‘Gian.’ It was so cold to stand without him, especially when she wanted the shield of his arms. ‘I don’t think I can face the burial.’
‘Yes, Ariana, you can.’
But hysteria was mounting. ‘No. I really don’t think so...’
‘Would it help if I came with you?’
It would, but... ‘You can’t.’ She gave a black laugh. ‘Stefano practically had to put in a written request to Dante to have Eloa attend, and she’s his fiancée. Mamma has been denied. God, Gian, I don’t...’
‘Take this.’
From deep in his coat pocket he handed her a cornicello...a small gold amulet. ‘Your father gave me this to hold when I buried my family. You can do this, Ariana; you will regret it if you don’t.’
It was the most private of burials.
Mia, who could barely stand, held a single lily.
And Dante, who loathed Mia possibly the most of all Rafael’s children, was the one who had to take her to the graveside so she could throw the flower in.
Stefano wept and was comforted by Eloa, and that left Ariana standing alone, holding onto the little sliver of gold.
Ariana had never felt so cold as when she returned to the house and stood by a huge fire, grateful for the large cognac someone placed in her hands. Looking up, she saw it was Gian. ‘Thank you.’
‘How was it?’ Gian gently enquired.
‘It is done,’ Ariana responded, without really answering and then held out the amulet. ‘Here, I should give this back to you. Thank you.’
‘Keep it.’
‘He gave it to you,’ Ariana said, suddenly angry at his lack of sentiment. This man who would sell a priceless ring, this man who would let go of a gift from her father. ‘Why would you give it away?’
‘Did it help?’ he asked, and she nodded. ‘Then you yourself might pass it on someday when someone else needs your father’s strength.’
Never, she thought.
Never, ever.
For it was her first gift from Gian and it almost scared her how much that meant.
‘It seems strange to be here without him,’ Gian admitted, trying to gauge how she felt, but for once the effusive Ariana was a closed book. She gave a tired shrug and her black lashes closed on violet eyes highlighting the dark shadows beneath them.
‘It has felt strange to be here for quite some time.’ Her eyes opened then and came to rest on Rafael’s widow, and Gian followed her gaze as she spoke. ‘My father and I used to be so close.’
‘You were always close,’ Gian refuted.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It fell away at the end.’
He would like to take her arm and walk her away from the funeral crowd, to walk in the grounds and gently tell her the difficult truth—the real reason her father had pulled away from his family and from the daughter he had loved so very much.
It was not his place to do so, though.
Oh, today he loathed being the keeper of secrets, for the truth would surely help her to heal.
‘How long are you here for?’ Ariana asked, determinedly changing the subject, then wishing she hadn’t for the answer was not one she liked.
‘I’ll be leaving shortly. I just wanted to see the house one last time and...’ He hesitated but then admitted the deeper truth. ‘To see how you were after the burial.’
Stay longer, she wanted to say, yet she dared not.
‘And,’ he added, ‘I wanted to properly apologise for how I spoke to you on the day you called. I was completely out of line.’
‘Not completely,’ Ariana said, and he watched her strained lips part into a brief glimpse of her impish smile. ‘Not to come in because of a board meeting was inexcusable on my first day...’
‘Oh!’ Her burst of honesty and the explanation surprised him. ‘I thought you must have had word that your father was ill.’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘That wasn’t till later.’
‘Well, even so, I’m very sorry for the way I spoke to you.’
‘It’s fine,’ Ariana said. ‘I would have been annoyed with me too.’
He watched the dart of anxiety in her eyes as he looked around the room, filled with low murmurs of conversation and her veiled mamma, sitting weeping on a chair against the wall surrounded by aunts. ‘Mamma and Mia have never been under the same roof...’
‘Everyone is behaving,’ Gian pointed out.
‘For now they are,’ Ariana said, and let out a nervous breath, unsure how long the civility might last. ‘There is the reading of the will soon.’
‘It will be fine,’ Gian assured her, though he quietly thought Ariana’s concerns might be merited and she didn’t even know the half of it! Roberto, the family lawyer, had also been Rafael’s long-term lover and he was reading the will. With the current wife and widow in the room, one could be forgiven for expecting fireworks.
‘Do you want me to stay until afterwards?’ he offered.
‘I would like that,’ Ariana admitted. She looked up at the man she always ran to, always turned to, yet the moment was broken by the sound of her mother’s voice.
‘Gian, I was hoping that you’d come back to the house...’ She placed an overly familiar hand on his arm, and Gian would have liked to shrug it off. He loathed the sudden fake friendliness from Angela, although of course it was for a reason. ‘Could I ask you to take me back to Rome with you? I simply cannot stand to be here.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ Gian politely agreed, for even if he did not particularly want Angela’s company, he would do the right thing.
‘I have to stay for the reading of the will,’ Angela explained, ‘but if we could leave after that? Ariana will be coming with us also...’
‘But, Mamma, Stefano and Eloa are heading back to Zio Luigi’s...’ Ariana started, but clearly her desires had no importance here and Gian watched her shoulders slump as
