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She ignored the exchange of Italian between Alessandro and the manager, who seemed desperately eager to find them only the best table in the café. She ignored it because she was numb.
Because she realised what she had been doing—that she had been trying to distract herself from the fact that she was having a baby with a man who hated her. That she was about to have a child that would look to her to show them how to be, how to behave, how to see the world and how to love. And she didn’t want that child raised in anger or arguments. She didn’t want that child raised in struggle, or instability, as she and Issy had been.
Alessandro appeared at her side, and she let him guide her by the arm to the small, white-cloth-covered table. She took a seat as the waiter poured ice-cold water into their glasses and disappeared. Not once had Alessandro looked at her since they arrived.
‘We can’t keep at each other like this.’
‘No, we can’t,’ he agreed.
Amelia looked at her hands, at the bitten skin around her thumb, knowing that it was a sign of distress and worry. Their baby deserved more than this. She wanted Alessandro to understand her. She needed him to know where she came from and what had pushed her to do what she had done. Only then might they have a chance to move on from the hurts of the past.
‘I... After my father lost the business,’ she explained, ‘he wouldn’t work for anyone else. He was a proud man, but no longer had the capital or will to start over. Whatever income he had went into pretending that we hadn’t lost everything, for a while at least. My parents spent more money in those first months than I think they had when they’d had the financial security to do so.’
‘That is unforgivable.’
She might deep down agree, but there was still a large part of her that wanted to defend her parents, wanted—needed—to see them as the victims. Because if they hadn’t been, then how could they have allowed what happened next?
‘It wasn’t long before we were forced to sell the house. To downsize. We moved to a different area in London, to a different school where Issy and I didn’t fit in. Without his money and largess, the people Dad had thought of as friends soon lost interest. Mum became bitter and Dad became mean. His drinking got out of hand and the physical and financial toll was irreparable.
‘I tried to keep the worst of it from Issy, but by that point she was old enough to see what was going on. It’s a miracle that she didn’t veer off the rails and rebel.’
Alessandro was beginning to suspect it was less to do with miracles and more to do with Amelia and the strength she had to keep what was left of her family together. ‘And your mother?’ he couldn’t help but ask.
For the first time since he’d known her Amelia actually looked defeated. ‘She never recovered. She loved him so much, but she had also loved that lifestyle and without either she just gave up. She started leaning on anything that would help her escape the reality of her new life.’
Her words shattered something old and brittle deep within him, resonating with the exact frequency he had felt himself. He knew what it was like to be let down by not just one but two parents and while he would never,ever,blame his mother, nor would he forgive her her betrayal. Because if she had kept her word, then the world would be a very different place right now. He opened his mouth to say something, to try and reassure Amelia as he’d never been quite able to reassure himself, but she continued.
‘It was...difficult, trying to make sure Issy and I had what we needed. But we made it happen.’
Amelia left a lot unsaid, but he could imagine her struggle had been incredibly hard, fighting her mother at every turn. He could see how she had become the head of the family and how, just in the way she described it, she had done so without question or complaint. Perhaps it hadn’t even occurred to her that she shouldn’t have had to. And against his will he felt guilt. Guilt over his involvement that had left two children so vulnerable.
‘And we had you.’
Her words surprised him.
‘You and Gianni became a focus for us. Became something that drew us together and drove us forward. Our need to avenge our father gave us strength even in the darkest of times. While our mother wallowed, we used our thirst for revenge to get us up in the morning and keep us going. And while I am truly sorry for what I have done to Rossi Industries, I...we...needed it.’
In her eyes, he saw only truth and he couldn’t stop the understanding blooming in his chest. He knew how strong that drive and purpose could be, the power it could provide, but he still struggled with what could have happened to Rossi Industries and the thousands of people employed there.
‘Is that why you thought we were corrupt?’ he asked.
She bit her lip before answering. ‘I needed you to be. Because I needed to blame someone—anyone—that wasn’t the two people who were supposed to be...my parents, my guides, my role models.’
Once again, her words and his childhood began to fold together and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He sighed and gave up the urge to fight the sympathetic feelings trying to emerge.
‘I understand. If I’d had someone to blame for my parents’ misdeeds, I would have,’ he admitted. Something flared in her gaze. Surprise, shock...that indefinable thing that had sparked one night in Hong Kong and had yet to blow out.
Connection.
Alessandro batted the errant thought away, instead focusing on the fact that she had given him something, and he felt the unaccountable need to meet her in kind. But could he do it? Gianni was the only other person on the planet who knew where they came from, the rest of the world believing that the Rossi cousins were placed on this earth as fully formed, financially powerful property gods.
‘This wasn’t supposed to happen,’ he admitted, opening his hand to the skies.
‘You and me, or me and...’
‘Both?’ he admitted, even as a fist twisted his gut and something close to pain roared in his body to take the words back, as if it were sacrilege to say such a thing to the woman carrying his child. He could see that his words had struck her just as hard and hastened to explain, even when speaking of his childhood was the last thing he’d ever willingly talk about.
‘My father was...is...hestillis...a despicable man. He is mean, violent, prejudiced, ignorant and vile in the worst ways. And he doesn’t have an alcohol addiction to excuse it.’ His voice was rough, scratched out from hatred and hurt. ‘Gianni and I grew up on a vineyard in Umbria. I am assuming you know this?’
