by Susanna Carr
“Antonio, why did you have such a difficult relationship with your brother?”
Antonio frowned, and she felt the mood shift in the small confines of the car. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“I know, but I feel like I’m missing a huge piece of the puzzle.” If she had known their history she could have avoided so much heartache. But some instinct warned her that Antonio would have kicked her out sooner or later even without his brother’s interference. “What happened between you two?”
Antonio felt Isabella looking at him, curious and expectant. He knew he owed it to her. It wasn’t just about him and his brother. Isabella had been affected, too.
“My brother and I were close when we were young,” he said, looking straight ahead as he drove through the busy streets. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered how much fun he’d once had with his brother. “My parents didn’t have any more children so it was just the two of us. I often heard us described as the heir and the spare.”
“Ouch. That’s not very nice. Did they said that to you?”
He didn’t care about the label anymore, but he found Isabella’s indignation a comfort. “The servants or guests would say it when they didn’t think I understood. Or when they thought I was out of earshot.”
“Still, that’s not something anyone should say about a child. It’s something he’d carry with him. Either he tries to live up to it or fight against it. It would have the power to define him.”
“I knew there was some truth to it,” he admitted. “My parents loved me, and I was cared for, but Gio was the center of attention. There were times when I felt envious and resentful, but as I got older I realized I was the lucky one.”
“Lucky? How can you say that?” she asked. “Your parents played favorites.”
Antonio glanced at Isabella. She was curled up against the passenger side door with her arms crossed. If she was trying to keep her distance she was failing miserably. Isabella was already taking sides in his story.
“I was lucky because I wasn’t pressured to perform better. My parents had high expectations for both of us, but I was lazy and unfocussed. Everyone knew that Gio was smarter, faster and better than me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“That’s not true,” Isabella said.
“It was at the time,” he said, frowning as he noticed how Isabella leapt to his defense. She’d used to do that when she read an unflattering news item about him, even when she didn’t have all the facts. “Or it could have been my family’s mindset. He was firstborn. He was the heir. Of course he was the best at everything.”
“That is so unfair,” she muttered. “I don’t know how you could have stood it.”
“Don’t worry, it didn’t last long,” Antonio said. He glanced at Isabella as the streetlights flickered through the window. She looked upset for the child he’d used to be. “I hit my stride in my late teens.”
“Uh-oh,” she said. “You shook up the status quo?”
He nodded. “We started getting competitive. Gio needed a challenge, but he never thought I would eclipse him. I was tired of hearing, ‘If only you were more like your brother …’ I wanted someone to say that to Gio. And they did, but not in the way I wanted.”
Isabella leaned closer. He caught a faint hint of her scent.
“What happened?”
Antonio shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “One day my father told us that he thought the Rossi empire was going to the wrong brother.”
Isabella’s gasp echoed in the car. “Why would he say that?”
“I think he said it to make Gio work harder. It made me work harder. I openly gloated, but I was secretly horrified.” He hated how he had felt. How he had acted. Antonio closed his eyes, wishing he could forget the devastation in Gio’s face. “For once I wasn’t the other brother. The spare. And I wasn’t going to have that taken away from me.”
Isabella scooted closer. “But being the heir was part of Giovanni’s identity?”
He nodded. “My father unintentionally created a chasm between Gio and me. Our competition wasn’t so friendly anymore. Gio saw me as a threat.”
She reached over and placed her hand on his arm. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, there wasn’t any physical fighting. And we were a team when we needed to be. But I learned to keep my thoughts private. I could never show what I wanted or what was important to me. Otherwise Gio would go after it.”
“Like what?” Isabella asked.
He shrugged. “It was little things at first. I saved up and bought a motorcycle, but I didn’t have it for more than a week before Gio stole it one night and wrecked it. Stuff like that.”
“I don’t consider that as little stuff,” Isabella said. “He destroyed your property. It was vandalism. It was wrong. Why didn’t your parents intervene?”
“At first they just believed that boys would be boys. Then they decided that it was a phase we would grow out of.”
“It sounds like they just didn’t want to take sides. Or deal with it,” she said, and gave a sympathetic squeeze on his arm.
“Probably.” He wanted to cover her hand with his and enjoy the feel of her. “Then it started to escalate. Sometimes I felt I was being paranoid. I had no proof he was behind the sabotage and the thefts, but I had my suspicions. And then we were in the running for the same honor at university. I knew he was going to pull something, but I didn’t think he would get me expelled.”
“He got you kicked out?” Isabella’s voice trembled with outrage. “That’s horrible. How did he do that?”
“He told the dean at the university that I was cheating and he manufactured evidence.” His voice was calm and controlled, but cold anger weighed heavily against him as he remembered the injustice. No one had believed him. And to add insult to injury Gio had been commended for making the difficult decision to reveal the deceit of his own brother.
“Couldn’t you have proved otherwise?” Isabella asked. “What about your parents? Didn’t they defend you?”
He shrugged his shoulders, hiding the hurt. “My mother believed I was set up, but not by Gio.” She had refused to hear a bad word about her firstborn, and Antonio still felt the sting of betrayal.
“And your father?”
The sting intensified. “He believed that I was cheating and that I had shamed the family,” he said quietly. It was hard to get the words out. “I was disinherited.”
“You were punished and Giovanni got away with it? Did you retaliate?”
“I wanted to, but my friends talked me out of it. They told me I was lucky to get out of that poisonous atmosphere and I needed to move on or it would destroy me. I knew they were right but I was still bitter.”
“Something tells me that’s an understatement,” Isabella said. “Now I understand what drives you to work so hard.”
It did have something to do with his success. He had something to prove. “Eventually my father welcomed me back into the family.” He smiled as he remembered the awkward reconciliation. “After I made my first million. My father was very proud of what I had achieved without his help.”
“And Giovanni never confessed?”
“No.” He didn’t know if Gio had kept silent because he’d wanted to enjoy the spoils of war or if he’d been afraid of what their disciplinarian father would have done if the truth came out. “I didn’t speak to Gio for years. Not until I saw him at my father’s funeral almost two years ago. He asked for forgiveness. It was sincere and genuine.”
That was what his instincts had told him, but now he wondered if he had gotten it wrong. Maybe he’d wanted to believe Gio and have his brother back.
Isabella pulled her hand away from him. “And were you able to forgive?”
“Not forgive so much as move on,” he admitted. “Gio should have felt secure. I didn’t think we were in competition anymore. But for some reason I didn’t trust that the treaty would last.”
“He was your competitor for lon
ger than he was your friend?”
Antonio nodded. That was why he’d he still been cautious around his brother. “I knew I had to keep my guard up. But I made a mistake.” He paused, unsure if he wanted to reveal this to Isabella. “I couldn’t hide how I felt about you.” He felt Isabella’s tension.
“So you think Giovanni went after me and I wasn’t able to resist his charms? That’s why you were so quick to believe him?”
“It fit his pattern. He went after something, or in this case someone, who was important to me.”
Isabella leaned back in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? You could have shared your concerns.”
“I didn’t think I had to.” He had trusted Isabella, but he’d seen how close she’d become with Gio. He’d thought that Isabella wouldn’t choose his brother over him. That she wasn’t capable of crossing that line. But Gio’s charm had been too seductive for her.
“It would have helped knowing that I was a target,” Isabella said. “Or maybe you wanted to test me?”
“Why would I do that?” he asked, suddenly weary.
“Did you ever consider that your brother knew he could sabotage our relationship with just a lie? All he had to do was raise suspicion.” She tossed her hands in the air. “He knew you wouldn’t open up and talk about it. That your suspicion would fester until finally you couldn’t trust me anymore.”
“That’s not what happened,” Antonio said as anger curled inside him. Why was he telling her any of this? He should have kept quiet.
Isabella crossed her arms. “Your brother’s ploy worked better than he could have imagined.”
Antonio gritted his teeth. “You’re giving Gio far more credit than he deserves.”
“Giovanni played on the weakness in our relationship,” she pointed out. “He was around enough to see what we couldn’t. He knew you wouldn’t talk about what was on your mind, and he knew I would do anything to get you back.”
Isabella’s words pricked at him. There was some truth in them. Hadn’t he learned anything from the past?
“You kept making the same mistakes with your brother,” Isabella accused. “But don’t worry, Antonio. I’ve learned my lesson. We weren’t meant to be together. I’m not fighting for us anymore.”
Her words were like a punch to his chest. He wanted to say something sarcastic. Something biting. But it would only reveal how much he felt the loss. Instead Antonio stared straight ahead and pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal. Isabella might not like it when he went quiet, but he had learned that silence was his best shield.
CHAPTER NINE
ISABELLA lay in bed wide awake and restless. Her bedsheet was tangled around her legs from her tossing and turning. The silence in Antonio’s apartment made her tense. She stared at the ceiling, wondering if she had made the right decision to come back here. Lately she’d made the wrong choices. Like Giovanni.
When she had slept with Antonio’s brother she had been drunk and deeply hurt. She blamed the alcohol, Giovanni—and herself. She didn’t remember a lot about that night, but she knew she had made the choice. She could have stopped it anytime.
But she hadn’t. Because she had been acting out. She had lost Antonio, allowed her dream to slip through her fingers, and she hadn’t known why. She had tried to blunt the pain with drinking and partying. She’d sought comfort where she shouldn’t have.
She couldn’t change the past, but Isabella knew she wouldn’t make those choices again. Next time she would recognize the warning signs of her own behavior. She’d have to; her baby was relying on her.
Isabella rubbed a protective hand over her stomach and heard a noise in the hallway. She lifted her head from the pillow and looked at the door. Her pulse skipped a beat when she saw a shadow underneath the door.
Antonio. He was coming to her. Finally.
She exhaled slowly as she stared at the strip of light underneath the door. She had been getting mixed signals from Antonio. He had refrained from touching her but she had felt his heated gaze. He had been the perfect gentleman but she sensed his self-control was barely contained.
Her restraint had been shaky, too. She wanted to be with him, but would it send her into a tailspin like last time? Did she want to be with him because she felt alone and scared of her future? Or did she want a do-over and nothing more?
Isabella watched the door as her heart pounded in her ears. Her chest was tight with anticipation. When she heard him mutter something softly in Italian and walk away, she bit her lip to prevent herself from calling out.
Antonio might want to relive the memories, but he obviously didn’t think it was worth the risk. He still didn’t trust her. Isabella sank back onto her pillow, disappointed.
She didn’t trust her decision-making. What if she had invited him into her bed? Would it have taken her down the same path and brought the same outcome? Would she have regretted it?
No. She would regret not giving herself another chance.
“Antonio?”
Antonio felt his shoulders bunch when he heard Isabella’s soft voice. He had tried to banish all thoughts of her by working, but his legendary focus was absent tonight. He needed to lose himself in reports and e-mails. It had almost worked. He hadn’t heard Isabella enter his study. He didn’t have a chance to put up his guard.
He glanced up from his laptop computer. His chest tightened when he saw her at the doorway. Her long blonde hair was tumbled, her face free of make-up. She wore only a white T-shirt and panties.
Isabella was a tantalizing mix of innocence and sin. Antonio clenched the edge of his desk, his fingers whitening as he struggled for control. The shirt barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. The thin cotton couldn’t hide the shape of her breasts or the dark pink of her nipples. He didn’t know why she bothered wearing it. It would take only a second to tear it off her body.
Don’t do it. The words reverberated in Antonio’s head as his gaze focused on her long, bare legs. His study was in the farthest corner of her apartment from the guestroom. It was his sanctuary and no one disturbed him when he was working. Antonio had thought he would be safe from temptation tonight. He hadn’t thought she would seek him out.
“Yes?” he said, his voice hoarse.
She looped her long hair over her ear. “It’s late.”
It was late. Too late to stop what he had put into motion. When he’d asked her to stay for a few more days he had been looking for more than a shoulder to lean on. He needed Isabella to return to his side—and also to his bed. But when she had asked about the guestroom, he’d known she wasn’t ready for them to become lovers again. After the way he’d treated her, the things he’d said, he couldn’t blame her.
But it didn’t stop him from hoping. Planning. Strategizing. He shouldn’t consider getting her back. He should send Isabella away once and for all so he could focus on his responsibilities. Now that his brother had died Antonio needed to fix the mess Gio made of the family’s fortune.
Yet all he could think about was Isabella.
“You shouldn’t be working,” she said as she leaned against the doorframe. The movement caused her T-shirt to hike up, offering him a glimpse of her tiny white panties.
He pulled his gaze away but it didn’t stop the desire heating his blood. Antonio cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I have a lot to do.”
“Do you need any help?” Isabella offered.
He imagined Isabella assisting him. Leaning over his shoulder as her T-shirt gaped. Sitting primly on the edge of his desk, her legs brushing against him as she inadvertently offered a glimpse of white silk. Antonio swallowed back a groan as his imagination went wild. Isabella would be more distraction than help.
Distraction. That was putting it mildly. As he silently declined Isabella’s offer with a shake of his head Antonio realized that Isabella had become an obsession. Thoughts of her interrupted his daily life. She invaded his dreams. He was addicted to her touch to the point that nothing else ma
ttered.
This woman had destroyed him once. Yes, she had sent him soaring to the heavens, but she had also sent him crashing into hell. And he was willing to risk going through all that again if it meant one more night together.
What was it about this woman that made him so reckless? Was it how she had fit so perfectly in his arms? Was it her soft curves or the warmth of her smile? No, it was more about how she had brightened his day. Just her presence had transformed his mausoleum of an apartment into a home.
But was that enough to make him forget that this woman had been unfaithful to him? That she’d cheated on him with his brother?
That reminder should have burned like acid, erasing any desire for her. He waited for dark emotions to wrap around him like a heavy cloak. But they didn’t this time. He felt conflicted because he wasn’t sure if she had cheated on him.
What is it about me that makes it so hard to believe?
“Excuse me?” Isabella frowned and pushed away from the doorframe.
Damn. He hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud. “I was thinking about what you asked earlier. Why I have a difficult time believing you.”
“You never gave me an answer.” She crossed her arms and the cotton strained against her full breasts.
Antonio’s mouth went dry. “I don’t think I have one,” he answered gruffly.
“You never asked me about my sexual past, but maybe that’s because you didn’t think you would like the answer.”
He’d never asked because he didn’t like the idea of her with another man. He had struggled with the unfamiliar possessiveness. Had he been willing to believe she was unfaithful because she was so incredibly sensual and eager? Had he assumed she was like that in bed with any man?
“I kind of have a reputation back home—but I didn’t earn it,” she said. “A lot of guys brag that I slept with them, but it isn’t true.”
It seemed Isabella was always struggling with her reputation. She was beautiful and sexy, and she wasn’t cautious. The girls in her youth must have been jealous, but he also suspected that a few teenage boys had misread her friendly smile and bold attitude.
