Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emilio sat in his office. He’d read and re-read the document in his hand several times over but he just couldn’t get himself to focus on the words.
His inability to concentrate these days was utterly maddening.
And it was entirely Jasmine’s fault. He found himself thinking of her at the best of times, but it wasn’t just her beauty or their connection that was on his mind right now. It was her demand for a wedding.
She was so focussed, so driven and logical that he’d taken for granted that she would see reason and realise a wedding in their circumstances was utterly unnecessary. But didn’t most people want a wedding? A special day on which to tie oneself completely to the person they loved?
Emilio wasn’t one of those people.
But Enzo was. And you took that away from him.
Emilio dropped the page and pushed away from his desk, scrubbing his hands down his face.
That was exactly why Emilio didn’t want a wedding.
It would bring too much back from the past. It reminded him of all the ways in which he was truly loathsome.
Of the worst thing he’d ever done. Of the grand wedding in Perlano fit for a conte that Gia and Enzo had been planning eight years ago.
The wedding Emilio had ruined. The rejection that had followed.
After what Richard had done to Jasmine, Emilio had rather hoped that she’d feel similarly about weddings.
That she wouldn’t want to face it. But he supposed he should have planned for this possibility.
There were two very different sides to Jasmine.
As buttoned-up as she was now, the woman from the club was a part of her too.
It just made the Alexandrite ring he’d bought her all the more fitting: two colours for the two sides of her.
Well, at least one side of Jasmine expected a wedding, and he had to deliver on that promise. He picked up his phone and called his PA.
Rachel walked into his office carrying a notebook and pencil mere seconds later.
‘Have a seat, please. I have a special task for you.’ Emilio crossed his legs and placed his hands on the arm rest, forcing himself to look like a man who was relaxed. Who was completely unbothered by the idea of impending nuptials.
‘What is it?’
‘I need you to plan my wedding.’
‘Really?’ Rachel’s eyes shone with excitement. It was one of the very few times she had ever broken through her absolute professionalism.
‘Yes.’ Emilio forced himself to smile.
‘Okay, do you have a preference for a theme or venue?’
‘It will take place on my roof top, but I have no preferences other than to make sure there are some pink oleander in whatever you decide to do.’
His mother’s favourite flower. He didn’t know how Valentina would have felt about what he’d done.
Would she have forgiven him for sleeping with a random woman and getting her pregnant, as she had forgiven all his past transgressions?
He hoped she would have seen that he was trying to do the right thing by marrying Jasmine, and he knew in his heart she would have loved her grandchild.
The only thing in the world he wanted at his wedding was a reminder of the one person who’d loved him unconditionally.
‘You have complete freedom to do whatever you want. I trust your judgement and your discretion.’
‘Of course, Emilio. Also, everything regarding the marriage licence is done. I’ve put your appointment at the city clerk’s office in your calendar.’
‘Thank you, Rachel.’ Before he could say anything further, his phone began loudly vibrating on his desk.
‘Congratulations.’ Rachel smiled and left his office.
He picked his phone up to see Jasmine’s name flash across the screen.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ she asked without so much as a hello. Pleasantries lost time and that was inefficient. The thought made him smile.
‘Hello, Jasmine. I’m well, and yourself?’
‘Emilio, stop being aggravating.’
But it was so fun to draw these reactions out of her, when she seemed so comfortable with him. When she treated him like Emilio and not the De Luca spare. But he also wanted to draw out the other side of her. He wanted to tell her that it was okay to let go every now and then.
But look how that turned out.
‘Are you available or not?’ Jasmine demanded.
‘I can make myself available for my fiancée.’
‘Great. Dinner at my place. Seven.’
After what he’d said about her home—something he’d kicked himself for afterwards—he was surprised she would invite him into it. Perhaps it was an olive branch, and if so he would be a fool not to take it.
‘I’ll be there.’
‘Thank you,’ she said in a gentler tone and hung up.
***
He was on the door step of her brownstone at precisely seven.
He rang the doorbell and waited. Perhaps she would be willing to discuss moving into his penthouse after an amiable dinner.
After all, his fiancée couldn’t be seen living apart from him, and after their display in the street the day before, and the ring she was now wearing, it would be obvious to everyone that she was engaged and to whom.
His plans to save the company and family legacy from scandal were falling into place.
He just needed Jasmine to be less stubborn about this one detail.
She answered the door wearing jeans and a knit sweater pushed up to her elbows, her feet bare and her hair down—just like when he’d first seen her. As much as Emilio respected the level of control she had, he couldn’t help rejoicing at the sight of that fun, free Jasmine peeking out just a little.
‘Exactly on time,’ she greeted him. ‘Come in.’
He stepped into the foyer and his words from the day before came back to him : some frilly townhouse.
This was far from frilly. Black and white photographs hung on bright white walls above dark wood floors.
They were lit softly from above, beckoning him inside.
An invitation into the rest of the home.
‘Can I take your coat?’ she offered.
He shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to her, taking a look around.
Even the wall leading upstairs had photos on it; he first thought they were gallery prints, but on closer inspection they turned out to be pictures of Jasmine with what he assumed was her mother.
The looks on their faces made him ache for his own.
‘I should probably tell you now,’ Jasmine said behind him, ‘My mother is joining us for dinner. She’s here to meet you.’
So it wasn’t an olive branch. So much for honesty and compromise. ‘What is this? Some sort of test?’
‘What? No.’
‘Then why would you withhold information?’ He was angered that she would do so. He was trying to fix his impulsive mistake by considering every angle and following a carefully calculated path. Now he’d been dropped into a situation Jasmine had deliberately ensured he was unprepared for.
‘You didn’t think I would get married without my mother there, without her knowing, did you?’
Had he factored Jasmine’s mother into all of this? He realised he hadn’t.
‘Would you?’ she questioned.
Would he? The answer was an immediate no.
He’d spent so much time with her growing up, just the two of them.
Even when he had moved to New York, he’d still gone back to Perlano as frequently as he could.
Towards the end of her life, he had worked from the estate just so he could be close to her right to the end.
He wouldn’t have hidden this marriage or his child from her.
‘No,’ he conceded. ‘Lead the way.’
Emilio followed Jasmine into a large open-plan lounge and dining area.
There was so much art on the walls. There were huge windows that must have let in so much light during the day.
A large fireplace with a small fire crackled within.
The whole space was furnished in browns, whites and blacks.
It was modern and warm. Not at all frilly .
It felt like a home, and in that moment he craved that—somewhere warm and inviting to return to at the end of each day.
His expensive penthouse was cold and stark in contrast—a showroom for an interior decorator.
He’d hired the best, but that didn’t change the fact that it was just a glossy place to sleep and wait out the hours between work and emotionless visits to the club. How empty his life truly was.
‘You must be Emilio,’ a woman said, drawing attention away from his thoughts. She was considerably shorter than Jasmine, but he could see the similarity in their faces, in their hazel eyes. ‘I’m Angela.’
‘ Buonasera , Angela,’ Emilio said, respectfully shaking her hand.
‘I look forward to getting to know you.’ There was a twinkle in her eye that made Emilio like her immediately.
‘And I, you.’
‘But I will reserve judgement until after dinner.’
‘That sounds fair. I better make a good impression.’ He caught Jasmine rolling her eyes and all annoyance from earlier evaporated. How could he have thought to exclude Jasmine’s mother? Perhaps Jasmine would have been more forthcoming about the visit if he hadn’t been so combative.
Another trait he had picked up as a child. It had been easier back then to snap at Enzo rather than have another memory of being ignored by his father. But he wasn’t nine years old any more. He had to do better.
He rolled up his sleeves. ‘Put me to work. What can I do?’
‘You?’ Jasmine laughed.
‘You don’t think I would be handy in the kitchen, belleza ?
’ A mocking smile curled Emilio’s lips. The way he sauntered over to stand before her made Jasmine think of the man from the club: predatory and fun; laid-back.
Over the last two days she hadn’t been able to see that man at all, but tonight he was peeking through again.
‘I don’t.’
He narrowed his eyes and everything below her waist coiled. ‘Care to bet on it?’