Modern Romance August 2019 Books 5-8. Trish Morey
was tipping into night as they made the journey up a long and winding driveway to Ciro’s Sicilian palazzo. All Lara could see was the wide open lavender sky full of bright stars and acres and acres of land rolling down to the sea. It was quiet.
They climbed an incline, and when they reached the top she sucked in a breath.
The palazzo seemed to rise out of nowhere and cling to a cliff-edge in the distance; a soaring cluster of buildings with a tower that looked like something from a movie. As they got closer she could see just how massive it was. Lights shone from high windows, and they drove into a huge courtyard with a fountain in the middle. Wide steps led up to a huge open door where light spilled out. It looked incongruously welcoming in spite of the intimidating grandeur of the building.
‘You said once that you spent a lot of time here growing up?’ Lara said as Ciro drew the SUV to a stop at the bottom of the steps.
He cut the car’s engine and put both hands on the steering wheel. Lara was conscious of the missing little finger on his right hand. It made her chest ache. She looked away.
‘Yes. We were mainly in Rome, after my parents moved there, but I spent most holidays here with my grandparents. My nonna died when I was small, but my grandfather was alive until not long ago.’
‘Were your mother’s parents alive?’
His mouth compressed. ‘They lived in Rome and they didn’t approve of her choice of husband. They had nothing to do with me or my father—even though my father moved to Rome to keep my mother happy.’
‘That was harsh.’
She’d never really realised how lonely Ciro must have been as an only child. Or how it must have looked to a young boy to see his father giving up his own heritage to keep his selfish mother happy.
Just then a young woman in jeans and a white shirt appeared at the top of the steps. Ciro saw her and uncurled his large frame from the SUV, calling out a greeting in Italian.
The young woman flew down the steps and hurled herself at Ciro, who chuckled, wrapping her in his arms. Lara’s breath stopped as something very sharp pierced her heart. She hadn’t seen Ciro so relaxed and easy since they’d met again. He’d been like that with her, once...
She got out of the car slowly, and as she came around to where Ciro was extricating himself from the woman’s embrace Lara could see that she was a girl of about eighteen, extraordinarily pretty with long dark hair and dark eyes. She was looking up at Ciro as if he was God.
Then she saw Lara and stepped back, clapping a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were sparkling and she took her hand down, smiling so widely and infectiously that Lara couldn’t help but respond.
Lara held her hand out, but the girl ignored it and embraced her warmly too. When she pulled back she said, ‘Scusi...’ and then she rattled off some words in Italian that Lara had no hope of understanding.
Ciro said something and the girl stopped talking, looking embarrassed.
‘Lara, I’d like you to meet Isabella. She grew up here on the estate with her family, who have cared for the palazzo for generations.’
Lara smiled. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
Isabella smiled again. ‘And you, Signora Sant’Angelo. Please excuse me. I do speak English but I forget when I am excited.’
The obvious warmth flowing between Ciro and this young woman was as unexpected as it was heartening. Lara had never seen him look so relaxed.
Isabella took Lara’s arm. ‘Roberto will come and get the bags—he’s my twin brother. Let me show you around!’
Lara didn’t think she had much choice, so she let herself be led up the steps and into the palazzo on a wave of Isabella’s exuberance. In all honesty she was glad of a moment’s respite—glad to get away from Ciro and stop overthinking everything that was to come that night.
Their wedding night.
About half an hour later Lara was led out onto an open terrace, overlooking the sea below. She could see another terrace further down, set precipitously right over the cliff. All was calm now, but she could imagine how dramatic it must be in a storm.
The rest of the palazzo was seriously impressive. Apparently it had undergone a major renovation in recent years, and now it was a byword for elegant sophistication and comfort.
It had an opulent cinema room, and a gym with an indoor pool. There was an outdoor pool set into its landscaped grounds. Too many bedrooms to count. Formal and informal dining rooms. A kitchen to die for. And there was even a quaint old church on the property.
Isabella had confided in Lara that Ciro was sponsoring her and her twin brother to go to university in Rome in the autumn. This was a side to Ciro that Lara hadn’t seen before—philanthropic.
Isabella said now, ‘I’ll show you up to your suite. Ciro has asked that dinner be served here on the terrace in half an hour, but I’m sure you’d like to freshen up first?’
Lara nodded gratefully. She couldn’t believe that the wedding had been earlier that same day. It felt like a lifetime ago.
She followed Isabella up the main staircase to the first floor, where the bedrooms were situated. At the end of a plushly carpeted corridor she opened a door on the right and led Lara into an exquisitely decorated bedroom suite, complete with walk-in wardrobe and en suite bathroom. There was even a balcony through a set of French doors, overlooking the sea. It was sumptuous.
Isabella left her alone and Lara slipped off the light jacket she’d been wearing over her dress and took off her shoes, sighing with relief as her bare feet sank into the carpet.
She padded over to the balcony and looked out, drawing in a lungful of fragrant warm air from the Mediterranean Sea. Dozens of different scents tickled her nostrils...lemons...bergamot? The salty air from the sea. It was paradise, and in spite of everything Lara could feel something inside her loosen and untangle.
‘Surprised that the uncouth Sicilian has some taste after all?’
Lara jumped nearly a foot in the air and slapped a hand over her racing heart. Ciro was standing on a similar balcony she hadn’t noticed, just a few feet away. He’d lost his jacket too, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing strong muscled forearms.
Lara struggled to process his words. ‘No...not at all.’ She was irritated that she was so skittish around him. ‘I always knew you had taste. I never called you uncouth.’
Or had she?
In those awful moments two years ago in the hospital... She’d been so desperate to get out of there before he’d seen what a fraud she was...
Ciro made a noise. ‘Maybe not, but as good as.’
It was impossible not to notice how right Ciro looked against the dramatic backdrop of palazzo and cliffs and sea. As if he’d been hewn out of the very rock beneath them.
He straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the door. ‘I’ll take you down to dinner.’
He disappeared, and Lara was confused until she heard a door opening back in her suite and went in to see Ciro standing in an adjoining doorway. An interconnected but separate suite. She could see his bed in the background.
All at once she felt a conflicting and humiliating mixture of relief and disappointment. She knew she wasn’t ready to share such an intimate space with Ciro yet. If ever. But she had expected him to want to project a united front. Ever mindful of people’s opinion.
‘Won’t people expect us to...?’
‘Be cohabiting?’
Lara shrugged, embarrassed. Maybe this was new etiquette and she was being incredibly unsophisticated to assume that all couples were like her parents, who had shared a bedroom. After all, her