He brought the helicopter down with expert ease, waiting until the blades had slowed before reaching across to her seatbelt clasp. His eyes held hers for several seconds and she felt the question on the tip of his tongue: are you sure? But she was glad he didn’t ask it, because the truth was, she wasn’t sure, and if he gave her a chance to back out, Isabella was a little afraid she might take it.
“Let’s go,” he murmured, his smile warming something suspiciously close to her heart.
Her pulse skipped a beat. “Are you sure they’re not going to mind that I’m here?”
His look was rich with amusement. “Believe me, that’s going to be the last thing they feel.”
“But I’m invading…”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “My family will love you. Come on, Yaya will have heard the helicopter and already be wondering what’s keeping me.”
My family will love you.
The words rummaged through her brain over and over again. A harmless epithet spoken by way of encouragement, and yet she braced against their seductive weight, not wanting to believe them to be true, because having people love her was fraught with difficulty.
It’s just an expression, she reminded herself, glad his fingers were laced through hers as they walked towards the house. It was definitely not swimming weather. Despite the beauty of the day, it was crisp and cool, so she shivered a little. Gabe must have noticed – he seemed to notice everything. He dropped her hand and instead put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer to his body, his warmth passing through her completely. She looked up at him and smiled – an easy, natural gesture.
Stone steps led to the villa, and the doors were huge and made of very old timber painted a bright shade of turquoise. Two pots – terracotta with dwarf lemon trees in each – were fragrant and beautiful.
Her heart was beating far too fast, her pulse racing as Gabe lifted a hand to the door to push it inwards – of course he wouldn’t knock. This was his family’s home.
But before he could open it, the door was wrenched inwards.
“Thank Cristo,” a man said on a rush of breath, dragging a hand through his thick dark hair. “Yaya’s been beside herself. What the hell kept you –,”
The man turned to Isabella then, as if just realising Gabe wasn’t alone.
“Holy shit,” he cursed, switching to English, then turned over his shoulder. “Luca? Fiero? Guys? Gabe’s here. And he’s not alone.”
Isabella stiffened, squeezing Gabe’s hand for support. He practically crushed her bones with his response.
“Raf,” his tone held a warning.
But the other man – Raf – just grinned, a look that was so familiar Isabella couldn’t help returning the smile. “Isabella Moss.”
“Yes, I’ve heard all about you.”
Isabella momentarily missed a beat. Had Gabe told his family about her? Something like hope burst through her chest.
“My cousin Fiero’s wife is a fan of your show. She saw the video you posted from Il Nido.”
Isabella blinked up at Gabe, covering her disappointment with a look of surprise. “You said there was no risk –,”
“Apparently everyone in the world watches you after all.”
Isabella grimaced, but it was softened by the hint of a smile, and as the door frame filled up with some kind of casting call for ‘tall, dark and handsome male models’, her smile only grew brighter. It was terrifying and intimidating but also exciting to meet Gabe’s family and see where he came from – and this group definitely, unmistakably, looked as though they were cast from the same mould as him.
“Are you going to let us in?” Gabe drawled, his expression the opposite of hers – his features were hard and chiselled, his eyes flashing with exasperation as he scanned his relatives.
“Oh, by all means,” Raf grinned, stepping back and bumping directly into the broad chest of one of the other men.
Gabe gestured to each in turn, introducing them. “Luca, Max, Nico, Fiero and Raf you’ve already met, more or less.”
“That’s a lot of names to remember,” she said a little nervously.
“Oh, it’s almost impossible,” a female voice, British, came from behind. She walked up to Raf, sliding an arm around his waist. Her hair was a pale gold, her eyes blue and wide set, her face inviting warmth and confidence. “I’m Lauren,” she said gently. “I love your show.”
Isabella’s cheeks grew warm. Despite the fact she was often recognised and fans would pour out stories of their favourite episodes or kitchen mishaps and successes, she’d never really grown comfortable with the spotlight.
“Thank you.”
Perhaps Lauren sensed that, because she changed the subject. “I just came to gather everyone for brunch. Why don’t you come and meet Yaya?”
Isabella looked up at Gabe, completely lost.
“We’ll go to her now,” he agreed. “Unless you need a moment to freshen up?”
Isabella thought about saying yes, actually, she did, but it would have only been a form of delay – and what was the point? She’d have to meet the matriarch of the family sooner or later – and in her experience, sooner was always better. Like
