Chapter 18
GIANA
It’sthe final presentation of the night.
As I stand onstage with Isabella and Dante, the applause is music to my ears. While the gala was a fundraiser, and an elite line of Leto Designs was auctioned, along with luxury holiday destinations and sailing vacations from her wealthy friends, I don’t see the need for me to be here. While I am an employee and business partner when it comes to my designs, the gala was organized by the Leto family. Isabella and Dante are the stars. I’m just on the sidelines. For years, I felt part of the family. Now…
“Now we dance,” Dante whispers in my ear.
I stare up into his brown eyes, pools of chocolate that once melted my heart. “Dance?”
“The formalities are over, and the fun begins.”
Isabella waves to the crowd as Dante and I leave the stage. He is handsome and full of class in his designer suit, but there is nothing that makes me want to be with him anymore.
“I can’t. I’m driving to my villa tonight. I need to check a few things before I fly out in a few days.”
He takes the first step and turns to take my hand to assist me down the stairs. “Are you listing it for sale?”
I shake my head. “It’s why I want to oversee some things.” I take his hand and look up before the final step. The large wooden doors to the ballroom are open, with some guests exiting the room. A tallish man in a suit stands by the door, and his heated gaze meets mine.
“Do you need me to accompany you to your room?”
I let go of Dante’s hand and tear my gaze from the man who has my heart to focus on Dante. “Thank you, but I am with someone. He is here, and we are leaving tonight. Tell Isabella I’ll speak with her at the next meeting on Monday.”
Dante turns and easily spots Byron standing by the door waiting for me since his eyes are locked on us.
“I want you to introduce us,” he says with authority.
Not a good idea!
“Perhaps another time. We’re in hurry.”
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Go to him, and I’ll fetch your purse and bring it to you.”
“Okay.” My voice breaks. Dante sounds genuine, so maybe I’m overthinking this.
Lifting my dress a few inches, I move toward Byron, remaining on the edge of the crowd.
“Hey.” I reach up and kiss him. “You’re overdressed for a road trip.”
His brows are tight. “I arrived an hour ago hoping to sneak in and stand at the back. I wanted to see you onstage.”
“Sneak in?” I rasp. “It’s not a sneak-in type of event, and you’re not that person.”
“No. And my status holds no sway here. Security didn’t care. Though I did get a glimpse, and I saw the last few minutes.”
I giggle. “Wow. They didn’t fall to your charm.”
A gentle hand rests on my shoulder. “La tua borsa, bella signora.” Your purse, beautiful lady.Dante speaks in the sexy Italian accent that caught my attention the first time we met. His words are not a threat to Byron, but he says it in a way to make Byron feel just that.
Dante smiles down at me for a moment too long before looking at Byron. “Ciao, sono Dante Leto, un buon amico di Giana.” Hello, I am Dante Leto, a good friend of Giana.
Dante has spoken to me in English all night, and now he chooses to speak in Italian?
Before I can translate for an informal introduction, Byron speaks first. He holds out his hand, and I’m sure he wants to crush Dante’s fingers. “Byron Hendricks. Sono il ragazzo di Gigi.” Byron Hendricks. I’m Gigi’s boyfriend.
I stare at Byron, surprised he knows more than ciao and arrivederci.
His girlfriend. It rolled easily off his tongue. I push it out of my mind and glance down at their hands, still locked in a fierce handshake.
I press a palm to their locked fingers. “Byron, we have a long drive ahead of us.” I stand between them. “I’ll see you on Monday, Dante.” I place a hand on Byron’s back and head out of the ballroom.
“That wasn’t awkward at all,” I say sarcastically as Byron and I reach the foyer.
He glances down at me, his expression taut. I sense he wants to say more about what just happened. Instead, he remains tight-lipped, takes my hand, and walks briskly toward the doors and hands the valet his card.
“Do we need to return to our room?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I have everything in the car.”
“I need to change.”
“Later.”
His gaze focuses on each car picking up guests and driving away.
His car arrives. Byron opens the door for me. “Thank you.” He closes the door, and I look over the seat to see some clothes and…
My hand goes to my throat. Byron slides in and smirks when he sees what has caught my attention. He picks up the bunch of red roses. “These are for you.” He hands them to me and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I am proud of you, Gi. You rocked it on the stage. You’re a natural.”
I peer into the petals and inhale the sweet scent, closing my eyes as joy fills me. I’m energized and equally calmed, filled with hope, and can see a future of contentment.
“Thank you,” I say excitedly. “It’s so thoughtful of you.”
I never imagined Byron to be a romantic or envisioned us ever getting back together. It’s why Mom always told me never to assume or rule anything out. While something might be wrong for you at a certain point in time, it may be the perfect fit in another.
The present always changes.
Our path in life fluctuates with every decision.
I believe in destiny.
Fate.
Maybe we are soulmates, and while our decisions affected our relationship years ago, we were destined to eventually end up together.
Or maybe we are destined to right our wrongs, forgive each other, make peace, yet not remain together.
I take another deep breath to be hit with the dopamine of happiness from the roses, engraving the memory of this night into my brain. The present is what we have, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it with Byron.
I keep hold of the flowers until we are on the highway heading toward Pescara and then making our way south along the coast.
Even with the cool air blowing on my face, I need to change. “We’ll need to stop for coffee and so I can get out of this dress.”
Byron glances at me, his gaze lowering to my chest. “I like you in that dress… though it would be better if you stripped out of it now.”
“And then we wouldn’t arrive by tonight.”
A smile grows on his lips while his gaze returns to the road. “What’s wrong with sleeping in the car?”
I shake my head.
“Judging by the way you’re perving at my boobs, we wouldn’t be sleeping.”
“I can’t help it if I’m already planning what I want to do to each breast. To all of you.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for you to have me all to yourself.”
Laughterin the distance and the quiet hum of music invades my brain. Slowly, I wake and realize where I am.
I swallow and sit up straight. “I’m sorry. I must have dozed for a while.” As I stare out to the lit-up streets, my thoughts catch up.
“For the last hour,” Byron jokes. “Not even the potholes or bumpy roads woke you.”
“You get used to them.” I adjust my seat as my senses catch up. Byron is driving at ten miles an hour. Stringed lights shine over restaurants, and chairs and tables line the walkway. There is barely enough room for the car on this one-way road, which isn’t much of a road but more like a cobblestone path. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It’s not what I expected,” he murmurs as the street narrows further.
I’m bursting with excitement for him to see my villa. “That’s a good thing, right?” We slow to almost a walking pace. “Park anywhere here. We need to walk the rest of the way.”
The look Byron gives me makes me giggle.
A few minutes later, we collect our bags from the trunk. I grab my flowers from the back seat, hold my heels by the straps, and walk barefoot the few hundred yards along irregular alleys to my villa.
It’s after two in the morning, and the alleys are pumping with romantic music, laughter, and song. While I love LA, I feel most alive here in a small historic town in Northern Puglia.
“We have to take the stairs,” I tell Byron. Patrizia, the elderly lady who oversees my villa, is usually asleep as soon as the sun goes down. Byron carries our two small suitcases, and I have my roses and purse. His gaze lifts to the fa?ade—an ancient, weathered limestone wall facing the street with yellow halos from the lamp-shaped wall lights. From here, I see what has caught his eye and assume his thoughts. Above us, a wooden balustrade is nailed to the wall over arched wooden doors. “The balustrade is for safety, so they can open the doors for fresh air.”
“Not a balcony,” he murmurs. His gaze roams the wall encompassing the minute, compact residences as though they were a single building.
He follows me to the terraced alley behind the building.
“Mi scusi.” Excuse me. We bump and pass people on the stairs. I smile, excited to be here, as we weave the windy stone steps dividing buildings with terracotta potted flowers, pink bougainvillea creeping toward the sky like an abstract painting on the wall. Single chairs, blue or yellow, sit beside doorways. Lifting the hem of my dress so I can lift a leg, I lead Byron to the second level, where the stairs level out to a string of balconies with a low stone wall. We stop at my entrance, which has dead leaves scattered over it.
What was I thinking, bringing Byron here to impress him? It’s been empty for months and is far from perfect.
“It needs a sweep,” I say apologetically.
“Not the first thing to come to mind.”
I lean over and place my flowers and purse on the ground before easing my rear onto the stone wall and lifting my legs over, groaning as the dress restricts my movement.
“Shit.” My dress.
“Giana, allow me to help you,” Byron says, dropping the bags over the ledge and almost scaling it like a hurdle.
“I have done this many a time. Double back to what you said. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?” He watches me as I lift an upturned pot to retrieve a key.
“That anyone could easily break into your villa,” he emphasizes, staring at the pot.
I love my caring man. “It’s safe here. People respect each other. If anyone were to break in, it would be Patrizia leaving food, and she has a key.”
“I suspect Patrizia is not a sexy young woman who has a smile that lights up a room and a body that sends men crazy with desire?”
I push the key into the lock and turn to Byron before unlocking the heavy wooden door. “No,” I whisper. “She is not since she is a widower with no children and in her mideighties.”
He was referencing me?
I turn the key, open the door, and touch the wall for the lights. A dusty smell wafts around us. Flick. Flick, flick. No power. Shit.
“Maybe I missed a bill. I’ll pay at the post office tomorrow.”
Byron pulls out his cell and turns on the flashlight. He shines it around the room.
“It’s a little dusty,” I say quickly. “I’ll open the windows.”
I stride to the other side of the room and push open the shutters that open against the exterior wall. A buzz of energy from the nearby streets fills my room. Excitement is in the air, along with shouts of laughter and the scent of herbs and pizza. Leaning over the ledge, I peer down into the alley below. Byron joins me, and his gaze lowers to the street instead of up to the stars.
“It smells divine.”
I point to the opposite corner. “That’s my favorite restaurant. The best pizza and pasta in the world. Do you want to head down and try it?” I ask, failing to contain my excitement upon hearing the vibrant chatter below.
He leans in and kisses my lips. “I’d rather stay here with you.”
“Byron, we have the rest of the night. I want you to experience the culture with me while you’re here. We’re both dressed to party. Besides, you said you didn’t need sleep.”
He grumbles something before kissing me again. “Let’s not eat our body weight in pizza, or we’ll be in a food coma.”
I grin at him. “I wouldn’t dare do that to you.”
Finding my purse and flat shoes under the light of his cell, I take Byron’s hand and lead him down the dark stairs to my front door. “There’s a tiny laundry, bathroom, and a bedroom where I keep my paint supplies,” I say, pointing behind us. I open the huge wooden door with its iron frame. It creaks as it closes behind us with a clunk.
“Did you grab a key?”
“Patrizia has this door key. I have the balcony key.”
His brow lifts slightly before focusing on the restaurant across the cobbled street. I take his hand and walk into the small restaurant.
“Giana,” Roberto sings. “Mi sei mancata.”
I tell him I have also missed him. Roberto is a jovial, round-bellied man with graying brows and receding hair. I order a margherita pizza, a dish of marinara spaghetti, and Roberto’s famous monkfish dish. He tells me to sit at my favorite table—outside so I can people-watch. But tonight, I’ll only have eyes for one person.
Byron shakeshis head as he finishes a shot of limoncello.
I giggle at his reaction. “It’s delicious, right?”
“It’s something else.” He wipes his mouth as he eyes the last piece of pizza. “It’s all yours. I couldn’t eat another piece, even though I want to.”
“I craved it every day, living with all the aromas that filtered into my room. While I was often alone, Roberto and others made me feel like part of their family.”
Byron’s brow pinches as I sense his thoughts whirling. “Dante wasn’t here with you?”
“Sometimes. While I spent many weekends at one of his many homes or on the yacht, I needed my time here to unwind and clear my head. It’s different here, more me than the bustling cities. I still love Rome and the vibrant street life at night, but I feel more at home here in my little villa. I have some fun art on the walls and decorated it in a way I like, not all designer pieces and expensive art. Dante is a collector of valuable things.”
“My guess is he wants to add you to his collection.”
“I cannot be owned, Byron. If I feel trapped, I’ll panic.” He smiles at me and lowers his gaze as though he is collecting his thoughts. While I want to be his and for him to be mine, it’s more about trust, not ownership, and not like the way Dante wanted to control me. “For a long time, I allowed him to tell me what to do. It’s why I needed to spend time here and just breathe. Be myself.”
His lips press into a thin line, and I sense I hit a nerve. “Why did you allow him that control over you?”
I let out a long sigh. “I wanted to fit in.” I reach over the table and take his hand. “Remember in high school how I never fit in with the it girls? I hung out with Paige, Mason, you, and a few others. I would often spend lunch alone to finish some art pieces as Paige could float from one group to another. She wasn’t popular and wasn’t a geek, but she could mingle with everyone. I felt lucky to be friends with you both. But when you trained most lunchtimes, I would be alone in the art room. I heard whispers, so I avoided people.”
I thought his brow was pinched before, but now, it’s like a porch over his eyes.
“You were the hottest girl at school,” he rasps. “I never thought of you being lonely. Merely focused, like me.”
I give him a warm smile. “I was glad I had you as a friend… most times.”
“Friends…” He fiddles with his designer wristwatch. “I always wanted you, Gigi. But I needed to keep my eye on the ball. In a way, I always thought we would end up together somehow, and… here we are.”
“Really? I’d hoped, but when I was here, I stopped believing we had a future.”
He tilts his head back. “I was an idiot,” he whispers.
“Byron…” I wait for him to look at me. “I don’t regret a thing. We made mistakes, learned, grew, and became better people for it. It was a part of finding ourselves. While I loved being part of Dante’s fancy world, I don’t need to be lavished and worshiped with gifts and expensive playthings. It was fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t me. It was too much, a distraction to finding myself, so I had to keep taking time out for me. And those times when I needed to be by myself, Dante thought it was okay to be in bed with someone else. The same old story… it wasn’t love with them, just sex. He loved me.”
“Why am I torn between wanting to hurt him and thanking him?” He squeezes my hand, his eyes searching my face for understanding. “I hate that he hurt you, Gi.”
I smile at my beautiful, handsome man. “I allowed him to hurt me. I knew he was a playboy, even though he loved me. Deep down, I knew we had an expiration date.” I glance at the ladies sitting at a nearby table, admiring my man. “I wonder how you would cope with all the attention here?”
“What do you mean?”
“The ladies at the next table can’t take their eyes off you, and it’s not about your status as an elite athlete. You’re a sexy man. You’d probably be treated like a god. I’m glad you’re wearing a shirt.”
A smirk grows on his lips. “Thank fuck I can’t read their thoughts.”
“If you knew what I’m thinking right now…”
Byron stands and takes my hand. “It’s time for us to go. I want to know exactly what you’re thinking.”