hesitated. Was that wise? The man hated her. He thought she’d betrayed him. Then again, he probably wanted her out of Italy and out of his life as soon as possible. She had nothing to worry about.
“Bella …” Antonio’s tone warned of his growing impatience.
Isabella opened the door and sat down before she changed her mind. “Don’t expect me to stay long,” she said as she reached for the seatbelt. “I’ll sign the papers and then I’m gone.”
And if she were lucky she would never see Antonio again.
CHAPTER THREE
“THIS is a law office?” Isabella asked as she studied the old building. “I haven’t seen one like this before.”
Antonio glanced up and saw that the façade was pale, almost pink-gold. He noticed the faded mosaics next to the arched windows and pillars. It was strange that he’d never really looked at the building before.
“Where did you think I would take you?”
“You don’t want me to answer that,” she muttered.
They entered the dark and musty building. It was unnaturally quiet and the only sound was their footsteps as they climbed the stairs. The silence Antonio shared with Isabella felt strange but he was grateful for it. He didn’t need to think about the easy conversations they’d once had that would last throughout the night. He didn’t want to remember how he’d used to call her up during the day just to hear her voice. He wanted the barrier of silence. Needed it.
The receptionist took one look at Isabella and sniffed with disapproval. Antonio glared at the dour woman, letting her know that he wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior. The woman bent her head from the silent reprimand and icily escorted them to the conference room.
When the door opened Antonio saw his mother, sitting regally next to the ornate rosewood table. Dressed severely in black, Maria Rossi was as elegant and private as always. She was trying to hide her distress, but he instantly saw it in her face.
“Mother, why are you here?” Antonio asked. “Your presence isn’t required.”
His mother’s expression darkened when she saw Isabella at her side. “Is this the woman?”
“This is Isabella Williams,” Antonio said with a hint of warning.
He reluctantly introduced Isabella to his mother. He had hoped to prevent these two women from meeting. With one wintry glance Maria made it clear what she thought of Isabella. She knew this blonde beauty was the reason her sons had been estranged.
Antonio’s first instinct was to protect Isabella from the slight. But that didn’t make sense. She was in the wrong and should suffer the consequences. She had created a scandal when she’d started living with Giovanni. The paparazzi had gone into a feeding frenzy, and had Antonio borne the brunt of the gossip. But he still couldn’t stand by and watch Isabella receive this treatment.
Most socialites he knew would have wilted under his mother’s apparent disgust. To his surprise, Isabella tilted her head proudly. She wasn’t going to back down or hang her head in shame. She stood before this doyenne of high society in her cheap clothes, with her tarnished name, and held her gaze unflinchingly.
His mother was the first to break eye contact. She turned to him. “I can’t bear to be in the same room with her.”
Isabella showed no expression as she watched Maria Rossi leave the room and closed the door with a flourish.
“I apologize for my mother’s behavior,” Antonio said, fighting back anger. “I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.”
“No need,” Isabella crossed her arms and walked to the large window. “I know you feel the same way.”
Antonio watched her as she stared at the view of the Pantheon. He suspected she wasn’t really looking at anything. It was as if she was in another time, another place, trapped in a memory.
If only he could do the same. His mind was always racing, predicting problems and creating solutions. He required an outlet for his inexhaustible energy and found it in his work. The money and power that came along with it wasn’t important. Antonio needed the challenge, to push himself to the razor’s edge.
There had been one time when he hadn’t felt that drive, and that had been when he was with Isabella. When they’d been together nothing else had existed. Isabella Williams had been his escape. And eventually his downfall.
“What did you tell your mother about me?” Isabella grimaced as the question sprang from her lips. She hadn’t meant to ask, but it was obvious that her reputation had preceded her. Isabella knew she shouldn’t care but it bothered her.
There was something about Antonio’s mother that intimidated her. The woman was beautifully groomed, from her coiffed hair to her pedicured feet, but she also had an aura of power. No one would treat Maria Rossi with anything less than respect. Isabella had felt grubby next to her.
“We never discussed you,” he said stiffly.
She wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. Antonio rarely discussed his family. Everything she knew about his mother and his late father had come from Giovanni. And he’d probably been just as private about his love life with his family.
Isabella turned and approached Antonio. “But she knows you and I were once together?”
“Not from me.”
“Giovanni?” No wonder his mother hated her.
“My mother was prying into the reason why her sons weren’t on speaking terms again.” Antonio crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m sure Gio concocted some story that made him look like the innocent victim.”
“Again?” Her tired brain caught onto that word. “You and Giovanni had been estranged before?”
Antonio’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”
She felt the weight of guilt lift a little. All this time she’d thought she had ruined the strong bond between brothers. “But how could that be?” she asked as she remembered Giovanni and Antonio together. They’d had a tendency to use the same expressions, finish each other’s sentences. “You two were close.”
Antonio shrugged. “Gio had been trying to make amends and was on his best behavior. It was one of the few times we got along.”
“Why did you accept him back into your life?” That didn’t seem like something Antonio would do. You screwed up once and you were banished from Antonio’s life. You didn’t get another chance.
“I thought he had changed.” He sighed. “I wanted him to change.”
She saw the grief in his expression. She wanted to reach out and bring him comfort, but she knew Antonio would not appreciate the gesture. “How old were you when you first stopped talking to each other?”
His harsh features tightened. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Why not?”
“I
