“Angelina’s not ready to call it quits. For now, she’s claiming that if she breaks up with me, society will think she’s dumping me because I’m not the dynamic, charming prize she wanted in the first place. I think she wants to see who I am beneath the bravado. I’m afraid to tell her I might be nothing.”
“Don’t say that.” Alessandro reached for his brother’s hand, swallowing past the ache in his throat. “When I saw you in the hospital bed, I realized I had let small resentments fester. I’m sorry I never told you that I care about you.”
Vulnerability shone in his brother’s eyes. “I never gave you a reason to. The more you warned me about the consequences of my lifestyle, the worse I behaved.” Hope danced in his face. “I will do better, Alessandro. As soon as I have mobility, I plan to start work. Believe it or not, my degree in accounting can be put to some use.” He raised a hand, forestalling Alessandro. “I already spoke to Papà. I’ll start as a junior clerk in the accounts department and work my way up. I will prove you wrong.”
“Apparently, it’s been a month of me being proved wrong.”
Matteo regarded him thoughtfully. “Are we going to talk about Sam and you?”
“That’s none of your—” Alessandro pushed his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “No.”
“So there is something between you two.” For a second, old bitterness flashed in his brother’s eyes, and Alessandro braced himself. Matteo’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I could see it even that first night in your study, the way you looked at each other. It made me…” He shook his head, dislodging his curls onto his forehead.
While the last thing he wanted was to discuss Sam with his brother, Alessandro waited. Matteo needed this. Especially if they meant to begin their relationship anew.
“She’s honest enough to admit that you shut it down before it even began,” Matteo said finally. “I thought I’d be happy. As much as it’s a bitter pill to swallow that she prefers you, I can see you…feel something for her too.”
“As much as I appreciate your blessing,” Alessandro bared his teeth in a mockery of smile, “I want you to tell me her whereabouts right now.”
Matteo sighed. “Sam said she wanted to go out. Angelina took her to a club.”
Alessandro scowled. “Angelina threw a glass of juice in Sam’s face not two days ago.”
“She apologized, and Sam forgave her.” Mateo held up his phone, eyes twinkling. “Do you want to see the pics Angelina’s been sending me all evening?”
He took the phone from his brother and looked at the screen.
It was a picture of Sam against the bright lights of the nightclub. In a strapless dress in a shiny material in a rainbow of colors, the asymmetrical strips hugging her torso. It cupped her chest loosely, baring the lush swells in a provocative way that made hunger tighten his muscles. But it was the scar that held his interest.
All these weeks, she’d worn dresses and tops that buttoned up all the way.
Yet, now she showed off the scar proudly, even loudly. He wanted to think that he’d brought that change in her, but that was arrogance talking. Sam was only beginning to own herself.
“Swipe through. There’s more,” Matteo added.
Alessandro swiped. There were numerous pictures and even video clips—Sam laughing, singing at the top of her voice, swinging her hips. Sam sandwiched between two guys while a slow jazz tune played in the background.
Jealousy and something much darker scoured through him in hot trails, making his stomach tighten. He threw the phone back to the bed.
As he walked out, Matteo said, “Sam deserves the best.”
Did Matteo think he didn’t know that?
She was happy, Alessandro told himself, reaching for the decanter of bourbon in his study. She was twenty-three, and she was doing things people of her age did.
He told himself that again and again as he called his sparring partner Bruno. If what he needed was to have it beaten into him that he should leave Sam alone, then that’s what he would do.
She didn’t need to say good-bye.
But as Sam walked around his study, the only room in the house that reflected Alessandro’s personality, she admitted to herself that she didn’t want to leave without seeing him. Not after all the days she’d spent taking over his bedroom. Not after everything he’d done, in his own way, to watch out for her. Not after everything they’d shared.
He’d hurt her, and the worst part was that she’d thought he was one man who never would. She’d foolishly assumed that he liked her for who she was. Maybe she was nothing more to him than his younger brother’s foolish, naïve ex who wouldn’t leave.
She’d walked into the study after Angelina had dropped her off. The very woman she’d been loath to meet from that first evening had now become a good friend. Angelina was a spoiled diva with an explosive temper, but beneath it all she was just like Sam: full of insecurities and flaws and desires.
Now that she had Angelina’s offer of accommodation at her cousin’s place, she needn’t stay at the villa at all. It was late, but once the offer had been made, Sam knew she needed to leave immediately.
For the first time in her life, she’d gone clubbing with friends. She’d danced. She’d sung at the top of her lungs. She’d ingested secondhand smoke. She’d flirted. While none of the guys had made her heart flutter like the heartless man who belonged here, it felt good to know that someone did want her.
