‘That’s clearly not true,’ she said, feeling desperately sad for him. ‘Or why would they have invited you to this christening?’ She watched his shoulders tense, but he didn’t say anything. ‘There must be a reason why they didn’t try to get to know you as a child. Maybe they—’
‘They did try,’ he interrupted her. ‘I met Carlo. Once. He came to our apartment in Rome.’ He paused, his voice barely audible above the breeze. ‘Claudia wasn’t there. She’d been out all night at some party, and I was in the place alone.’
‘How old were you?’ she asked gently. She’d tried not to think of him as a boy too much since their first night in Florence. Had tried not to make the mistake of reading too much into his parents’ behaviour and its effect on him. But now she wanted to know. How bad had it been?
‘Ten,’ he said, as if it weren’t particularly significant.
She bit down on her lip, tried not to let the thought of that neglected boy get to her.
But then another shattering thought occurred to her, and she felt tears sting the back of her throat.
As long as she had known Gio he had always called his parents Claudia and the Duke. Even as a boy he had never referred to them as Mum or Dad. And now Issy knew why. Because in all the ways that counted they had never been his mother and father. Just people who had battled over him and then rejected him.
‘What happened?’ She asked. ‘With Carlo?’
Gio shrugged, the movement stiff. ‘Not a lot. He asked to see Claudia. We waited together for her to come home. He told me who he was, asked me about myself. How old was I? What did I like doing? My Italian wasn’t great then, and his questions confused me.’
He sounded so puzzled, even now, and her heart ached. No wonder Gio had no faith in relationships, in family. He’d never been part of one. Not one where people cared for you and about you and were interested in what you did and said.
‘She came home eventually,’ he said, derision edging his voice. ‘Coked up to the eyeballs as usual. They had a massive row, she called the police, and he had to leave. He never came back. But the invitations started to come a few months later. Always addressed to me. She threw them away—wouldn’t let me open them. After her death I replied to a few, giving excuses why I couldn’t come, but they didn’t get the hint so now I throw them away.’
‘I think you should go.’ Taking the card back out of the bin, she crossed the balcony, placed a hand on his back. ‘I think you should go to this christening. See your family. See Carlo again.’ Suddenly it seemed vitally important.
He turned round, stared down at the card she held but didn’t take it.
‘Issy, for God’s sake.’ He cupped her cheek in his palm, his eyes shadowed. ‘Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I don’t want to go. I don’t belong there,’ he murmured.
She rested her hand on his heart, felt the rapid beats. ‘Yes, you do. You don’t have to be scared of them, you know.’
‘I’m not scared. Don’t be idiotic.’
But she could hear defensiveness behind the irritation.
He was scared. He was scared to let them get too close. To trust them. To trust anyone.
Her heart clutched as he looked away.
Every child deserved to be loved unconditionally, supported in whatever they chose to do. She thought of the way her own mother had loved and supported her in every mad decision she’d ever made in her life. Edie had always been there. Praising her as if she’d been Sarah Bernhardt when she’d played a tomato in her first school play. Providing a shoulder to cry on when she’d bawled her eyes out over Gio. Even nagging her into admitting that her lifelong dream of becoming an actress needed some serious tweaking after she’d begun her job at the Crown and Feathers and discovered that she preferred bossing people about to angsting about her motivation.
For all his apparent confidence and charisma, Gio had never had any of that as a child. He’d been entirely alone—criticised and rejected by his father, or neglected and ignored by his mother. Even though he’d made a staggering success of his life, he’d survived emotionally by closing himself off and convincing himself he didn’t need love.
He’d persuaded himself it wasn’t important, that it didn’t matter to him, when obviously it did.
Gio had needed a friend as a boy, and he still needed one now. To show him there was another way.
‘They can make your life so much richer, Gio. Can’t you see that?’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘You’ve still got a romantic streak a mile wide, haven’t you?’ He leaned back against the rail, his stance deliberately casual. ‘I’m not interested in meeting Claudia’s family. I’ve got nothing to offer them. And they’ve got nothing to offer me.’
She stared at him, saw stubborn refusal, but she knew it wasn’t true. He had so much to give. And he could get so much back in return.
‘There’s only one thing I need.’ He took the invitation from her. ‘And it’s got nothing to do with this.’ He flicked the card onto the table behind her.
He grasped her waist, tugged her close, then slanted his lips across hers.
She curled her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, not caring that he was trying to make a point. Not caring any more what the point was. Because she could taste his desperation right alongside his desire.
He bracketed her waist, boosted her into his arms. ‘Wrap your legs around me.’