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Audenzia reached out and took her hand. ‘Now, Imma, I love my boy, but he has a few tiny faults. He can’t have too much red wine. It makes him grumpy.’
Vicè rolled his eyes. ‘I’m still here, you know!’
‘And he puts too much of that product in his hair.’
Imma giggled.
‘And I’m still here.’ Shaking his head, Vicè grimaced.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be. Go with Carmela and get my albums. We must show Imma all the photos before you leave.’
‘Must we?’ Groaning, he stood up. ‘This is just a ruse to get me out of the room, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’ His mother smiled. ‘We want to talk about you in private. Now, go.’ She turned to Imma, her eyes sparkling. ‘It’s important to keep a man on his toes.’ She sighed. ‘If only I could show you the garden.’
Imma followed her gaze. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Oh, it’s not my efforts. Carlo is the gardener—the same as my Alessandro. He could grow anything. That’s why he bought the estate on Sicily.’
Imma managed to keep smiling but her chest felt tight, and maybe something of what she was feeling showed in her face, because Audenzia reached over and patted her hand.
‘Oh, child, don’t be upset. I loved my life there, but Florence is where I grew up, and I’m happy to be back here. It was different for Alessandro. It was in his blood...in his heart. Vicenzu feels the same way.’
Imma stared at her in confusion. Did he? He had never so much as hinted that was how he felt about the estate. On the contrary, he seemed to love his life at La Dolce Vita.
‘Did he ever want to take it over?’
‘When he was a little boy it was all he talked about. And of course Alessandro wanted that too. But he didn’t want to put pressure on him.’ Her smile faded. ‘Vicenzu idolised his father, only I don’t think he ever believed he could step into his shoes so he stopped trying. But Alessandro would be delighted to know the business is still in the family. And to know that Vicenzu has met and married you.’ She squeezed Imma’s hand. ‘You’ve seen who he really is and you love him.’
Imma nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’
She had agreed automatically but her heart swelled as she spoke, opening like the petals of the hibiscus flower in her glass, and with a shock she realised that she wasn’t lying or pretending.
She loved Vicè.
Stunned, disbelieving, she repeated the words in her head.
It was true.
Her heart beat a little faster.
And maybe...possibly...he might feel the same way about her.
Okay, he had never said he loved her, but perhaps, like her, it hadn’t occurred to him. Perhaps all he needed was someone to point it out to him.
* * *
The drive back to Portofino was quicker and quieter than the trip down.
Fixing his eyes on the road, Vicè was aware that he wasn’t saying much. But Imma hadn’t noticed. In fact, she seemed distracted, wrapped up in her own thoughts, and that was fine.
There had been enough drama for one day.
The villa felt quiet, almost subdued after the laughter and chatter of Florence, and it fed into his mood so that he felt oddly flattened as he walked up to the bedroom. Maybe a swim would help. Or a drink.
‘Do you want some wine?’ He turned towards Imma, smiling. ‘You look like I feel, cara. What we need is a couple of late nights.’
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and the heaviness in his chest seemed to swell and press against his ribs.
