Our Little Secret Read online

  I only have to lean to the left and I can smell her perfume and feel her body warmth penetrate mine. I’m hooked on her. As hooked on her as I was on day one and I can’t imagine it ever dying out. Which of course it will. But right now...

  I slip my hand beneath the table and stroke her thigh above her dress. I hear the slightest catch in her breath, her eyes flickering in my direction before they go back to Dante on the other side of her and she continues their conversation. But then her hand is there, slipping over mine, and the simple connection makes me content and alive in one.

  The whole table is buzzing with chatter, but I’m attuned only to her, and as she forks up a piece of Nonna’s famous tiramisu and slips it into her mouth I can almost feel her pleasure.

  ‘This is so good,’ she murmurs, her hum of appreciation teasing me to the core.

  ‘Nothing beats Nonna’s tiramisu,’ Dante says, raising a glass to the woman herself sitting at the head of the table.

  ‘There’s more, if I can tempt you?’ Nonna says.

  Faye shakes her head, her hand leaving mine to press against her stomach. ‘I’d love to but I’m afraid I can’t. I don’t think I’ll sleep if I eat any more. I’m not quite sure how you all manage to eat so late.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ my mother chimes in. ‘It is the Italian way, I’m afraid. It does take some getting used to.’

  ‘Well, you, sorella, wouldn’t need to get used to it if you came back more,’ says Aunt Netta.

  ‘Hey, Mamma, let it go.’ Dante’s severe frown is for his mother alone, but she doesn’t need it; she’s already smiling softly, her eyes damp at the corners as she looks at my mother.

  ‘What I mean is, I’ve missed you, Marianna. If I’d known a wedding would bring you back here sooner, I would have been breathing down Dante’s neck a lot more.’

  ‘Well, it’s not Dante’s fault Sienna decided on a small, intimate arrangement for her wedding,’ my mother returns swiftly.

  Here we go... I lift my wine glass and take a sip, preparing to intervene as Sienna looks up from her conversation with Lorenzo. ‘We’re not doing this again, are we?’

  ‘No.’ Giovanni tries to intercede but Aunt Netta’s already talking over him.

  ‘It’s hardly Sienna’s fault, or Dante’s, that Rafael hasn’t seen fit to find himself a wife. Lord knows it’s about time he did.’

  The wine catches in my throat and I almost choke on it. ‘What—?’

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Dante says, though I can hear the laughter in his voice. ‘You’ve almost killed the man by putting him in the same sentence as marriage.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with marriage,’ Aunt Netta blusters. ‘And the sooner you two realise it the better. If my Roberto were still alive, we’d show you a thing or two about what makes life worth living!’

  She has both Dante and me in her sights now and I shake my head. Do we really have to do this, right, now?

  ‘Marriage isn’t for everyone.’ It’s my diplomatic answer, one that I hope will bring the conversation to a close, but I feel all eyes on me...on me and on Faye—or am I just being paranoid? My hand eases discreetly back to my lap. ‘But it’s certainly right for Dani and Tyler... In fact, let’s have a toast. It’s not the big day yet but there’s nothing to stop us raising a glass to the beautiful bride and groom. May their love last, and may life be kind. To Dani and Tyler.’

  ‘Dani and Tyler.’ Glasses are raised, cheers are made, but I get the impression my words aren’t positive enough, and Nonna’s eyeing me with far too much speculation.

  Still, at least no one is badgering me openly any more.

  I reach for Faye beneath the table again, but she edges away.

  ‘I’m just going to take a short walk.’ She lifts up her wine glass and, though her voice is pleasant enough, she won’t meet my eye as she smiles to the table. ‘See if it helps all the fabulous food go down.’

  I watch her go. Her pace is steady, yet I feel she’s running. The question is, from what?

  ‘I’ll just go and...keep her company.’ I’m already pushing back from the table. I don’t care if it looks strange or if Dani suspects there’s something going on. I need to know she’s okay, because all my senses tell me she isn’t.

  I catch her up as she reaches the opening to the pool.

  ‘Running away?’ I try to make it sound breezy.

  She sips her wine before turning to me, her smile small. ‘Are you?’

  Her eyes seem to swim in the lights of the pool, and I feel a tightness in my chest I can’t comprehend.

  ‘I asked you first...’

  She laughs but it’s awkward, panicked, even. I close the distance between us and she straightens and turns away to look at the view beyond the pool.

  ‘My family are pretty full-on,’ I say softly.

  Yes, blame the family, it’s so much easier than blaming yourself.

  ‘Si?’

  She flicks me a look. Her smile is weak, her shrug too, and I can’t bear it. But what can I do, what can I say?

  ‘I like it,’ she says. ‘It’s nice to be part of something big, something whole. I have no one except for my father now. My parents were only children—no siblings, no cousins, no grandparents left. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be part of something more...’

  ‘You really don’t; it’s a pain in the—’ I stop. It’s not the time to tease or joke or to make light of her situation. ‘I’m sorry.’

  I reach for her before I can stop myself, my palm soft on her lower back as I wait for her to look at me. And when she does, my throat closes over at the sadness in her eyes. It’s all the more painful for the smile she still tries to give.

  I cup her jaw, stroke her cheek and stare down into her eyes. ‘I guess it’s too easy to take family for granted when you have one.’

  She turns her head into my palm, closes her eyes and breathes in softly. I don’t speak. I can’t. I’m lost in that look, the way she appears to take comfort from the touch, even when I’ve played the fool.

  ‘They’re a good bunch,’ she says eventually, her lashes lifting, her eyes meeting mine.

  ‘And you—you have a good heart and deserve more.’

  ‘I...’ She lets out a small sigh. ‘That’s nice of you to say.’

  I replay the words and my intention. I mean she deserves to have a big family to love and be loved in return. Instead, I’m thinking of me and her; I’m thinking of Dante, of all the other men out there that she could spend her time with, better men than me. And then I remember Dante’s revelation about her marriage. She had a man who promised to love her and then...what?

  ‘Faye.’ I wet my lips, my frown impossible to prevent. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were married?’

  She starts. And I can’t blame her when my question seems to come from nowhere.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘I mean, before...’

  She steps out of my hold, her eyes going back to the view, her arms hugging her middle as she cradles her wine glass in one hand. ‘It didn’t seem important. It wasn’t... It’s not like this is serious between us.’

  Her eyes flit in my direction, assessing my response, and I know I’m impassive and doing everything I can not to show the confused state of my feelings. Because I don’t want to confuse her. I don’t want her to think that this is something more. Something serious. Something with any longevity. I’m not that man. And one whirlwind fling isn’t going to change that, no matter how impassioned, how intense...

  ‘It’s hardly like we’re dating.’ She’s trying to tease now, the jovial tone to her voice at odds with her rigid posture and her sad smile.

  ‘No.’ She’s right. We’re not, and I need to acknowledge it, but in the same breath... ‘I don’t know, though. It feels like something I should have known.’

  �
��There’s nothing for you to know. Not really. Bobby and I met at uni and married soon after. It didn’t work out.’

  ‘What went wrong?’ And why are you even asking when it only brings you closer together?

  But it seems I can’t let it go. I want to understand. I want to know how a man could have the desire and good sense to commit to her and then let her go.

  She drags in a breath and blows it out. ‘We were young and we were busy so much of the time. We had five good years, pursuing our careers. We worked in the same role for the same company and our sales sent us all over the world. We saw each other two weeks in every four and then I got promoted. It pushed me to the top of the ladder...above him.’

  ‘And he didn’t like it?’

  She takes a sip of her wine and scoffs softly. ‘I thought he was okay with it, and it made so much sense for me to be the one settled in the UK more; I thought it made more sense for the place we were at.’

  ‘Place?’

  A shrug. ‘The promotion to director meant I wasn’t racing around the world selling any more. I was in the UK. I was at home, settled, ready for...’

  She breaks off and chews the corner of her lip.

  But I know where this is heading, and the truth triggers a strange twisting sensation in my gut. ‘For children?’

  I know I’m right. I see it in her awkward smile and the way she won’t meet my eye.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You must have loved him very much.’ It’s come out tight, constricted by my gut that continues to writhe.

  ‘At one time. And I’m sure he loved me too...but then everything changed.’

  ‘He was bitter?’

  ‘I’m not sure bitter’s the right word. With me being home more, we were able to spend more time together when he was in the UK, and we did, but...’ She frowns. ‘I don’t know. It just felt like we were going through the motions, putting ticks in boxes, fulfilling a life plan at a hundred miles an hour. Then my mum died and I just shut down. We didn’t connect any more, we didn’t talk, we didn’t...we didn’t have sex. Eventually, he’d had enough of waiting for me to come round, to go back to how I was. He accused me of being a workaholic, of being boring; he said that the person he fell in love with was no more.’

  ‘Bastardo!’

  Her head whips around to face me, her eyes flaring at my outburst. But I’m angry, so angry at a man I don’t even know, because he wasn’t worthy of her. He promised her so much and left when she needed him the most.

  ‘He should have looked after you, not run.’

  She lowers her gaze. ‘It wasn’t all his fault.’

  I can’t believe she’s defending him. How can she not see that what he did to her was wrong? I reach for her arms, caress her skin and wait for her to look at me.

  ‘Can’t you see he shouldn’t have treated you like that? Made you feel that way?’

  ‘You don’t understand. I did change. Bobby was right. I... I did lose my love of life, the ability to laugh and enjoy it. I wasn’t an easy person to be around.’

  ‘You were his wife, Faye.’ I’m vehement, and there are warning bells ringing between my ears, but I can’t stop. ‘He swore to love you in the good times and the bad.’

  Her eyes search mine, quietly curious, and I fear what she will say next before she says, ‘Is that—is that why you won’t ever marry? Because you won’t promise yourself to a woman for fear of failing her? If you don’t promise, you can’t fail.’

  I swallow and shake my head. ‘I won’t marry because of many reasons.’

  ‘But that is one?’

  I close my eyes and open them again, knowing what I have to say but not wanting to say it. ‘Si. But with love comes the power of pain, and the ability to destroy a man...or a woman...when it’s taken away. Through fate, through choice, whatever reason. It is not a given. It is not a guarantee. You can’t control it.’

  ‘And so you run away from it? You’re scared of it.’

  I want to refute that. I’m never scared. I don’t run away. And yet...

  ‘I guess I do.’

  ‘Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman.’

  I want to laugh. My insides tremble with the shock of it, the force of it. She is the right woman. If ever there was someone I could fall in love with, it’s her. I know it as well as I know I can’t do it. I can’t let myself go there.

  She takes a shaky breath and steps out of my hold. I can see her physically shutting down. ‘We should get back. They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to, and we don’t want Dani to suspect any more than she already does.’

  I want to stop her. I want to say so much more. I want to promise her the world, to take away her sorrow, and I can do none of that. It would only make me as bad as her ex-husband. And so I nod and gesture for her to lead the way. My gut rolls, my chest aches and I understand none of it. In all my adult life, I don’t remember being this confused, this...helpless.

  ‘There you both are!’

  I lift my gaze to the head of the path to see Dani standing there, one hand on her hip, a glass of wine in the other.

  ‘We’re all ready for another game of cards, and I’m not pairing with Mamma this time, Rafael. It’s your turn.’

  I rake a hand through my hair and manage a smile, grateful for the normality, even if it does come via my family.

  ‘Cards again? Why can’t we just have a quiet nightcap, a civilised early night before tomorrow’s fun?’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Dani blurts.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Dio, Rafael! When did you get so old?’

  I wince. ‘Enough of the old.’

  ‘There’ll be enough of the old when you stop being a party pooper and running away with the maid of honour!’

  The air catches and Faye tenses up in front of me, her laugh too high. ‘Well, this maid of honour is just going to freshen up. I’ll come and join you shortly.’

  She hurries past Dani and we both watch her go, the tension building around us. I know there’s an onslaught coming; the air positively thrums with it but I’m not ready to go there, not when I’m still reeling from my conversation with Faye.

  ‘You don’t need to worry about playing cards with Marianna tonight.’ I force her onto a topic I’m surprisingly comfortable with. ‘I think Giovanni has that role well covered.’

  She eyes me as she takes a sip of her drink and closes the distance between us. ‘You’ve noticed, then?’

  ‘It’s impossible to miss.’

  ‘Funny story there...’ She waves her glass at me. ‘It turns out it was Aunt Netta’s plan all along.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘To bring Giovanni, to try to relight an age-old spark and see her sister happy again.’

  I frown. ‘They were never...’

  ‘No.’ She smiles at me, her big brown eyes soft and warm. ‘But Giovanni has loved her for as long as Papà. Apparently, they met the same night but Papà got in there first. It seems Giovanni has never quite forgotten her.’

  ‘Right.’ I nod as I let that sink in. ‘It’s a good job I stopped her bringing her own man after all, then.’

  She hums her agreement and I give a small chuckle. ‘I really wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘No, I don’t think Mamma was either, but she seems happy. Happier than I’ve ever known her to be. It’s nice... It’s even nicer still to see you two getting along so much better, you and Mamma.’

  I exhale softly. She’s right, it does feel better. We’ve some way to go, but...

  ‘Maybe you really should take some time while we’re out here, away from work and life’s little distractions, to talk to her. Properly, I mean...’

  ‘Now you sound like Faye.’

  It’s out before I think better of it. Here I am, trying to avoid talking about Faye, and I’m the on
e who brings her up. I glance her way and regret it even more. Her brows are raised, her eyes glinting with something. Not quite alarm, but she’s not exactly at ease either.

  ‘Is that why the two of you seem to be attached at the hip? She’s talking you through your issues with our mother?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve talked about it,’ I say, ignoring her exaggeration that’s not as much of an exaggeration as it should be. ‘She’s surprisingly easy to talk to.’

  Dani goes quiet, too quiet.

  ‘Whatever you’re thinking...’ I flick her look. ‘Just say it.’

  ‘I’m worried.’ She raises her free hand, palm out. ‘I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, fratellone, but don’t mess her around, okay?’

  ‘Says the woman who wanted to throw her to the wolves.’

  She laughs, her eyes dancing now. ‘I wanted to throw her at Dante.’

  ‘And you think he’s a better man than me?’

  Why am I even encouraging this conversation?

  She’s quiet again and her eyes turn sombre. ‘It’s different.’

  ‘Why? Because he’s not your brother?’

  ‘No.’ She’s resolute as she pins me with a hard stare. ‘Because he is Dante. He’s young, he’s all about the fun, he can show her a good time.’

  ‘And I can’t?’

  ‘You, my dear brother, will chew her up and spit her out.’

  ‘I’m so glad you have such a high opinion of me,’ I say, not bothering to hide how much it stings.

  ‘I do have a high opinion of you, and I’m scared. With Dante there can be no confusion, Raf. She knows what she’s getting, there’s no risk...no risk of her falling in love.’

  ‘In love?’ I shake my head and refuse to accept how her words chime with the warning bells that are ringing ever louder. ‘Sorellina, you are deluded.’

  ‘Don’t mock me, Raf. I know Faye, and I know you.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘I see the way she looks at you, and I know this can only ever be a bit of fun for you. But for her... She wants it all. She’ll fall for you and then what? You’ll pass her up, like you have done every woman before, and I’ll be left with the guilt of her heartbreak and all at the hands of my brother. Don’t shake your head at me.’