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“Fair. I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“My mother didn’t agree,” he says. “She was the opposite—very affectionate and sensitive. She tired her best to hug us and tell us how much she loved us often. She struggled with my father’s lifestyle, because she was incorruptible. In hindsight, I know that’s why she was taken away from us.”
I stay still and listen. It’s the first time Gio has discussed his mother. Any other time I’ve brought her up, he shifts into cold detachment.
“Even with the staff here, she used to insist on cooking.”
A tiny smile curves my lips. “I bet she was an excellent cook.”
“She was. It’s what she went to school for. She dabbled in many different cuisines—Italian and French were her specialties. No wonder I was a pudgy kid.”
“You were not!”
“How would you know?” He pokes me in my side, and I giggle. “You haven’t seen pics of me.”
“Then prove it. Show me.”
I don’t expect him to take me up on the challenge, but he does. He snaps up in the bed with a grin and then crosses the room. His muscular naked silhouette in the dim room is enough to turn me on. I lay back and wait patiently. He pulls open the door and disappears.
I’m assuming to find a photo album or something. The thought of seeing an album of Gio’s childhood ignites giddiness inside me. I prepare myself to melt at what must’ve been the most adorably boyish face.
His phone on the bedside table lights up. Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to his phone, but it’s bright in the dark and vibrates in the silence. Someone’s calling him. I glance at the door to make sure he’s not coming back and sit up. I lean over just enough for a peek at the screen. Just a quick glance to see who’s calling.
It’s Giancarlo.
The call goes straight to voicemail.
A frown inches onto my face anyway, as intuition tells me it’s significant. Why wouldn’t it be?
My luck works that way. Just as Gio opens up on one thing—his mother and his childhood—a door closes on another. He’s only trying to protect me, giving me an escapist holiday in one of the most scenic places in the world, but what he doesn’t understand is that I’d prefer honesty above any yachts and villas.
