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Jillian lifted her head, met Vitt’s gaze. He nodded slightly. She rose and together they left the room.
“Where are we going?” she murmured as they started down the stairs.
“Out. Away. I thought we could both use some air, and time to ourselves.” He glanced down at her as they reached the bottom stair. “Would you like that?”
“Very much.”
“Good. So would I.”
CHAPTER NINE
VITTORIO opened the front door to the front steps and sunshine flooded the stone entry. The air felt fresh, the sky was blue with just a few wispy clouds, and a cream two-seater convertible sports car gleamed in the circular driveway.
“That’s a beautiful car,” she said, descending the steps to examine the car’s flowing lines from the curving panoramic windshield to the sleek rear end. “Has to be a 1950s design,” she added.
“Good eye. 1955,” he said, smiling at her. “A Lancia Aurelia.”
“Don’t they call these B24 Spiders?”
Vittorio laughed softly as he opened the passenger door for her. “They do. How did you know?”
She glanced admiringly into the interior with its dark red leather seats and dash. “My dad loved cars. He was always buying new cars and living in Detroit—” She broke off, horrified by what she’d just revealed and then panicked, she babbled on as she slid into the passenger seat. “Dad still watches car auctions on TV.”
Vittorio closed the door behind her and moved to the driver’s seat. “You never mentioned your father’s interest at Bellagio.”
She glanced up at the chiseled features of his face to see if he’d caught her slip, but Vittorio looked relaxed, his expression almost happy. “I didn’t realize you liked old cars, too,” she said, thinking that her mention of Detroit hadn’t registered, “because all of your cars at the lake villa were new.”
“And what do you prefer?” he asked, closing his door.
“I do love classic cars best.”
“Sounds like you are your father’s daughter,” he said, starting the car.
Jillian grew hot, her skin prickly. She’d definitely been her father’s daughter the first twelve years of her life. She’d loved his energy and charm and ready laugh. “Growing up I was very close to him,” she said quietly. “I was proud of being a Daddy’s girl.”
“What changed?” Vittorio asked, shifting gears and heading down the driveway to the castle’s impressive gates.
She was silent a long moment as Vittorio pulled away from the Normandy castle with its turret and tower to head down the drive toward town.
The sun shone brightly and Jillian lifted a hand to shield her eyes. “His job,” she said at length. “He had problems at work.”
“What sort of problems?” Vitt asked, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.
“Financial.”
Vitt shot her a glance. “Did he embezzle money?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. We never talked about it at home. My father wasn’t open and my mother didn’t ask questions. They had a very traditional marriage. Dad was the head of the family and made all the decisions. It was Mom’s job to agree with him.”
Vitt shot her a brief glance. “You’re nothing like your mother.”
She laughed despite herself. “No, I’m not. Maybe that’s why we’re not close.” But then her smile disappeared as she thought of her sister, a beautiful brunette who’d taken after their mother. Mom and Katie had been close, practically been best friends. “My sister and Mom talked every single day though, sometimes three or four times a day. Even when Katie was at college she called Mom to get her advice, ask her opinion. I used to tell Katie to grow up, become independent but she said Mom needed her, and now, looking back, I realize Katie was probably right. Mom hasn’t had much of a life.”
“When is the last time you saw them then? Your sister’s funeral?”
Jillian dug her nails into her hands and looked away. “I wasn’t able to make the funeral.”
“What?”
