The Italian's Unexpected Heir

by Jennifer Faye

  “Sylvie, are you okay?” The concern in Enzo’s voice drew her from her thoughts.

  She glanced at him. “What?”

  “You’re crying.”

  “I am?” She ran her fingers over her cheeks. They were damp. “I’m sorry. I was just remembering a conversation with my mother.”

  “It must have been serious.”

  “It was one of the times when I had to leave her to go to work and she told me she understood. She said she was proud of me. I can’t believe I’d forgotten that.” She left out the part about finding true love. She didn’t want Enzo reading anything into it. Her gaze met his. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Making you cry?”

  “No.” She smiled. “For giving me back a memory—an important memory.”

  “You’re welcome, though I don’t think I did anything.”

  “Sometimes it’s just having someone to listen. And you were that someone today.”

  He smiled at her. “Let’s put these prints back on the wall.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” They set to work side by side.

  * * *

  Enzo honestly didn’t think he’d said much of anything important.

  But Sylvie seemed to think differently.

  For the next few days they worked together as a team cleaning, sorting and arranging. Sylvie had been extra nice to him. If he had sparked a memory in her mind, he was happy he’d been able to do that for her.

  Trying to remember the past wasn’t his problem. He clearly recalled his past with his parents and the illusion of a happy family. The problem was he also remembered the carnage and agony after both of his parents died.

  That stupid journal had compounded matters. Why had his mother kept it? If they hadn’t read it, no one would have been the wiser. Well, that wasn’t true. He knew the secret. At least some of it. And the guilt for keeping that information to himself was something that dogged his steps throughout the estate.

  They’d hung the prints in the tank room. And then they’d moved to the main house, putting family photos back on the walls—some of his immediate family and others of their ancestors in black-and-white photos. By the time they had the villa fully decorated, Monday was over and they were exhausted.

  Come Tuesday morning, they put back all the decorations in the barrel and tank room in the winery. There was only one room left. The wine-tasting room was part museum and part tasting space for visitors. It had taken Enzo days to take everything down and pack it away.

  He glanced around at the bare, expansive walls that used to hold a collage of vineyard history. “I don’t know if we’re going to get this all done.”

  “Sure we are.” Sylvie’s gaze followed his before returning to him. She sent him a reassuring smile. “We just have to hurry. We’ll put everything back where it came from. It will save us the time of having to figure out where things should go.”

  He didn’t see where that would save much time. But there was no time to argue. So while he moved the squared black display stands with glass tops back into position, Sylvie opened one storage box after the next, unwrapping awards, novelties and plaques with descriptions of each item. Enzo wasn’t sure why he’d packed absolutely everything but every time he went to part with something, he found a reason not to do so. His sisters might want it. The item might be valuable. Vito might want some of it. There was always an excuse close at hand.

  “I have some photos on my phone that might help us put the smaller things back where they were.” Sylvie pulled out her phone and placed it on the table.

  Curiosity had him walking over and taking a look. There were a number of photos, not only of the wine-tasting room but also of the main house and the surrounding grounds. “Are you an amateur photographer?”

  “Hardly. I just love this place and I wanted to be able to remember it. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “I bet the young, ambitious you in these photos would have never imagined this day would come.”

  As Enzo gazed at the old family photos, he heard his father’s voice in his mind: Life never goes the way you plan. It’s finding your way through life’s detours that’s worth the effort.

  Enzo realized this was his detour in life. He just had no idea where it was going to lead him. First, he had to wind things up here at the estate and it was proving to be more complicated than he’d ever imagined.

  “Enzo?” Sylvie was giving him a strange look. “Everything okay?”

  “Um, yeah. Fine. Let’s get these things where they belong.”

  And so they worked for a while in silence. He couldn’t believe she’d talked him into putting all of this stuff back. What was it about Sylvie that he was willing to do things he wouldn’t do otherwise?

  “What do you think?” Sylvie’s gaze moved around the room. “Think we’ll get it done today?”

  “Today? Do you have something you want to do tomorrow?”

  She smiled and nodded. He knew that smile. She looked that way when she had a plan he wasn’t going to like, not like at all.

  He pressed his hands to his waist. “Sylvie, what do you have in mind?”

  “I thought we could head into Florence. I was thinking some flower arrangements and candles and maybe a wreath or two...or three would brighten up this place. The photos are a nice touch but the decor needs softening a bit.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t set your heart on it.”

  She turned a serious gaze on him. “I’m not giving up on this. I’ll go to Florence alone if I must.”

  Her words brought forth another memory. Enzo recalled his father standing in this very room saying to him, Never give up on those you love.

  And another of his father’s sayings: Forgiveness is one of the greatest things you can give yourself and others.

  It was almost like his father knew this day was coming and in his cryptic way, he was guiding his son. But Enzo just couldn’t brush aside what his parents’ secret had done to his sisters. It wasn’t right. Maybe his father should have taken some of his own advice.

  “Enzo—” Sylvie’s voice put a halt to his thoughts “—if you don’t want to go, you can just say so. You don’t have to scowl at me.”

  He was scowling? He hadn’t realized his thoughts had transformed onto his face. With concerted effort, he smoothed the frown lines. “Sorry. It wasn’t you. I just had a memory.”

  “Of your parents?”

  He nodded. “It was of my father. He used to share with me these little bits of wisdom.”

  “Like what?”

  Enzo told her what he could remember. As he was talking about his parents, he started to see them in a new light. They were more than a married couple running this estate with nary a hiccup. When you scratched beneath the surface, they were flawed individuals. But when you went even deeper, they were loving parents.

  “Maybe you should reconsider selling the estate,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “But you have good memories. Maybe not all of them are happy—”

  “Sylvie, stop!” He paused as though reining in his frustration. “It’s too late.”

  “But you haven’t signed any papers yet—”

  “I gave my word.”

  “That’s not the same as signing a sales agreement.”

  “For me it is.” And with that he walked away.

  Sylvie let go of the subject—for now. Instead, she focused on the work. Sooner or later she was going to have to admit defeat. Just not today.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY WORKED WELL TOGETHER, complementing each other’s skills. He did the heavy lifting. She did the final touches.

  After Enzo placed the last print on the wall, he glanced around the room. His gaze settled on Sylvie as she arranged some mementos in one of the light
ed glass cases. The winery looked as it had before. No. Sylvie’s little adjustment here and there had made it look picture perfect.

  It was late in the evening when Enzo said, “That’s it for tonight.”

  He noticed that Sylvie didn’t argue.

  He led the way to the exit. He paused by the door and flipped off the lights in the winery. He knew he wouldn’t sleep that night, not with all the thoughts darting about his mind. Still, it was no reason to keep Sylvie from getting some rest.

  Darkness fell over the building as they stepped outside. He typed the code into the security pad before turning back to Sylvie. In the moonlight she looked like an enchantress. And it’d be so easy to forget all the reasons he shouldn’t hold her close and kiss her like he’d wanted to the other day.

  Instead, he started to walk. To head to the main house, he would need to walk straight ahead but instead he turned down the path to the left and continued moving toward the guesthouse. In silence they walked in the moonlight. His thoughts were filled with memories of another night when he’d been along with Sylvie. It had been an evening they’d thrown caution to the wind. It was a night they wouldn’t repeat.

  All too soon they were standing outside Sylvie’s door. He turned to her. “Thank you for all your help today.”

  “You’re welcome. But I think it should be me thanking you since this photo shoot was my idea.”

  “I know I wasn’t thrilled with the idea in the beginning. And I’m sorry.”

  “And now?”

  “Now...” His thoughts swept back over the day and all that had happened. “I think it was a good idea. The perfect way to say goodbye—to this place.” He was quick to add the last bit because no matter what, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her.

  Having Sylvie walk out of his life would be harder than saying goodbye to his childhood home. But he supposed he deserved it, after sitting on his family’s explosive secret all those years.

  “Enzo, what is it?” Sylvie’s voice was soft.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  She opened the door. “Come in.”

  “It’s too late. And with us heading into the city tomorrow, you’ll want to get some rest.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  In the moonlight he could make out the outline of her face but he couldn’t read her eyes. He’d be willing to guess that there was a look of disbelief in them. But that was okay. This was all his problem, not hers.

  When she stepped inside, she flipped on the lights. He’d just turned to walk away when they were plunged back into darkness.

  “What in the world?” The sound of the light switch being flipped on and off filled the air.

  Enzo immediately spun around. “Let me see.”

  The only problem was that it was pitch-dark inside the house and when he went to step through the doorway, he bumped into Sylvie. He immediately reached out to steady her. He pulled her to him, perhaps with more urgency than was necessary because all of a sudden her body was pressed against his.

  In that moment he hesitated. He didn’t want to let her go and she didn’t seem interested in going anywhere. The thought of kissing her came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. And here in the dark, who would know?

  They would know. He would know. He didn’t deserve Sylvie. She was the most kindhearted—the most generous—the most caring woman he’d ever known. And she deserved someone better than him. She deserved someone who faced challenges no matter how great and protected the people they loved. That wasn’t him.

  The thought doused the burning embers within him. He swallowed hard. “I...uh...should see what the problem is.”

  It was with great reluctance that he moved past her. She was quiet. If she knew of the torment going on within him, she didn’t say a word.

  Having memorized his way through most of the buildings on the estate over the years, he made his way to the kitchen. He felt around the wall for the light switch. He flicked it on and there was once again light.

  He turned back to Sylvie, who was still in the shadows. “Looks like you have a burnt-out light. Which is strange because there should be two bulbs in that light fixture.”

  “Well, there are.” There was some hesitancy in her voice. “The one bulb burnt out the other day, but I didn’t get around to changing it.”

  “I see. No problem. I’ll have it fixed for you in no time.”

  “But you don’t have to bother tonight. You must be tired.”

  “I doubt I’ll sleep tonight.” The words had slipped past his lips before he realized he was saying too much. Sylvie would want to know why he wasn’t sleeping, and he wasn’t up for revealing his past. The day of looking at old photos and taking a stroll down memory lane had been more than enough for him. And most of all, he just didn’t want to disappoint Sylvie. She thought he was a nice guy, a good guy, and he wanted to remain that in her eyes.

  And so he set to work, locating the items he would need. He knew someone else could tend to this in the morning, but he wanted to take care of Sylvie, just as she was trying to care for him by showing him what he would be giving up by selling the estate. Perhaps the gestures were not on the same scale, but he was doing what was needed in the moment.

  A few minutes later he had the bulbs replaced. It was time to make his exit before he lost his head once again. But when he looked around, he didn’t see Sylvie anywhere.

  “Sylvie, everything is done.” When there was no response, he said, “Sylvie?”

  “Back here.”

  He walked to the back of the house, where the living room had been moved to make space for the wedding business in the front rooms. He found Sylvie seated on the couch.

  She patted the cushion next to her. “Come have a seat.”

  He checked his wristwatch. “I... I don’t think so.” The truth was he didn’t trust himself being that close to her. “It’s really late.”

  “But you said you wouldn’t sleep tonight.”

  That was true. He hadn’t meant to tell her but it was too late to walk it back now. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ve made you something to help you sleep.” When he still didn’t move—still didn’t trust his judgment in this exhausted state—she said, “Come.”

  There was a firmness to her voice—the same sort of tone his mother would use when she meant business. It was amazing the things his mother could get people to do without raising her voice. Sylvie had that same poise and command. Someday she’d make a good mother. Of that he was certain.

  And so he took a seat next to her, leaving a respectable distance between them. He couldn’t help but feel this was a mistake, but he remained seated.

  Sylvie held out a red mug. “Here. Drink this.”

  When he reached for it, their fingers brushed. A rush of anticipation electrified his body and it had absolutely nothing to do with the drink. His gaze met hers. He felt himself once more slipping under her spell. Enzo glanced away before it was too late. He stared down at the white frothy drink, knowing that any chance he’d had at getting some sleep was now officially gone.

  He swallowed hard. “What is it?”

  “It’s some warmed milk that my mother would make for me whenever I was worked up from a nightmare or the night before a big test.” She took a sip from her own cup.

  He lifted the mug. The first thing that struck him was its soft fragrance. He wasn’t sure about drinking it. He eyed up Sylvie as she took another healthy sip. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, because he was quite certain at this late hour she really didn’t feel like going to all this bother, he took a small sip.

  He swallowed. “This isn’t warmed milk. Well, it’s not just milk.”

  She smiled and nodded. “It has some honey, vanilla and a touch of lavender. Plus a few other things. Do you like it?”<
br />
  “I...ah...” His lips pursed together as he considered the answer. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t love it, either. “It’s so unique. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like it before.”

  “Just keep sipping it. Trust me, it’ll help relax you.” She frowned at him. “You can’t relax when you’re perched on the edge of the couch as though you’re ready to spring out the door at any moment. Sit back and relax.”

  This most definitely wasn’t a good idea, but he was already sitting in her living room at this late hour; why not just lean back? It wasn’t like she was going to throw herself into his arms. Was she? The thought definitely appealed to him.

  Every muscle in his body was tense as he slid back over the cushion. And even when he was fully on the couch, he couldn’t lean back. He sat fully upright, staying on guard, not letting down his defenses because he knew how easy it was to forget about circumstances when Sylvie was in his vicinity.

  “Do you think there’s anything that will change your mind about selling the place?”

  It was the first time she’d come straight out and asked him the question. The answer that rushed to the back of his throat was one she didn’t want to hear. He shifted his gaze to the contents of the mug. It might not be his favorite drink but it was better than having to speak and see the disappointment in Sylvie’s eyes.

  He held the mug to his lips and drank; all the while he could feel Sylvie’s gaze upon him. Why couldn’t she just give this up? But he knew she was waiting for an answer. The woman definitely had a lot of tenacity.

  He lowered the mug. “No. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “Is there anything I can say or do—?”

  “No, Sylvie. This is what has to be done.” The debate of keeping the estate or letting go of the ghosts of the past churned within him. “You just don’t understand.”

  “I would, if you told me.” Her voice was soft but not forceful.

  The secret he’d been holding in all these years came rushing forward, teetering on the edge of his tongue. He hadn’t told anyone because he was ashamed. But maybe if he wanted to let go of the ghosts, he needed to be up-front with her. If he could trust anyone, it was Sylvie.