by Nina Singh
Part of him wanted to forget what had just happened and just go pummel the punching bag for a good ninety minutes until all the frustration and disgust he felt with himself poured out. But he had too much to do first. He had to go to his father and demand they stop any pursuit of Laney’s property. Gianni knew his father wasn’t beyond pressure tactics when he was after a business goal, and he never took the first no as a final answer.
That approach was out of the question in this case. He would see to it personally. When it came to Laney, he wouldn’t allow it. No matter the cost to himself.
By the time he got to his father’s office, his agitation had only grown. Angelo was there too. That was good. He could make his announcement in one fell swoop—tell them both at once.
His father looked up in surprise when he entered without knocking or so much as announcing his presence. Angelo blinked in question.
“You’re back, son. That was quick.”
“Hope that means good news,” his brother said. “You didn’t have to alter too far from our original offer?”
“Not exactly.”
His father crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then why are you back already?”
Gianni loosened his tie and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it behind one of the office chairs. “I’ve made a decision. You may not like it.”
“I already don’t,” his father responded. Angelo merely raised an eyebrow. When was the last time either of them had directly challenged their father? He couldn’t recall. Aside from a rebellious teen tantrum years back, or an inconsequential disagreement about a minor decision, Franco Martino was a hardened man who valued discipline and loyalty, partly because of his background but mostly because of simply who he was and all he’d accomplished. As a result, his sons historically fell in line. Not this time.
“The owner doesn’t want to sell. I think we should look elsewhere.”
His father rubbed his chin. “I see. Would this happen to be the owner you spent the weekend with? Attending a wedding, if I recall.”
“That’s not material to this discussion.”
Angelo rubbed a hand down his face.
“So you failed to negotiate a deal. Is that correct?” Franco asked.
Gianni made sure to look his father straight in the eye as he answered. He was fully prepared for the dressing down he was sure to receive. It hardly mattered. “That’s correct. She doesn’t want to sell.”
Angelo stepped toward him, his hands up. “Maybe if we just upped the offer.”
Gianni shook his head before his brother could even finish. “I won’t ask her again.”
Angelo dropped his hands as their father responded. “I see.”
Gianni somehow doubted that. “We’ll have to find another location, Pop.”
“That will set us back months.”
“So be it.”
His father steepled his hands, elbows on his desk. “That’s the location I want, son. I thought you understood that.”
“Things have changed.”
“What kinds of things?” Angelo wanted to know.
Everything had changed. “You’ll both just need to take my word for it.”
His father eyed him with contemplation. “Your word is gold as far as I’m concerned. Nevertheless. I’d like to try again, see what we have to do to have her accept.”
“Then you’ll have to do it without me.” There it was, he’d thrown down the proverbial gauntlet. And he’d stand firm by it. Franco wasn’t used to his authority being questioned in such a blatant manner. But there was a first time for everything.
Ironic, really. How hard had Gianni tried in life to avoid this very thing? How often had he run himself in circles trying to prove himself worthy of being Franco Martino’s son? One of his heirs. Given the reality, who Gianni really was—a consequence of a betrayal—this very moment had been one he’d done his best to never experience.
But now, he knew he was doing the right thing. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right. “I refuse to pursue this venue any further.”
Angelo’s eyebrows went clear up to his hairline, but Gianni could swear he detected a hint of a smile along his lips. It was probably just his imagination.
His father waited several beats before finally answering. “That’s very disappointing, son. Shut the door on your way out.”
* * *
If she didn’t finish packing in haste, she was going to miss her flight. But it was hard to pack when one had to consistently stop to throw things at the wall in anger and regret. Not for the first time—okay, maybe for about the hundredth since she’d decided—Laney thought about canceling the trip. After all, never would she have guessed that she’d be taking this journey alone when she first booked it.
But then what? She would just sit here in her apartment during the days wallowing in self-pity and then spend the evenings delivering drinks at the bar while seething with anger. At least being away might take her mind off things for a while. She might even go an hour without thinking of Gianni Martino.
Ha! As if that were likely.
Shaking off the useless thoughts, she made herself focus on the task at hand. Down to the wire, she was just zipping up her carry-on bag when her phone dinged, signaling the arrival of her ride.
No time to second-guess now. Looked like she was on her way to Italy. By herself.
So distracted by her jumbled, angry thoughts, Laney barely noticed about half an hour later when the driver pulled up to the airport departures area and stopped the car. She was right. The timing was definitely close. By the time she reached the gate and boarded, she wouldn’t have a minute to spare.
The adrenaline wore off as soon as she sat down in the cabin. The empty seat next to her seemed to mock her. She’d always credited herself as a strong independent woman but right now, all she felt was alone.
And lonely.
Visiting the Amalfi Coast had been a dream of hers for as long as she could remember. Never would she have imagined that she’d be doing so alone. An image of a ruggedly handsome face with dark chocolate eyes and wavy thick hair popped up in her mind and she cursed herself. How could she even be thinking of Gianni Martino at a time like this? She regretted ever running into him that night. She regretted that she hadn’t simply swallowed her pride and attended her sister’s wedding alone. It would have been so much better than the empty, battered feeling she was wrangling with right now. He was the last person she should wish could accompany her aboard the flight and to Positano, then on to Florence.
But there was no denying, wish it she did. Foolish to the end.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS AN official fact. Even on vacation, Laney Taytum was a creature of habit.
By the third day of her dream trip to the coastal tourist town of Positano, Laney had managed to develop something of a routine. She walked the cliffside pathways to get some exercise in the morning. Afternoons were allotted to a leisurely swim in the ocean followed by lounging on the beach with a packed lunch. In the evenings, she perused the many shops for trinkets and souvenirs, then had a quiet dinner in one of the many restaurants or sandwich delis.
It was an utterly charming way to pass the time even if it was rather solitary. Sure, the locals were very friendly. As was the staff at her hotel. She wondered how much of it was the mere characteristic of being a tourist magnet known worldwide. People knew how to treat visitors here.
So she wasn’t terribly disturbed the fourth afternoon when a shadow fell over her, blocking the sun as she was sunbathing. Someone she’d met on her escapades so far was stopping to say hi, no doubt.
Until she opened her eyes. Then blinked twice before doing a double take. And then she blinked again.
“Hey, Laney.”
Either she was seeing things, things she wanted to see, or Gianni Martino was standing over her on the
beach. Half a world away from where she’d last seen him.
This couldn’t be real. Sitting up, Laney blocked the sun glare with her hand, the hand that was shaking just a tad less than the other. Somehow, she got her mouth to work. “Tell me something. Do you happen to have a twin who lives in Boston?” She couldn’t even tell for sure if she was joking.
He laughed and the sound of it gave it away. She’d recognize that laugh anywhere. Scrambling to her feet, “Gianni? What in the world—”
“Surprised to see me?”
If that weren’t the understatement of the decade. Or the century.
This had to be some kind of weird coincidence. He’d said he had family here nearby. Maybe some kind of emergency had come up with one of his relatives. But that didn’t explain his presence here, on the beach. Where he’d found her. Coincidence surely couldn’t go that far. “What are you doing here?”
“I remembered which hotel you said you were staying in. This is the closest beach, so I took a chance.”
“Not that. I mean, what are you doing here? In Italy?”
“I couldn’t leave things the way they were between us. The truth is, I owe you an apology.”
She had to give her head a shake to chase away the fog of confusion. “And you decided to fly across the world to do it.”
He had the gall to wink at her, just like that first night, making her heart tug just a tad in her chest and she chastised herself silently for it. She would not fall for his charm that easily again. She’d only laid eyes on him again for about two minutes, for heaven’s sake. “You couldn’t have just called or something?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “It was a pretty big apology. Some things are worth a bit of effort or a long flight across the ocean.”
“Yeah. I’d say.”
He stepped closer to her. That spicy masculine aftershave she’d gotten so fond of back in Boston drifted on the ocean breeze and made her shudder. How inconvenient that she was still so attracted to this man.
But first things first. “Go on, then. Let’s hear this apology you flew to Italy to give.”
He rubbed his chin. “I should have been upfront with you from the get-go. I have no excuse. It’s just that after we met, one thing led to another, and there never seemed to be a good time. Things just sort of snowballed. I’m usually in better control of my variables than that. I’m sorry, Laney. More than you could know.”
Wow. Sounded as if he’d given this some thought. He had to be sincere. He’d gone through an awful lot of trouble to deliver his sorry in person. But she was still nursing her wounds. Transatlantic flight or not. What he’d done back in Boston wasn’t insignificant.
She crossed her arms. “What about my club? I take it your family is still after it?”
“I confess that’s true. They have their eyes on it, given it’s prime real estate near the water and its proximity to the heart of the city. Just keep turning them down.”
She squinted at him. “Them?”
He swallowed and nodded. “I’ve removed myself from the project. And I’ll do everything I can to try to get them to look elsewhere. Before getting to know you, I hadn’t realized how much the place meant to you. That’s not an excuse, I know.”
“It’s a start.”
“I’d like to make it all up to you. If you’ll let me.”
Her logical mind screamed that she should walk away now. Tell him he shouldn’t have bothered coming all this way. But a small yet stronger voice, the one that seemed to always get her in trouble, had other plans in mind. Her curiosity got the better of her.
“How exactly?” She couldn’t begin to guess what the answer to that question may be.
“Well, it occurred to me how serendipitous it is that you happened to be traveling to Positano, given how well I know the city. And given the fact that I have family here.”
“So?”
“So there has to be some kind of kismet there, wouldn’t you say?”
What exactly was he getting at? “You need to spell out for me exactly what you have in mind, Gianni. I’m not in the mood for guessing games.”
He nodded once. “Fair enough. Like I said, I know the area really well. And you don’t. Let me play at tour guide. Show you a side of Positano only a local would know.”
“Tour guide?”
He motioned around him. “This city is like no other. I can make it so that you have memories to last you a lifetime. It’s the least I can do to begin to make amends.”
“You want to show me around Positano as a way to redeem yourself.”
He visibly winced. “In a nutshell. If you say no, I’ll walk off this beach and you’ll never hear from me again. If that’s what you want.”
“Huh.” It was the only word she could come up with. Her mind was blank. If someone had told her during the flight here that she’d be faced with such a decision on her fourth day of the trip, she would have laughed, then asked which bridge they were selling.
She started to say no. But there was that pestering, obnoxious voice again that always got her into trouble. The voice that seemed to forget all the times she’d been naively foolish enough to think she could have something simply because she wanted it so badly. She started packing up her things, just to stall.
“I think I’ve had enough sun. I’m going to head back to the hotel.”
He nodded, and tried to help her gather her towel before she pushed his hand away. “Can I walk you back to your room?”
Straightening, she studied his face. Those eyes that she’d lost herself in that one fateful weekend. The smile that charmed the socks off her the first time she’d seen it.
She just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to turn him down flat, though she knew it was the only right thing to do.
“I’ll have to think about your offer,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.
“You know how to get a hold of me,” he said behind her.
She didn’t dare look back, too tempted to change her mind and say yes then and there.
* * *
Positano certainly seemed to be the land of lovers.
Laney sat down at the solitary corner table at the bistro a member of the hotel staff had recommended to her. All the center tables were full. Most of them occupied by couples, many of whom were holding hands or sharing bites of each other’s food. One handsome gentleman was actually spoon-feeding his companion, landing a kiss occasionally between bites. An older couple, one table over from them, raised their wineglasses in a toast.
Laney made herself look away from the romantic scenes and focused on the menu instead. Without pulling out her phone and calling up the translation app, she could only make out a couple of items. One particular dish jumped out at her. Gnocchi.
She certainly knew that one.
Images of the night in Gianni’s apartment as he cooked for her flooded her mind. He’d been so charming that night, so attractive in his chef’s apron. A warm current ran up her spine as she remembered the way he’d stood behind her and held her arm to show her how to roll the potato dough. A current of ire bolted through her center suddenly. He could have told her then, that very night. Instead, he’d let her continue to think their paths had simply crossed coincidentally. He’d kept her in the dark until it was too late and she’d grown to care for him.
But he was looking to make it up to her now. Could she really take him up on it? He was here, merely miles away in the same town. She would have never guessed when she’d arrived in Italy three days ago that he might follow her. Hard to deny the fact that she felt rather touched that he’d done so.
Was she actually considering accepting his offer to show her around?
She mentally ran through the pros and cons. Yes, she was still angry. And hurt. But she could be smarter about their relationship now. Part of the reason his admission ha
d hit her so hard was that she’d begun developing feelings for him. She had no such delusions about doing so now.
Nothing said spending time with him had to have any underlying emotional undertones. Not if she made sure to keep her emotions in check this time.
As long as she made clear that the arrangement was nothing more than that. She’d let him accompany her through Positano, let him show her the sights he knew so well. And at the end of the day, they’d go to their separate rooms.
She wouldn’t soon forget what he’d done. The way he’d misled her. But the man had traveled across the world in an attempt to make amends. Would it be so bad to take him up on it? Especially if it meant she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the week all by herself. The solitary tourist thing was getting a little old.
Agreeing to his offer made logical sense, as well. Many of the excursions she’d signed up for and the meals that were part of the package deal were included for two individuals. Though money was the least of her worries at the moment, it was something to consider.
“Scusi?” The server interrupted her thoughts. “You are expecting someone, si?” he asked in broken English, taking away the other menu that sat in a center holder.
She shook her head in answer. No, tonight she wasn’t expecting anyone else to join her. She’d spend yet another evening by herself. But that didn’t have to be the case going forward.
As Gianni had said, the decision was completely up to her.
* * *
“Hiking? We’re going hiking?”
She wasn’t expecting Gianni’s first outing for her as a tour guide to be quite so physical. Laney looked down at her open-toed soft leather sandals and her butter-beige newly untagged capri pants. He’d told her to meet him for breakfast at the lobby restaurant of her hotel to discuss what he had planned. Clearly, she should have asked first about proper attire for their day trip.
Gianni followed the direction of her gaze. “Yeah, you might want to run back upstairs and change into more rugged shoes.”