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‘What did you eat?’ Gabriella interrupted and it was actually a nice conversation. She told her about the food, and yes, her mother asked about the furniture. ‘She gave me some olive oil to send you.’
‘She gave you that for me?’
‘She said you would miss it.’
‘I do.’
There was a very long silence and then Gabriella revealed the real reason she had rung.
‘Ella, I am so sorry.’
‘Mum...’ She was about to tell her to stop, but wasn’t that what she scorned her mother for, for not talking about things, for just closing off?
‘I should never have asked you to cover up for him, but I was scared. If we told the police, what would happen afterwards? You were right to get away and you are right to not want to speak with him. I will never ask you to again.’
‘Thank you.’
How she’d needed to hear her mother say sorry and they spoke some more, cried some more. As Ella hung up on her mother, she knew that there was someone she had to say sorry to herself.
Properly though.
Except he was at dinner, and it really would be poor form to disturb, so Ella texted instead, asked if she could speak with him, that it didn’t matter what time.
Ella wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer.
She’d hurt him, offended him, and she knew that Santo was incredibly proud.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE WAS SCOWLING and completely unapproachable on set the next morning, arms crossed. He was talking with Luca, one of his cousins, and the conversation didn’t look as if it was pretty, but Ella tried to focus on Taylor.
‘We’re going to zoom in to a close-up,’ Ella said to Taylor. ‘Just go for it, but anything we can’t get today, we’ll get in the studio. I’m not going to be asking you to do this over and over. Just give it all you’ve got now.’
As Taylor headed off for a touch-up of hair and make-up, she glanced over to the dark brooding shadow of Santo. Luca was nowhere to be seen now. The cameras were all set up and ready and, even if she was dreading it, even if this might prove the most embarrassing moment of her life, still she had to face him—had to tell Santo that it wasn’t a game she’d been playing, that she’d just not been able to stick to a playboy’s rules.
She walked over to him, and even with dark glasses on, she could feel his eyes telling her to back off. He was leaning on a trailer, arms folded, and he said nothing as she walked over.
‘I’m sorry.’ God, it was a very hard thing to say when you absolutely meant it. ‘I am so sorry. I know how much I insulted you yesterday. I know that you would never hit me.’
Still he said nothing. It was like talking to a cardboard cut-out of him because his face never moved, his body was still. The effusive, expressive Santo was lost to her now and she wanted him back.
‘I spoke to my mum last night and I realised you are right. I have been holding back.’ Ella took a deep breath. ‘I’ve liked you for a very long time,’ she admitted. ‘A lot, and yes, I was jealous even if I didn’t want to admit that I was. And because I know that you don’t do long-term, I knew that by sleeping with you I’d be pretty much writing my own resignation. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to work alongside you if you were with someone else.’ She wished he would speak but, when he did, she wished that he hadn’t.
‘You assume so much.’
Santo looked at her from behind his dark glasses. Not once had she even hinted that his lifestyle bothered her—irritated her, maybe. He had heard the barbs. He thought of the cards he had had her dictate to the florist. Except there had been none in recent months, for the familiar, well-used lines had stopped coming so readily. Jewellery was a far easier option with a quick, simple line about matching her eyes...
And Ella had written them.
‘It was a lot more than sex to me and I didn’t want you to know how I felt, but now you do.’
‘Taylor’s taking her place.’
‘Santo...’
‘Get to work, Ella.’
She was shaking as she walked away from him. She had told him everything and he had given her nothing back.
Not everything.
Ella knew she hadn’t been completely open with him—but how? She wasn’t about to play the sympathy card. She’d declined the chance to talk to him on too many occasions. It wasn’t exactly fair to demand that right back now.
‘Ready?’ Ella checked in with her leading lady.
‘You want to take my place?’ Taylor asked when she saw Ella’s brimming eyes.
‘Right now, I probably could,’ Ella admitted, ‘except it wouldn’t be acting.’
‘If I get this right you can buy me a drink tonight,’ Taylor offered. ‘And I’ll lend you an ear.’
Taylor did get it right.
Whatever place Taylor took her head to, she was in agony and it was a privilege to watch. To witness her pure pain. There was no question that Vince would be drawn to her. Absolutely the viewer would understand why the characters would make love on the beach a few minutes later. Ella almost wanted to tell Taylor to stop, to breathe, because even though Taylor was hardly making a noise, it was clear she was broken.
Her eyes were screwed closed against tears that squeezed out, her lips were pressed tight and there was this river of pain building. She was locked in hell, just as Santo had been that morning where she had found him crying in the bath.
It hit her then.
She remembered the tears that Santo had shed that morning, the hell he had been in, all they had shared. It had been, she was sure now, far more than sex for him too, and she’d just walked away from him.
The one time Santo had needed another, had been himself with another, she’d closed off.
Frantic, she looked away from Taylor for a second, and over to Santo, but he just stood there, his arms folded, watching the action, watching Taylor, as she now must.
Taylor’s blue eyes were open. She was choking in tears. Then, even though they already had the shots, she repeated it just in case, turned her head to Vince, blanched as if she expected criticism and then her face moved in for his kiss. And what a kiss it would be, because now Ella knew for sure that this movie would work.
‘Cut.’
The second Ella said it Taylor burst out laughing, from the high and the elation of a perfect scene.
‘That was amazing!’ Ella enthused. ‘Just brilliant.’ And she told Taylor the same again later when she bought her a drink, shy to be sitting and talking with someone as famous as Taylor Carmichael.
‘You’d better get used to it,’ Taylor said when Ella admitted how nervous she was to be talking to her off set. ‘If this film does well, you’re going to be known soon. You’ll have scripts arriving...’
‘I haven’t really thought about after,’ Ella admitted. ‘I’m just trying to concentrate on getting this right. I know there won’t be an opportunity like this again.’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘I’ve been so focused on work I’ve forgotten what’s important.’
‘We all do it at times,’ Taylor said. ‘Santo will understand that.’ Ella burnt red that what was going on was so obvious to everyone, but then it turned to guilt as Taylor continued. ‘But things are pretty hellish for the Correttis at the moment.’ She was direct without being indiscreet and Ella caught her eye. Taylor would know only too well what was going on at the moment, that compromising photo that surprisingly hadn’t contained Santo had still had the scandal of the Corretti name attached to it! ‘Maybe it’s time to forget about work for a while,’ Taylor suggested.
It was.
Ella finished up her drink and thanked Taylor again for her amazing work today and then headed to the lift, not to the safety of her room, but the danger of his, for she wanted to say sorry again. She wanted to explain, and properly this time, why she had flinched when he had raised his hand. And it had nothing to do with playing the sympathy card. It was about telling the truth and admitting just why she hadn’t felt able to give them a proper chance. Ella took a deep breath and knocked on his suite door.
Silence, and then as she knocked again, it opened to her dread—the stunning Marianna, dressed in a hotel bathrobe, her lacy bra on clear show. She barely blinked when she saw that it was Ella.
‘Scusi,’ she said. ‘I thought you were room service.’ She gave a smile. ‘Santo is just in the shower.’
And Ella said nothing.
‘Ah, here it is now...’ Marianna said as a large ice bucket and bottle of champagne was delivered to the room and a large table of food was wheeled in. All covered, of course, but Ella could guess as to what lay beneath and it didn’t take much guesswork to know what she was interrupting.
‘By the bed,’ Marianna ordered.
Just as Santo liked it.
‘Did you need him for anything in particular?’
‘Nothing that won’t keep,’ Ella said and walked more than a little numb back to her room, waiting for the pain to hit, waiting, as she secretly always had been, to find out how it felt to have a heart broken by Santo.
