by Tara Pammi
“I have to get ready. There’s a designer launch in Milan. I have to show my face.” Although the thought of being in front of cameras right now made her want to throw up.
Vincenzo followed her down the steps. “I contacted your agent and got you out of it.”
Alex stilled. “What? That’s... How dare you?”
“Alessandra, you look like you’ll collapse if someone blows hard enough.”
“And whose fault is that? I just spent an entire week going through my mother’s things. Sorting what to keep and what to give away. For Charlie. Her entire life...in boxes, V. Then I came back to this. I know why you can’t forgive Greta for what she did to you and your mother. Even I can’t. But...have you thought for one minute that I might actually need you? That I might want to lean on you?”
“Of course, yes.”
“I’m so foolish. I can’t believe I actually thought it would be a good idea for you to be here. You’re right. I’m pathetic and—”
His arms enveloped her so tightly that Alex was forced to stop shivering. “Shh...tesoro. Shh...breathe, Alessandra.”
“Sometimes, I feel so alone. It doesn’t matter what I do, or where I run. In the end, I’m always terrifyingly alone.”
“Look at me, bella. Concentrate on me.”
Alex looked up and the panic that had been closing in on her receded. She focused on her reflection in the gray of his eyes. Breathed in until that fresh, crisp scent of him was an anchor in her blood. Let herself drown in the warmth his body gave off.
A tear rolled down her cheek and he held her gently. As if she was the most precious thing in his life. “You’re not alone, Alessandra. I’m here. Mi dispiace... I’m sorry, you were right. I forget how much you’ve been through.”
In that moment, he was the haven she’d been looking for all her life. He was the prince she’d always wanted. He held her heart in the palm of his hand.
And Alex wanted nothing more than to sink into his strong body. Nothing more than to share the grief that choked her sometimes. Nothing more than to give herself over to him.
But the girl who’d been seen by her own mother as a punishment, the girl who’d always wondered what she’d done wrong, the girl whose heart had been seriously dented over the last few months, reared its head. Bringing rationality along.
She looked up into those magnetic eyes, forcing herself to break the spell. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you act as if this marriage is so important to you?”
His curse rang around in the garden. “Because it is.” He ran a hand through his hair and she realized, even he didn’t know why. “It just is.” But the conviction she wanted was there. In his gaze. In the set of his mouth.
“Why?” she pushed, instinctively realizing they were standing on the cusp of something vital.
“Because you made me see a future for myself. All my life, I had no plans beyond the destruction of the Brunettis. I came to Bali because I had been so curious about you, about your role within the family. But when I got there, when we met, it... I have never acted like this with a woman before. There’s no precedent for my actions.”
A burst of air burned her lungs as Alex took in a deep breath. All around her, fragrance filled the air. The sounds and scents of life itself underscoring the hope flickering in her chest.
He was right. She couldn’t do justice to anyone this way, sitting on the fence in the middle of everyone. She had to choose. She wanted to choose him. She wanted to bridge this gap between them. She wanted to hope that everything would turn out for the best.
“You really want to spend time with me?”
“I’ve barely seen you for more than a few hours since the wedding. Either you’re finishing off a contract, or saving them from me, or showing up for Charlie on the other side of the world.” His thumb traced the dark circles under her eyes. “I would feel quite the neglected husband if I didn’t see that you’re neglecting yourself too.”
She shrugged. But she couldn’t conjure the energy to dislodge his hands. No, she didn’t want to dislodge them. She was tired of fighting. She wanted to be held. By him. It was an ache in her belly, this want. “We both have busy lifestyles.”
“I miss you, bella. That’s why I moved in here. I miss—” he swallowed, his eyes glinting with desire and awareness, slamming into Alex like a bulldozer “—spending time with you.”
She snorted, a lightness filling her despite the emotional roller coaster of the last week. It was hard not to be moved by the raw need in those eyes. “You mean you miss sex?”
“Si.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I miss having sex with you.”
And just like that, he felled her where she stood with that raw admission, with that naked hunger he made no attempt to hide in his eyes.
Electricity arced between them, and she found herself swaying toward him. Every cell in her begging to give in.
His palm kneaded her hip with gentle pressure, his powerful thighs teasing sinuously against her own. “Stop running away, Alex,” he whispered in her ear.
He touched his mouth to the line of her jaw, his breath a caress against her skin. Heart beating a thousand to the minute, Alex leaned into him. Those soft lips drew a lightning path down her cheek until they reached the corner of her mouth. And stilled. A meteor dropping on them couldn’t have moved her then.
“Maybe catch up on your sleep first, bella.
“Because we have a lot to make up for.”
Vincenzo closed the door of Alessandra’s bedroom softly behind him. The gaunt set of her face—maledizione, she looked like stretched glass—haunted him as he walked through the long corridor toward the room he had set up as a temporary study.
Lust he understood. She was gorgeous and more than matched his appetite in bed.
But this tenderness when he’d found her fast asleep on top of the bedcovers, still in the sweats and old T-shirt she’d worn this evening, dark shadows under her eyes—this he didn’t understand.
He stayed inattentive all through the conference call with Massimo and BFI’s CFO, two of the most dynamic board members of BFI, both Leo’s recruits.
Frustration raked through him as the call ended. The second man left while Massimo closed his laptop with a hard thud that spoke all too loud.
“You won’t find anything against him,” Massimo said calmly.
“What?” Vincenzo spat out, his mind all too focused on his wife. And the very real grief he’d glimpsed in her eyes earlier that evening. Grief for her mother that she still refused to share with him.
“You won’t find any dirt on Leo. Or me, for that matter.”
Vincenzo looked back at the younger man he was unwillingly coming to more than respect. “Look, Massimo—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Cavalli. You’ve been like a rabid dog these past few weeks trying to find ammunition against Leo.
“The men who are hungrily following in your wake to oust him...those are the kind of men Leo took on in the first place in his fight to turn BFI around. Who didn’t agree with him when he instituted an ethics committee, who didn’t want to give up even a small share of their profits to clean up the mess Silvio created.
“But then you already know all this.”
Massimo picked up his laptop and crossed the room. “For a man who hates the name Brunetti and everything it stands for, you very much act like one, Cavalli.”
The air left his lungs as if he’d been gut punched. “Don’t you dare—”
“No? It’s a Brunetti trait to destroy the very people who might save us.
“Didn’t you realize that in all the research you did on us? Didn’t Natalie tell you I almost lost her because of how screwed up I had been? Isn’t that what you’re doing to Alex?
“Our father—si, our father,” he emphasized w
hen Vincenzo flinched, “drove away two good women who could have turned him away from his destructive path.
“See this through and you’re truly his son. More than Leo and I have ever been.”
Massimo’s words ate through Vincenzo like acid, eating away at his resolution, corroding his certainty.
Destroy the name Brunetti and everything it entailed in this world. That had been his goal for so long. A number of people were counting on him.
But the Brunettis were men he was coming to see as more than honorable. Despite all his aggressive tactics, there had been no attempt at retaliation from either.
In fact, they had invited him into their home, the very home he wanted to ruin.
All the evidence only pointed to the fact that they cared about what he did to Alessandra. Not to them.
He had started on this path to right a multitude of wrongs, yes. But he never wanted to hurt an innocent in the process. He was beginning to feel like a man caught uncomfortably between his past and present. A man caught between his promises and his own selfishness.
And the woman he’d married so impulsively, who’d looked today as if he was breaking her apart, she was caught in the middle of it all with him.
Alex stood inside the huge BFI office that Leonardo occupied, indecision cleaving her in half. She had a decision to make. Vincenzo had been right. And the fact that she’d turned up here meant a part of her had already made it.
But she couldn’t just leave things in limbo anymore. Not after she’d learned about Antonio and all the people who’d been harmed by Silvio Brunetti. Not after finally understanding the burden Vincenzo had been living with for so many years, the burden that fueled his need for justice.
Now she knew what fired him. He was still wrong, but God, she couldn’t just walk away from him. She couldn’t just sit tight while there was still a chance that she could do something to help him heal.
“Did you mean what you said at the villa yesterday?” she asked the question before the vulnerability she felt swallowed it up. Before she second-guessed herself again.
Leo and Massimo turned as one, Milan’s skyline behind them a beautiful blend of orange and blue. Shock and concern played on their achingly familiar faces as they took her in.
“Alex? Is everything okay?” Leo asked, coming away from his desk. His tie had been undone, and his jacket discarded. Alex saw the lines of worry that had deepened on his face and felt guilt slam into her yet again. God, he was already worried about Neha and the babies she carried since her blood pressure was too high. Now she...
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
Massimo moved like lightning, blocking her before she could take two steps away. “No, bella. Don’t run away.”
“Of course I meant every word,” Leo said behind her, his words ringing with conviction. He clasped her shoulder and squeezed. “This is not, and never was your battle to fight, Alex. You don’t owe us anything.”
Alex took a deep breath and turned around. For as long as she’d known him, Leonardo had been fair and honorable, determined to be different from the man who’d sired him.
His gaze swept over hers with concern, and he sighed. “Say what’s on your mind, Alex.”
“I know you can’t forgive Vincenzo for what he’s doing. For everything he’s already done. But I understand his reasons now. For years, he’s been caught up in this, fighting for justice for people who can’t demand it for themselves. And while he’s laying the blame at the wrong feet, his reasons are...painfully just. I need you guys to believe me that he’s not...a monster. I can’t...go on with my marriage if you think that. I just can’t. You are both too important to me. You’re family.”
“And nothing will change that, Alex. We already know he’s not a monster, bella,” Massimo interjected, coming to stand by her. “Even if we forget, Natalie reminds us daily. Any man who willingly helps a lost teenager couldn’t be one.”
“And will you forgive me if I...stay with him?”
Massimo whistled and Leo sent him a glare. “You don’t need forgiveness. Alex, this is your life. Your happiness. Whatever choice you make, we’ll still love you.” Leo sighed. “As long as he doesn’t hurt you.”
“He won’t,” Alex said, not knowing where the words came from. Where the trust came from.
But she’d done enough running in her life, lost enough by not staying and fighting. Her mother was never coming back. And she couldn’t bear to lose this chance with Vincenzo too.
When she spoke, her words rang with conviction. “He won’t hurt me, Leo. He has reasons for his actions. So many of them. He can’t see anything else right now. But there’s more to him than this revenge. He’s a man worth standing by. And I want to try.”
Massimo wrapped his arm around her, as if he could sense how tightly stretched she was. “We’ve been preparing for the worst for a long time, bella. Before he stepped into your life.”
“And even if he takes everything we have built, we’ll rebuild again. He’s not going to make us destitute, Alex. I hope you have that much trust in us,” Leo added archly, and Alex smiled, despite the tears in her eyes.
How could Vincenzo not see what these men were made of? How could he not see that despite Silvio Brunetti’s horrendous actions, these men shared the same code of honor he himself lived by?
“In the big scheme of things, BFI and the villa matter very little. Both Massimo and I have learned that lesson the hard way. Neha and the babies, Natalie...the people who matter the most to us, we will still have them even if Vincenzo takes everything else, si?
“So you do what feels right to you. You do whatever your heart wants, Alex, and we’re right behind you,” Leo finished, reaching for her.
Alex went into his arms and buried her face in the familiar scent of him. This was what family meant. And this was what Vincenzo had never known. This was what she wanted to build with him, for her and for Charlie. And for V.
She was going to take the leap.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VINCENZO OPENED THE door and walked in. For a few seconds, he stood still, disoriented. He had given Alessandra more than a few days to recover. And she had taken to hiding in here, not just from him, but from everyone.
The conservatory was all glass on one side, giving a spectacular view of the lake. It was ablaze with lights and looked like a thunderstorm had raged through it and left utter chaos in its wake.
Boxes and boxes—some closed, the majority open with overflowing fabrics in every imaginable color—lay haphazardly around the vast room.
The surface of a dark mahogany table peeked from under a surfeit of sketchbooks and papers. Vincenzo picked up a book and rifled through hundreds of pages of sketches and designs, from elaborate evening dresses to stylish work shirts and suits. Two state-of-the-art sewing machines sat at a far corner and two mobile racks held dresses and other accessories in varying stages of completion.
A sheaf of papers had different versions of the same logo—a curlicued A and A wrapped around each other in different sizes. He was about to call out Alex’s name when he heard a hiccup from the other end of the vast room.
Slowly, he made his way through the jumbled mess on the floor to the other end of the room, where a partition separated the work area from this second area. Sitting on the floor, with a half-empty wineglass and a bottle of red, was Alessandra. With her back to him.
Vincenzo took a few seconds to breathe through the desire that hit him like a gut punch.
She was wearing a white, wispy lace thing that plunged into a deep V at her back, showing off the toned musculature. Silky smooth, golden skin beckoned him for a touch.
While he watched in bemused fascination, she emptied her wineglass and hiccuped again.
“Alessandra?” He called out softly so as to not spook her.
She turned and threw him a glance over
her shoulder, then looked away. In the brilliance of the lights, the tears in her eyes looked like crystals.
The slippery whisper of the silk of her dress made him look down. To sit comfortably, she had pulled fistfuls of fabric away from her long legs. The result was that it was gathered around her upper thighs all but baring every inch of her gorgeous body to his hungry gaze.
Vincenzo went to his knees next to her and gently placed his hand over her bare shoulder. Her skin felt freezing to his touch, though the room was comfortably warm. “Cristo, you’re like ice!” He spread his fingers around desperate to warm her up.
“What?” She jerked, as if coming out of a trance. Dislodging his fingers in the process. “Oh, the cold, you mean? Yeah, I’m always cold,” she said in a nasal voice that confirmed that she’d been crying.
For a few seconds, he got distracted by a memory from Bali. He had been startled awake from a deep sleep early one morning to find her wound around him. But what had woken him had been her cold feet tucked into the groove between his own ankles.
He had gone back to sleep, a smile on his lips, his heart brimming with a feeling he couldn’t define. It had been a perfect morning.
“You know, when we met...it’s so silly,” she muttered and then laughed at herself. “I used to think it was so utterly romantic that you were always warm. As if there was a...volcano inside you. I actually took that as some sort of sign. That you’d always warm me up. For the rest of our lives.
“Can you believe the depth of my foolishness?”
He slid to the floor with not quite the economy he usually had, her words hitting him hard. The ache in them cutting deep. “It’s not foolish, cara mia.”
She tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear, and he noticed the dangly diamond earrings glittering at her ears, the drop at the bottom kissing her shoulder every time she moved. An elegant choker—a matching set with the earrings, glimmered at her neck. Her dress, now that he was noticing things other than her painfully lovely face, was of a rich lace and ivory silk material. And it fit her to perfection.
