‘The truth?’ Ella checked. It was nice to be chatting, nice to be driving and away from everything, and just so very nice to be with Santo.
‘The truth,’ Santo confirmed.
‘She’s awful,’ Ella said. ‘She’s incredibly confident, treated me like I was her secretary, wanted to only deal directly with you. She refused to give an inch when I tried to pin her for a time to come in for an interview.’ Ella rolled her eyes. ‘To sum up, I think she’ll be perfect for the job.’
‘I thought I already had perfect.’
He glanced over and reluctantly she smiled. ‘No, we both know that you didn’t.’ Maybe it was because Santo was so open and honest, that in this, Ella found that she was able to be. ‘I’m not tough enough.’
‘I don’t always like tough.’
‘I’m not...’ She didn’t really know how to say it, how to admit just how much it all had hurt her. ‘I don’t think Marianna will sulk if you don’t send her flowers.’
‘So you were sulking.’
‘Yes.’
‘What else is Marianna good at?’
‘Multi-tasking apparently.’ She looked out of the window at the ocean and the beauty of the day and hated her melancholy, hated that she hadn’t been able to play by the rules and happily tumble in bed with him without adding her heart to the equation. ‘She’d probably be taking dictation now and giving you a quick hand-job as she did so.’ Ella turned to the sound of his laughter, realised she was smiling now too, because that was how he made her feel. Yes, it was so good to get out.
He pulled the car over and he just smiled as she sat there blushing, as the best lover in the world, as the man she had so foolishly thought she could bear to lose, cupped her face.
‘I walked into a storm that morning—I lost my director, I had stuff going on with my family, I had my brother out at sea.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘But when I knew you were arriving I did arrange flowers,’ Santo said. ‘I had them sent to the room, the same room that you took one look at and left. And I organised dinner—I really wanted to tell you how much our time together had meant, how I was looking forward to seeing you, how it killed not ring—’ He looked at her for the longest time. ‘Who hurt you?’ He saw her rapid blink. ‘Is there an ex-husband?’ He saw her frown.
‘Of course not.’
‘What do you mean “of course”?’ Santo said. ‘I know nothing about you, Ella. What I do know I could write on a Post-it note. I know your parents are together, that there are no brothers or sisters, that your mother is from here.’ He saw the well of tears in the bottom of her eyes. ‘That the sex was like nothing I have ever known, but I don’t know you....’
‘You’re my boss, you don’t need—’
‘I’m your lover!’ He almost shouted it. ‘Get it into your head.’
‘For how long though...’ She hated the neediness, but it was the truth, because he was telling her to open up to him, to give him more than sex, and she was terrified to.
‘Who knows?’ He was completely honest. ‘But if we can’t talk, then not for much longer.’
‘You don’t talk about the stuff that troubles you.’
‘I’ve tried more than you,’ Santo said.
‘Santo, I don’t tell anyone...’ She was close to panic now. ‘I don’t share myself with anyone and I’m not going to start pouring my heart out to you.’
‘You will.’ The view was more stunning than the ocean behind him—his eyes so intense, the passion blazing—and she was there in his spotlight now. He would strip her bare and she was petrified, not just of it ending, but of the togetherness too. She could simply not envisage sharing herself so completely with another, of trusting another. ‘Tell and kiss.’ She could feel the warmth of his skin so close and she teased his translation, just as he did to her.
‘It’s kiss and tell.’
‘No.’ His eyes were open. Santo had made up his mind and he moved back and started the engine. ‘It’s tell and kiss.’ And as he drove off, as always he made her smile. He took her hand and placed it in his lap. ‘Though, of course, I don’t mind a woman who can multi-task.’
‘Ha, ha...’ She took back her hand.
They had been out for a couple of hours and he knew no more than he had when she had opened her hotel door.
‘What was it like?’ He turned to her question. ‘I mean, back there, in the café. People were nervous just to see you....’
‘That is because I would rarely go there, but here...’ He nodded ahead. ‘They are more used to us. This is where my nonna lives.’
‘But what was it like?’
It was Santo who couldn’t answer. He could see his grandparents’ house, huge and imposing and the keeper of so many secrets.
‘Have you seen today’s papers?’ He didn’t wait for her response, he knew that she had. ‘There is far more to come. Always it is about power—that is how it is, that is how you are taught—but sometimes you just want to walk in a café and have coffee.’ Ella nodded. ‘That is why I like being on set—I am just Santo there. Of course, there are a few awkward looks today, given what has been said in the newspapers about my mother. I just have to wear it. Battaglia is determined to crush us and will stop at nothing—so now he makes sure that every piece of filth he can find ends up in the papers.’ He looked at Ella. ‘There is a lot of filth.’
There was, Santo knew that, but there was a lot of good too, and somehow he wanted to show her that. But there was something he, too, had been putting off for a while, something that might be easier with Ella by his side.
‘Now,’ Santo said, ‘I take you where I have taken no woman before.’ He glanced over to see her wide-eyed reaction. ‘My nonna’s.’
‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’
‘Probably not.’ Santo shrugged. ‘She will have us married off in her mind the moment we walk in there, but I really ought to visit her. She will be very upset with all that is going on in the family and she is worried about Alessandro too, as well as mourning her husband. She never really got over losing her sons....’ He was pensive for a moment. ‘You know, for all that the cousins do not get on, for all the arguments, the one thing that unites us is our love for her—she is a good woman.’ Perhaps Ella’s silence spoke volumes, for Santo turned his head in instant defence. ‘She is.’
‘Of course,’ came Ella guarded response. Salvatore Corretti’s reputation was legendary, and if Ella knew a little of what had gone on to get there, then absolutely his wife must have known a whole lot more.
‘Her family hated that she married him,’ Santo explained a little, ‘but she loved him, and turned a blind eye to all that he got up to.’
Ella bit down on her lip in an effort not to voice her thoughts.
‘Sometimes it is easier to, perhaps...’ Santo said.
‘Or simply more convenient.’ Ella could not stay silent on this. ‘I’m sorry, Santo. I’m trying not to judge your nonna—I haven’t met her after all—but I don’t buy that turn a blind eye excuse.’
‘And I am not asking you to.’ He saw her tense profile. ‘I’m just letting you know, before we go in there, that these past years have been very hard on her. These are exceptionally difficult times, so just...’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
As they approached Ella was both nervous and excited to be meeting such a legend. It was like being invited backstage and the chance to meet the matriarch of this family was just too good to pass up. But as they walked towards the house she could see Santo’s strained face.
‘I’m not going to say anything that might offend her.’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ Santo said, or he would never have brought here.
CHAPTER TEN
A MAID LET them in, but rather than standing and waiting in the hall, Santo took Ella’s hand and they walked straight through, Santo calling out to announce he was here.
‘Santo!’ There was a crow of surprise as Teresa heard them an
d they were in the large lounge before she was even standing. There was a flurry of kisses and introductions. Teresa was dressed from head to toe in black, and from the candle burning by a bible on a table, it was clear she was deep in mourning. But there was absolute pleasure on the old woman’s face as she greeted her grandson. There was no denying the bond was a genuine one and that Teresa was so pleased to see him.
‘It is lovely to meet you,’ Teresa said to Ella. ‘Such a nice surprise—you will forgive me if my English is not very good.’ She smiled. ‘And you are to correct me if I forget and speak in Italian,’ she added to Santo. ‘My mind is everywhere at the moment.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Santo said. ‘Anyway, Ella’s mother is from here, so she speaks a little Italian.’ He smiled and so, too, did Ella.
‘He is teasing you, yes?’ Teresa checked and then answered her own question. ‘Of course he is.’
Santo brought such a smile to her weary face. He was incredibly good with women—all women—because he didn’t mind a bit when she cried a little when they spoke of Salvatore. ‘The house, it is too quiet,’ she said, ‘but then I tell myself at least he is not dealing with all this, at least he died thinking that the families would unite.’
‘It will sort,’ Santo said, but Teresa shook her head.
‘I am not so sure that it will. Have you heard from Alessandro?’
‘He is okay.’ Santo was so gentle with her. ‘I saw him the morning after and he has texted me a couple of times. He just needs time.’
‘And the rest of the family? Have you seen Luca?’
‘I am staying out of it as much as I can for now.’ Santo was firm. He certainly didn’t want to discuss the scandals that were going on with his nonna. ‘The better we do with this film, the better it will be for the family, for everyone. The locals are watching the filming. The docklands are busy, for the first time in a long time. This is what I need to give my attention to now.’
‘But even that is having problems!’ Teresa kept her eyes on everything, Ella realised. ‘That actress...’ Teresa screwed up her nose. ‘I saw the photos—she should be ashamed.’
‘It does take two.’ Santo grinned.
‘So, how is she doing?’ Teresa asked and the smile wavered on Santo’s face.
‘Taylor’s a very good actress,’ Ella spoke then. ‘Well, she’s got a lot of potential, if she had the right person directing to bring it out.’
‘Ella thinks she should be directing.’ Santo’s voice was wry, but he was glad for the change in conversation, because it was clear Teresa was getting more and more upset. The challenges the family faced were not going to be easily fixed and he hated that she was sitting alone and fretting.
‘You have a problem with a female director?’ Teresa teased.
‘Oh, I have no issues with Ella being a woman.’ Santo grinned but then his phone went. ‘Excuse me, I have to take this.’
As he went outside to take the call, Teresa poured them two small glasses of limoncello. It was tart and lovely and tasted just like her mother made and she told Teresa the same.
‘There are many recipes, but this is the local one. Your mother would make it the same way. Have you been to visit where she lived yet?’
‘Santo took me there on the way here,’ Ella said. ‘I am going to visit my aunts when we finish shooting.’
‘And your mother, does she love Australia? I have heard so many good things about it.’
And Ella sat quiet for a moment, sipped on her limoncello and answered carefully. ‘It’s a beautiful country,’ Ella said, ‘but my mother misses home an awful lot.’
‘Of course,’ Teresa said. ‘But she is happy with her choice?’
And she looked at Ella for a very long time. There was a moment, a long one, and one Ella decided where it would be prudent to play by very old rules. It was, Ella told herself, a practice run for her aunties. ‘Very happy,’ Ella said and returned Teresa’s smile, looking up in relief when Santo came in.
‘Take Ella and show her the winery,’ Teresa said. ‘Choose something nice for dinner tonight.’
‘You have to get back, don’t you?’ Santo said to Ella. It was nice that he offered the choice as to whether they stay longer, but Ella knew it would be rude to leave now, knew from her mother what was silently expected.
‘No.’ Ella smiled. ‘I’ve got everything done. Dinner would be lovely.’
‘She seems to like you.’ They were walking in the grounds, through the vines and out to the winery. She’d have loved to take a photo, to tell her mum she was here, but she wasn’t sure that that suggestion would be particularly welcomed.
‘You’re quiet,’ she commented, because Santo rarely was.
‘It feels different to be here and know he isn’t.’
‘Sorry...’ Ella could have kicked herself for her own insensitivity. ‘I didn’t think.’
‘No!’ Santo shook his head. ‘I am not upset.’
‘I do understand that whatever has gone on, still he was your grandparent.’
‘It’s not fond memories I’m having, Ella.’ Santo said no more than that. They walked into the cool dark winery and she wondered if here he might try something, but instead Santo spent an awful long time choosing the wine.
‘This one,’ he said. ‘This was from the year you were born.’
‘I didn’t know you knew the year I was born.’
‘I read your résumé.’ He gave her a smile and walked over, lifted his hand to her hair, just wondered about her, really. ‘You know I always wanted to have sex in here.’
He was just so direct.
‘With your grandmother waiting in the house?’
‘That doesn’t come into my fantasy.’
‘Well, it’s a bit off-putting in mine,’ Ella said. She was terribly wary of him, trying to keep things light when she felt anything but, trying to keep her head on during a most difficult of days.
‘I miss you.’ He watched her frown.
‘You don’t know me.’
‘That’s what I miss.’
He didn’t even try to kiss her, did nothing other than take her hand and walk back to the house. She just couldn’t read his mood.
The food was heavenly—fennel salad dripping in the best olive oil Ella had tasted, and a huge lasagne, but the Sicilian way, stuffed with Italian sausage and cheeses.
Santo sat at the table, chatted and spoke and smiled in all the right places, and she tried to fathom him, but couldn’t. He looked up and caught her staring, and smiled till she blushed as he stared back and he pressed his foot to her leg just once, but it wasn’t Santo.
It was like watching an actor play his part.
‘Do you remember my birthday?’ Teresa smiled and recounted tales of supposed happier times, but Ella watched a muscle flicker in Santo’s cheek as Teresa mentioned Benito’s children and asked after Luca and Gio, though she was wise enough perhaps to not mention Matteo. ‘And that time Lia hid and we could not find her for hours. You were so young then. Grace was still alive.’
‘Grace?’
‘Lia’s mum,’ Santo explained. ‘Benito was married before Simona.’ He was so much more open here, but then so was Teresa, Ella realised. She must assume, given that Santo had brought her here, that they were serious.
‘She lived with us,’ Teresa explained. ‘When Grace died.’ And she smiled over to Santo, and Ella watched as there was just a brief pause before Santo duly smiled back, not that Teresa noticed. She turned her attention to Ella.
‘Will you tell your mother that you ate with me?’ Her eyes twinkled.
‘I can’t wait to tell her.’ Ella laughed, because she’d been sitting there thinking just that. For the first time in a very long time, she actually missed her mother, wished that today was something they could have properly shared.
‘She will be shocked, and she will warn you about me, but also she will love to know!’ Teresa promised, and it was as if she had met her mother—she just knew what she was like
. ‘She will want every single detail,’ Teresa said as the maid brought in a huge tray of sweet canelloni, ‘but even as you give her the details she will tell you that you should not have come!’
‘Then she’ll ask me to tell her about your furniture.’
He watched as the two women sat laughing, and thank God he’d brought Ella with him, because Santo wasn’t sure he could have got through this visit alone, and certainly not as well. Memories were churning. The happy birthdays his nonna all too frequently regaled were not quite as perfect, if Santo remembered correctly.
And he was quite sure he did.
Surprisingly it was Santo who declined coffee.
He just wanted out.
Even as they left, Teresa was plying her with bottles of olive oil and limoncello and, even as they climbed in the car, offering them to come back in for coffee.
‘We really have to go,’ Santo said. ‘We need to get back to the Olympic Village.’
Thankfully his little dig went straight over Teresa’s head.
‘That wasn’t funny,’ Ella said, her cheeks scalding as he started up the car.
‘I thought it was.’ Santo smirked. ‘You know, I think sex actually enhances performance.’
‘I’ll draft a letter to the IOC for you,’ Ella said tartly. ‘I’m sure they’ll welcome your thoughts.’
‘Do you?’ She turned and saw that his expression was serious. ‘Can you talk to me? Can you tell me why you were so upset when I came to your room this afternoon?’
And he’d shared so much with her today that maybe she could. There was this argument raging but it was dimming. Quite simply, with Santo she wanted to share—she just didn’t know how. ‘It’s my mum’s birthday today,’ Ella admitted. ‘I’d just called her when you came to my room.’ Santo said nothing. ‘I find it really hard to talk to her.’
‘You don’t get on?’
‘I don’t agree with some of her choices,’ Ella said and then amended, ‘I don’t agree with a lot of her choices.’
Scandals Of The Powerful: Uncovering the Correttis / A Legacy of Secrets (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) / An Invitation to Sin (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) (Mills & Boon M&B) Page 15
