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‘What could be better than uniting the two shareholdings by uniting...’ she beamed, glancing from Vito to her daughter and back ‘...the two halves of our family? You two young people together!’
Disbelief paralysed Vito. What kind of farce was Marlene trying to play out? Urgently he threw a look at Carla, waiting for her to express the same rejection and revulsion that he was feeling. But, like a shockwave going through him, he registered that there was no such reaction from her. Instead she was turning a steely, unblinking gaze on him.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘that’s an excellent idea.’
He stared, hearing the words fall from her tightly pressed lips.
Oh, hell! thought Vito.
* * *
Eloise tossed restlessly in bed. How long could that family function of Vito’s go on? It was way past midnight already. She’d spent a forlorn evening. Calling Room Service for a dinner she had only picked at, staring unseeingly at an English-language TV channel. Missing Vito. Feeling left behind.
Finally she had resorted to bed—but the huge king-sized mattress seemed empty without Vito’s lean, muscled form.
She tried to think positively. Maybe Vito was spending some time with his mother—after all, he hadn’t seen her for weeks now, while he’d been inspecting his hotels. It was natural for her to want to spend a little time with her son.
A thought struck her. Maybe Vito’s telling her about me!
But what would there be to tell? That elegant Frenchwoman in Nice—one of his exes as he’d admitted—had acidly called her Vito’s latest beautiful blonde.
Implying I’m just one in a long line... None of them meaning anything special to him.
But was she something special to Vito? And did she want to be?
I want to find out! I want time with him, a proper relationship with him. I want to find out what he means to me and me to him!
Living in Rome, being settled here, would surely show her that? She could get a daytime job as a nanny—maybe to an ex-pat family—while Vito took up the reins of running his family hotel business. She would learn Italian cooking—how to make fresh pasta, even!
She felt her imagination take over, seeing herself cooking dinner for Vito, being part of his everyday life. Eagerness leapt within her. Bringing with it a realisation of just how attractive to her that image was—and why.
It must mean he’s important to me—far more than just a passing romance! Mustn’t it?
She tossed and turned, knowing for certain only that she wanted Vito back with her tonight. That she missed his company.
She must have fallen asleep eventually, for the next thing she knew she was awake.
‘Vito...?’ she said, her voice warm with drowsy pleasure.
He was standing by the window of the bedroom, silhouetted against the pale curtains. He didn’t move for a moment, but went on looking down at her.
A thread of uneasy disquiet went through her. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
Vito felt her anxious gaze on him. Savage emotion seared through him. No, everything was not all right! It was the damnable, impossible opposite of all right!
His fists clenched in his pockets. In his head he heard Carla say, yet again, those fateful words.
‘I think it’s an excellent idea.’
Fury and disbelief had exploded within him. ‘You can’t possibly mean that!’
Carla hadn’t answered, had only tightened her mouth, while Marlene, with a little light laugh, had got to her feet.
‘My dear Vito,’ she’d said, relinquishing her daughter’s hand, which had promptly closed like a vice over the back of the chair instead, ‘you must know how much I would love to welcome you as my son-in-law! It is my long-held dream!’
The triumphant expression in her eyes had made Vito’s fury sharpen.
She’d scarcely left the room before he’d rounded on his step-cousin.
