Summer Sins

by Julia James

  Alicia couldn’t stop the ache in her heart. Here was the evidence—she watched as Dante caught a small girl up and held her high, making her laugh—he could love. He did have the capacity. Just not for her. And then she felt awful for even thinking of herself like that when these kids had no one … especially as she had been one. She knew.

  She turned to Maria, pushing down the ache. ‘OK, what can I do to help?’

  Maria looked at her, clearly taken aback. ‘You … you want to help?’

  ‘Of course.’ Alicia stood up. ‘Come on, they all look like they’re having way too much fun without us.’

  That evening, as the sun set and the kids were changing out of their wetsuits, chattering and jumping around, Dante leant against a wall and took a deep slug from a bottle of beer. His eyes darted around and finally found what—who—he was looking for. And when he did, he wished he hadn’t. She was still in a wetsuit, her hair a mass of damp curls on top of her head. She looked about eighteen and she had a queue of children lined up in front of her as she tended to each one, doling out plasters, rubbing cream into cuts and bruises. None of the children were really hurt beyond a couple of flesh wounds from horseplay but he’d never seen them line up like that before. His eyes went back to her. She hugged a little girl tight and kissed her on the head before sending her away with an affectionate pat on the bottom.

  Maria came up beside him, shaking her head in awe, and said in Italian, ‘Dante, she’s—’

  He cut her off ruthlessly. ‘I know.’ He took another sip of his beer. He didn’t want to hear it. Since they’d come back to Italy, since he’d had Alicia more or less to himself apart from the odd social occasion, he’d convinced himself that he’d been in the first flush of some crazy lust phase in South Africa, letting her get to him like that, under his skin.

  Keeping her in his apartment, exclusively for him, all he’d had to think about was sating the physical desire. They’d talked, yes, and he’d been pleased to discover that they had many common interests, her dry sense of humour that was so like his own … but it had only enhanced what was, for him, a very physical affair.

  A short time later Alicia joined him at the Jeep, back in her own clothes. The kids had just been loaded back on to the bus—there had been too many for the plane—and it had pulled away with much beeping and shouting. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  ‘That was the best day … thank you. I really love—’ She halted under his stern gaze, the words dying.

  He frowned. ‘What is it?’

  She shook her head and he shrugged and went to her door, opening it. Her heart hammered. The words had been trembling on her lips, she’d been about to say, love you. And thank goodness she hadn’t.

  She walked to her door and he helped her in. She watched him walk around the front of the car and thought that she’d never figure him out, even if she had a lifetime.

  That night, back at the villa, they made love with an almost savage intensity. It felt, inexplicably, as if they were heading for some kind of reckoning. As she lay in his arms afterwards, unable to sleep but listening to his breathing even out and deepen, Alicia knew that intensity had come from her because the time had come to walk away. Today she’d felt something close to normal again—interacting with the children, tending to them, had been so rewarding. She knew that with each day that passed she was diminishing more and more and soon she’d be a shadow of her former self.

  ‘I’ll be back this evening at six, the function starts at half past, and Signora Pasquale will deliver the dress at five.’

  ‘Dante, there’s no need for a new dress—it’s crazy—I’ve brought some with me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I told you before, the cost is nothing. And tonight is important.’

  Alicia shrugged and watched him get up from the lunch table.

  They were back in his palazzo in Milan, in preparation for the big charity ball. They’d arrived by helicopter earlier that morning. Patrizia was gone, back to school, and her mother was in residence again.

  When he had gone, Alicia wandered around a little disconsolately. She tried to phone Melanie to see how she was but there was no answer at the house in London. And she couldn’t get through on either her mobile or Paolo’s. She wasn’t unduly worried, she knew they usually went for a gentle stroll in the late afternoon if Paolo could get off work early.

  Signora Pasquale’s assistant arriving distracted her and by the time she’d washed and dressed, it was nearly six.

  Alicia heard his steps on the stairs but stayed looking out of the window. He approached behind her, his scent winding around her like a sensual cloak. And, like clockwork, her heart started to thud heavily, her pulse jumped. He came very close then and pressed a kiss to the bare back of her neck, she closed her eyes in response and at the sweet pain that gripped her.

  ‘Bella, Alicia.’

  She turned around then and he swept that hot black gaze up and down, taking in gold chiffon folds that fell from under her bust in layers, down to her feet.

  His brow quirked. ‘Shoes?’

  She stuck out a foot and showed him the funky gold wedges Signora Pasquale had found. She smiled even as her heart ached. ‘I’ve learnt my lesson one too many times now. Me and heels just do not go. Wedges are the way forward.’

  Her hair was piled high, curly tendrils escaping. Golden hoop earrings swung against her slim neck, a single gold bangle encircled her tiny wrist.

  Dante’s chest felt tight. ‘Let’s go.’

  Despite the wedges, Alicia’s feet were beginning to hurt. The dinner was long over but people still milled around the glittering ballroom in one of Milan’s oldest buildings. Dante had given a speech, again showing her, uncomfortably, that if he had a passion for something, he was a force to be reckoned with. She took a sip of champagne, she wasn’t going to wallow in that self-pity again.

  And then he was striding towards her through the crowd. He came and took the glass from her and lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her in full view of everyone. Something in Alicia’s chest hardened—still the act, the show of public respectability. He was certainly getting his money’s worth, she thought with uncharacteristic cynicism.

  They started to make their way out of the room and were almost at the door when Dante stopped so rapidly that Alicia bumped into his back. She looked around to see what the hold up was and saw a woman addressing him. She looked to be a few years senior to Alicia, closer to Dante’s age. And she was very beautiful. Thick black hair, dark olive skin and green almond eyes. In fact, she was exquisite. More than exquisite.

  Alicia couldn’t understand what they were saying but she didn’t mistake Dante’s tension or the way his hand had tightened almost painfully on hers. He’d even moved her so that she was a little behind him, as if to stop her witnessing this. Feeling suddenly enraged at this behaviour and even more so if this was some ex-lover of his, she pulled free and stepped around to face the woman.

  Her green eyes were hard and cold and took Alicia aback. But she was determined to be the one to show good manners, even though her heart was breaking a little apart because surely this woman must have been a lover—she was too gorgeous not to have been.

  She held out a hand. ‘Hello, I’m Alicia.’

  The woman just cast a disdainful look at her hand and turned back to Dante, a sneer on her lovely face—which didn’t actually look so lovely any more. She spoke again, rapidly.

  Dante said something harsh and the woman stopped talking, her mouth mutinous, ugly.

  Alicia couldn’t stop herself. ‘Dante … who is this, please?’

  He didn’t even look at her; he kept looking at the woman, his expression so cold that it scared Alicia. ‘This,’ he said and his voice matched his look, ‘is no one. ‘

  And with that he grabbed her hand again and pulled her after him and out of the room.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WHAT shook Alicia up more than anything was the thought that perhaps some day she’d ru
n into him again, exactly like that, and he would look at her with the same arctic coldness while clutching the hand of another woman. And she couldn’t bear it. She knew the moment had come and she almost welcomed the events of the evening, what she’d witnessed. It was a sign.

  Once inside the dimly lit palazzo she pulled back from him when he would have reached for her hand to lead her up to bed.

  He looked back at her, the impatience on his face nearly funny, except Alicia didn’t feel like laughing. She spoke and thankfully her voice was steady. ‘Dante, who was that woman?’

  He frowned. ‘It doesn’t matter who she is; I told you she’s no one.’

  Again that chilling tone. It cut through her.

  ‘Of course she’s not no one Dante, she’s a human being. An ex-lover?’

  She held her breath.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ he hurled out, getting angry. His reaction made her even more determined.

  ‘I want to know, Dante, because whether you like it or not, we have a relationship and quite frankly it scared me the way you treated her.’ She turned away from him, afraid he might see something in her eyes, and went into the drawing room. One lamp glowed in the corner, sending long shadows across the floor. She heard him come in behind her and turned back again, wrapping her arms around herself.

  He stood in the doorway, six feet four inches of bristling, angry, taut male. And she had no idea why he was so angry.

  ‘Well? Why can’t you tell me? Is it a bit inconvenient having your lovers run into each other?’ She laughed harshly. ‘I’m surprised you’re not used to it; after all there must be enough of us.’

  He strode in and stopped just inches away; she could see that he was restraining himself from touching her. She wasn’t scared; she knew he wouldn’t touch her in violence. But he was livid.

  ‘And which rag did you read that in, Alicia?’

  ‘No, let’s not make this about me. Your reputation is well-known, Dante; you said it yourself when you asked me so nicely to come to the conference in the first place.’ A poisonous image inserted itself into her mind’s eye, and the memory of the way he’d dismissed that other woman in his life so summarily. She couldn’t stop, the words came pouring out. ‘The woman on the steps of the hotel that night in Lake Como; you’d just come from her bed, hadn’t you?’

  A dull flush coloured his cheekbones. That memory was utterly toxic to him now.

  ‘See? So please, spare me.’ She folded her arms and moved back, chin tilted up with all the defiance she could muster. ‘So are you going to tell me, or just run around the city bumping into women and freezing them out … the same way you’ll freeze me out some day, no doubt.’

  Dante couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

  They should be in bed now. When he thought of that woman all he felt was disgust. And now Alicia was digging, insisting on finding out.

  He felt stupid then, foolish. His first instinct when faced with Sonia had been to protect Alicia from her venomous presence; he’d even moved her behind him. And yet … the two women were peas in a pod. A hard, heavy, dense mass weighed his chest down. Talk about a sign to wake him up, having Alicia and Sonia come face to face like that.

  He laughed harshly then. ‘You want to know who she is?’ Because she is you and you are she; that’s why you’re so interested isn’t it?

  He paced back and forth on the carpet like a caged panther and Alicia instinctively stepped away a little. His energy was lashing out like the end of a live wire.

  ‘I’ll tell you exactly who she is; you’ll probably admire her. Her name is Sonia Paparo.’ His mouth twisted with extreme distaste. ‘And yes, we were lovers. A long time ago, when I inherited the business from Stefano. Actually, to be exact, the day after I made my first million she turned up on my doorstep. She had some lame story but I didn’t care because she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.’

  Alicia backed away even further, every word a dart that cut and stung. But she had asked for it and knew he wouldn’t stop now.

  His accent was thicker. ‘I told her all about myself because, well, when you’re in love you do, don’t you?’ He didn’t wait for an answer; his eyes were like burning coals.

  ‘I told her how our mother left us, how angry I was, how hurt. How Paolo had pined for her for years, that he still pined for her. Then one day she arrived and had a woman with her, an old woman who knelt down at my feet and begged forgiveness for leaving me and Paolo.’

  Alicia’s hand went to her chest. Hearing the words was like watching a car crash in slow motion.

  ‘I saw no reason not to believe Sonia’s fantastic story of how she’d overheard this woman in the market talking about the two boys she’d deserted, and how much she regretted it. How she’d put two and two together. After all, why would she lie to me? She loved me. And I did look at it logically; it wasn’t so unbelievably fantastical, we were still in the same area of Naples. The woman would have been around the right age, the same colouring … and she knew things about us … but it was only afterwards I realized that they were things I had told Sonia, together with a bit of intuition, supposition and women’s innate deviousness thrown in for good measure.’

  ‘Dante—’ She put out a hand but he cut her off curtly.

  ‘I’m not finished. So, against my best instincts, I welcomed the woman into my house. Too much had happened for me to forgive so quickly, but Paolo, being at an impressionable age, was ecstatic to have his mother back again, not that he’d even really known her in the first place. A huge part of me didn’t believe … and Sonia accused me of being cynical, unbelieving. She pointed out how happy Paolo was … and I didn’t want to be like that—cynical, mistrustful. I’d had a bellyful of it on the streets.’

  Alicia felt a chair behind her and sat down dumbly. She watched as Dante still paced.

  ‘I don’t think I need to explain to you the importance of the mother in Italian families.’ It wasn’t a question and Dante had gone inwards to another place. Alicia could only sit and watch, mute.

  ‘I knew Sonia expected a marriage proposal; she’d made it obvious from very early on. But I’d held back, I’d always vowed I’d never marry.’ His mouth twisted in a parody of black humour. ‘But, funnily enough, by then Mama was firmly ensconced in her new role and encouraging me daily to make an honest woman of Sonia. One day I came home to find them cackling together in the kitchen over how much money they would stand to get when I asked Sonia to marry me, as they predicted I was about to do any day.’ He laughed harshly. ‘And, more fool me, I’d even picked out a ring. Had stupidly listened to her advice.’

  Alicia couldn’t move.

  He looked straight at her, through her, the pain in his eyes intense. ‘Mother and daughter, con artists. It was a well worn ploy and we were the perfect victims. When I wasn’t quick enough to propose, Sonia got creative. Between us, we wouldn’t have really remembered our mother … but Paolo … I had to tell him the truth. He couldn’t have borne the thought of being abandoned again.’

  Alicia stood up and came over, her eyes anguished. ‘Dante, I’m so sorry, truly … I know exactly how you must have felt—’

  Her words cut into him, the wound still raw, and he couldn’t believe how he’d been provoked into telling her about Sonia. He turned on her, eyebrows drawn together in fury. ‘You? How on earth could you ever know what it was like to be abandoned?’

  He looked down his strong nose at her in disgust.

  ‘I know,’ she said quietly, ‘because I watched my own mother walk away from me when I was four and Melanie was two and a half.’

  Betrayal—all over again. The word resounded in his head, deafening him. For a minute there was silence and then the cold fury that blasted from Dante was worse than any hot temper.

  ‘You …’ He said something undoubtedly rude in Italian, his mouth a tight sneer. ‘I tell you this and still you think that you can worm your way in with not only a baby but now a
fairy tale of abandonment. You haven’t even got the intelligence to try and make up a slightly better version, an even more lurid story to really tug on the heartstrings?’

  Alicia was trying to make sense of this; she knew on some banal level that obviously he didn’t believe her. And on another level this pain cut so deep that she didn’t think she’d even make it from the room.

  Dante looked at her, incandescent with rage at her blatant greed and audacity. Her eyes had closed with his words and now she looked dead ahead, through him. Her face was pale.

  How could she do this? Didn’t she see? Acting to the bitter end.

  Yet, even in the midst of this he was aware of her, in a visceral way that eclipsed anything he’d felt for any other woman, even Sonia. It was the worst thing of all; it even made the naked greed and avarice seem unimportant. Something dark moved through him. And what it was, was this: he knew he couldn’t let this woman go; he wasn’t ready for that, no matter what. He assured himself he was still in control, even though he felt anything but.

  ‘Nothing has changed, Alicia. We can get past this, at least we can be totally honest now.’

  She lifted dead eyes to his and he took a step back. She laughed and it didn’t sound like her. ‘You just can’t believe that your brother could fall in love with a girl—a nice girl, a good girl—have a baby and want to get married, can you? Because it didn’t happen for you. You got tricked in a heinous way, Dante, but she was one woman and her very twisted mother … and I’m afraid, as inconveniently coincidental as it may sound, we do share a similar history of woe.’

  She sounded incredibly weary all of a sudden. ‘To be honest, I don’t much care if you believe me, I should be used to it now, you haven’t believed a word I’ve said since the moment we met and I’ve done nothing but tell the truth. And when I was wrong, I apologized. You can look up the records of the North London Orphanage Trust and you’ll see our names there.’

  ‘If this is true, then why didn’t you tell me the night I told you about my past?’