Edouardo’s slight salvation was Alastair Crowell, who’d served as the estate manager for Lord Hubert and who at least maintained some continuity with the place after Hubert’s untimely passing. As the youngest in the family, Edouardo spent much of his childhood on the Weltenham estate hanging out with and learning from his father. Be it on long treks through the forest or hunting for grouse—or even the occasional wild boar—he lived an idyllic childhood, oftentimes by his beloved father’s side. But when not with his father, who spent plenty of hours stuck at his desk and on the telephone running his empire, Edouardo enjoyed being with “Uncle” Alastair.
Whether it was mucking stalls or feeding the horses, collecting eggs in the henhouse, or tending the family gardens and orchards for the fruits and vegetables they used regularly, the two often worked side by side all day long. Tall from an early age with broad shoulders, Edouardo was built for manual labor, and working up a sweat in the open air was where he was happiest. The only problem was it now only served to remind him of his loss and further cemented the fact that this land was not his nor would it ever be. Hence, he reverted to slouching around the house most days, putting out very little effort, and trying to engage in conversations as little as possible. He’d come to conclude he was perfectly happy being a hermit and would have gladly remained so were it not for his scheming sister.
“So, uh, Edouardo,” Clementine said, twirling her long, blond hair as she stood behind him while he sprawled out on the sofa absentmindedly scratching his stomach while glued to the television screen. “I think you need to get a life.”
“I’ve got one, thanks.” With a deadpan look on his face, he stuck out his hand and aimed the remote toward the screen.
“Honestly, have you even washed your hair this week?” she said as she peered at the top of his head then poked around, trying to do something with his bedheaded blond hair that was sticking up in all directions.
“Leave me alone.” He swatted at her hands. “My hair’s fine. Besides, it’s not good to wash it every day.”
“And you’re an expert on hair maintenance because?”
“I saw it on an American talk show the other day,” he said. “Washes out the natural oils in your hair.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like you could bottle the natural oil in your hair, it’s built up so. It’s gross.”
“So I like to be gross,” he said. “Maybe I’m working on making this a new trend. Before you know it all the guys will have greasy hair by choice.”
“You mean all the guys who aren’t going to get laid because they’re disgusting?” Clementine grabbed her phone off the end table and started taking pictures of her brother.
“Leave me alone, Clem.” He swatted at her trying to hide his face with his hand. “The Bachelor is about to go into the Fantasy Suite. I want to see what happens.”
“Jesus, Edouardo, did you just hear yourself? I almost can’t believe my own ears. My little brother, the six-foot-five hunk of man whose ‘sincere brown eyes’ used to make women swoon, now wants everyone to stop what they’re doing to see if the Bachelor hooks up with whatever loser girl he’s trying to bed?”
“It’s entertaining, Clem.”
“The real world is superentertaining too,” she said. “You might want to drag your ass off that sofa, take a shower, and step out into it and discover this for yourself.”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” he said, frowning at yet another commercial break, which left him no choice but to pay half attention to his sister’s whining. Curse that satellite television for not letting him bypass those annoying ads.
Clementine came around in front of him, trying to block his view of the wide screen on the wall. “Point in fact, you are not fine,” she said, sweeping her arm around him. “You haven’t been fine for months, ever since Papa died. Do you think he’d like to see what you’ve done to yourself?”
Her brother glared at her. “It’s none of your business what I do, nor is it your business what my father would think of it.”
“He’s all of our father,” she said. “And I get it, sweetie. I know you took it hard. We all did. We’ve all suffered in our own ways. The last thing we wanted was to lose him so early. But his death doesn’t mean that we should die with him, Edouardo. We’re his legacy: we’re what he left behind to carry on without him.”
“Actually, Darcy is who was left to carry on without him,” he said. “I, on the other hand, was left with no purpose, thanks.” He pointed the remote at the television to crank up the volume so he couldn’t hear her.
Clementine shook her head and flicked him on the forehead with her finger. “You are such an idiot sometimes,” she said. “Just because you didn’t get to take over the estate—”
“And the family heritage. Don’t forget that.”
“Stop,” she said. “Just because things were left to Darcy to manage doesn’t mean you now have a meaningless life. If you flip that notion on its head, maybe this has given you the chance to figure out what you want to do: the whole world is yours to own. You just need to figure it out. And maybe, if you look at it this way, Darcy got the short end of the deal. He’s stuck with this now, like it or not. He doesn’t have the chance to take off and do whatever he pleases.”
“Okay, sis, you can put your pom-poms away. I really don’t need any more cheerleading.”
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” she said. “Which is why I’m done with the Pollyanna tack and now I’m ready to play hardball with you.”
“This should be amusing.” Edouardo stretched out his fingers and looked at his fingernails with a look of boredom.
Clementine held up her phone and started scrolling through her photos. “So I’m going to a party tonight. I’m taking Isabella with me. And now, well, we’re taking you as well. In fact, since I’m playing hardball, you’re going to be the designated driver so Bella and I can drink to our hearts’ content.”
Edouardo wrinkled his eyebrows. “Yeah, like you can make me do that.”
“Which is where these come in handy,” she said, pointing to the images on her phone. “Because I’m going to start Instagramming pictures of you in your underwear watching The Bachelor starting in, oh, let’s say two minutes, unless you agree to get up off of that sodding sofa, get yourself under the shower, and get dressed to join the rest of humanity at a party tonight.
“I don’t know if you remember Isabella’s cousin Gabriella Puccini? She’s back in town after ending her engagement to some American and she’s trying to get back in touch with friends from childhood with this party. So this will be the perfect occasion for you to go out, make nice with grown-ups, and realize that you can indeed enjoy yourself. And maybe you can cheer up Gab while you’re at it—she’s been licking her wounds after her big breakup.”
“Well, great,” he said. “Just what I want: to be blackmailed into going to some party only to get stuck with some mopey woman who’s mooning over some dumb guy who dumped her.”
Clementine rolled her eyes. “For all I know she won’t even hazard a look at you, so don’t flatter yourself. But maybe, just maybe, you can discover that others have it worse off than you and you can grow some empathy while you’re learning to have fun again.”
“Are you really going to make me get up off of this couch?”
She nodded, then started tugging his hands to pull him up. “And pick up that bag of chips that’s fallen on the floor.” She pointed nearby. “And while we’re out, I’m going to get Rosa to fumigate this room you’ve been holed up in for so long and get rid of the stench, so maybe the rest of us can enjoy it sometime.”
With that, Edouardo put his new favorite show on pause and forced himself to temporarily go clean up his act.
Chapter Three
Gabriella clicked the latch to Butterball’s collar and attached the leash. She turned around to give one good look at her now-empty apartment. Pulling on her leather jacket, she looped her purse over her shoulder and walked away from her life in America with
no plan to look back. For Gabriella, who split her time as a child between her mother’s family villa in Italy and her father’s family estate in Monaforte, it was finally time to go home.
There was a slight hint of déjà vu in what she was doing, but this time she felt like she was making the right decision, whereas before, it seemed more like she was just running away from something. Instead, she was moving decidedly toward a new life. And last time, well, she remembered only too well how she buried the heartache quite handily in comfort eating and put on more pounds than she’d cared to admit in a few short months. She’d even named her dog in self-deprecating jest, a nod to her former bloated state.
This time, she was determined not to add to her breakup sorrows by turning to stress eating to get her through this hard time. No need to double dip in unhappiness that would only cause regrets later. If Matthew preferred work to her, well, that was his problem, not hers. She’d be damned if she would respond with fattening meals and extra milkshakes to soften the pain. In place of eating, she would be happy about returning home, and this time she vowed to tend to herself. While she was at it, she’d foster lots of old friendships so she wouldn’t wake up in six months feeling uncomfortable in her own skin without clothes that fit.
~*~
Gab and Butterball arrived at Bellavista, her family’s manor home on the outskirts of Monaforte’s capital, Porto Castello, early the next morning, only to learn that her parents had taken off unexpectedly for Tuscany to care for her nonna, who had fallen off a ladder while pruning olive trees.
One would think a woman in her twilight years might leave that work to someone younger and stronger, but Italian women, well, they never seemed to let a little age get in the way of some hard work. Maybe it was all those years of walking up roads and climbing stairs in the famously steep Italian hill towns. Whatever it was, Gabriella hoped she had her grandmother’s fortitude when she was that age. For that matter, perhaps her grandmother’s toughness in adversity was merely another sign to her not to wallow in sadness over the loss of the future she’d expected. Maybe this was a good reminder that Gab should seize the moment and not let adversity stop her forward momentum.
“A party,” she said under her breath, just as her sister Celeste came down the stairs, still in pajamas, her cascading black curls looking a bit sleep-tossed. “I should have a party.”
“Gabriella?” her sister said as she raced over to wrap her in a warm embrace. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Mama didn’t tell you I was moving back?”
Her sister scratched her head. “She mentioned something about you thinking of coming home.” She rubbed her eyes. “I guess I hadn’t realized it would be like, immediate. I’m sorry about the fiancé, by the way.”
The fiancé. Gabriella supposed her sister was entitled to use such a vague reference when talking about Matthew considering no one in the family had even met the man. She shrugged. “Yeah, well, it sucks, but it is what it is,” she said, brushing her hand in the air as if to dismiss the very thought. “Here today, gone tomorrow.”
“That’ll teach you to rely upon a man,” her sister said, rolling her eyes.
“Things not going so well for you in the boy department, either?” Gabriella arched her brow. “I thought you and what’s-his-name were still together.”
“Please,” Celeste said, reaching down to pet her sister’s dog. “If by what’s-his-name you mean Bernardo, then no. We are most decidedly not together.”
“What happened with you two? You’ve been together since you started at university.”
Her sister sighed. “I know, right? And then we finish and he goes back to Rome where he plans to live with his mother in her palazzo for the rest of his life, where despite her staff of twenty, she will likely choose to hand wash the man’s underwear till the day she dies. The boy loves his mamma—and vice versa—a little too much for me, thanks.”
“So you mean there was no discussion about a future together?”
Celeste knit her brows. “Not a thing! Not even a word. For some reason, every time I tried to discuss our future together after we finished up school, he brushed it aside and said he didn’t want to talk about it.” She took a seat on a bar stool and motioned for her sister to join her at the kitchen counter. “I thought he was just being sentimental, like maybe it was hard to think about everything as university was drawing to a close, and we’d had a great time but no sense in talking about what hadn’t happened yet, let’s just enjoy our time here, blah blah blah.”
“So what happened?”
“After graduation, he literally flew back to Rome and moved into his boyhood bedroom. His mother dotes on him all day long and he’s perfectly happy. I think he goes out with his boys clubbing, but that’s about it.”
“Did he end things with you?”
She shrugged. “Honestly I don’t even know if there was an official end. I mean it was like one minute we were together, the next minute, I’m here and he’s there and never the twain shall meet.”
“That’s so weird,” Gab said.
“And what about you?”
Gab filled her sister in on all that had unfolded and how she just knew it was going to be a mistake to try to make things work with Matthew when he had his life mapped out with little consideration for how she fit into it.
“What a jerk,” Celeste said. “What is wrong with these men?”
Gabriella shook her head. “You got me. But I’m simply not going to let it get me down this time. From now on, I plan on being footloose and fancy-free.” She reached down to scratch the pooch’s head. “No more binding myself to some impetuous male. I’m going to have fun, be on the prowl, and did I mention totally have fun?”
Her sister held up her clenched hand in solidarity and they bumped fists. “Right on, sister,” she said. “I’m with you. So now what?”
“You mean this requires a plan of action?”
“I don’t know!” Celeste said. “Although I swear I heard you muttering something to yourself earlier about a party?”
“Oh, yeah, that.” Gab blew a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Yes. A party. It will be a great way to meet up with old friends from town, let them know I’m back. It beats sitting around eating ice cream, bemoaning my single status.”
“You have a point,” she said. “So when’s this big bash going to be?”
“There’s no time like the present,” Gabriella said. “How about this weekend?”
“You don’t mess around, do you?”
“Fact is, I’m tired of messing around. No more ‘Miss Nice Gal’ for me, no more pandering to men who are going to yank me around. It’s official: I am all about fun and games. Starting, well, as soon as I can get a nap to get rid of this jet lag. I might even make it my goal to pick up a guy at the party, just for the hell of it, with absolutely no plans of establishing a relationship.”
“I’ve never known you to be the one-night stand sort.”
“That’s because I’m not,” Gab said. “But that’s the magic in this plan: I’m breaking out of my shell. Giving up on the commitment thing. I’m just looking to have a good time.”
“Just remember to use protection,” Celeste said with a grin.
“Oh, stop,” Gab said. “I’m not stupid.”
“Didn’t say you were. I just don’t want you to regret it down the road.”
“No regrets,” she said, holding up her hands. “I’m officially a woman on the prowl. Which means I’m going to probably need to get a little drunk.” She shrugged her shoulders as if stating the obvious.
“Perfect. Can I be in charge of the cocktails for this shindig?”
“Absolutely. Most importantly, there need to be many.”
“Plan on it. Welcome home, sis! It’s going to be a par-tay!”
Chapter Four
Edouardo felt like a damned girl as he stood in front of the mirror, trying to decide what to wear to the party. Clementine was lying on her sto
mach on his bed, her chin resting on her hands, scissoring her legs back and forth while he tried on outfits.
“Nope,” she said, nixing the casual black wool pants and coordinating cashmere sweater and blazer he held up. “That looks like you’re putting too much effort into being a hipster. Like you’re on the prowl. You need to be subtle about these things.”
“What things? I’m not planning to be on the bloody damned prowl anyhow.”
“You never know,” she said. “Could be some totally hot, single female there who rings your bell.”
“Oh my God,” he said. “My sister is talking about a woman ringing my bell. Someone spare me this indignity.”
She laughed. “Just looking out for your best interests. Judging by your behavior over the past however many months, I’m sure it’s been ages since you’ve, well, you know.”
He held up his hand. “Hold it right there. Do not even go there. I refuse to discuss my sex life—”
“Or lack thereof.”
He scrunched his eyebrows and frowned at Clementine. “That is so not your business. Besides, you never know. Maybe I’ve had someone sneaking into the house when you’ve been out carousing with Sebastian.”
“Sebastian and I don’t carouse!”
“Or whatever they call that nowadays.”
“That?”
“Yes, that. What you and Sebastian do. Together. That I don’t want to know anything about because you’re my sister and he better not be doing anything at all with you.”
“You are so overprotective.”
“I’m caring,” he said. “So shoot me.” He’d put on a slim suit that made him look fashion-model handsome. “Besides which, without Papa, you need someone ensuring your purity.”
“Purity!” she said with a cackle. “I’ve got news for you, dear brother. That issue was resolved long ago, and for what it’s worth, Papa was none the wiser.”
Edouardo plugged his ears with his fingers. “Don’t wanna hear this,” he said loudly over her voice. “How’s this outfit?” He wanted nothing more than to redirect the conversation far from where it had strayed.
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