Hold On to Me

by Victoria Purman

  ‘What? No, I don’t,’ Stella said through gritted teeth. She’d forgotten that some men came with egos; easily bruised and righteously outraged. She hadn’t picked Luca as being one of them.

  ‘It’s probably what you’re used to, right? Guys like him.’

  ‘You are really pushing it now, Luca.’

  ‘C’mon, look at you,’ he said angrily. ‘You grew up in one of those million-dollar beachfront houses in Middle Point. You own properties in Port Elliot. You play around in a boutique that surely can’t be turning a profit supplying shoes to my sister. Swanning off to Sydney for a few years. You can’t tell me you don’t come from people like him. Who the hell knows why you’ve been slumming it with me.’

  Whoa. Stella was suddenly so furious her throat clenched tight and she couldn’t have forced any words out even if she’d had them. The Boy Wonder had a Working Class Hero chip on his shoulder—she knew it well because she had one too. And she didn’t need a pissing contest in overcoming adversity to know she would win. Hands down. ‘You would think that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘You want someone just like you, right?’

  He really thought she was like Duncan? If he only knew the truth of her life, how long it had taken her to get to where she was now. And even if he’d been right, and she’d had a family and money and all the privilege in the world, who the hell was he to come along and judge her for what she was and who she’d slept with, and then decide what that meant about what she wanted now?

  Right at that moment, Stella didn’t want any guy. Especially not a hot-headed Italian. She grabbed her handbag and felt for her keys. She jangled them in front of his eyes to announce the end of their conversation.

  ‘I’m switching off the lights and locking up now. Good night, Morelli Constructions.’

  She didn’t have to say it twice. Luca stomped across the shop, opened the door and was gone.

  CHAPTER

  20

  The next few days were crazy busy and Stella couldn’t have been happier about it. The brilliant blue skies and warm early-summer winds had attracted bumper crowds to the holiday town and the first of the family groups had descended on the rental houses. Plenty of them hadn’t had time for Christmas shopping in the city, so Style by Stella was the perfect destination for last-minute presents.

  Each night, Stella made it home with weary footsteps but a happy heart.

  And each night, she tried to think less and less about Luca Morelli and his half-arsed assumptions about her and her life. She’d been waiting for a final account so she could send all the paperwork off to her insurance company, and then that would be the end of their working relationship. The spell had been broken. She’d seen him for who he really was. Disappointingly, a man like every other man.

  She had a business to run. She had to make it through until Christmas Eve on Wednesday and then, damn it, prepare herself to see Luca on Thursday at Anna’s family Christmas.

  Luca had been back in the city for a week and had desperately needed something, anything, to do, to keep his mind off Stella Ryan. There was plenty to do at his new place. More than plenty. Twelve months’ worth of work if he was honest, but he couldn’t get his head into any of it.

  All his attempts at distraction had been a complete failure, of course. The more he tried not to think about, obsess about her, the more he did.

  What the hell had the past four weeks been about? he asked himself as he stared at his account sheets on his computer. He still couldn’t answer that question.

  So Stella and Duncan had a history. Why did that bother him so much? Never in his life had he cared about what his lovers had done or with whom. But thinking about Stella and The Suit together made him nuts. He hadn’t known people like them when he was growing up, but he sure did a lot of business for them now he was qualified and out on his own. People with money whose kids went to the best schools, not the local public school like he’d done. People who drove the most expensive cars down their long driveways on their enormous eastern suburbs properties, with sparkling pools and perfectly manicured tennis courts.

  Damn it. Why did he suddenly feel like a tradie with a suburban accent and a taste for big-budget car-chase movies?

  And why should he care about people like them anyway?

  Luca pushed his chair back from his desk and stomped across his bedroom to the window, pushing the double doors wide open and stepping out onto the balcony. He leant over the wrought-iron railing and looked out to the west, past tin rooftops and the parklands. In the distance, playing fields were green despite the summer and the horizon was a faded shimmery smudge of blue. He’d done a little research on the location and found out that in the 1880s olive trees had been planted there by Italian migrants. Luca felt it was kind of appropriate that an Italian had moved in a century and a bit later.

  It was a warm day and people were making the most of the sunshine below him in the square. Christmas lights were strung from tree to tree, looking like a party about to happen. A group of young guys were shooting hoops on the practice net. A pair of young lovers were lying on a rug, kissing, their bicycles flat on the grass next to them, and a group of students were sitting in a circle eating the noodles they’d no doubt purchased from nearby Chinatown. As Luca looked down on it all, he realised he’d been working so hard that this was about the first time he’d allowed himself the luxury of taking it all in.

  But he was staring at it with a dead heart. He wasn’t in the mood to celebrate Christmas. What the hell had gone wrong with Stella? They’d been about to get into something good. He was afraid it was his fault—that he’d screwed it up with an unfortunate display of jealousy he’d regretted every moment since.

  His new business was going great guns. He lived in a nice place—well, it would be nice when he’d finished it. Whenever the hell that was going to be.

  But none of that helped. He’d fucked up.

  Later that night, he would get changed and head up to meet his parents for Christmas Eve dinner and then go to Midnight Mass, cross himself at the appropriate times, all to keep his mother and his nonna happy. And then tomorrow, first thing, he’d drive down to Middle Point for Anna and Joe’s Christmas Day lunch.

  Where he would try not to be bent out of shape by some woman he’d done a job for once. She thought she was out of his league, so screw her.

  And he tried very hard to stamp on the awareness that he was the one—maybe the only one—who thought that.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Stella pulled up out front of Anna and Joe’s house and turned off the engine. She felt as if she were about to go into battle. What did Luca’s family know? What about Anna and Julia and Lizzie? Had they suspected anything was going on and would they now be more keenly aware of what wasn’t happening between her and Luca? And in the middle of all that complicated mess, she was about to meet his family. Well, Anna’s family too, but she hadn’t been involved in a complicated non-relationship with the good doctor, had she?

  Stella grabbed her bag and gifts and walked to the front door. In the glass reflection, her fifties-style summer dress and black flats looked perfectly appropriate for a special lunch. Deep down, she didn’t feel appropriate at all.

  She took a deep breath, pushed the door open and stepped into a cacophony of voices and people and laughter and Christmas carols blaring in the background … and family.

  ‘Stella!’ Anna tottered towards her on her new red patent-leather heels and kissed her warmly on both cheeks. ‘You look gorgeous. Find Joe and he’ll get you a drink.’

  Stella couldn’t seem to get her feet to move any further. Right across the room, Luca was leaning against the living-room wall, his arms crossed, glaring at her. It had been almost a week without a word. He was clearly still angry, judging by that look. She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses.

  Stella turned all her attention to his sister. ‘Here’s a little something to thank you for having me today.’ She handed Anna a box wrapped in s
ilver paper and topped with a giant white ribbon bow. She’d packed three chunky, vanilla-scented organic candles inside it.

  ‘You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. Come on in and meet the family.’ Anna took Stella’s hand and pulled her through the small living room to the kitchen. She could feel Luca’s eyes on her with every step she took.

  ‘Ma,’ Anna called. A short woman with dark hair and beautiful olive skin popped up from behind the kitchen counter. She plonked a pile of plates on the bench and smiled.

  ‘This is Stella. She’s the one with all the lovely shoes in her shop. You know, the job Luca just finished. Stella, Sonia.’

  ‘Hi, Stella.’ Sonia wiped her hands quickly on her apron. ‘How nice to meet you. What a lovely name.’

  ‘Thank you, Sonia. Is there anything I can help you with?’

  ‘Nice try.’ Anna laughed. ‘If you think my mother is going to let anyone else in the kitchen while she’s making Christmas lunch, you are officially crazy.’

  Then a handsome man in his sixties appeared next to Sonia, heaving a bucket of ice onto the sink under the window.

  ‘Stella, this is Paolo. My Pappa.’

  ‘Very nice to meet you.’ Paolo reached for Stella’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it loudly and dramatically. ‘You’re the one who’s kept Luca away from Adelaide all these weeks.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said after a millisecond of hesitation. She knew full well he was watching these introductions and exchanges with his parents. ‘He’s done a wonderful job on my shop. He’s very clever, your son.’

  Paolo winked at her. ‘He gets it all from me.’

  And then Anna steered her towards the family matriarch. She was by the Christmas tree, watching the babies on the rug; the littlies were fascinated by the flashing lights. ‘Come and meet Nonna.’

  ‘Hello, er …’ Stella looked at Anna, confused, and then turned to the grey-haired, elegant woman ‘… Nonna?’

  ‘Hello, bella.’

  And then there were hugs and kisses from Ry and Julia, and Dan and Lizzie. By the time she found Joe, who pressed a champagne into her hand, she was mentally exhausted. Could these people understand how overwhelming this was for her? That this was about ten times the family she’d ever had?

  ‘Here, take this,’ Joe said. ‘You’ll need it.’

  Stella gratefully sipped the cool, delicious liquid. ‘Thanks. It’s all a little …’

  ‘Loud?’

  Stella laughed. ‘Overwhelming was the word I was looking for. They’re very close, aren’t they?’

  ‘They are. Look, don’t worry. I know what it’s like to walk into this family, especially when you don’t have one of your own.’

  Why did Joe think she was walking into the family? Last time she looked, she’d simply walked into Joe and Anna’s house, with an expectation of some lovely wine and delicious Italian cooking and exactly nothing else. Stella averted her eyes, careful not to notice Luca still glaring at her from across the room. He hadn’t come to her to say hello and she’d decided to let him stew.

  Joe nudged her in the arm. ‘But it didn’t take long for them to love me. Once they got over the fact I’d knocked up their daughter while she was still married to someone else.’

  Stella almost snorted her champagne.

  ‘But once Francesca arrived, they forgave me everything.’ He threw her a wink.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to say, Joe. Thanks for the story in the Gazette. It’s been really great to get the word out that I’m back in business.’

  He shrugged. ‘No worries. You’re big news in this part of the world. We had more hits on that particular story on our website than any other. People love your shop, Stella.’

  She clinked glasses with Joe. ‘And I’m very glad they do.’

  ‘Come and eat, everybody.’ Sonia moved past Joe and Stella with a huge platter of crayfish.

  Joe leant in close. ‘The other thing about this family? The food is terrific.’

  There were too many people and the house was too small for a sit-down dinner, so the food was laid out on the dining table and everyone took a plate and chose from the groaning display. Stella selected some seafood, cold meats and salad and turned away from the table, scanning the room for somewhere to sit. Everyone had settled into groups: Ry, Julia and baby Mary had all somehow found a space in between all the scrunched-up wrapping paper from what must have been hundreds of presents. Joe and Anna sat cross-legged on the floor with Francesca by the Christmas tree. Sonia and Paolo were teasing each other about their Christmas gifts and, while Luca stood by his grandmother, his eyes were glued to Stella.

  Every move she’d made, she could feel his stare. When she heard his voice across the room, commenting on something his nonna had said, laughing with Dan about cricket versus soccer, complimenting his mother on the spread, she got goose bumps. She could feel the ripples in the air between them as distinctly as the sea breeze from the beach.

  But he’d kept his distance. That was his choice. Just as it had been his choice to walk out on her the week before when they’d been about to have sex.

  Stella looked out to the big windows overlooking the deck. Lizzie and Dan had set up on the lawn under a tree, but she didn’t want to interrupt their tête à tête. There was, she noticed, a tattered old cane chair on the deck itself. Perfect—she could be in the middle of things but not forcing herself on any of the family groupings.

  ‘You not eating, Luca?’ Joe got up from the floor and stood next to the man who still wasn’t his brother-in-law.

  ‘Yeah, in a minute. Just finishing this beer.’ While he would normally dig right in to his mother’s cooking, Luca was still waiting for his appetite to kick in. He still had a stomach full of angry about Stella, and maybe that was why there was no room for hunger just yet. ‘Hey, Joe. Can I ask you something?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘As long as it’s not about when I’m going to ask Anna to marry me. She’s said no about five times already. I know your nonna thinks it every time she looks at me with that death stare.’

  Both men glanced at Nonna, who was indeed giving Joe the death stare.

  ‘That’s your business, not mine,’ Luca said quietly.

  Ry joined them, a plate of food in one hand and a busy fork in the other. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey, Ry,’ Luca said.

  ‘What’s your question?’ Joe asked.

  ‘It’s about Stella.’

  Ry looked up from his plate, exchanged glances with Joe. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Stella told me she grew up here in Middle Point.’ Luca looked out through the big windows overlooking the deck and the view. He could see the back of Stella’s head through the closed window. That gleaming black hair was cut neatly across her neck. ‘Which one of those humongous beachside mansions did she live in as a kid?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘Ry? Any idea?’

  Ry’s brow creased in confusion and he stopped, fork in midair. ‘Stella? Beachside mansion? I think you’ve got her confused with someone else.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s what she said, that she grew up here in Middle Point.’

  ‘Mate.’ Ry chuckled. ‘Stella lived with her auntie in the caravan park next to the general store.’

  Luca gripped his beer glass so hard he thought it would shatter in his fingers. ‘Oh, shit.’

  Now he’d really lost his appetite.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Luca eased open the glass sliding door leading to the deck, stepped out, balancing two glasses of white wine in one hand, and then closed it behind him. The damn thing squeaked so loudly he might as well have announced it to his whole family. Not that anything needed announcing. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were all watching his every move. He nodded at Lizzie and Dan and they stopped gaping and turned to pack up their plates with comical speed.

  Stella turned his way and then looked back out to the view too. Yeah, he deserved that. He’d been an angry young man all day. Hell, fo
r most of the past week. He’d tried to be as cool, calm and collected as Stella always was, but fuck it, he was an Italian man and Italian men—and women, for that matter—were at the mercy of their emotions at all times. He couldn’t help it.

  ‘White wine?’ Luca held a glass in front of Stella and she took it.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t mind us!’ said Lizzie, too cheerfully, as she and Dan took the steps up the deck and then walked into the house. Dan checked Stella wasn’t looking and gave him an encouraging wink, but Lizzie pulled him unceremoniously into the house and slid the glass door shut.

  Luca sipped his wine in silence. ‘Enjoying the party?’ he finally asked.

  ‘The food’s fantastic and so is the view.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Luca didn’t need to look at the view. He’d spent most of his nights staring at the distant ocean and the coastline when he’d stayed there during the Style by Stella renovation. That old cane chair she was sitting in had been inherited from Lizzie, who’d grown up in the house and lived there until she’d moved into Dan’s green beach shack on the esplanade. But right now, he didn’t want to look at the damn view. Stella’s eyes were on the horizon but his were on her. From his position, standing slightly behind her, he noticed the back of her neck, where the short hair exposed her nape, so pale and soft. He itched to caress her right there, where he’d pressed his lips, where her hair met that skin.

  How should he launch into his apology? He had no fucking clue. He’d basically accused her of being a trust-fund baby who got by on her daddy and mummy’s money and only took other rich people seriously. So he chose the Italian standby and went directly to the catering. ‘Have you had enough to eat?’

  Stella held a hand to her stomach. ‘More than enough.’

  ‘There’s still dessert to come. Wait until you taste my mother’s cakes.’

  ‘I don’t think I could eat another bite.’