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‘You look stunning in that.’ Expending every effort to please her, Santo layered on the compliments but the more he praised, the more withdrawn she became. Having never before known a female to treat an extravagant shopping expedition with so little enthusiasm, he racked his brain to work out what he was doing wrong.
Was she disappointed that they’d left Luca at home?
‘You like this?’ She stared listlessly at her reflection in the mirror. Truthfully Santo liked her best in nothing at all, but he assumed that to admit that would be unlikely to improve her mood so he dutifully studied the blue silk dress and nodded.
‘The colour suits you. Let’s add it to the pile.’
She disappeared into the changing room to take it off and then re-emerged clutching the blue dress.
Santo took it from her and handed it to the sales assistant along with his card. ‘That dress will be perfect for our family party.’
‘What family party?’
‘It’s Chiara’s birthday party in a couple of weeks. Ferrara family gathering. Cristiano adores his girls—and that includes Laurel—so you can be sure a big fuss will be made.’ Santo picked up the bags in one hand and led her back to the Lamborghini. ‘I thought I’d mentioned it.’
‘No. No, you didn’t.’ She stopped dead just outside the store and Santo had to clamp her against him to prevent her from being flattened by a group of overeager shoppers.
Instead of pulling away, she stayed still in the circle of his arm, her head resting against his chest.
He frowned.
There was something intensely vulnerable about the gesture and he felt a flicker of concern.
It was the first time they’d touched like this, he realised, and he felt another flash of guilt at the way he’d treated her. He’d rushed her into marriage without giving any thought to her feelings. All he’d thought about was his son’s welfare. Not once had he thought about hers.
The scent of her hair wound itself around his senses. The curve of her breast brushed against his arm. Fire shot through his body but he ignored it and forced himself to deliver a chaste kiss to the top of her head.
From now on he was going to focus on her, he vowed. ‘You’ll enjoy the party. It’s a chance for everyone to get together.’ Gently, Santo eased her away from him and brushed her hair back from her face so that he could look at her. ‘My family always makes an enormous fuss about birthdays. Chiara will be six. Brace yourself for balloons and an indecent quantity of cake.’ Still holding her hand, he threw the bags into the back of the car. ‘The party is in their home in Taormina so we’ll fly there because there is no way I’m negotiating Friday night traffic.’
‘We’re staying with Laurel and Cristiano?’
‘Is that a problem?’ He opened the door for her, trying not to focus on her legs as she slid into the passenger seat. ‘Your grandfather seems to have made a good recovery and we still have a nurse there at night. If you’re worried about the day, I can arrange something.’
‘I’m not worried. Gina will be around.’
But Santo could tell she was lying and he searched for the cause. ‘Are you finding the whole Ferrara family thing overwhelming?’
‘No. I think you’re all very lucky. You have a wonderful family.’ She spoke as if she wasn’t part of that and Santo breathed deeply as she fastened her seat belt without looking at him.
‘Fia—’
Horns blared, interrupting his attempt to question her further, and he scowled and paced around to his side of the car. ‘Dani and her brood will be there, too. And Laurel, of course. She’s looking forward to getting to know you better. But she’ll really appreciate us coming. It helps Chiara. She’s only been with them a year.’
‘A year?’
‘Chiara is adopted. And don’t ask me to tell you her history because it makes me want to punch a hole through something.’ Santo started the engine and pulled into the fast moving traffic, driving as only a Sicilian could. ‘When she first came to live with them she wasn’t really used to people. She certainly wasn’t used to people being kind to her. They were very patient, but it was little Elena who broke through that wall she’d built. Try telling a two-year-old that her new big sister just wants to be left alone—it doesn’t work. And now they’re the best of friends, as siblings should be.’ He spoke without thinking and then saw a flicker of something in her eyes and cursed himself. Here he was, talking about siblings, and her brother was dead. ‘Mi dispiace. Cristo, I’m truly sorry, Fia.’ He reached across and curled his fingers over hers. ‘That was unbelievably insensitive of me. Forgive me.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t have that sort of relationship with my brother and there is no sense in pretending that I did. My family is nothing like yours. And I don’t want you to feel you have to tread carefully around the topic.’
Without releasing her hand, Santo took a sharp right turn and pulled into a narrow street. His fingers tightened on hers. ‘My family is your family, tesoro. You are a Ferrara now.’
She stared straight ahead. ‘Yes.’
Maybe it was taking her time to accept that, he thought. Maybe after a few family gatherings she’d realise that she was part of it.
‘I could make Chiara’s birthday cake.’ She blurted the words out as if she wasn’t sure the suggestion would be welcome. ‘But if they’d rather do their own thing—’
‘No. I think that would be very well received. If you’re sure it isn’t too much for you on top of everything else.’ Maybe that was what was wrong, he mused. She was working hard in the restaurant as well as looking after Luca.
