Studio?
Matteo’s teeth ground down.
More like a boudoir.
‘Let’s go.’
‘It’s too early,’ Shandy protested. ‘Anyway, I’m enjoying myself. You never said that it was Paulo Durante’s daughter that Luka was getting engaged to. I never thought we would be dining with such a high-profile criminal tonight. It’s exciting...’ Shandy said, and then dropped her voice. ‘A turn-on.’
‘Then you didn’t live through it,’ Matteo hissed, and dropped his arms. ‘We’re leaving now.’
He chose not to tell Shandy that Paulo was no big fish—the old man had been Malvolio’s puppet.
Malvolio had been the leader and had seen to it that Paulo had taken the fall for him.
And the reason they were here tonight was that Malvolio was Luka’s father.
Luka felt that he had a debt to pay and Sophie had called it in.
‘Thanks for this,’ Luka said, as he saw Matteo out. Shandy had gone to top up her make-up and the two men stood, uncomfortable with small talk.
Neither liked that their past was catching up with them.
They had made strong, good lives in London.
It felt strange to be back in Italy. Even Rome felt too close to Bordo Del Cielo tonight.
‘Will you let me know when the wedding is?’ Matteo’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
‘There will be no wedding,’ Luka said. ‘I just agreed to an engagement. You can surely see for yourself how sick he is. It’s a matter of days till all this is done and I can get back on with my life.’
‘Why are you going through with it?’ Matteo said. ‘You owe her nothing.’
‘I owe Paulo this,’ Luka corrected.
‘You owe that old fool nothing,’ Matteo insisted. Bile was churning and his venomous words were aimed at himself, because he had been but a day away from being Malvolio’s second man. ‘Sophie is just like Bella, both are up to no good. I’m telling you that she lies,’ Matteo said. ‘She’s not doing well, like she told you she was. That dress is not designer...’
‘Please.’ Luka shrugged. ‘I’m not like you, I don’t care for fashion and labels. You always were a dark, mistrusting bastard.’
‘A good-looking bastard, though,’ Shandy said as she returned. Matteo pulled on his jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror, and Luka gave a dry laugh.
‘Yes, Matteo, you look good,’ Luka said, and it was his turn to be sarcastic now.
Matteo and Shandy headed out to the street.
‘I like that you dress well,’ Shandy said, but her words simply irked.
Yes, he always had dressed better than the rest. His suits were the most expensive, his hair superbly cut, his stubble pure designer.
Bella Gatti knew why, though, for he had confided in her.
Never again.
His driver was waiting and opening the door but Matteo stood there in the street rather than getting in. ‘I think it might be good to walk...’
‘To walk?’ Shandy shuddered at the thought. ‘In these heels?’
‘No, I would like a walk alone,’ Matteo said. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been back in Italy.’
‘Well, it doesn’t suit you,’ Shandy said, because he had been at his brooding best since the plane had touched down. ‘Matteo, come to bed...’ Her mouth moved in to persuade him but he dodged his head back.
‘I’ll be in later.’
No apology, no excuses, he just walked off into the night.
And he did what he wanted.
Matteo bought a bottle of wine, and though the grapes were not from Bordo Del Cielo, they were from the west. He hired a moped and drove up, ever up, and then he parked it atop Capitoline Hill and stared down at the illuminated view and there, unlit, the lone horseman. But, though ancient and beautiful, it was the wrong view he gazed upon and, of course, there wasn’t Bella by his side.
He let himself remember, not all of it, not even a lot—but something more intimate than the sex they had shared, he recalled the woman.
Black hair, green eyes and a smile that was so unexpected.
Sophie was all Sicilian fire, whereas Bella was the chameleon, the actress, the survivor who had once made his black heart smile.
Not now, Matteo thought, taking a drink from the bottle, but cheap wine didn’t work either.
Nothing deadened the ache.
She was here in this town, he knew it now.
Was she sleeping?
Or did she lie awake tonight, knowing that he was near and burning for him as he did for her?
What did it matter? he thought, tossing the bottle into a bin and heading back to the hotel.
They could never be now.
‘Where have you been?’ Shandy asked sleepily, as he came into the bedroom of the luxurious suite, flicking on the sidelight as he crept in after three.
‘Walking,’ Matteo said. ‘Go back to sleep.’
‘I ordered champagne,’ she said. ‘I thought you had brought me here to...’
Yes, there was an air of expectation from Shandy. The sheikh Matteo was meeting with had told him he was looking forward to meeting his partner. The shareholders too were braying for the wild Matteo Santini to tame his ways.
And though he had told her from the start that nothing would ever become of them, Matteo had stuck at things with Shandy for longer than he did usually, though the final hurdle was proving too daunting.
Yes, Matteo knew it was time to grow up and settle down.
And he would, Matteo told himself as he undressed.
Just not yet.
He looked at the hotel suite with more than vague interest, given that Hotel Fiscella was a potential purchase that he and Luka were considering making. And so he noticed not just that the room was immaculate but that the turn-down service had been discreet. The curtains were drawn and there were chocolates and a flower by the bed that had presumably been on his pillow and there was a pleasing scent in the air.
He glanced at the note by the bed that informed him that the weather tomorrow would be stormy and hot and that if there was anything further required not to hesitate to call the desk, and it was signed...
Bella.
It could not be her, Matteo mused. Yes, while he had found out that she was a chambermaid at this very hotel Bella was still a very common name.
Was it her scent that lingered?
Was it her hands that had smoothed back the sheets and plumped the pillows? Matteo thought as he climbed into bed.
‘When?’ Shandy asked as he lay there. ‘Your friend just got engaged...’
Matteo said nothing.
‘I want a commitment, Matteo,’ she pushed.
Now he turned his head on the pillow and spoke to the face next to his.
‘Then you’re with the wrong man.’
Had she slapped him, had Shandy risen from the bed and got dressed and got out, he might have admired her.
But there she lay, clinging on with her gel nails to the image of them that the paparazzi had created and to the man she’d hoped he would one day be.
Matteo Santini, the bad boy made good.
No, he hadn’t made good, not yet.
Tonight, he was right not to ask Shandy to marry him for had he known where Bella lived, had he had Bella’s number then, Matteo knew he would have been paying a late-night visit to the whore he was hard for now.
He turned to flick off the bedside light and looked again at the signed card and he ached for Bella in a way he never had for anybody else.
Matteo fell asleep trying not to think about a woman from the past.
And then the dreams started.
On many occasions over the years Bella had attempted to frequent Matteo Santini’s dreams.
His subconscious kept perpetual guard, though.
So controlled was Matteo that even in sleep he did his level best to chase all thoughts of her away.
But even guards had to sleep at times and so, on occasion, Bella slipped through the net and would dance all night through his mind.
Some of his dreams were high-end fantasy—masquerade balls where the two of them would make love, familiar and yet unknown to each other, while others consisted of seamy situations where he watched from a distance as Bella struggled while he was held back and unable to intervene. But then there were the dreams that consisted only of memories and those were the ones that Matteo preferred.
Tonight he slept through all three.
Perhaps it was because her name had been brought up in conversation at dinner.
Or was it the knowledge that she was working in Rome as a chambermaid in the same hotel where he slept tonight?
Whatever the reason the dreams had started, they were different tonight.
The circus had come to Bordo Del Cielo. It was a strange dream, a new one, for there had been no circus that ever visited there.
And this was no circus like others for it was not animals and clowns that performed in his dreams; instead there were different beasts—the people he had grown up amongst.
There was his younger half-brother Dino, who had revealed Matteo’s plans to Malvolio the first time Matteo had tried to escape.
There was his cruel stepfather, who loathed his mother’s attention anywhere other than on him or Dino.
Matteo looked around and there was Luka dressed in an orange prison suit that he didn’t belong in. He saw Sophie being paraded around the ring and she was wearing only Luka’s shirt, just as she had been on the night of Malvolio, Paulo and Luka’s arrests.
Luka and Sophie had been in bed at the time Luka’s home had been raided and she had been hauled out in front of the townsfolk. It had been clear to all what had taken place between the young couple.