“No. That’s not what I was going to say. My life has been planned out from the moment that I was born. My family owns Giliberti Olives. That’s what we do. My dad wants me to get an MBA and run the business and then maybe enter politics like him. But that’s not me. I don’t want anything to do with politics. And I love the olive groves. It’s not that. It’s just that I’d like to be given a choice, for once in my life. Just the choice to do what I want. And be who I want. And to like who I want.”
Pregnant pause.
“Like me?” I ask, my breath hitching in my throat.
“Like you,” he confirms. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every minute, every day. I even see you when I’m sleeping. My dreams are about you—we’re in the ocean, we’re on the beach, we’re under the stars at night, we’re dancing at dinner. I know this sounds stupid and corny and dumb. But you’ve taken over every thought that I have. And I don’t know what to do about that, because you’re not in my plan.”
I stare at him incredulously.
“What am I supposed to do with that? Was that speech supposed to make me feel better? You like me but you can’t be with me?”
I feel suddenly hollow inside. Like I’d lost my heart along the way somewhere. But that can’t be right because it’s throbbing right now- worse than my head, even.
“No. You don’t understand. I’m just trying to figure out what to do. How to handle all of this. Americans are different. Here in Caberra, we… well, we don’t exercise our freedom to choose as often as you do. My father wants a particular life for me. I don’t know how to go against that. It will devastate him and he’s been devastated enough already. Our culture is polite to a fault, I think.”
Oh, sweet Heavens. I can’t even be thoroughly disgusted with him because he’s so bleeding thoughtful even when he’s being frustrating. He doesn’t want to hurt his father. But that means he’ll have to hurt me instead.
“Should I just make it easy on you?” I ask, trying to swallow my heart. “I’ll just leave. As soon as the airports open back up, I’ll go back home. You can go back to your life with Elena and back to doing things that are in your plan.”
“No!”
Dante cries out sharply, almost like he’s in pain. And he grabs my arm. I look at him, then look at his hand. He removes it sheepishly.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Please don’t go home. I feel like I have this chance—this chance to do what I’d really like to do with someone who I really like. I don’t know how to go about it, but I’d really like for you to show me.”
I stare at him again.
“And how can I show you that? You’ll have to learn to make up your mind on your own. That’s not something that I can do for you.”
“You’re American,” he explains. “You’re already good at doing what you’d like to do. I can learn a lot just from being around you.” He smiles and I try to decide if he’s joking.
“Are you saying that Americans are good at being self-involved?” I ask, one eye-brow raised. Does he really think insulting me is going to help the situation?
Dante rolls his eyes.
“I’m trying to be sweet here and bare my soul to you. Seriously, Reece. I feel like I’ve got an honest to God chance at finding my own path in life. I’ve never felt the urge to deviate from my father’s plan before. Not until I met you. And now everything feels different. Everything has changed.”
He sits quietly, his hands clasped in his lap, his eyes down. His shoulders are even slumped.
I take pity on him. I can’t help it.
“All you have to do is talk to your father,” I tell him. “Just tell him that you don’t want to go into politics and you aren’t even that thrilled with being in the family business.”
“It’s not the business so much,” Dante says. “It’s the fact that he wants me to go to England to college to learn how to run the business. And trust me, it isn’t so easy as simply talking to him. This isn’t America. Kids here aren’t just given free will over their own lives when we are teenagers. Our lives are planned out from the beginning. And we stick to those plans. Usually.”
Dante looks miserable. And I find that I can’t really relate so I tell him that.
“You’re almost an adult,” I point out. “You are almost of legal age to go to war and fight for your country. Shouldn’t that make you old enough to plan out your own life? I know that I’m not familiar with Caberran law, but you are free to make your own decisions, right?”
“Theoretically,” Dante admits. “But it’s more difficult in practice than it is in theory.”
I look at him, at how the light glints off the honeyed streaks in his hair and how his dark blue eyes are glittering. His mouth is drawn and tight and I know he is upset. And a part of me, deep down, wants to cradle him in my arms and make everything better. It’s like a piece of him, the little boy in him, is broken and I just want to fix it.
But the little girl in me learned a long time ago that kisses don’t make things better.
“I wish I could fix this for you,” I tell him gently. “I truly do. But this is something that only you can do. Standing up for yourself… that’s just a life skill that you have to learn. We all do. It’s part of growing up.”
He nods silently, his gaze meeting mine.
“I know,” he says finally. “But it would be so much easier if my mom was still alive. I wouldn’t worry so much about disappointing my dad. I’m all he has now. And that’s a lot of pressure. He’s got so many dreams for me.”
“But so do you,” I remind him. “And you’ve only got one life.”
“Would it sound stupid if I told you that I think I met you for a reason?” Dante asks. “Okay. It does sound stupid. But I still think it’s true. I don’t want you to go home yet. Please tell me that you’ll stay. Please be an intern for my father and we’ll see what happens. I’m going to do my best to figure it out.”
“All you need to do is be true to yourself, Dante,” I tell him. “It really is that simple. You’re right. I don’t know the culture here. But I do know that your father is a good man. I can tell. And I know that as a good man, he’ll want his only son to be happy in life. Whether that means being with someone other than Elena or not becoming Prime Minister in twenty years or even if that means that you want to work on a commercial fishing boat.”
Dante smiles wryly. “I haven’t lost my mind,” he tells me. “So let’s not go overboard.”
“Okay. So you don’t want to be a fisherman,” I smile. “But if you just talk to your father, I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Maybe,” Dante shrugs. “But I have to work him up to it. I can’t just drop it on him.”
“Fair enough,” I agree. “I suppose you can’t change decades worth of tradition in one moment. But be patient and no matter what, stay true to yourself. If you don’t, who will?”
He looks at me, his gaze lucid and clear and nods. “You’re right. And that’s an excellent point. It’s so simple that it’s brilliant.”
I suddenly find it funny that I am sitting here in an old palace giving out life advice when my own life is sort of in a shambles. I laugh and Dante looks at me quizzically.
“What?”
I tell him. I tell him all about Becca and my journal and Quinn.
“So you’re not as pulled together as you seem, then,” he observes when I am finished. He smiles at me now and I feel good because it’s his first real smile this morning. My heart seems to have forgotten that I was angry with him because now all I feel is protective of him.
Weird.
“I guess not,” I tell him. “But in all fairness, that journal was private. She didn’t ask to be in my room, in my clothes or in my journal.”
Dante holds up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he yelps as I swat at him. “I’m in full agreement with you. Becca is clearly to blame for your crush on Quinn. Not you.”
I squint my eyes and glare at him.
“I don
’t have a crush on Quinn anymore.”
He raises a golden eyebrow.
“No?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Why is that?”
I stare at him long and hard, trying to decide what to say. Should I be downright, painfully honest? I’ve always found that the best way to be, so I nod.
“Two words.”
He waits.
“Dante. Giliberti.”
I hear him suck in his breath and I smile. Sometimes, honesty is refreshing and so very worth it.
“Me?” He sounds so surprised, as though he doesn’t know that he is practically a living breathing Adonis. I nod.
“You.”
He studies me again and I fight the need to fidget as I wait for his reaction.
After a minute of nerve-wracking silence, he finally answers.
“So, will you keep the bracelet?”
I nod.
“Can I kiss you again?”
I nod.
So he does.
Chapter Seventeen
My parents said yes.
I’m not surprised, I knew that they would if Dimitri called them himself. And he did. And they said that I could stay in Caberra for the summer to work for Giliberti Olives. Dimitri decided that it would be best if I started out in the actual Giliberti olive groves somewhere, to learn the business from the ground up. He does the same for all of his important employees, he says. Including Dante. Dante will be shadowing the foreman in the groves this summer.
It doesn’t matter to me that I won’t be with the marketing team. In fact, as soon as Dimitri lumped me in with “important employees,” I was putty in his hands. Dante clearly gets his charm from his father.
I decide that I’m probably the luckiest girl on the planet as I sip a lemonade by the sparkling infinity pool. My lemonade has mint leaves floating in it again which makes me feel fancy.
Make that extra fancy.
Because when I got out of the shower this morning, there were beach towels twisted into sea animal shapes on my bed along with a note from Dante to meet him at the pool.
We’re not working today because it’s Saturday. But Dante did tell me that we would make a trip out to the olive groves this afternoon so that I could look around.
He grins from the lounger next to me.
“I like having you here, Kansas,” he tells me. “My father likes you. And you put him in a good mood. He says it’s refreshing to have a young person so interested in business.”
“You’re just happy that he’s focused on me instead of you,” I tell him without opening my eyes. The sun feels so good here. Better than it feels in Kansas, I think. Of course that might be because I’m thousands of miles from my problems.
Or because Dante is lying next to me.
That’s probably it, actually.
He reaches out and grasps my hand, holding it next to him. My heart beat stutters and I take a deep breath. He’s so gorgeous. Ever since our talk yesterday, we’ve had sort of an easy-breezy-attitude about our relationship. Like, I know he likes me even though his life is complicated. And he knows I like him. And my life isn’t complicated. We haven’t exactly defined what our relationship is, but I think that’s probably because of all the kinks.
Kinks like his father.
And Elena.
Life is full of kinks.
And the great thing about kinks? They eventually work themselves out.
But at least we know that we’re on the right track. And we’re working toward something. Something really great. I can feel it.
My phone buzzes. I glance at it and see Mia’s name on a text.
Do U want to go shopping?
I consider that for one brief moment as I look at Dante’s inert, beautiful form next to me. His brow is glistening slightly in the heat and he brushes one long hand against it to wipe the sweat away. He could practically be a swimsuit model. Do I want to leave here where I am laying with him in Nirvana and go shopping in a place where I might run into the creepy gypsy woman with Mia?
Um. Negatory.
I text back.
Can’t. Want to come swimming?
She answers.
Can’t. I need a new bra. My girls got a little bigger. My old bras pinch my nipples.
I answer.
Gross. TMI. :)
Then I add a P.S.
Girls are bigger? Are you pg??
Immediate response.
Bite me, Kansas.
I smile.
“What’s funny?” Dante asks as he sits up to take a lazy sip of water.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Mia’s just funny.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is she coming over?”
“No. She wanted me to come shopping. But I’m busy right now, so…”
My voice trails off as I lean forward to put my phone on the table. Dante sucks in his breath. “What the heck happened to your arm?”
I freeze.
My arm.
The huge, nasty bruise that Nate put on my arm.
I subconsciously cover it with my other hand while I frantically think of something to say. Honesty is always best, right? I wasn’t so sure that it was this time. But it’s not my place to protect Nate. I don’t owe him anything.
Except a bruise.
“Um. I bumped into Nate on the beach the other day.”
Dante stares at me in confusion. “You bumped into Nate the other day and got a bruise?”
I sigh. “No. I bumped into Nate the other day on the beach while he was on the phone. He thought I was eavesdropping and he got a little mad.”
Dante freezes, his eyes boring into mine.
“Nate got a little mad at you?”
Each word is carefully enunciated and chillingly calm and I feel a storm coming. In fact, the hair stands up on my arms. I feel a sense of foreboding, actually. Dante is pissed and Nate is not someone to mess with. I sense that from a mile away. In telling Dante this bit of info, I’m essentially signing my Enemies-Are-Forever agreement with Nate.
But the truth is always best.
Right?
I nod. “He thought I was eavesdropping.”
And I had been.
“What was he saying that was so very important?” Dante asks, his voice still icily calm. He sits up. “Matters of national security, I’m sure.”
He’s getting to his feet, wiping off with a towel and reaching for a shirt. This can’t be good. Besides the fact that I’d rather he stay shirtless, I don’t want him going after Nate. I know from these types of situations with farm boys in Kansas that they seldom end well. Bones get broken, eyes get blackened, blood gets spattered.
“No. I’m not sure what he was talking about. He was trying to find something, he said. And he mentioned your name. But honestly, I couldn’t tell what the conversation was about. It might have been nothing at all.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Dante announces. “Because he laid a hand on you. And that was a mistake.”
I sigh again.
“Dante, please. It’s over with now. It’s not going to do any good to confront him. He was just having a bad day, I think.”
“Well, he’s about to have another one today.” Dante stalks away.
I sit frozen for a moment before I scramble up and trail after him.
He’s on his phone already, leaving livid voicemails for Nate. I presume it’s Nate, anyway.
“Call me, you bastard. Now.”
I sincerely hope it’s Nate.
Dante shoves his phone in his pocket and keeps walking.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I trail at his heels like a puppy. It’s all I can do to keep up. He’s moving very fast. And his legs are very long.
We wind through the Old Palace and come out on the other side, bursting through the main doors just in time to bump into… Nate. And Nate’s father, Nathaniel. And Dimitri.
Gulp.
The three of them stare at us in surprise and Dante takes no t
ime for pleasantries or explanations. He shoves Nate hard, causing him to stumble backward down the white marble steps.
“What the hell?” Nate looks bewildered and Dimitri grabs Dante’s arm.
“What were you thinking?” Dante demands, struggling against his father. Dimitri holds him fast.
“What are you thinking?”Dimitri hisses, yanking at Dante. “Stop this.”
Dante pulls his arm away.
“Do you enjoy roughing up women?” he asks icily, stepping directly into Nate’s personal space. Nate is calm, unworried. He looks directly into Dante’s eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dante,” he says. My hand automatically fingers the tender bruise on my arm. Nate’s gaze flickers to me and I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what Dante is talking about.
But he’s a very good liar.
Nate immediately puts on an innocent, puzzled expression. I can practically feel his father’s breath on my neck as we all close in to listen. This is the first time I’ve seen Nate’s father. He looks nothing like Nate. He is shorter, darker. He seems kinder and like the rest of us, he is waiting for Nate’s explanation. And that is forthcoming, but it is full of shit.
“Dante, is this about Reece? I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to hurt her. She stumbled on the beach and I reached out to make sure she didn’t fall. I certainly didn’t intend to man-handle her.”
Nate looks to me.
“Did you think I was purposely hurting you, Reece? My apologies. That certainly wasn’t the case. Can you forgive me?”
His face is icy, his eyes cold. But the words he is speaking are the right ones. How can we argue with them in front of Dimitri and Nathaniel?
“I don’t believe you,” Dante says calmly. I guess that’s how. We just lay it out there. I suck in my breath as Nathaniel steps forward.
“Come now, Dante,” Nathaniel says quietly. “Nate says it was unintentional. Surely you can’t believe that he’d harm a girl that he barely knows. For what purpose? Let’s not be rash. Let us calm down and be adults. Is it possible that your judgment might be clouded because you’re jealous that Nate was with Reece at the beach in the first place?”
“I’m not jealous of Nate,” Dante answers. “I just know Nate better than you do, sir.”
Dante’s Girl Page 13
