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He gave her a long, gray-eyed stare. “Perhaps.”
She clasped her hands between her legs and looked over at him. “Giancarlo’s father gave you his watch. Why?”
His shoulders stiffened. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I was admiring how beautiful it was and I saw the inscription.”
A shutter came down over his eyes. “There is nothing to be gained by talking about Giancarlo. He’s gone. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She waved a hand at him. “You accuse me of being an island. You’re so far out there you aren’t even a speck in the ocean.”
His eyes flashed with that lightning-storm intensity that signaled a clash of the elements was on its way. “I was responsible for his death, Quinn. I caused it. Is that what you want to hear me say? Giancarlo’s father gave me that watch so I wouldn’t feel guilty about what I did. Because he knew I would every day for the rest of my life.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I’m sure that can’t be true.”
Matteo stared out at the horizon, his back ramrod straight. He was silent for so long she thought she’d pushed him too far. Then he dropped his hands between his knees. “Giancarlo was everything to me. My brothers, we’re close, but I’ve never had the bond with them Giancarlo and I had. We grew up in Montalcino together, both of us groomed to be powerful men with the accompanying responsibility. Giancarlo became the CEO of one of Europe’s largest car companies, a star of the corporate world, and I was running De Campo’s European operations. We had power, money and youth. We were on top of the world. Drunk on our success...”
“Power can be an intoxicating thing.”
He turned to look at her. “Giancarlo didn’t handle it well. He drank too much, drove too fast, partied too hard. Maybe it was in his blood, I don’t know. He had an alcoholic father with a high-flying job who managed to bury his issue under his success for years. It was not a good example. G told himself he could handle it, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t recognize his limits like the rest of us.”
A chill settled over her. “Was he drinking the night of the accident?”
“Si.” His hands curled into fists between his knees, a dark glitter entering his eyes. “I was annoyed with Riccardo for always handcuffing me, for holding me back from the things I wanted to do with the company. He didn’t think I was ready and I knew that I was. So to spite him, to blow off some steam, I went on a tear with Giancarlo in Monte Carlo. We partied hard, won a lot of money, had more than a few women hanging off us willing to divest us of it. But at some point, my rational brain kicked in and I suggested we leave. G insisted we have one more drink to finish the night off...”
Her stomach rolled, pitched in a sickening twist. “That’s why you reacted like that when Daniel pushed the drink on you.”
His olive skin took on a white sheen. “Cognac was G’s drink of choice...or perhaps I should say his weapon of choice.” He shook his head. “I should have shut him down. I should have known it would put him over the edge. Instead I got caught up in the competitive thing we always had going on, had the drink and suggested a race back to our hotel.”
“After drinking like that?” She couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice.
He nodded jerkily. “I was out of control. We were out of control. We left—took different routes back to the hotel, and when I got there, G wasn’t there.” The blank expression on his face made her blood go cold. “I knew. I knew right away.”
She put a hand to her mouth. “He’d crashed.”
Matteo nodded. “I backtracked. He’d taken a one-way street the wrong way and wrapped his car around a tree. When I found him, the police were there, but there was nothing we could do to save him. He died in front of me while we waited for the ambulance.”
Quinn’s heart contracted. “Oh, God, Matteo—”
“He wasn’t paying attention to any of the women that night.” He went on, tonelessly. “He told me he was in love with his girlfriend, Zara. That he wanted to marry her and settle down and become a father because he knew this life we were leading was crazy. And he wanted better than what he’d had.” His gaze moved to hers, a flash of agony darkening the emptiness. “A few weeks ago, I saw Zara’s engagement announcement. That she’s marrying someone else.”
Quinn’s throat swelled, thickened, until it was physically hard to get the words out. “You were both out of control, Matteo. You cannot blame yourself for what happened.”
“I was the stronger one.” He lifted his chin, the brief glimpse of pain she’d seen dissipating into cold, hard steel. “I should have known better. I could have saved him.”
She took his jaw in her fingers, her eyes burning. “You can’t save other people. We have to fight our own demons.”
His jaw twitched under her fingers. “I should have done better. I will do better from now on. It will be my legacy to him.”
A tear slid down her face. “You’re a good man, Matteo. You have to believe that. I’m sure if Giancarlo could see you now, he would be so proud of you.”
He was silent, the dying rays of the sun lighting the hard contours of his face. “Why should I get to be vibrant and enjoy the best years of my life when he is gone? I don’t know if I can ever accept that.”
She shifted closer to him, swung her leg over his, straddled him and brought his face to hers, the tears streaming down her face now. “Because somewhere up there he wants you to. Because the only tragedy worse than what’s happened already would be for you to spend your life grieving for him instead of honoring him.”
“But how?” he asked hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers. “How do I do it?”
“One day at a time,” she murmured, absorbing the warmth of his skin. “My mother Sile once said it’s not the mistakes we make that define us, it’s what we choose to do with them. Choose your path, Matteo. Be better than your mistakes. And know, as G’s father said, you were everything to him.”
She sat there holding him, absorbing his pain, until his body seemed to give beneath her hands. Until she thought maybe, just maybe, what she’d said had gotten through to him.
They were silent as they walked back to the hotel, ankle deep in the sea, hand in hand. She had chosen her path, was starting to make pivotal decisions which would define her future. She just wished she knew they were right. Hoped they would carry her where she was going. Because she no longer knew where that was. She only knew she couldn’t stand still any longer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS QUITE literally a miracle when Le Belle Bleu opened on August 5 with a VIP party that was next to flawless.
Italian marble shone in the opulent lobby, the cracks it had sustained during installation filled and polished to perfection. The connected series of fountains and pools which hadn’t been close to finished when Quinn had arrived in St. Lucia were miraculously complete and bubbling with a magical shimmer that made them flow like liquid silver. And the hors d’oeuvres from the new menu being passed out by white-coated serving staff were spectacular—decadent and full of local flavor.
Quinn stood at the edge of the crowd on the torchlit patio by the sea as the evening shifted into the later hours and took it all in. She drew in a deep lungful of air and exhaled slowly, feeling her equilibrium right itself. It was the perfect debut for the legendary hotel. The blood, sweat and tears had all been worth it.
Bar staff moved seamlessly between the groups of guests who had decamped to the fire pits scattered around the patio. A reggae band played for the dancers. The shadowed profiles of every important personality in the Caribbean gleamed in the firelight, joined by their first round of guests and the global travel press. Her mouth curved. The staff hadn’t missed a beat, polished to their own version of perfection by a newly inspired Raymond Bernard.
She might even keep him.
Lifting her glass to her lips, she took a long sip of champagne. Matteo had been right about giving Raymond a second chance. Right about a lot of things. He had brushed aside her mounting panic this past week and brought her back to earth, teaching her to take one day at a time. That with the right groundwork, everything would work out as it should.
Faith. It was all about faith, he’d told her. Not a trait she had a whole lot of experience with. But he’d inspired her to look deeper. To find it in herself. And in doing so, she had become a different person.
She sought him out in the crowd. He was talking to François and a government official, looking like the force of nature he was in a dark gray suit with an expensive sheen to it. The kind of handsome that made her heart race in her chest. Although she and Matteo had been unfailingly discreet during the day, given her inability to get hold of her father and recuse herself from the committee, every night they had come together in an insatiable melding of mind and body that had rocked her world.
