Chapter Six #2
Ivy was aware that she should have told Antonio she knew him.
Or had at least met him, one year ago. But instinctively, she’d been trying to protect him, knowing that the context surrounding her meeting with Micha would undermine whatever peace he’d found with his grandfather in the last few years.
Micha had only approached her on Gio Gallo’s behalf.
And once she’d sent him away, Ivy had put it firmly out of her mind, unwilling to travel down that path.
She’d never thought she’d see Micha, or Antonio, again for that matter. But now…
A beautiful dark-haired woman dressed in an exceptionally flattering ornate black dress detached herself from the crowd. And while they might not have been blood-related, there was something about the way that she moved which reminded Ivy of Antonio. Regal. Determined. Powerful.
Those things might not be genetic, but they had most definitely been nurtured.
‘Mamma,’ Antonio said in English. ‘This is Ivy McKellen.’
‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs Gallo,’ Ivy said with a nervous smile.
‘Alessia, please,’ she insisted easily. ‘It is very brave of you to be willing to face the Gallos. If my son hasn’t thanked you profusely for agreeing to be dragged into this farce, then I will,’ she said, glaring at her son in disapproval, while not making Ivy feel slighted in the least.
‘That’s not necessary, but thank you,’ Ivy said, fighting the incongruous urge to curtsey.
Alessia smiled, dark lashes framing a pair of startling blue eyes, so markedly different to Antonio’s dark brown.
Antonio produced a slim velvet box from inside his jacket and gave it to his mother, along with a kiss on her cheek.
‘Antonio, figlio mio , please, you don’t need to do this,’ she said, casting a little glance of embarrassment in Ivy’s direction.
‘But I wanted to. You deserve it, Mamma,’ he said of the gift, squeezing her hand.
Alessia accepted it with grace. ‘My apologies for being rude, Ivy, but I just need a word with my son.’
‘Of course,’ Ivy said, and stepped back to give them some privacy.
Strings of tiny lights had been twisted into the vines wrapped around a pergola that covered a section of the large courtyard and garden beyond, making it look almost magical.
Music drifted gently around the space, over which could be heard a multitude of conversations.
But as she stood there, taking as much in as possible, she couldn’t fail to miss the sideways looks cast her way, and the way that others had even gone so far as to turn their backs on Antonio.
Ivy was rocked by the sense of outrage she felt on his behalf. That his family would treat him this way, just because he’d been adopted. It was enough to give her the strength to meet the curious gaze of an older gentleman head-on, who broke first, much to her satisfaction.
And then in the background she heard Antonio say, ‘Non è possibile,’ drawing her back to where he stood with his mother. ‘C’è un letto soltanto?’ Antonio demanded.
‘Only one bed for what?’ Ivy asked, having translated Antonio’s response, alarm in her voice.
‘To sleep,’ his mother answered.
Antonio asked, ‘You understood that?’ at the same time.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Only one bed?’ she repeated.
This time Antonio demanded, ‘You speak Italian?’
‘A little,’ she admitted.
‘Since when?’
‘Is that really more important than there being one bedroom for us? To share ?’ she said pointedly.
‘No, it is ridiculous,’ Antonio dismissed, turning back to his mother. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa.’
Ivy flinched, while Alessia slapped her son’s arm, more sharp than hard.
‘You will do no such thing,’ she whisper-hissed in Italian.
‘I’ll not have my son sleeping on the furniture while his wife is in another room.
There will be no more gossip for these vultures.
’ At least Ivy was pretty sure the translation was vulture.
‘ You decided to go down this path,’ she warned him, clearly speaking of their marriage.
‘You will be living— and sleeping— with the consequences, Antonio.’
‘Mamma—’
‘Don’t “Mamma” me,’ she chided with a pointed finger in his chest.
And while part of Ivy was calculating how on earth she was going to survive a night in the same room as Antonio, another part of her was delighted by how he had transformed into a naughty schoolboy before her very eyes.
‘Now, Ivy, come,’ his mother commanded and drew her away from Antonio and into the throng.
Antonio watched his mother and Ivy, arm in arm, for as long as he could before they disappeared from sight, unease curling in his chest. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want to subject her to the kind of disdain and vitriol his family were capable of.
He tensed as a hand clamped possessively across his shoulders, and then eased, realising that it was Maria.
‘Are we having fun yet?’ she demanded, as if it was his fault that the party was so stiff.
‘Just waiting on you ,’ he said, leaning into her side, and she pushed him away. He took her in—a riot of dark lazy curls that framed high cheekbones, a button nose, a perfect bowed lip and an arched eyebrow that bored daggers into him.
Much to her apparent frustration, Maria had grown into a very beautiful woman who clearly hated that it made it harder for men to take her seriously.
Especially in the boardroom. Not that they thought that way for long.
But while Maria had inherited her beauty from her mother, she had inherited her grandfather’s cut-throat business acumen.
In the hierarchy of the family, she might be considered to be at the bottom rung of the ladder, but Antonio anticipated the day when they would realise she was the best heir to the Gallo throne. It was just a shame that she needed to marry him to prove that.
‘Is that her?’ Maria asked, nodding towards where his mother stood.
‘Mm,’ he acknowledged, picking his mother and his wife out of the crowd.
‘She’s pretty,’ Maria observed.
‘Mm,’ Antonio conceded with a smirk that Maria seemed to find funny.
‘You like her.’
He turned and glared at his cousin.
Her smile dropped a little. ‘Do you like her, like her?’
‘Why can no one speak in sentences any more?’ he demanded, tossing his hands in the air before stalking towards the bar to get himself a drink.
‘Antonio—’ she stopped him with a hand on his arm ‘—is this a problem? Should I be worried?’
It was the first hint of vulnerability he’d ever seen her display, which was enough to remind him of what was at stake for her. Everything.
He closed the distance he’d put between them. ‘No, it’s not. The plan is the same. We’re just here to fulfil the requirements of an asinine judge before he grants us a divorce.’
Maria closed her eyes and nodded. ‘Va bene.’ And when she opened them again she was smiling as if nothing had happened.
‘Ah, there you both are!’ his mother called from over his shoulder and this time he was the one that grimaced.
Per l’amor di Dio , he just wanted a drink.
He turned to watch them approach, feeling more than a few curious gazes on them.
‘Ivy, may I introduce Maria?’ he said, turning to Maria. ‘Maria, this is Ivy.’
‘There. See? It wasn’t so bad,’ his mother whispered before slipping back into the crowds.
Antonio sighed, while Maria’s smile was big, beautiful and confident.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Ivy. I’ve heard a lot about you,’ she said, her hand outstretched.
Ivy smiled and took the offered hand. ‘I imagine that would be quite hard, but that you’ve heard about me at all bodes well.’
‘You work in a library?’ Maria asked, leading them over to the bar where finally, thankfully, Antonio could get a drink.
He let their conversation drift over him, parsing it for anything alarming while he scanned the rest of the guests. He saw the familiar disdain in the side glances, felt the whispers and the hostility towards someone who wasn’t ‘of their blood’.
He didn’t care. Truthfully. These people didn’t mean anything to him. But while they didn’t own Gallo Group, they certainly sat on the board and benefitted from it. And that was important to Maria, so he’d play their game.
Until he got Maria what she deserved.
An elaborate dinner began at about the time Ivy was used to going to bed and she resisted the urge for another glass of wine, knowing she would have to keep her wits about her.
They were outside, at an impossibly long table beneath a pergola from which hung luscious vines hiding grapes within their leaves.
She’d tried to make conversation with the woman beside her, but had given up soon after it became painfully clear that she wasn’t the least bit interested. Instead, Ivy turned her attention back to Antonio, who had asked if she was okay with the lighting.
It was rather dark, but she’d assured him that she was fine.
Throughout the day she’d felt his solicitous attention, which only served to unnerve her more.
As they tucked into beef Carpaccio, Ivy willed herself to eat, even though what Antonio’s mother had told her earlier that afternoon had left her stomach quivering with emotion.
‘They have a special relationship,’ she’d said of Maria and Antonio as she had led her away from the party, looking for somewhere private to talk.
‘Maria was there for him when his own father couldn’t be.
My husband was a man who underestimated himself, and when confronted with his own failures decided to run from them rather than stay and fight.
’ Alessia had lowered her head in shame.