All those endless nights of her childhood spent locked in her room making movies with her mind reaped the rewards today as finally a scene came to life, and there were actually tears in her eyes as Ella watched it unfold.
And Santo watched her grow before his eyes too.
‘Vince, from now on you’re not going to be watching her.’ Ella got back to the heart of the script. Rafaele had interpreted it that Vince came upon Taylor crying, but over and over Ella had read it and pictured it differently. Now she brought it to life. ‘You need to be here first, thinking about your friend, then you see Taylor arrive. Remember that till this point you’ve never really liked her. You’ve always thought that she was using him, but watching her cry, you see for the first time how much she loves him—it is that that moves you.’
‘Right.’ The sulking Vince actually smiled because, till now, Rafaele had made his character look nothing other than a man taking advantage of a vulnerable woman.
‘That’s why you go over,’ Ella said to Vince. ‘You realise that she knows how you feel, that you both miss him. And, Taylor...’ Ella said. ‘When he turns around, you’re defensive. You’re used to him making sarcastic comments. He’s already accused you of crocodile tears, but it is his empathy that is going to have you two heading off to the beach.’
‘Got it.’
‘And we’re not going to do the full-on crying scene yet...’ Santo watched as Taylor breathed out in relief. The past few days had been draining at best. ‘Just a few tears. What I want to get is your expression when Vince joins you.’
Taylor was brilliant. For the first time since filming had started Santo could breathe. Just having Vince there first changed everything, shifted the whole dynamics. It was something he wouldn’t have thought of and he told Ella the same as they headed back to the hotel.
‘We’ve got more done today than we have all week.’
She was glowing inside at the praise, on a high from finally doing the job she loved and knowing that she was doing it well.
‘I’m starving,’ Santo said. It was 10:00 p.m. and they had been too busy working to stop and take advantage of the catering. Now, all Ella wanted to do was to order something from room service, or... She looked over to Santo as they walked through the foyer. Perhaps they could have dinner and talk about the scenes tomorrow, or perhaps—Ella took a deep breath—they could simply talk.
‘So am I.’ She was beyond conflicted, wavering as to the choice she had earlier made. Santo would do nothing to jeopardise this film over something that might happen between them. And he was right—she was not her mother. She was so much stronger than that. ‘Maybe we could...’ She paused as his phone rang, waited while he took the call.
‘Sorry about that.’ His expression was grim when he came off the phone. ‘Right, I’ll see you in the morning. We start at six.’
‘Sure.’ Ella took a deep breath. ‘I might get something to eat in the restaurant, if they’re still taking orders.’
‘Of course they are,’ Santo said. ‘I told them we would not be finished filming till late. They are being very good—they understand the odd hours.’ His phone bleeped again, and his teeth gritted. ‘Enjoy your dinner.’ He dismissed her and, now she had said where she was going, Ella had no choice but to head into the restaurant. She told herself she was a working woman and there was nothing to be embarrassed about asking for a table for one, but all she felt was awkward. There was Vince, but he was engrossed in conversation with another of the actors and it was clear there was some serious flirting going on. Just when Ella had ordered, just when she had decided it wasn’t so bad after all, in walked Santo, still talking on his phone. She smiled as he walked towards her, but the smile disappeared when he returned it and then promptly walked past her.
Ella couldn’t believe he’d take things that literally, would have them sit alone rather than share a meal, but as Marianna came in, Ella realised that Santo had no intention to eat alone.
It was work, Ella told herself as she twisted pasta around her fork and tried not to hear their talk and laughter. It was exactly the same as she and Santo had done, in many hotels on many occasions, she told herself.
But did it take a bottle of wine to go through his diary?
It really was a hell of her own making, Ella told herself over and over through the coming days.
On a shoot it was a small closed world, but not even that could filter out the whispers and rumours that abounded about the Correttis. Ella watched as Santo read a newspaper, one that announced that the cousins were firmly divided, that Carlo’s children were having nothing to do with Benito’s, and that they were going to offer a counterproposal against Santo’s half-brother, Angelo, who had the full weight of Battaglia behind him. Ella knew it must be killing him, knew the effect that it would be having on Teresa too.
Yet, unless it was relevant to the movie, Santo gave her not so much as a word as to what was going on in his life.
His usually smiling face was closed now, his eyes constantly hidden behind dark glasses, but Ella could see the tension in his lips, could hear the impatience in his words as he endlessly spoke on the phone. She loathed that at one point, as they were discussing the next scene, Marianna came over and asked if she could have a word with him.
‘In private...’ Marianna said and then switched to Italian. ‘Familia.’
Ella watched as Marianna drew him aside, watched as Santo’s features paled and his fingers moved to his neck, pulling at the top he was wearing as he did when rarely he was anxious. Then he reached for his phone.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked at the first opportunity. They were back at the hotel and heading up to their rooms, but instead of pressing the button for her room, Ella tried to speak with him.
‘Of course,’ Santo said. ‘It went well today. The whole crew seems happier.’
‘I meant...’ She took a deep breath. ‘With you? Have you heard from Alessandro?’
‘Ella, I thought we agreed that we were talking only about work.’
‘Santo, I know that something’s wrong.’
‘And?’ He glared. ‘As I said, you can’t pick and choose what bits of me you have. You want professional, then here I am. You are the one who said we can’t be both. Now, did you want to speak about the movie?’
‘No.’
‘Then if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get ready to go to dinner.’ The lift was at his floor and Santo stepped out, but Ella followed him.
‘Santo, please,’ Ella said. ‘I made a mistake. I thought if we just concentrated on work till after shooting, then it would be better for the movie.’
‘And now you’ve changed your mind?’
‘Yes.’
‘And will you change it again tomorrow?’ Santo said nastily. ‘Will you go back on your sex strike, because this is not a nice game, Ella.’
‘I’m not trying to play games.’
‘I have done everything you ask of me. I have never pushed you to do anything that you don’t want to do, but you signed out of this, Ella. I know things have been bad for you, but right now things are bad for me. That’s fine, I’ll wear it. I can deal with tough times—though it could have been a hell of a lot better with your support. But you were the one who chose separate rooms and not to be there. So now, if you will excuse me, I would like some dinner.’
‘Can I join you then?’
‘I already have company tonight,’ Santo said.
‘Marianna?’
‘Of course.’ He shrugged. ‘I have more to sort out than just this film at the moment.’ And she was determined not to go there, to just say nothing, but the words blazed from her eyes and, without hesitation, Santo answered them.
‘What?’ He wasn’t Sicilian for nothing. His words were harsh and direct. ‘Is she too good-looking for me to eat with?’ Santo demanded. ‘If I hire only ugly people will you trust me then?’ He looked at her for a long time. ‘You know, I don’t think you ever will.’
‘Do
you blame me?’ She just stood there. ‘I’ve seen you in action, I know better than anyone....’
‘No.’ He walked right up to her face. ‘Don’t try to turn this on me. The fact that you will never trust me has nothing to do with me or my reputation, because you haven’t even given us a chance, not one. The fact is you don’t want to trust.’ Santo said. ‘We could be stuck on a desert island and there would still be a problem.’
He could see tears in her eyes and the burn on her cheeks as his words hit home, because he was right. It wasn’t Santo with some irredeemable past that was halting her. Ella didn’t actually know if she was capable of a full-blown relationship, did not know how to love and be fully, properly, completely loved back.
‘You deny us even a chance.’
‘No.’
‘Yes,’ Santo said. ‘You made it very clear right from the start that you wanted no relationship with me. You set the tone, so don’t blame me for meeting it. Don’t blame me for respecting the distance that you insisted upon.’ He raised his finger, to make a point in the way that every Italian man did. He watched her flinch, watched her head snap to the left, and his breathing came harder. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You think now that I would hit you?’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘I will not take the blame for him—I will not take the shame for him. You are as trapped as your mother,’ Santo said. ‘You might be on the other side of the world to him, but really, you have never left home.’
Santo could not have been more insulted.
‘I go now and eat with a grown-up.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
SANTO WAS RIGHT.
Sort of.
Ella lay on her bed and rather than denying his words, rather than defending herself to herself, instead she saw the hurt in his eyes, the absolute offence taken by Santo, and she didn’t blame him a bit.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to trust him, more that Ella simply didn’t know how to, had found it far safer to hide behind her career and excuses rather than take a chance with a relationship.
It didn’t feel such a safe place now. It felt empty, and worse, it felt selfish. Ella knew that she hadn’t been there for Santo, hadn’t shared in the tough times with him, and because of that, she might have blown their slim chance.
Why the hell had she had to go and fall in love with Santo though? Of all the billions of people on the globe, how had someone with major trust issues ended up with a man as wickedly bad as Santo? Ella even gave a wry smile to the heavens at the cruel lesson they had sent her, but then jumped when her phone rang. Now she wasn’t Santo’s PA, it was unusually quiet, but she jolted again when she heard who it was.
‘Mum?’ It was the first time her mother had rung her since she had started off on her travels. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything is fine,’ Gabriella said. ‘Well, the same,’ she corrected. ‘But I waited till your father was asleep so that I could speak to you.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘I miss you,’ Gabriella said. ‘It seems strange to know that you are there. What have you been doing?’
And Ella told her—not about the promotion, more the news her mother would be stunned to hear.
‘You ate dinner with Teresa Corretti? Ella, you must be careful.’ She sounded terrified. ‘Do not tell your aunts.’
‘Mum, she’s a lovely lady and I don’t think their name is all bad now. All the locals are watching the filming and seem really excited—’
‘What did you eat?’ Gabriella interrupted and it was actually a nice conversation. She told her about the food, and yes, her mother asked about the furniture. ‘She gave me some olive oil to send you.’
‘She gave you that for me?’
‘She said you would miss it.’
‘I do.’
There was a very long silence and then Gabriella revealed the real reason she had rung.
‘Ella, I am so sorry.’
‘Mum...’ She was about to tell her to stop, but wasn’t that what she scorned her mother for, for not talking about things, for just closing off?
‘I should never have asked you to cover up for him, but I was scared. If we told the police, what would happen afterwards? You were right to get away and you are right to not want to speak with him. I will never ask you to again.’
‘Thank you.’
How she’d needed to hear her mother say sorry and they spoke some more, cried some more. As Ella hung up on her mother, she knew that there was someone she had to say sorry to herself.
Properly though.
Except he was at dinner, and it really would be poor form to disturb, so Ella texted instead, asked if she could speak with him, that it didn’t matter what time.
Ella wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer.
She’d hurt him, offended him, and she knew that Santo was incredibly proud.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE WAS SCOWLING and completely unapproachable on set the next morning, arms crossed. He was talking with Luca, one of his cousins, and the conversation didn’t look as if it was pretty, but Ella tried to focus on Taylor.
‘We’re going to zoom in to a close-up,’ Ella said to Taylor. ‘Just go for it, but anything we can’t get today, we’ll get in the studio. I’m not going to be asking you to do this over and over. Just give it all you’ve got now.’
As Taylor headed off for a touch-up of hair and make-up, she glanced over to the dark brooding shadow of Santo. Luca was nowhere to be seen now. The cameras were all set up and ready and, even if she was dreading it, even if this might prove the most embarrassing moment of her life, still she had to face him—had to tell Santo that it wasn’t a game she’d been playing, that she’d just not been able to stick to a playboy’s rules.
She walked over to him, and even with dark glasses on, she could feel his eyes telling her to back off. He was leaning on a trailer, arms folded, and he said nothing as she walked over.
‘I’m sorry.’ God, it was a very hard thing to say when you absolutely meant it. ‘I am so sorry. I know how much I insulted you yesterday. I know that you would never hit me.’
Still he said nothing. It was like talking to a cardboard cut-out of him because his face never moved, his body was still. The effusive, expressive Santo was lost to her now and she wanted him back.
‘I spoke to my mum last night and I realised you are right. I have been holding back.’ Ella took a deep breath. ‘I’ve liked you for a very long time,’ she admitted. ‘A lot, and yes, I was jealous even if I didn’t want to admit that I was. And because I know that you don’t do long-term, I knew that by sleeping with you I’d be pretty much writing my own resignation. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to work alongside you if you were with someone else.’ She wished he would speak but, when he did, she wished that he hadn’t.
‘You assume so much.’
Santo looked at her from behind his dark glasses. Not once had she even hinted that his lifestyle bothered her—irritated her, maybe. He had heard the barbs. He thought of the cards he had had her dictate to the florist. Except there had been none in recent months, for the familiar, well-used lines had stopped coming so readily. Jewellery was a far easier option with a quick, simple line about matching her eyes...
And Ella had written them.
‘It was a lot more than sex to me and I didn’t want you to know how I felt, but now you do.’
‘Taylor’s taking her place.’
‘Santo...’
‘Get to work, Ella.’
She was shaking as she walked away from him. She had told him everything and he had given her nothing back.
Not everything.
Ella knew she hadn’t been completely open with him—but how? She wasn’t about to play the sympathy card. She’d declined the chance to talk to him on too many occasions. It wasn’t exactly fair to demand that right back now.
‘Ready?’ Ella checked in with her leading lady.
‘You want to take my place?’ Taylor asked when she saw Ella’s brimming eyes.
‘Right now, I probably could,’ Ella admitted, ‘except it wouldn’t be acting.’
‘If I get this right you can buy me a drink tonight,’ Taylor offered. ‘And I’ll lend you an ear.’
Taylor did get it right.
Whatever place Taylor took her head to, she was in agony and it was a privilege to watch. To witness her pure pain. There was no question that Vince would be drawn to her. Absolutely the viewer would understand why the characters would make love on the beach a few minutes later. Ella almost wanted to tell Taylor to stop, to breathe, because even though Taylor was hardly making a noise, it was clear she was broken.
Her eyes were screwed closed against tears that squeezed out, her lips were pressed tight and there was this river of pain building. She was locked in hell, just as Santo had been that morning where she had found him crying in the bath.
It hit her then.
She remembered the tears that Santo had shed that morning, the hell he had been in, all they had shared. It had been, she was sure now, far more than sex for him too, and she’d just walked away from him.
The one time Santo had needed another, had been himself with another, she’d closed off.
Frantic, she looked away from Taylor for a second, and over to Santo, but he just stood there, his arms folded, watching the action, watching Taylor, as she now must.
Taylor’s blue eyes were open. She was choking in tears. Then, even though they already had the shots, she repeated it just in case, turned her head to Vince, blanched as if she expected criticism and then her face moved in for his kiss. And what a kiss it would be, because now Ella knew for sure that this movie would work.
‘Cut.’
The second Ella said it Taylor burst out laughing, from the high and the elation of a perfect scene.
‘That was amazing!’ Ella enthused. ‘Just brilliant.’ And she told Taylor the same again later when she bought her a drink, shy to be sitting and talking with someone as famous as Taylor Carmichael.
Scandals Of The Powerful: Uncovering the Correttis / A Legacy of Secrets (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) / An Invitation to Sin (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) (Mills & Boon M&B) Page 17