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‘No grandparents?’ he persisted silkily. ‘No one that close?’
‘No, not now. Satisfied?’ she asked a trifle tersely.
‘And you see these friends and other family members often?’
She frowned, staring pointedly at him. ‘Is this an interrogation?’
‘Is that what it feels like?’ he returned smoothly.
‘Please stop answering a question with another,’ she said irritably.
‘Is that what I am doing?’ And then he chuckled. ‘Si, I see what you mean. I apologise. I would like to know more about you, that is all. I feel at a disadvantage. You are living in my house, you are friends with my sister—you know a great deal about me and the life I lead, do you not?’
She stared at him disbelievingly. She knew nothing about him. Nothing that really mattered, that was. OK, his love-life, in effect. But even the little she’d gleaned about Caterina had come from Sophia; he’d given her no specifics. Not one.
He waited a moment or two. ‘You do not agree?’
She shrugged. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself by asking about other women. ‘I think you are a very private person who only lets people see what you want them to see,’ she prevaricated uneasily.
Now it was Vittorio’s turn to frown. ‘You think I have the secrets? Is that what you are saying?’
‘Not secrets exactly, no.’ She was floundering. ‘Like I said once before, you’re a closed book, that’s all.’
‘I do not think this is so,’ he said firmly.
‘Then we’ll have to agree to disagree on the matter,’ Cherry said with equal firmness.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to Altamura—Vittorio concentrating on driving and Cherry staring through the window at a view which had lost its interest. The unresolved issue and the way the conversation had gone had made her feel tense and awkward, taking the anticipation and excitement out of the evening and making her feel flat and miserable.
The town was bustling when they arrived, full of families eating out or sitting in the last of the sunshine outside the little trattorias and osterias and pizzerias which were everywhere.
When Vittorio swung the Ferrari off the road into a large palm-fringed courtyard and cut the engine, he made no move to open the door. Turning to her, he said quietly, ‘For a long time now I have taken care of Sophia. It was important after the death of our parents to give her stability and a sense of security, you understand? To try and be all our father and mother would have been and to shoulder any responsibility or difficulties. I think this is possibly why I have become the closed book of which you speak, but it is not intentional. I was betrothed to an Italian girl when my parents were killed—the daughter of friends of theirs. This did not work out, and since that time I have not brought any women to the villa for Sophia’s sake. That is not to say that I have not had an active social life, but I have not been used to—what is the English expression?—wearing my heart on my sleeve with anyone. My relationships have been… transitory.’
Cherry listened, afraid to breathe.
‘I did not mean to ask anything of you I would not be willing to give myself, or to play the clever games, si? There should be no secrets between friends, I feel.’
Friends. Well, it was what she had insisted on. She remained silent, trying to reconcile what she was hearing with the Vittorio she had built up in her mind, and failing.
‘I wanted tonight to be enjoyable—a thank-you for all your hard work so far and for taking the burden of the arrangements off Sophia’s shoulders more successfully than I had anticipated. I am grateful, Cherry. I wish you to know this.’
She didn’t want gratitude, she wanted—She slammed a door in her mind, forcing herself to say as quietly as he’d spoken, ‘Thank you, but you don’t have to do things like this to show your gratitude. Besides which, I’m staying in your beautiful home and having a lovely time—really.’
Ignoring the latter words, he said fiercely, ‘I do not have to escort you tonight. I want to, and that is different.’ He bent his head quickly and kissed her before she realised his intention. A hard kiss, unapologetically hungry but over in a moment.
Nevertheless, everything changed and the night was magical again as he opened the car door and walked round to her door to help her alight. And this time she refused to acknowledge the little warning light in the back of her mind that was glowing red.
CHAPTER TEN
THEIR table for two was in a prime position at the edge of the dance floor. The nightclub was crowded and clearly popular, but a bottle of champagne was on ice at their table and within moments of their arrival Vittorio’s friend, Domenico, was at their side, greeting them effusively as he poured the champagne.
Initial introductions over, Domenico—who was as portly and small as Vittorio was lean and tall—beamed at Cherry. ‘I hear all about you,’ he declared somewhat dramatically. ‘You help Sophia, si? Ah, Sophia—so like her mother in looks but with her father’s spirit, eh, Vittorio?’
‘Unfortunately this is so,’ Vittorio drawled drily.
Cherry surmised—rightly—that Domenico was acquainted with the full facts regarding the hasty wedding, but thought it prudent merely to smile.
‘And this Santo. He is a good boy at heart, I hear, Cherry? You think this also?’ Domenico asked, as though her opinion mattered. ‘You think he will take good care of Sophia?’
