face now. He felt a strange emotion go through him. One he had never felt before and could give no name to. For a moment he wished he had not brought her here to the Viscari Roma, but taken her straight to his own apartment. But would that have been wise? Would it have given her a message he was not yet sure about?
Or am I sure—but not yet admitting it?
That was what caused him to hesitate. And there was another reason, too, for not having taken Eloise directly to his own apartment. His mother would leap to conclusions—conclusions he was not yet ready to draw.
We need time, Eloise and I—time to discover what we truly mean to each other.
Besides, tonight’s function would be riven with tensions, and the last thing he wanted was to expose Eloise to the discord twisting through the Viscari family over the matter of Guido’s shareholding.
Let me get Guido’s shares back first, and then I can focus properly on Eloise—find out what I feel for her and she feels for me.
So for now he only made a rasping noise in his throat as he answered her question. ‘There’s a family function I’ve got to go to tonight that I can’t get out of,’ he said. ‘It’s a total pain, but there it is. I’d far rather spend the evening with you. I’d planned on showing off Rome to you.’ He made himself smile. ‘Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps...’ He gave a sigh. ‘Well, it will have to wait till tomorrow night, that’s all.’
He swallowed down the rest of his beer and set the empty glass down on the coffee table, absently patting her hand before disengaging himself from her and getting to his feet.
‘OK, I’m recharged now. Time to shower and get into the old tuxedo.’
He rubbed his jaw absently. He’d need to shave too. He glanced at the slim gold watch around his wrist as he lowered his hand. Hmm...maybe there was just time for something more enjoyable than a shower and a shave right now...
He held down a hand to Eloise, who was looking up at him, a slightly blank expression on her face. It dawned on him that this was the first time since he’d swept her off to Paris that they wouldn’t spend the evening together. His blood quickened. Well, all the more reason for making the most of this brief time before he had to tear himself away and go and do his familial duty—try yet again to sort out the problem of his uncle’s shares. But he didn’t want to think of that—not right now. Not when he had this precious time with Eloise.
She took his hand and he drew her up to him, using his other hand to spear into the lush tresses of her unbound hair, cradle the nape of her neck and draw her sweet, honeyed lips to his...
She responded immediately, the way she always did when he kissed her. He felt the fire glow within him...within her. He murmured to her in a low, throaty voice as he let her mouth go, only to guide her towards the bedroom...the waiting bed. Desire kindled, quickened...consumed him.
Eloise! The woman he wanted...
It was the last conscious thought he possessed for quite some time thereafter...
‘WELL, I THINK that all went off exceedingly well!’ Marlene Viscari’s voice was rich with satisfaction as she bestowed a gracious smile upon Vito and his mother, who was standing beside him as she had been all evening, with a fixed expression on her face.
His mother was not the only one with a fixed expression. Carla Charteris, Marlene’s daughter, was wearing one too. Vito hadn’t seen her for some time, and the last he’d heard of her was that she was in the throes of a torrid romance with Cesare di Mondave, Conte di Mantegna, no less. Presumably, he thought, Carla was as eager to get back to him as he was eager to get back to Eloise.
Marlene was speaking again, graciously inviting him and his mother to stay for coffee now that their guests had departed.
‘We have so much to discuss,’ she said. ‘Now that you are back from your little jaunt, Vito!’
Her attempt at lightness and her referring to his essential business tour as a ‘jaunt’ grated on him—just as everything about her did.
But a moment later his every brain cell went on high alert.
Marlene sailed on. ‘And we really do need to settle all this business about the allocation of the shares, do we not?’
Vito tensed, his eyes like gimlets. What was Marlene up to? He’d been keeping checks on any movement in the markets, listening to the rumour mills around the hotel industry in case Marlene was making any moves to dispose of her shareholding in any way other than by selling to him, but there’d been no sign of any suspicious activity at all.
Not even from Nic Falcone, who had made no secret of being more than keen to take any bites going from Viscari Hotels to feed his ambitious plans for his own start-up hotel chain. Vito had been keeping very close tabs on that particular rival!
But surely even Marlene wouldn’t be so disloyal to the family she’d married into as to contemplate such a betrayal of her late husband’s trust? Nevertheless, he could not afford to ignore her blatant hint just now.
He turned back to his mother. ‘Mamma—I’ll see you to your car, then stay for coffee with Marlene.’
He exchanged significant eye contact with her and she nodded, casting a sharp look at her sister-in-law, who had a look about her of a cat about to engage with a bowl of cream.
Her expression had changed when he returned to the salon. Marlene was sitting down, Carla standing behind her, and the fixed look on her face was stonier now, so much so that he wondered at it. Was something wrong with Carla?
But it was her mother he must attend to right now. He would hear her out. Too much depended on her. The whole future of Viscari Hotels—the legacy he was dedicated to protecting—rested on his shoulders. Even though the legacy was now fatefully split between himself and Marlene Viscari—who was entirely free to dispose of it however she wanted.
Unless he could find a way to stop her. And he had to—somehow he had to!
Into Vito’s head sprang the vision he hated to allow in—the vision that sent anguish spearing through him like the point of a blade. His father, stricken after his heart attack, lying in a hospital bed in the last few minutes of his life, his hand clutching at Vito while Vito’s mother collapsed, sobbing, at his side.
‘You’ve got to get those shares back—Vito, you must...you must! Whatever it takes—whatever it takes get them back! Pay whatever price she demands. Whatever it costs you! Promise me—promise me!’
And he had promised. What else could he have done with his dying father begging him so? Binding him with an unbreakable obligation.
Unbreakable.
The word sounded in his head now as he heard Marlene out. She was taking her time in getting to the point, asking him about his tour as they drank their coffee, but eventually she set down her cup and glanced briefly at her stony-faced daughter—who had left her coffee untouched, Vito noticed.
‘And now,’ began Marlene, setting her gaze upon Vito, ‘we must look to the future, must we not? The matter of Guido’s shares—’
