that way at all.
‘Merda,’ he said, cursing himself as he headed down the stairs.
To do what?
Call her back?
Take her back to bed and then say goodbye all over again?
He paused, saw her scarf on his banister and recalled removing it. He remembered their passion, their conversation, and everything in between.
He did not wrench open the door. Nor did he call her back to get her scarf and haul her into bed. Nor did he whisk her off to Milan.
Instead, he reminded himself of what he’d told his client.
Let her go with grace.
He put the scarf back over the banister and then went and collected his case. He headed out to the waiting vehicle and tried not to catch one final glimpse of Susie walking along the walls, carrying her basket...