“You mean the tour that was supposed to happen at nine a.m.?” I ask, lifting a brow.
He gives me a grin that I’m sure he uses to get exactly what he wants—and I have no doubt that it works. “I had a fast weekend with my car at the races. Thought I deserved a slow morning to recuperate.”
I roll my eyes good-naturedly and stand from behind my desk. He gives me a once-over.
“You might want to change your clothes. A pencil skirt isn’t going to cut it.”
“I’m not sure if I’m more curious about what you have planned, or impressed that you know what a pencil skirt is.”
He winks. “I only know skirts by how quickly they can be removed. Those have zippers straight down the back. One pull and they’re off.” He pauses. “I suppose talking this way is against office policy. But you’re family, so does it really count?”
“It counts. I’ll let it slide this one time.” I wave him out of my office. “Let’s go.”
On our way out, we hear Armani and Candi chatting in his office. Her voice is light and friendly, while his is even more stilted and quiet than usual. Marco gives me a knowing glance, and I grin. Whatever is going on between those two, Armani can’t fight it forever.
I pop into the main house to change into jeans. When I get back outside I see Marco waiting in the yard, holding the reins of a horse in each hand.
“Ytse!” I shout. I all but float over to the gelding.
Marco hands me the reins with a smile. He chose a large buckskin for himself. I’m so happy to get back on my horse that I can barely stand it.
I let Marco give me a boost into the saddle and then lean forward to wrap my arms around Ytse’s neck. He gives a toss as if welcoming me and paws a hoof in the dirt. Marco mounts up and leads the way. As I move up beside him, his gaze drops to my hand.
“Couldn’t help noticing that ring on your finger. Might that be a Bellanti family heirloom?”
“Why, yes it is.”
“Thank God,” he says. “With you around, Dante might actually become a Real Boy again. I never in a million years thought my brother would fall in love.”
I laugh. “What about you, Marco?”
He puts a hand on his chest. “Me? I’m always in love. I fall in love every day. I’m never lonely!”
But despite his words, I hear a whisper of bitterness underneath the bravado. Such a dichotomy to his words. Knowing what I do of Dante’s upbringing, I suspect that all three brothers are lonely in their own respects. They have each other, but they’re not bonded the way my sisters and I are. The Bellantis’ relationships strike me as more professional than intimate.
Nudging my horse closer, I ask, “What was it like, growing up with Dante?”
“You don’t want to know.” He laughs. “But seriously, he wasn’t all that different. When he was younger, he was more full of anger I suppose. And much quicker to beat my ass.”
I catch the same mix of sadness and bravado in his voice.
“Why do you think he was so angry?”
Marco’s smile fades. “Come on, Frankie. I think you know the answer to that.”
He makes a clicking sound to signal his horse to canter, and they take off over the first set of gentle hills. I nudge Ytse forward so we can catch up, and I’m out of breath when we finally come to a stop beside Marco. He’s taking in the view of the vineyard’s neat rows, the vines bursting with autumnal shades of russet and gold and deep, fiery red.
“Beautiful,” I comment.
Marco nods. I expect him to take off again, but instead he starts to talk.
“Our father was a harsh man, but he was harshest on Dante,” he says haltingly. “I was the troublemaker and probably punished the most, out of the three of us. But I didn’t take anything to heart. The shit that Dad pulled just rolled off my back.
“But Dante isn’t like me. He felt every mistake deep in his bones, and he never made the same misstep twice. Which made him careful, but also…miserable. And very cold. But then…”
There’s a beat of silence. I’m holding my breath because I want him to continue.
“Then?” I ask gently.
