by Leigh, T. K.
“Not…ever?” I repeated, stammering.
“No, Eleanor. Not ever.”
“Oh, Dante.” I ran my hands through his hair, kissing him with more passion than I could remember doing anything in my life. My heart had never felt so full, his sincerity and honesty a welcome change to what I’d grown accustomed to. His tongue danced with mine, both of us letting go of all the emotions we’d built up over the past few days, months, years. I had no idea what direction my life was headed or what I was going to do when I finally returned home. None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the devotion I felt from Dante’s arms holding me in a way that made me think he’d never let go. And I didn’t want him to.
He pulled back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Was there anything here in Rome you absolutely had to see?”
“Not really. Why?” I furrowed my brows, studying him.
“Because we’re leaving.” He stood up, holding his hand out toward me.
“We’re leaving?” I asked as I hesitantly raised myself to my feet, taking his hand in mine.
“Yes, Eleanor. Brock found you here. I was careless. I’ve grown so accustomed to photographers snapping my picture that it never occurred to me he may see you with me and be able to track you down.”
“But he left.”
“We can’t be certain of that, so we’re getting out of the city until I know he’s no longer in this country. I’m not putting your life at risk any longer. I’ve lost too many important people because of that family. I won’t lose you, too.”
Chapter Five
“What’s with all the secrecy?” I asked Dante, stealing a glimpse at him as he navigated his Maserati up the coast of Italy, heading north. Exhaling a contented sigh, I leaned my head against the headrest as the Italian sun warmed my face, miles of pristine ocean passing by on our left.
“I can’t reveal all my tricks beforehand, Eleanor. I need to give you a reason to stay.”
I cocked my head at him, caught off guard by his statement. This was his first mention of wanting me to stay. We’d never so much as discussed what the future held. I didn’t think there was a future for us. I didn’t want to hope there could be. That would only make it harder to leave, and I had to.
“So is that what this is? You’re trying to kidnap me?” I joked, trying to play it off.
“Not necessarily, although the thought did cross my mind.” He grinned a lascivious grin at me, making my cheeks heat. “The thought of having you all to myself to do with as I please is quite the turn-on.” He winked, then returned his attention to the road. He reached across the center console, his fingers finding mine without even looking. “Over the next few days, it’s my mission to convince you to stay, that this doesn’t have to end simply because you have a return flight booked to LA.”
“Dante…,” I began.
“I know it sounds crazy, considering we just met, but I believe with every ounce of conviction I have that we belong together. And I don’t care what I have to do to prove that to you.”
“It’s not that,” I sighed. “I just…” I struggled to find the words to articulate the myriad of emotions and thoughts running through me. I felt like I didn’t even know who Dante was. Not anymore. He was Brock’s half-brother. He had a daughter. Not to mention I had no idea if this Alison woman was still in the picture. I could come up with several dozen reasons off the top of my head why I needed to get on that plane on Tuesday.
“I get it.” He cut through my thoughts. “You’re stubborn. When you decide on a course of action, nothing will change your mind. And since day one, I’m pretty sure you’ve had your mind made up that, no matter what, you’d be getting on that plane when your time here was over. Well, I bet you weren’t expecting to meet me. I’m just as stubborn as you are, Eleanor. When I see something I want, I stop at nothing until I have it. And I want you.”
“You’ve already had me,” I reminded him with a sardonic smile.
“Not your body, Eleanor.” His eyes floated to mine, determination etched in the lines of his face. “Your heart.”
I opened my mouth, studying him with a furrowed brow. “How can I give you my heart if I don’t know who I am as a person?” I asked, the words leaving me before I had a chance to stop them.
“Then it’s my mission over the next few days to show you who you are.” He lifted my hand to his lips and tenderly kissed my knuckles.
Watching his every move, my heart ached with longing for this man. I would have loved to agree to his crazy plan, but I couldn’t walk out on a ten-year relationship and dive head first into a new one. It wasn’t supposed to work like this. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. I was supposed to go home and rebuild my life. I was supposed to struggle as I searched for a new job, a new home. I was supposed to eat Ramen noodles as I learned how to support myself with no outside help. I’d never be able to do any of that if I pursued something serious with Dante. He’d always be there to pick me up. I needed to learn to pick myself up first.
“Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you.” I smirked, cutting through the heavy atmosphere.
“Haven’t you realized by now?” He glanced at me.
“What’s that?” I lifted a brow.
He licked his lips, his eyes raking over me. No man had ever looked at me in such a wanton and shameless manner. It was one of the things I would miss when I left here. I had a feeling I’d be forced to add countless items to that list over the next few days. Like the way his innocent touch sent a bolt of lightning straight to my core. The way he held me in his arms, as if he were afraid to let go for fear I’d disappear. The way his beautiful, accented voice caressed my name, giving it new life…giving me new life.
“I love a challenge, Eleanor.”
I forced my lips into a smile. He seemed so hopeful, so confident, so assured. As much as I wanted to tell him nothing he could do or say would make me change my mind, I didn’t have it in me to crush his dreams. There was a part of me that found an odd comfort in the notion of a future with Dante, regardless of how far-fetched that fantasy truly was.
As he continued driving up the coast, I studied his intriguing silhouette. His dark hair. His chiseled nose. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw. His deep, haunting eyes I had the distinct pleasure of seeing grow fevered and full of magnitude as his body climbed higher and higher before coming undone. The subtle aroma of basil, mint, and licorice as the ocean breeze blew around us. I wanted to remember all these things so when I was having a particularly bad day, I could open my box of memories and bathe myself in the affection I felt during this brief time in my life.
“Where are we?” I asked a short while later when he navigated the car off a country road and through a set of pillared gates. A magnificent stone house sat high on a hill, tall trees lining the driveway, their branches providing shade. Now that we were far away from the city and in a more rural area, the air had a sweetness to it.
“Where I grew up.”
My eyes widened, disbelief covering my face. I’d read all about his younger years. It didn’t appear that he grew up without money. Quite the opposite.
“This is where you grew up?”
“Well, on the property…,” he clarified. “My mother rented a small cottage located out in the orchards. When I came into some money, I bought the property from the owner so she’d never have to pay rent again. After having to raise me all on her own and working long days with barely a break just to provide for me, she deserved the very best. It was the least I could do for her.”
“You bought her a restaurant, too, didn’t you?” I asked as the car came to a stop in front of a large brick, manor-style home, ivy and vines cascading down the exterior.
“I tried to tell her she didn’t have to work anymore, but she refused to quit. Said she’d be bored all day if she didn’t have something to do. So I bought her a restaurant in Pisa. If she insists on working, at least she can be in charge.”
“How far are we
from there?”
“About thirty minutes or so.”
“Well, I feel like a horrible daughter. I don’t think I even gave my mother a card on her birthday.”
“You’re not a horrible daughter.” Dante turned toward me. “You have no reason to feel bad about anything to do with your parents. No parent should treat their child with the amount of ambivalence yours have shown you. You deserve to be cherished. To be valued. To be…” He stopped short.
“Yes?” I pushed, the fire in his eyes eroding another piece of my resolve.
“You deserve to be loved,” he finally said. He cupped my cheek, and I melted into his touch, closing my eyes. All worry momentarily disappeared as I basked in his warmth and affection. His lips lightly brushed mine, his kiss delicate, restrained, breathtaking. When he pulled back, I opened my eyes.
“Come on. Let’s go. I want you to meet her.”
My spine stiffened. “Wait… Who?”
“My mother, of course. Who else?”
I shook my head, heat rushing through my body. “Your mother?” My voice rose in pitch, my heart rate picking up. “Why would you bring me here to meet your mother? Most people are in a serious relationship for a month or more before meeting the parents. At least in the States. I don’t even know what this is.” I gestured between our two bodies.
“You may not, but I do. I want to be a part of your life, and I want you to be a part of mine. That includes meeting my mother. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know everything about me.”
“We’ve only known each other for a few days, Dante,” I pleaded, not wanting this to be any harder on either of us than it had to be. Meeting his mother, forming a connection to someone so important to him so she wasn’t just a faceless name, would only make this more painful in the end.
He grabbed my hands in his, the feel of his thumb gently caressing my knuckles soothing me. “Why are you so concerned about that? Why should it matter if we’ve only known each other for a few days? Time won’t make my heart stop feeling what it does for you.”
I opened my mouth to argue. Why was I so obsessed with the short amount of time we’d known each other? Why couldn’t I just stop thinking for a minute? Maybe that had always been my problem. Maybe I thought too much. Maybe I just needed to feel for a change.
“We don’t have to go in if you really don’t want to,” Dante stated, the hope in his expression fading. “I understand it’s a bit unconventional. I just—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted, offering him a small smile. It was obvious this meant a lot to him. I’d sat through my fair share of formal dinners with important heads of state, businessmen, and donors. This was no different. “Thank you for wanting to share this part of yourself with me.”
Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on my nose. “Good. Now, I hope you’re hungry.” He hopped out of the car, rushing to the passenger side and opening the door for me.
“Hungry?” I lifted a brow, taking my mirror compact out of my purse and making sure the bruise on my neck was still adequately covered with the concealer I had applied.
Dante’s eyes shifted to my throat. He balled his fists momentarily before recovering. “If you think I can cook, you haven’t tasted anything yet.” Holding his hand out toward me, he grinned a devious smile as he helped me out of the car and led me across the dirt drive toward the large wood-slatted front door.
Pushing it open, he allowed me to enter in front of him. The second we stepped over the threshold, a collective shout of “Dante!” echoed, both of us freezing in place. I reached for him, clutching his arm as nearly a dozen people swarmed the foyer, all rattling off in Italian. I had absolutely no idea what they were saying, unable to recognize a single syllable.
Dante gave me a reassuring look and I loosened my grip on him, watching in awe as he interacted with everyone. He hugged the men and kissed the women on both cheeks, genuinely happy to see each and every one of them. For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed carefree and relaxed. His smile reached his eyes, making them sparkle and gleam.
Suddenly, a powerful voice interrupted the frivolity, and everyone snapped their heads toward a wide arched doorway at the far end of the formal sitting room just past the foyer. A short, slender woman stood there, her brown hair graying in places. Her skin was tanned, her eyes dark.
A brilliant smile crossed Dante’s face as he walked toward the woman. “Ciao mama.” He leaned down, kissing her on both cheeks.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him as she continued speaking in Italian. I hated that I had no idea what anyone was saying. I’d never felt like I belonged anywhere in my life. Now, I really felt like an outsider. This was all just further proof that Dante and I belonged in two separate worlds.
“Mama, mama.” He grabbed her hands, then gestured toward me. “In inglese, per favore.”
Her eyes fell on me and she seemed to study every inch of me. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. I felt like each pair of eyes in the room was examining me, analyzing me, scrutinizing me as they determined whether I was good enough for Dante.
“You must be Eleanor,” she said finally, lifting a brow as she sauntered to me. Her accent was much heavier than Dante’s, but I could still understand her.
“Si,” I responded, affording her the courtesy of attempting to speak in her native tongue. I didn’t know how to react to the notion that Dante had already told his mother about me. When had he done that? I wondered if he knew that very first night that this wasn’t just a one-night stand.
When she stopped in front of me, I braced myself, expecting to be interrogated by an overbearing Italian mother. The instant she flung her arms around me, hugging me tightly, I stiffened, momentarily confused.
“Oh, my darling girl. I’m so glad you’re here.” She kissed my cheek, pulling back, holding me at arm’s length. She glanced back at Dante. “For someone who fancies himself a writer, you did a horrible job of describing her. She’s much more beautiful than you let on.”
He approached, his dark eyes alive, as if being back here, surrounded by those who knew him when he was a nobody, gave him life. “That’s because there aren’t sufficient words in any language to adequately describe such a thing.”
Smiling a satisfied smile, she stepped away. “Good answer. I’ve taught you well.”
Dante took my hands in each of his and kissed them, one and then the other, his lips lingering. Then he turned his attention back to his mother. “I thought we were just going to have a quiet dinner.” He pinched his lips together.
“What?” she replied in feigned annoyance. “This is a quiet dinner. Now, I need to finish cooking. Make yourself useful and go pick out some wine. You can show Eleanor around while you’re at it.” She winked as she retreated from us.
Dante turned to everyone else. “I’m on wine duty. I’ll be back, then I’ll introduce you.” He turned back to me. “This way.”
I offered the group a small smile, then followed Dante. He led me through the formal sitting room and past a winding staircase with a wrought iron railing. My eyes followed the shape of the stairs, the high ceilings and walls feeling even higher because of the white coloring. The décor was exactly what I had pictured it would be from the outside. It was old-world Italian. I felt as if I’d just stepped back into the nineteenth century…if it weren’t for certain luxuries like air conditioning and electricity.
“When did you buy this place?” I asked, striking up a conversation as he opened a heavy oak door, revealing a set of stairs barely illuminated by a dim light.
“Probably about ten years ago, after my book took off and all the incredible offers began coming in.” He started down the steps, bringing me along with him. As we descended, the air grew musty, but in the best way possible. There was something incredibly romantic about Dante helping me down a set of rickety stairs into the dusty basement of an old Italian manor.
“How old are you?”
“What?” He glanced at me, a boyish smirk on his face. “You didn’t look that up on Google?”
I shrugged. “I was a bit preoccupied at the time when I realized you were famous and I never put two and two together.”
“I think that’s why I’ve been inexplicably drawn to you, Eleanor,” he admitted, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “You’re the first person in years who sees me, not the celebrity.”
“I’ve always seen you,” I murmured, a chill enveloping me.
Turning to me, he placed his hands on my hips, lifting me off the stairs and placing me down on the basement floor. A smoky aroma of wood and grapes wafted into my nostrils. “And I’ve always seen you.” He ran his thumb over my lips. “Even when you didn’t think I was looking.”
I swallowed hard, my mouth growing dry.
“But I’ve always been looking.” His lips briefly met mine, stealing my breath. Then he stepped back, holding his hand out toward me. “And I turn forty New Year’s Day. Now, help me pick out some wine.”
Our fingers interlocking, we walked past row after row of shelves stacked high with more bottles of wine than a person could possibly consume in a lifetime. I’d never met anyone who rendered me speechless on a regular basis…until Dante. With each second that ticked by, each sensual word that fell from his mouth, each whisper of his desire, a voice in my head urged me to consider that perhaps there could be a future between us.
Chapter Six
A multitude of mouthwatering aromas wafted around me as I sat at the enormous dining room table, watching as dishes were passed around, Dante’s family speaking animatedly amongst each other. It was mind-boggling that less than a dozen people could make this much noise. There was certainly no lack of conversation. If this was just a small family gathering, I hated to think what Christmas dinner would look like in the Luciano household. I had a feeling it would be full of laughter, warmth, affection…love. A stark contrast to the Christmas dinners I’d grown up with. I’d never known what a real tree smelled like. Never baked cookies for Santa with my mother. Never woke up and bounded down the steps to see what the fat man in a red suit had brought me.