His wife and his mother. Forever linked. One taking her first breath in this world as the other took her last.
Elio had loved both his parents, but it was his mother he’d worshipped. As hard as nails when she’d needed to be, to her children, she’d been soft and loving. It had been her side ofthe bed that Elio and his siblings had fought most mornings to get beneath the sheets of for early morning cuddles. He remembered deciding at the age of eight that he was too old to do that anymore. It was a decision he regretted to this day, just as he regretted his decision to stop holding her hand in public out of embarrassment at what his friends would think if they saw them.
The only continuity of affection he’d allowed until her death had been the bedtime routine. Every night, she would put Elvira to bed, then come into the room Elio shared with Bruno, and take it in turns to snuggle up in their beds with them to read a story. Then she would tuck them in and kiss their foreheads, telling them that she loved them. At the bedroom door, she would always, always look back to blow them a kiss each and wish them sweet dreams.
Elio hadn’t had a sweet dream since her death. He knew Bruno and Elvira hadn’t either.
Leaving the bathroom, he caught his wife’s soft blue stare. The constriction in his throat returned.
She was so damned beautiful. Beautiful enough to turn anyone’s head. The wraparound emerald silk dress she was wearing only enhanced what nature had blessed her with and showcased her spectacular curves. Taking in every inch of her, from the glossy, tumbling blonde hair right down to the silver stilettoes on her feet, his chest suddenly expanded and filled with an emotion that felt nothing like the desire and loathing that was all he allowed himself to feel for her.
Despising this unexpected burst of weakness for her, he abruptly turned away and shut himself in the dressing room.
Chapter Ten
Siena had never suffered sucha miserable birthday. She’d felt her father’s absence acutely the whole day through, and as she dined with her family in Naples’ most exclusive restaurant, she knew the others were feeling his absence, too. Lorenzo Esposito had always celebrated his children’s birthdays as if they were the birthdays of royalty. He’d always made Siena feel like a princess on hers, always outdoing himself each year with his affection and gifts. Last year, he’d handed her the keys to the sports car of her dreams. That her position in the world meant it was rarely safe for her to drive didn’t detract from the meaning behind it.
The gifts she’d received from her mother, the first solo birthday presents she’d ever given her, had been a track day at Imola where she could drive her sports car, and a weekend in Monaco for the next Formula 1 Grand Prix.
Having assumed her mother would buy her a pamper day or something else that was decidedly feminine, she’d been surprised and touched at her thoughtfulness. Yes, Siena loved girly, feminine stuff, but she also loved fast cars, and guilt rose in her as it always did when her mother showed her thoughtful side at her inability to see her mother with the eyes of the faithful daughter she’d been before the incident with Stefano.
The only person she hadn’t received a gift from that day was her husband. She hadn’t expected a gift from him, but it bothered her how much it hurt. Itshouldn’thurt. A marriage forged through vengeance and hate was not a marriage where gifts were exchanged, and never would be. She was damned if she’d even bother to learn when his birthday was, let alone go out and think of a thoughtful gift for him.
But he hadn’t even wished her a happy birthday, not even in a mocking fashion. He’d watched her open her gifts from her family and made no comment at all. But he took it all in. Those silver eyes didn’t miss a thing.
What killed her was that she kept having to fist her hand to stop it from touching his thigh. The owner had put them in their usual private room, but with the new additions to the usual gathering, including Francesca and Gino and Rico’s pregnant angel, Marisa, space felt tighter than normal. Elio’s arm and thigh kept brushing hers, and she was so aware of it. Aware of him. The pulse between her legs was already throbbing with anticipation of going to bed. So consumed was she by Elio that she barely had time to nurture her loathing of Gabriella, who wisely had seated herself as far from Siena as she could get.
This was the first birthday she could remember where she hadn’t spent the day getting ready with Gabriella for the big night out. She wished she didn’t miss her so badly. Wished she didn’t feel so alone.
She shouldn’t feel alone, surrounded as she was by her family. Maybe that’s why she was so consumed by Elio, she tried to cheer herself by rationalising. Not that it was a very cheering way to try and lift her mood.
Draining her glass of wine, she closed her eyes in an effort to centre herself. Except, when she opened them again, she glanced at the far end of the table and caught Gabriella’s eye. Her heart wrenched painfully before she could tear her stare away.
* * *
Siena’s mood wasn’t helped when the time came for them all to say goodbye, and she saw Mattia get into a car being driven by Stefano. Not even knowing the bastard was going off to South America in the morning at Mattia’s behest and that she wouldn’t have to see him for a few weeks stopped the curdling in her guts to see him.
Her mood dipped even further when she arrived back at the villa with Elio after a drive where they hadn’t exchanged a solitary word at the exact time his security were walking the perimeter with the dogs.
Happy bloody birthday indeed.
Inside, she slipped her shoes off and headed to the bar in the living room. She was fed up of feeling like a house-guest in this villa. This was her home now, and she was going to damned well start treating it as such.
Elio kept a fully stocked bar. Very much aware he was watching her, she mixed herself a very large Negroni, downed it, mixed another of equal size and carried it outside.
It was the first time she’d ventured into the garden. It was tastefully done, she grudgingly admitted. The large rectangular pool was clean, the poolside decked with expensive, pristine loungers and tables. On the far side of the pool was a verdant lawn big enough for a football team of children to kick a ball about on, and as she thought this, she pictured miniature Elios running around, laughing and fighting.
Closing her eyes to kill the image, she sat on the side of the pool and dipped her feet and calves into it. In comparison with the close warmth of the night, the water felt deliciously cool and refreshing.
She sensed rather than heard footsteps nearing her, and closed her eyes again.
The air moved around her before she inhaled the warm, masculine scent she liked far more than was good for her and heard a light splash of water.
Sipping her drink, she willed the potent alcohol to temper her racing heart. From the corner of her eye, she saw Elio take a drink from a crystal tumbler. Judging by the colour, it was whisky or bourbon. Or maybe rum. Her nose twitched. Whisky, she decided, and took another drink of her Negroni. One thing she was grateful to Elio for was that he never drank beer.
“When I was fourteen, Stefano pinned me against a wall and shoved his fingers in my vagina.”
The words came out without any thought.
