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“No reason in particular. Don’t you remember what that was like? Camping under the stars, walking wherever we wanted, doing what we wanted.”
“I remember,” Nico said quietly. “And it was great, but that’s not who I am anymore. And it’s not who you are.”
Luca stared at his cards, a strange gnawing feeling inside of him.
Sometimes life takes you on a road you weren’t expecting.
The truth was, he had no idea who he was now. He felt untethered to his life, himself, even his family who he adored. But he could see worry crossing Nico’s face, and so he laughed, shaking his head. “Forget I mentioned it. It was a stupid idea.”
He played a card, reconciling himself to losing.
The sunrise at Villa Fortune was always spectacular. Velvet black with glittering diamonds gave way to a hint of purple and silver before colour spread across the sky like bursts of flame: red, orange, gold, all heralding the arrival of a new day. Luca hadn’t gone to bed, yet somehow the night had passed without his notice, minutes dragging by, thoughts moving through his brain without landing.
She was there.
Not a clear image of Bronte, so much as an ethereal presence, hovering on the periphery of his awareness at all times, making him regret everything about their relationship, making him wish he could wind back time and undo – but no. He wouldn’t do that. He might handle things differently, but he wouldn’t take back what they’d shared. He was too selfish and he wanted those memories too much.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, he reached for his phone and refreshed the emails, sitting up straighter as one in particular caught his attention.
It had been forwarded from the London office the day before.
The final documents are prepared. Legal has signed off. They’ll need an MD signature before we process them.
Luca scanned the email again, before looking back towards the sprawling Tuscan villa the Montebello family called home.
The final documents for the Watney Group acquisition needed a signature. He could ask someone else to go. But why would he? This was his deal; he wanted it. And suddenly he wanted, more than anything, to be back in London.
He was standing and emailing his Italian assistant within seconds, organising the flight. This afternoon wouldn’t be soon enough. It had to be straight away. Sooner, if possible.
13
“WHO ARE YOU?”
He stared at the man in Bronte’s office with a bubbling sense of outrage.
“Sir, good afternoon. We weren’t expecting you.”
Luca waved aside his statement. “I have to sign some papers. Where’s Bronte?”
“Bronte?”
“This is her office.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “She’s taken a leave of absence.”
Luca felt as though he’d been sucker punched. He knew she’d turned down the position HR had put her forward for. But a leave of absence?
“Since when?”
“Umm, a couple of days ago, I think. Do you want me to call personnel and find out when she’ll be back?”
“No.” The answer was unnecessarily cross. “I’ll do it.”
“Angela Garret.”
“Angela, Luca Montebello.”
“Oh! Good afternoon, sir.”
