Chapter Fourteen #3
He uncrossed his legs and rubbed absently at a red patch left on the flesh of his knee.
‘I’m not going. She said there’s nothing I can do and she’s right.
All authority over the hotel was removed from me before I ever came home to Como.
Her bank’s making it possible for her to trade while the preliminary investigation takes place.
And,’ he added flatly, ‘she says she can’t face me, not when she was the one who enabled Teddy’s shenanigans and I might lose everything. ’
Mentally, Jade gave points to Isabella for a moral compass she wouldn’t have suspected her of possessing.
When he lapsed into brooding silence, she unzipped her bag and produced the bottle of Ledaig Scotch whisky she’d collected before coming, and two tumblers. Placing them on the table to glow in the sunlight, she lifted a questioning brow.
The faintest of smiles flickered. ‘Yes, please.’ His gaze followed her movements as she poured two generous tots.
Jade knew that Leo might not need to literally cry on her shoulder, as she’d cried on his, but by taking him what Gran would have called ‘a wee dram’, she’d shown him she cared about his pain.
‘Where does this leave you with Hotel Casa Leonardo?’ She wafted away an insect that buzzed up to investigate the contents of her glass.
He hesitated until she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, he said, ‘I hadn’t made a formal offer. I could just do nothing while I wait for this to be sorted.’
Carefully, she said, ‘No one could blame you for that.’
‘But,’ he continued. ‘That’s not really my way. I called them to explain the situation. They said they have interest from someone else, so I bowed out.’
Glass poised halfway to her lips, she shot a startled glance at his firm profile and the hair blowing over his forehead. ‘But you wanted that hotel.’
He shrugged. Then he turned to her with the first proper smile she’d seen from him today.
‘Don’t mention this in front of Mum yet, in case she gets her hopes up, but I’ve seen a project in Como that might work for me.
It’s a block of holiday apartments, so I wouldn’t be in direct competition with Villa Panorama.
But I can’t do anything until I find out about my money.
And I might have to accept . . .’ He swallowed audibly.
‘I might never get it back. Or by the time it’s returned, it’s too late for that project.
’ His eyes darkened. ‘And . . .’ He drew in a deep breath, then let it out on a rush of words.
‘I can’t help thinking that if I stay here, something big might be possible. ’
She’d been about to touch his arm and commiserate over the frightening prospect of losing all his money, or maybe embarking on a soul-destroying court case, but now she frowned uncertainly. ‘If you do buy the apartments? There’s great scope for them as a business, you mean?’
‘Yes, that. But I mean . . . personally.’ His eyes were mesmerising as he reached out and took her hand. ‘I’ve missed you this week. I’ve only been back in Italy for a couple of months, but all my favourite times have been spent with you. Even if it was only making a bed.’
‘Oh,’ she said faintly, confused at this tangent, gazing down at his hand, bigger and browner than hers, his long, strong fingers hot against her skin. Her heart began a slow bump-bump-bump that seemed to fill not just her chest, but her throat.
He went on. ‘I think we both need someone who knows us.’
His voice was so deep she felt it on her skin. It took an effort to meet that intent gaze again. ‘You have your parents and brother.’
He grimaced comically. ‘But they’re my parents and my brother. They’re focused on their lives and I want to focus on mine. I want to ask you out to dinner and for you to say yes.’
Her heart gave a peculiar shudder. She used her free hand to lift the whisky tumbler to her lips and sip, feeling the fiery liquid burn all the way down. ‘As friends?’
His dark brows curled over the bridge of his nose. ‘The word “friends” seems like a cul-de-sac full of potholes. Could we say that I’d like us to see each other?’
‘See.’ She tried the word on her tongue. ‘Seeing’s a flexible term. It’s not exclusive or committed.’
‘It’s not committed . . . yet. But it isn’t friends.’ He gave her his sudden, boyish grin.
Jade tried to think clearly, objectively. What would she say to Vittoria or Carlotta if they were in this situation? Do you want to see him? He hurt you once before, ripping up your heart to use as a doormat on his way out of our beautiful city.
But they were older now, not struggling with first love and his ambition versus her ideals.
Seeing each other was a mature, adaptable way of exploring whatever might develop between the adult them.
Her heart gave the same giant bound as she’d once experienced in one of the seaplanes taking off across the surface of the lake.
She licked her lips. ‘Seeing would be OK.’ Quickly, as his eyes lit up, she added, ‘No commitment, no promises.’ She was telling herself as much as him, but she treated him to a level look, as if setting boundaries for his heart rather than her own.
‘As Gran used to say, “Make your plans in pencil.” ’
His smile didn’t dim. ‘But she also said, “Live your life in colour.” ’
Her heart squeezed at this indication of how well he remembered her beloved grandmother. ‘If this summer’s taught us anything, it’s that the unexpected might happen.’ Like you leaving again.
‘Unexpected sisters?’ he asked.
She grimaced. ‘Or unexpectedly disappearing money.’
He reached for the bottle. ‘I think this calls for more whisky.’
She checked her watch. ‘Dammit, I can’t. I need to get back.’ She jumped up.
He rose too, taller than her even in bare feet. Picking up the bottle, he screwed on the cap and slipped it back into her bag. Then he smiled. ‘See you soon.’
It sounded like an interesting promise. She found herself smiling back, right into his gunmetal eyes.
‘OK.’ She hesitated over whether to offer a hug, then jumped as he lifted her hands and pressed his lips to the backs, before drawing closer to brush hot kisses on her cheeks.
His scent seemed to engulf her, filling her senses, making the air around them shimmer with promise.
She stepped backwards so suddenly she almost slipped off the terrace. ‘OK.’ Then she turned and hurried away. Letting herself out through the gate and past two smiling women holding hands, she felt unreal. She’d come to console Leo . . . and left agreeing to see him?
Not commitment. Not even sex. But something.
It was hard to concentrate even on crossing Viale Gino to the broad lakeside prom, hurrying past the marina of small watercraft sunbathing behind the breakwater.
Fluttering anxiety warred with flickers of hope.
The urge was strong to protect herself by taking out her phone and calling Leo, saying, ‘No, we’ve got this all wrong.
The past is past. Let’s just be friends. ’
But when she reached the pensione she found Yara dealing with a grumpy, red-faced British woman who was aggrieved breakfast hours couldn’t be extended to eleven. ‘We’re on holiday, for goodness’ sake!’
Jade slid behind the counter instead of returning to the apartment to scramble back into her black dress, and wrong-footed the complaining woman by awarding her a giant smile.
Utilising the combination of charm and cheek that Gran used to pull off so well, she apologised that extending breakfast was not possible.
‘But it’s so good. It really is worth getting up for. ’
From her bag, her phone buzzed extra loudly, maybe vibrating against the whisky bottle. She hoped she wasn’t breathing fumes over the moaning guest.
The woman glared at Jade’s bag. ‘I think somebody wants to talk to you.’ She made it sound as if Jade had deliberately encouraged an interruption.
Jade only made her smile sweeter. ‘But I’m already talking to you. How are you finding Como? I’ve lived here all my life and I love it.’
Plainly flattered, the woman forgot her irritation and began telling Jade that Lake Como was the deepest lake in Italy, as if Jade wouldn’t know.
Finally, after a whole lot of being affable and marvelling at the lady’s local knowledge, Jade waved her off to enjoy her evening, slipped back into the apartment to change, checked her phone and found a message from Leo.
Dinner tomorrow?
She typed back, before she could second guess herself.
OK
Immediately he replied.
I’ll cook. Pick you up and bring you back to Villetta Nascosta.
Probably he was falling into Italian ways again by offering to pick her up – especially as he didn’t have a car as far as she knew, so he’d walk from Villetta Nascosta to Pensione Three Sisters and back again. She answered:
No need. See you there around 7.45.
Neither of them said: This is like old times.
Because it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
But new times? What would they look like?