Though there was something wonderful in finding a belief in true love because of the reunion of their grandparents, there was also something sobering about the fact that it had taken them more than fifty years to come and find each other. She didn’t want to wait fifty years for Alex.
She flopped backward onto the bed, groaning loudly. She closed her eyes, letting her lips part, imagining that Alex was here. That he was leaning in, about to kiss them. She let her imagination drift. To the way that he touched her. The way that he held her.
She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t an idiot.
She opened her eyes, sighing heavily.
There was a knock on the door and Gabriella rolled onto her side, her head on her arm. “Come in,” she said, not quite sure why she was allowing anyone entry when she felt like day-old crusty bread.
When the door opened, Gabriella straightened. It was her grandmother. “Hello, Gabriella,” the older woman said, walking into the room slowly.
“I trust everything is going well?”
Lucia smiled. “Better than.”
“I’m glad.”
“I know Bartolo’s health is not as good as it might be, but I am more than happy to devote time to caring for him.”
Those words, so gentle, so serene, shook something inside of Gabriella. It made her think of Alex again. She would do that for him. She would care for him. She didn’t need the whole world in return; she only needed what he could give. At least for now. If he hadn’t sent her away she would be willing to be patient. She didn’t need him to throw rope around the moon and lasso it, didn’t need him to pull it down for her. He was the moon all by himself. The idiot.
“Gabriella,” her grandmother said, her tone gentler now. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“Alex,” she said, because she knew that would be enough.
“I did warn you,” the older woman said, her eyes soft, no condemnation in her voice.
“I know you did. Unfortunately, Alessandro was a bit more persuasive than you are.”
Lucia laughed then. “They always are. I have some experience with that, as you may know.”
“Yes. I know.”
“And sometimes they push us away because they think they are doing what’s best for us. In truth, while I know Bartolo believes I was angry at him, I was angry at myself. I knew what he was doing that whole time. He was trying to play the part of nobleman. He didn’t want me to be denied anything he considered my birthright. Didn’t want me disowned by my family. But I have always felt that I should have fought harder. Always wondered what would have happened if I would have told him no. If I would never have let him get away with hurting me to save me.”
The truth of her grandmother’s words resonated inside of her. Because it was what she had imagined Alex might be doing. Of course, she was too afraid to hope. Maybe he simply didn’t want to be with her. “How do you know?”
Her grandmother took a step forward, patting her on the hand. “You don’t. Not unless you go ask. Take it from someone who spent half a century wishing she would have asked—it’s worth the risk. Pride does not keep you warm at night. Pride won’t smile at you every morning, day in day out, with ever deepening lines as the years pass. Pride is very cold comfort, Gabriella.”
Lucia straightened and walked back out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Gabriella thought of the way Alex had looked at her before leaving her in the garden earlier. Of the painful words he’d spoken, designed specifically to inflict the deepest wounds on her.
Her grandmother was right. There was no room for pride. Her pride could go straight to hell, but she would keep her love for Alex.
She had spent a great many years hiding. Trying to prevent herself from being rejected ever again, the way her parents made her feel rejected. But all that had ever gotten her was a dusty library. She was done with that. She would have her dusty library and her man.
It was suddenly clear. She’d been doing her family’s genealogy for years. Trying to uncover the mysteries of the past, to shine a light on history and events lived by other people. She used it to hide.
But there would be no more hiding. She could no longer pin everything on the past. She had to make her own life. Her own history.
She stood up, vibrating with determination. Alessandro Di Sione might think he was the most fearsome creature to roam the earth. But hell had no fury like Gabriella D’Oro when she was scorned. And she was determined to show him that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALEX WAS CONTEMPLATING the merit of filling his bathtub with whiskey and seeing if he could absorb the alcohol straight through his skin. Anything to dull the roar of pain that was writhing through his body, the pounding in his temples, the bone-deep ache that had settled down beneath his skin and wrapped itself around his entire being.
Drinking had proven ineffective. It wasn’t strong enough. He could still see her face. Could still see the way she looked at him. Wounded, impossibly hurt, as he had done what he had thought to be the noble thing.
Was it the noble thing? Or are you simply a coward?