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‘None of the above. If I wasn’t messing around on a boat, I was always trying to find a way to do some kind of deal.’ He grinned at her surprised expression. ‘I told you, we’re an island of merchants, sailors, traders. Oh, it’s been several hundred years since we had any influence, since we controlled the waves, but it’s still there in any true Venetian’s veins.’
‘What did your parents say?’
‘Oh, they were proud,’ he assured her. ‘So many families forgot their roots, watched the palazzos crumble around them as the money ran out. My mother is a big believer in a good day’s work, no matter who you are.’ Proud right until she realised his independent entrepreneurial streak wasn’t just a phase.
It was as if Sophie had read his mind. ‘Was she disappointed when you set up for yourself? Left Venice?’ She leaned against the windscreen, half turned to face him, eyes intent on him as if the answers really mattered.
‘Yes. She’s convinced one day I’ll get over my little rebellion and come home, settle down and take over the family affairs.’ He paused as he navigated the boat around a buoy. ‘Of course, since my father died she’s been keener than ever and at some point I need to make a decision about where my future lies. But right now she’s not ready to give up the reins no matter what she says—she’ll spend every second of her retirement second-guessing every decision I make. I have a while yet. Besides...’ Marco had always known the day would come when he would have to step in, but he wanted to see how big his own business could grow first. He already turned over several million euros annually, and there was plenty of room to expand, new territories to trade in.
‘Besides what?’
‘Bianca. Maybe she could take over the Santoro holdings. She’s an extremely talented businesswoman, she’s got exactly the same heritage as me and I know she wants a family, so she could hand the business on, just as my parents wanted.’
‘That makes sense. Hasn’t your mother ever considered it?’
‘Neither of my parents have. In many ways they were very old-fashioned. Bianca’s a woman, so in their eyes when she marries she’ll no longer be a true Santoro. But it’s just a name...’ And if Bianca did take over the business, the palazzo and provide the heirs, then he would be free.
Was it the perfect solution—or was he merely fulfilling his father’s prophecies and eluding his responsibilities? Marco had no idea. It all seemed so clear, so simple in London, but the second he set foot back in Venice he got tangled up in all the threads of loyalty, duty and family he’d spent most of his life struggling to free himself from.
They had reached the open waters of the lagoon and Marco let out the throttle, allowing the boat to zoom ahead. ‘I miss this,’ he admitted. ‘This freedom.’
‘I can imagine. I know there’s a harbour in Chelsea, but sailing up and down the Thames must be a little sedate after living here. What do you like to do in London for fun? Apart from attending parties, that is.’
Marco eased off on the throttle and let the boat slow as Burano came into view. ‘Is this an interview?’ He was teasing but noted the high colour that rose over her cheeks with interest. ‘An interrogation? Will you lock me up in the Doge’s palace if I answer wrongly?’
‘Yes, right next to Casanova. No, no interrogation, I’m just interested. We’re spending all this time together and I know nothing about you. I need to be prepared if you want your mother to think we’re a real couple. What if she gets me alone? Imagine how suspicious she would be if I don’t know your favourite football team, or how you take your coffee.’
‘Black, strong, no sugar and of course I support Venezia despite our current ranking. Thank goodness our national team is a little more inspiring.’ Sophie was right, he realised. If they were acting the couple, it made sense to know more about each other. Besides, she was fun company, insightful with a dry wit he appreciated. ‘How about you? City or United?’
‘Me?’ She blinked. ‘My family is City, so I am by default, but to be honest I’m not really bothered. We were a bit divided on gender lines when I was a child. My father would take my brothers to matches, but I was eight years younger and so I was always left behind with my mother, who was definitely not interested. I think she thought sport was invented to ruin her weekends.’
‘Did that annoy you? Being left out by your brothers?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘No one likes being the baby of the family, do they? But my mother encouraged it, I think. By the time I was born my brothers’ lives revolved around sport. Footie, cricket, rugby—it’s all they talked about, watched, did. She always said she was delighted to have a daughter, an ally at last.’ She sounded wistful, her eyes fixed on the sea.
