Preview

“…Enzo heaved a sigh. Emilio had taken the comfort of home away from him, and now he was trying to take the vineyards too. Would his brother not be satisfied until he’d sullied every bit of Perlano for him? Enzo didn’t want to acknowledge it, but that thought hurt. He remembered being so excited when he was three at his brother’s arrival in the world. It was his earliest memory. Being involved in his father’s business so much as he grew hadn’t left much time for him to bond with his brother, but he’d still tried. Even when he noticed his mother coddling Emilio, with her obvious favouritism, it didn’t bother Enzo.

With another sigh, he turned around and walked back to the house. He noticed how quiet it was. It seemed Isabella had retired for the night without turning out the lights. That wasn’t like her, but maybe she’d deliberately wanted to remind him of the beauty here. Of everything this home held. She was always trying to lure him back, but the problem was that it was filled with ghosts. Of his father preparing him to take over. Of his mother’s affection. Of Emilio and Gia. The anger and pain.

He wasn’t himself here. He wasn’t controlled. His usual discipline always seemed to escape him; his emotions got the better of him. He hated it.

He really did not want to retire to his room yet. He was glad that he no longer slept in the room in which he had grown up, no matter how luxurious it was. No matter how much of him it reflected. The master suite was now his, but even to that he did not wish to go.

Hoping to delay what would obviously be a short and troubled sleep, he went down to the cellar and picked out a bottle. A little quiet and some good red wine might at least allow him to relax a little. It was worth a try.

He ran his thumb across the label with pride and went to fetch a glass from the kitchen, but on his way, he noticed a figure out on the terrace. Celeste was out there. He couldn’t blame her for enjoying the view. She was the first woman he had brought here since Gia, he realised, since that relationship had crashed and burned so spectacularly.

Celeste was different, though. Where Gia craved the limelight, Celeste shunned it. Where Gia was fashionable and glamorous, Celeste was muted.

There was something deliberate about it, as if she tried to erase all evidence of her existence from one interaction to the next. Enzo admired her professionalism, but he knew so little about her. Come to think of it, all he really knew about her was that she was well-educated and that she had once been to Italy. But on the plane, when he had found her sound asleep, frowning and curled in on herself, something about her struck him. He’d never realised how small she was, and it dawned on him that he had always thought that her presence simply…filled a space. He hadn’t liked that look of discomfort on her face, so he’d reached over her to close the blind, catching a whiff of blackcurrant and vanilla. A pretty fragrance that he’d found he rather liked. He had put away her work and covered her in a blanket, watching as the frown dissolved away and was replaced by a small smile.

Why had he suddenly found her so intriguing?

Rather than try to figure it out then, he had gone into his private bedroom to sleep. It had been no use.

Now, though, instead of fetching one glass from the kitchen, Enzo took two, along with a corkscrew. What harm could come from sharing a drink? Besides, Celeste was in his home. Even if she was there to assist him, he could still be a gracious host.

He stepped out onto the terrace. The gardens before them were framed by the centuries-old stone arches. He placed the glasses on the wrought-iron patio table with a clink that clearly startled Celeste.

‘Jesus!’ she exclaimed, clutching her heart.

‘Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said, pulling the cork from the bottle with a pop.

‘Oh, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here.’

‘I have always enjoyed sitting out here.’ He filled a glass with rich red wine that he placed at the vacant seat at the small table. ‘Sit, have a glass of wine with me.’

‘Thank you.’ She turned the chair to face out towards the gardens and eased back, plucking her glass off the table and taking a small sip.

For some reason, the act gave him great satisfaction. He batted the thought away. It had nothing to do with Celeste herself. It was just the fact that she seemed pleased by the wine that he enjoyed. After all, he was proud of his heritage. The small smile curving her lips was not at all distracting. Just like it hadn’t been distracting when he saw her smile in her sleep on the plane.

‘It’s good,’ she said before taking another sip.

‘Again, you sound surprised.’ He filled his own glass and set the bottle down on the table, then stepped to edge of the terrace and slid his hand into his pocket.

‘I’ve never had it before.’

‘I wonder, should I be insulted that my PA could not be bothered to sample our wines? Or is it that she didn’t know about them, which would be no less worrying?’ She wouldn’t be able to see his smirk. Why was he teasing the woman? In two years, they had never had this kind of relationship. Nothing at all had changed apart from coming back to Perlano, to his home.

You know why. You’ve already compared her to Gia.

‘Well, I have always known about them, Mr De Luca, but it’s a little pricier than a PA can afford, you know.’

That was a lie. Enzo knew what he paid her. She could afford a few more luxuries than she seemed to allow herself.

‘I can see why you enjoy sitting out here. It’s so peaceful. We don’t get to see the stars quite like this in Sydney,’ she said.

She was trying to change the subject. His suspicion that she tried to remove traces of her presence came back to him. He asked her a question—an inconsequential one at that—and she moved on to a subject that required no revelations about either of them. But she was right, they didn’t see the stars, not with the bright city lights, and he missed it. He missed his home; he missed his people; he missed all that was his. But he didn’t miss the feelings this place made resurface.

‘Perlano is a special place. There was a time when the people of Calabria moved north or emigrated to other countries. We took the opportunity to start another vineyard in Piemonte. But the people of Perlano stayed.’

‘They were happy to be here.’

‘And it is the conte’s responsibility to make sure it stays that way.’

‘It seems like you have all been successful.’

Was Enzo a successful conte? He did what he could, but he made sure to stay away. Could he do more if he spent his time in Perlano?

‘I love the hedge maze,’ Celeste said, breaking through his thoughts.

Was she offering up a little bit of information about herself? Ever since that moment on the plane, she was becoming a puzzle that he wanted to solve. He wasn’t sure why, but if he could keep her talking, maybe he would collect a few more pieces.

‘It was an addition made by my father’s great-grandfather. His wife loved sitting in the gardens, but she particularly loved that fountain, so he created the maze around it so she could be surrounded by both things she loved. But they say he ensured the hedges were kept lower than the fountain so he could always see where she was, see over the walls.’

‘That’s a beautiful story. I imagine there are a lot of stories in this place.’

‘There are. Every conte put their mark on it in some way. It was a favourite pastime of mine to find all of them.’

He was proud of his history. How could he not be? It was a privilege to be handed the legacy and ensure that it endured. A privilege and a weight, but not one he’d ever shied away from. He had taken it all on, and he hoped he had made his father proud too.

Enzo turned around to look at Celeste, at all the burning questions in her eyes. Her next question would likely be what everyone asked: How does it feel to be the conte? Did you always want to be? He would give his usual rehearsed answer. Feelings had nothing to do with it. It was always his destiny. But if he was honest with himself, he had always wanted to be. He wanted to honour his father, the man who’d spent so much time with him, preparing him for the duty, ensuring he was strong enough to lead. Their bond had been profound: Enzo had loved his father, but more than anything he had respected him.

Instead, Charlotte asked, ‘What mark have you left?’

The question caught him off guard. He knew what he had changed, but he wasn’t sure if that was how he made his mark. ‘The kitchen.’

‘I’m sorry?’

Enzo saw that she had drained her glass, so he refilled both his and hers. ‘My mother loved this place, especially the vineyards, but she also loved to cook. So after my father passed, I had the kitchen remodelled to give her the scenery she loved plus the convenience of modern life. She was getting older, you see.’

‘So you wanted to make it easier on her,’ Celeste said as he resumed his place at the pillar. This time, instead of looking out at the garden, he only saw her and how, in the darkness, her black hair looked almost blue. How elegant she was, despite how much she seemed to try to hide.

‘Yes,’ Enzo answered.

‘Did you ever learn to cook from her?’

‘I’m Italian, cara mia.’ He grinned. ‘Of course she ensured both her sons were capable. And you?’

*

‘And me what?’ Charlotte asked, ignoring his mocking tone.

‘You almost certainly asked me that question anticipating that the answer would be no. Probably so you could make some clever remark. I’m simply asking you the same.’

Enzo was being playful, something that both shocked and delighted Charlotte. He had certainly not shown her much of his personality in the office. Everything about him seemed so closely guarded. He always said just enough. Never once in all the time she’d known him had she seen him allow someone into his thoughts, but now he was offering her peeks into who he was underneath it all.

In some ways, he was just like her. Hiding. Maybe not to the same extent as her, but there was an Enzo to uncover. And she wanted to see more. That cocked brow made something curl in her belly. The way he looked at her with those green eyes that were so startlingly bright, even in the moonlight. They pierced through her and made her mouth go dry. The reaction surprised her, but it felt good to feel something exhilarating. It was as if she was coming alive. She saw the man every day, but she’d never felt pinned by his gaze, except now that was exactly what was happening.

She shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. But when Enzo, the famed control freak, saw fit to be playful, maybe it was safe to let go just a little bit. So she answered without thinking.

‘Of course I can. In fact, I have learned under some of the very best chefs in the world.’

‘Oh, really?’ Enzo challenged.

‘Yes. It’s called the internet. You should check it out sometime.’ She turned her nose up at him, taking a long sip of her wine, and when she shifted her gaze over to him, she saw that he was stifling a smile.

Enjoying herself more than she had in a while, she curled her fingers around the frame of her glasses and drew them off her face. It felt so much better to be without them. Without that constant weight, that reminder to be someone else. She picked the bottle off the table and walked over to Enzo, emptying what was left into their glasses.

She could feel him watching her intently as she read the label then placed the bottle back on the table. She was always so careful not to splurge, not to buy anything that could raise suspicions, but maybe when they returned home, she could make an exception for this wine.

‘Alla tua.’ She clinked her glass against Enzo’s and watched his eyes darken when she sipped.

‘Usually the toast comes first,’ he said, his voice pitched low. The gravel in his tone made her feel warm.

Maybe with the loss of her glasses some of her old boldness returned, because she found herself saying, ‘Rules are meant to be broken.’

‘Salute.’

She kept her gaze fixed on his, watching him watch her sip her wine. Seeing his green eyes dip to her throat as she swallowed.

‘You are an intriguing creature, Celeste Park.’

‘I’m glad you think so, Enzo.’

The hand holding his wineglass dropped to his side and hers followed, as if they were mirrors of each other. They seemed to move closer with every breath, breaths that seemed in perfect sync. Breaths that erased all thought and left nothing but the force of their locked gazes pulling them together. Charlotte’s heart knocked against her rib cage. All she needed, all she craved was his lips on hers. Their softness and his warmth.

‘I think it’s time we retired for the night.’

Charlotte was dazed. As sense returned to her, she saw Enzo pull away. All that buzzing energy was replaced by the sheer horror of what had almost happened.

‘Um…yes. Goodnight, Mr De Luca,’ she said, avoiding looking at him. She placed her glass on the table and half ran to her room…”