CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS THE last scene Alex had ever imagined she’d come home to when she returned to the Brunetti villa the following Friday evening after an exhausting, weeklong trip to New York to visit Charlie.
Leo, Massimo and Greta were dining al fresco on the terrace, making the most of a beautiful late September evening. But the magnificent view couldn’t hold Alex’s attention.
Seated by Massimo, his arrogant head jerking up at her as she walked up the last step, was Vincenzo.
His gaze held hers over the length of the terrace, awareness stretching between them, holding her captive. For a few seconds, Alessandra forgot her exhaustion, the fresh grief that had been raked up the past week, the uncertainty of where all this would end.
When she looked at Vincenzo, she forgot everything but him.
“How is your brother, Alessandra?” His question, in a dry tone, pulled Alex out of her reverie.
Alex blinked, feeing heat climb up her cheeks. “He’s okay. I wish he cried a little more though, or screamed or something. He’s far too self-contained for a seven-year-old boy.”
“But then boys are often taught that it’s a weakness to cry,” Massimo added with a bitterness that made her heart ache.
Alex saw the disbelief in Vincenzo’s eyes.
“Our father verbally abused Massimo, unchallenged, for years.” This little nugget was supplied by Leonardo.
His jaw tight, Vincenzo stared at both men. Alex held her breath, waiting for him to rip into these men who had enough courage to own up to their torturous childhoods with the man Vincenzo thought had abandoned him.
But Vincenzo remained silent and with it didn’t invalidate the pain of the brothers he considered his enemies.
“Charlie told me one of the boys at school has been bullying him,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I reported it to his teacher and she’s looking into it. However, I also taught him how to sucker punch the bully if he ever bothered him again.”
All three men simultaneously cheered on that suggestion, and the tension broke.
“Come, sit down, bella. Unless you’re planning on leaving again,” Vincenzo drawled, an edge of censure in his tone. He looked up at her, and she had that feeling of being consumed by his gaze. Only it wasn’t just desire. It was more. “Soon, you’re going to run out of places to hide.”
Heat washed over her face, but Alex took the chair he pulled out for her. “I had my mother’s affairs to take care of in New York. Her husband’s estate is huge. Not to mention the fact that Charlie was missing me. I did text you that I was leaving.”
“Ah, yes, so you did. Five minutes before takeoff.”
She refused to let him put her in the wrong this time. “What would you have done if I had told you any earlier? You’re so busy spinning your webs around people. It’s hard enough that I can’t even give Charlie a specific date yet as to when he can join me.”
“Maybe I would have joined you in going to New York, Alessandra. Did you think of that?”
Alex jerked her gaze to his. “Why?”
“For the simple fact that you’re going through a lot in your life right now and I wanted to be there to support you? For the logical fact that it would have been sensible to present a united front to Charlie’s extended family and the lawyers?
“To reassure Charlie himself that I’m just as invested in his well-being as you are? I’m a stranger to him, after all.”
Shame streaked bright color across Alex’s face, and she struggled to hold his gaze. He was right. It was the whole point of their deal, after all. And yet, all she’d wanted was a reprieve.
From the emotional turmoil he plunged her into with one look, one touch, one kiss.
From the trust he demanded she give him without having earned it.
The more she learned about him, the more complex he turned out to be. This whole thing had never been simply about revenge, or ambition, or wanting power for himself. Not the man who’d helped so many, who had such a strong moral compass.
Her first instinct that he was a man worthy of knowing had been right.
The more she wanted to remain detached, the more she felt lured in. Before, she’d been afraid of the harm he would cause Leo and Massimo and Greta, but now she was beginning to worry about him.
About the bitterness she’d seen in his eyes when he spoke of his mother. About what would be left of him when all this was done. About the crushing emptiness that would come no matter his material success if there was no one to share it with.
She rubbed the pads of her fingers over her tired eyes. “I’m sorry. You were right. I… I didn’t think of all those eminently sensible reasons.”
He clutched her fingers on the table and squeezed. “You’re still fighting this, bella.”
She nodded and pulled her fingers away. Three gazes watched them with varied levels of interest.
“What finally convinced you to come here to the villa?” she asked him, reaching for a glass of wine.
“I was getting bored of sleeping alone,” he said bluntly.
Greta’s fork clattered onto the plate.
“I invited him,” Leo said into the awkward silence. “Neha reminded me that in all this…you’re the one caught in the middle.
“So I will tell you again, Alex, and in front of him, this time.
“Neither Massimo nor I expect you to fight for us. But if you need an out from this marriage, if for any reason you want to be done with it, we’ll throw everything we have behind you.”
The absolute fury in Vincenzo’s eyes in contrast to the stillness that came over him had Alex drawing in a sharp breath.
“Telling my
