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Fighting the lightness down with an iron will Valentina suddenly realised that she’d been totally and utterly wrong to come here. Had she come because seeing Gio last week had precipitated a dangerous need to see him again? The very thought of such a susceptibility made her feel nauseous.
Without even thinking about it, she’d whirled around to the door and had her hand on the handle before she felt a much larger hand around her upper arm, tugging her back. That touch sent tremors of sensation and wanting into her blood. She had to leave now.
She pulled her arm free and looked up at Gio, who was too close. ‘I made a mistake coming here.’
All lightness was gone from Gio now; his eyes were flashing green, his mouth was tight. ‘You hardly came all the way here from Palermo for nothing, Valentina.’
She shook her head, feeling sick. Memories were coming up too thick and fast, jumbling everything up, when she had to remember why she hated this man. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I thought you could help me with something but I forgot—I don’t want … need your help.’
And then she yanked the door open and ran all the way out of his building and didn’t stop till she got to her rusty old car.
Gio slammed the door shut after Valentina left and put his two hands against it and dropped his head. ‘Damn, damn, damn.’
That evening when Valentina got home from checking on her parents she paced the floor of her tiny spartan apartment. Things were not good. Her father hadn’t looked well at all, pasty and slightly sweaty, but he’d brushed aside her concerns. Worry knotted Valentina’s insides. She hadn’t told them yet of the debacle of her career which had effectively been ruined by Carmela Corretti. Between her parents—with her father’s ominous chest pains and her mother’s arthritis and only access to the most basic health care—it was a serious worry.
She stopped pacing and put a weary hand to her head. She had to work. But thanks to Carmela she’d be lucky to get a job as a chambermaid in a three-star hotel in Messina. And that wasn’t all—her two staff were also unemployed thanks to her impetuous actions.
Valentina sat down on a rickety chair and cursed herself soundly. Why did she have to get so emotional and react to Carmela like that?
Gio. Because seeing him had pushed her over the edge. Had made her reckless and had brought up all the simmering anger at the Correttis in general for their lavish and effortlessly powerful ways. The way they didn’t have to think of anyone but themselves.
But Valentina’s conscience smote her—Gio hadn’t always been like the others. He’d been shy and quiet. Withdrawn. Her father had worked doing odd jobs and maintenance for the Corretti palazzo near Palermo all his life and her mother had done their laundry. They’d lived in a tiny humble house nearby.
At first Gio and Mario hadn’t been friends—they’d circled each other for a long time like two suspicious animals. Valentina had witnessed how their friendship had bonded after a particularly nasty fight. She’d been just five and had been trailing her beloved father and brother as she usually did, in awe of the palazzo and its extensive grounds. Mario had been goading Gio with fists raised. ‘Come on, say something, why don’t you? Don’t you have a tongue?’
From her hiding place, Valentina had seen how Gio had launched himself at Mario with a feral grunt. Her father had found them and taken both boys by the scruffs of their necks and ordered them to apologise to each other.
She’d watched as Gio had struggled to get the words out, his face smeared with dirt and dust. It had been excruciating to watch. ‘I … I … I’m … s-s-s-s …’ He’d stopped and then tried again, eventually saying ‘sorry’ in a rush.
She could remember the look on his face, as if he’d been waiting for Mario to laugh or make fun of him. He had a stutter. That’s why he never spoke. Even though she’d only been five, Valentina had been aware of her ten-year-old brother’s sheer maturity and grace when he’d ignored Gio’s debilitating stutter and had held out his hand and said, ‘I’m sorry too.’
Since that day they’d been inseparable. Valentina fought against this memory, much as she’d fought against the ones earlier—she didn’t want to remember Gio like that.
Her hands clenched to fists. If Mario hadn’t been so in thrall to Gio, he would never have put aside his studies that night and gone to Gio’s castello to race horses with him. She could remember the conversation when Gio had turned up on his motorbike to entice Mario away. Mario had protested. ‘I really should be studying for my exams.’
Gio had made a face. ‘That’s the lamest excuse I ever heard, Ferranti.’
Mario had chuckled and then said teasingly, ‘Well, at least some of us want to get an education!’
Gio had growled at that and had launched himself at Mario and the two had mock fought for a few minutes. Valentina had been watching all of this surreptitiously from behind the door, her eyes glued in fascination to Gio’s lean muscular form. Then they’d stopped and Mario had stood back breathing heavily, a dangerous glint in his eye that Valentina recognised all too well. ‘I’ll come if you let me ride Black Star.’
Immediately Valentina had tensed and looked at Gio, who was scowling. ‘No way, Mario … you know I won’t let you near him—he’s too dangerous.’
Mario had taunted, ‘You’re saying you’re the only one who can handle him?’
Gio had flushed and Valentina had leapt out of her hiding place to stand between the young men, looking at Gio. ‘Don’t let him near that horse, Gio. I swear to God—’
Her brother had taken her shoulders and gently moved her out of the way, saying, ‘This is none of your concern, Val.’
But Valentina had implored Gio with her eyes. She’d seen Black Star in action on his gallops. He was a mythically huge thoroughbred that Gio had bought recently in France. He was very controversial because while he had the potential to be a great champion, he’d already run a few races and in each one had unseated his jockey. In one tragic instance, the jockey had been killed.
The authorities in Europe had wanted to put the horse down but Gio had stepped in to buy him, claiming that he could tame him into acquiescence, putting forward the argument that the horse shouldn’t be punished for the failure of the trainers. But when Gio had shown the horse off to Mario and her when he’d returned home, she’d seen a madness in his eyes that had terrified her. So far, the only one who’d been able to get near him was Gio. And now her brother wanted a go?
There’d been a stand-off between the two men. Mario had cajoled, ‘Gio … come on.’
Gio had just looked at Mario for a long moment and then shrugged lightly and said, ‘We’ll see.’
Mario had grinned in triumph and clapped his friend on the shoulder, saying, ‘Wait here, I’ll just change.’
He’d left and Gio had looked at Valentina, causing that inevitable self-conscious flush to rise up through her whole body. She ignored it. ‘Gio … you can’t let him near that horse … something will happen to him. You know he’s not as good as you.’
Gio had come close and touched his finger to Valentina’s chin, tipping it up slightly, making her heart beat fast and her body ache with a peculiar restlessness.
‘Don’t worry, piccolina, I won’t let anything happen to him.’
Indignant fire had raced up Valentina’s spine and she’d jerked her chin free. ‘Don’t call me that, I’m not little.’
Gio had said nothing for a long moment, just looked at her so intensely that she’d felt breathless, and then in a slightly rougher tone of voice, ‘I know you’re not … and don’t worry. I’ll have him back to his boring books before midnight, just like Cinderella.’
Mario had reappeared and gave Valentina a hug and walked out the door, Gio had followed with a quick glance backwards. ‘Ciao, bellissima.’
And that had been the last time she’d seen Mario. When she’d seen Gio in the hospital later that night she’d run to him, distraught, hysterical. ‘You let him go on that horse, didn’t you, didn’t you?’
Gio had just stood there, white-faced, and said, ‘I’m so sorry.’
Her mother and father had been so proud of Mario. Everything, all of their hopes and fears, had rested on him. Valentina had resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t have the same opportunities. She was genuinely happy for her brother to succeed and he’d often told her, ‘Val, when I become a lawyer and I’m making lots of money, I’ll send you to a cordon bleu school in France….’
Tears pricked her eyes, but just then a knock came on Valentina’s apartment door, wrenching her back to the present. Surprised, because she wasn’t used to visitors, she dashed away the dampness on her cheeks and stood up. When she opened the door and saw who it was she sucked in a breath. ‘You.’
CHAPTER THREE
GIO LOOKED GRIM in the dim light of the corridor. ‘Yes, it’s me.’
Still too shocked to make much sense of this she just said, ‘How did you get up here?’ The front door was at ground level and there were five apartments in the ancient crumbling building which was on one of Palermo’s less salubrious streets.
‘Someone was coming in just as I arrived.’
‘How did you know where I lived?’
Gio’s mouth tightened. ‘I asked around.’
Valentina could just bet he had—and who wouldn’t give a Corretti the information they wanted? Seeing him here like this in the flesh when she’d just been feeling so vulnerable made Valentina prickly.
‘What do you want, Gio?’ She saw the flash in his eyes and realised she’d just called him Gio. Flutters erupted in her belly.
‘I’d like to come in for a minute if that’s OK?’
‘No, it’s not OK.’
Valentina started to close the door but was surprised when she felt the resistance of Gio’s hand. Suddenly he looked quite intimidating.
‘We can conduct this conversation here in the doorway and give your neighbours something to listen to or you can invite me in.’
Valentina heard the tell-tale creak of her neighbour’s door just then and very reluctantly let Gio come in. He went and stood in the middle of the small living area, which had the kitchen area just off it and a tiny bedroom and bathroom on the other side. Palatial it was not, especially when she thought about his castello.
She smiled with saccharine sweetness. ‘Well, I don’t think you’re here for tips on how to live in a small space.’
A corner of his mouth turned up and the flutters in Valentina’s belly intensified. Damn him.
‘No. That’s not why I’m here.’ He turned to face her then and she noticed that he’d changed out of his polo shirt and jeans, into a white shirt and chinos. His overlong hair curled over his collar, a lock falling near his eyes.
‘I’m here because you ran out today after saying you didn’t need me to help you. But clearly you were prepared to ask for help up until that point. You wouldn’t have driven across the island for nothing.’
Valentina cursed herself again for having gone to him at all. She lifted her chin. ‘It was a bad idea. Everything is fine.’
Gio crossed his arms. ‘I know my aunt Carmela—I’d imagine that everything is not fine at all.’
Valentina’s belly lurched. Things weren’t fine. They were awful. But she wouldn’t ask Gio for help. She couldn’t. There was too much history between them. Along with all sorts of dangerous undercurrents she didn’t want to look at. So, a small voice asked her now, so why did you go to him today?
Firmly Valentina opened her door again and stood aside. She looked at Gio but avoided his eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have gone to you today. I’d like you to leave now.’
Gio looked at the woman standing so stiffly by the door and wanted to shake her. She’d come today for something. Exasperated now he said, ‘Look, Valentina, you know you can talk to me. You can tell me whatever it is, if you need something.’
She looked at him then and for the first time he noticed that she was pale and she looked tired, shadows under her eyes. Worry on her face.
‘No, you look. Pretend you never saw me today. Now for the second time, I’d like you to leave. You shouldn’t have come all the way here.’
‘Valentina, for crying out loud—’ Gio broke off when a shrill ring pierced the tense atmosphere. He looked down and could see a mobile vibrating on the small coffee table. Automatically he bent to pick it up and saw that it said, Home. His gut clenched. Valentina’s parents. He handed it to her, saying, ‘It’s your—’
But she cut him off. ‘I know who it is.’
She took the phone and turned her back to him saying, ‘Mama?’
Gio’s gaze travelled down over the glossy hair in messy waves over shoulders and slender back and then his eyes went to the rounded curve of her bottom. He wanted to walk up to her and pull her hair aside and press a kiss to the side of her neck. He wanted to encircle her waist with his arm, and feel the brush of her breasts on his skin. He wanted to pull her back into his body, moulding her to him. Instantly his body responded with a wave of heat. The sudden need was so intense he shook with it.
It was a few seconds before he noticed that Valentina had turned and was looking at him, her face pale and stricken. Immediately he was alert, eyes narrowed on her. ‘What is it?’
‘My father has collapsed.’
Gio was moving before she’d even finished speaking and they were outside and in his car a few seconds after that. Valentina rattled off the address. Luckily she didn’t live far from her parents, who had moved into Palermo after her father had retired from working at the Corretti palazzo.
They pulled up outside the modest house and Valentina was out of the car and through the front door when Gio got out of the car. He followed her in, an awful hollow feeling in his belly. If anything happened to her father … Just then he saw the man on the floor, his face white. Valentina’s mother was sobbing over the body and he could see Valentina starting to shake violently.
Gio came in and gently moved Valentina aside and then in cool authoritative tones instructed her to call an ambulance. While she was on the phone he knelt down beside Emilio Ferranti and listened for a heartbeat and heard nothing.
Expertly Gio opened the man’s shirt and started CPR. He felt someone pulling his arm and saw Valentina’s face, white with worry and shock. ‘What are you doing?’
Gio shrugged her off gently but firmly. ‘I’m giving him CPR.’ And then he bent to his task and didn’t look up until the paramedics arrived and pulled him to one side. He was breathing fast and sweating as he watched them hook Emilio up to various things. Then they put him on a gurney and wheeled him into the ambulance, with Valentina’s mother getting into the back. One of the paramedics was talking to Valentina, and then they were gone with the ambulance lights flashing and the siren wailing intermittently.
Gio went up to Valentina. She looked at him, dazed. His heart turned over in his chest. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.’
He led her to the car and put her in, fastening the safety belt around her when she made no move to do so.
When they were on the road with the lights of the ambulance just visible in the far distance he felt her turn to him. ‘The paramedic told me you probably saved his life. I … I didn’t know what you were doing.’
Gio shrugged minutely. ‘Don’t worry about it, it can look scary.’
‘Where did you learn to do that?’
A bleakness entered Gio and he didn’t say, I learnt how to do it after Mario died, when I couldn’t save him, or help him. Instead he just said lightly, ‘I run a business—I insist that all my staff have basic first aid training, including myself.’ Gio’s experience was a bit more than just in first aid, he’d actually done a paramedic training course. The way he’d felt so helpless next to Mario’s inert body had forged within him a strong desire never to feel that helpless again. The awful thing was that Mario had been alive for a while, but Gio hadn’t known how to keep him alive. And he’d died in Gio’s arms before the medics had arrived.
‘I … thank you.’
Gio winced. ‘You don’t have to say anything.’
The rest of the journey was made in silence and when they got to the hospital Gio pushed down the awful sense of déjà vu. The night of Mario’s accident, he’d hoped against hope that somehow miraculously they’d brought Mario back to life but when he’d got there he’d seen the small huddle of Valentina with her parents, crying. Valentina had rushed at him with her fists flying. ‘I knew something would happen. You shouldn’t have taken him out. He wouldn’t have gone if you’d not asked him….’
The memory faded, to be replaced now by the frantic chaos of the emergency room. Valentina went and asked at the desk and then, with a quick glance at Gio, who just nodded at her, she disappeared with a nurse.
Gio made a phone call like an automaton to one of his staff to come and switch his impractical sports car for something more practical. It was shortly after that had been delivered when he saw the bowed figure of Valentina’s mother, with Valentina all but holding her up. Please God, he prayed silently.
But when they got close Valentina looked at him and smiled tiredly. ‘He’s stable. It was a massive heart attack and the doctor said if he hadn’t been given CPR he wouldn’t have made it.’
Gio felt uncomfortable and just said, ‘I have a car outside, let me take you home.’
Valentina’s mother acknowledged Gio but to his relief she didn’t seem too upset to see him there, or surprised. He solicitously helped them into the jeep that had been delivered and then Valentina said, ‘You can take us to my mother’s. I’ll stay with her tonight.’
When Gio pulled up outside the house again he jumped out to help Valentina’s mother. At the door she stopped and looked up at him. ‘Thank you, Gio.’
He looked into her lined and careworn face and couldn’t see anything but tired gratitude. She patted his hand and then went inside the house. When Valentina was about to pass him he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She looked at him and he had to curb his response to her.
‘If you need anything. anything at all, you know where to find me. I mean it, Valentina.’
She started to say, ‘I …’ and then she stopped and said, ‘OK.’ And then she went inside and closed the door.
A week after he’d left Valentina at her mother’s house, Gio was trying not to think of her and was looking at a picture in the local newspaper. A huge headline was proclaiming: Scandals in the Corretti Family! There was a salacious rumour that the runaway bride had actually run away with his older brother Matteo after the non-wedding. And it had been revealed that his cousin, Rosa, was not actually his cousin but another half-sister, thanks to an affair between his aunt Carmela and his father.
Gio’s mouth twisted in disgust. He wanted nothing to do with the sordid details of these stories. He did feel a twinge of sympathy for Rosa, who had always been quite sweet to him on the rare occasions they’d met. He could imagine that this must be devastating news to deal with….
Gio’s phone rang at that moment and it was a number he didn’t recognise. Unconsciously his insides tensed. He threw down the paper and picked the phone up. ‘Pronto?’
There was nothing for a few seconds and then her voice came down the line. ‘It’s me.’
Gio’s belly tightened. Carefully he said, ‘How is your father?’
Valentina sounded weary. ‘He’s doing OK, still in hospital, but it looks like he needs a major bypass operation.’
There was another long silence and then, ‘Gio … I …’
Gio clutched the phone, suddenly feeling panicky. If she hangs up … ‘Go on, Valentina, what is it?’
He heard her sigh audibly and then she said, ‘I need you to give me a job.’
‘I don’t have any formal training—I’ll work in the kitchen … I’ll work wherever you want.’
Gio schooled his expression, but his chest tightened at the pride in Valentina’s voice. She’d come to him today, the day after she’d phoned, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt. Hair tied back in a low ponytail. Face pale. Avoiding his eyes. She must hate this.
Something piqued his curiosity. ‘Where did you train?’
Valentina looked at him then and he had to keep an even more rigid control on his control.
‘You remember my nonna?’
Gio nodded. He had a vague memory of their grandmother, a small woman with sparkling brown eyes. She’d been at the grave that day too, a wizened matriarch who should never have had to see her grandson buried before her. Gio fought down the predictable tightness in his chest, and Valentina continued. ‘She was a cook for a local trattoria, and she was my first teacher. From when I was tiny she taught me all the basics and her secrets. When I left school I went to work with her, and then when she passed away, I worked for Marcel Picheron as a com-mis-chef.’
Her mouth twisted minutely. ‘My parents had pooled all their resources into—’ She stopped abruptly and the name hung silently in the air like an accusation—Mario. Then she looked away for a moment before continuing through the thick tension in the air. ‘They had no more money to send me to college, but I heard about Marcel’s open days when he would audition unknowns so I auditioned and got in.’
Gio remembered well how Mario’s parents had put every cent into his education. And yet Valentina had never shown any signs of being bitter about her own education being neglected. She’d been as proud as they had.
He could only imagine how good Valentina must have been to impress the cantankerous old French chef who had more Michelin stars than any other chef in Italy and who ran the most exclusive restaurant on the island. It had a waiting list of six months.
Valentina glanced at Gio again. ‘I worked my way up to sous-chef but I found that my forte was in devising menus and creating hors d’oeuvres.’
Dryly he remarked now, ‘You probably have had a better training than most people out of a cordon bleu school in Paris.’
Valentina shrugged, her cheeks going pink. ‘I set up my own catering company with two friends a year ago. We come up with menus for events, and then we hire outside chefs to come in and cook. I make all the canapés. In general I supervise everything, and step in to chef if I need to.’
Gio recalled the small part of the reception he’d seen a few weeks ago. He could remember the intricately delicate canapés, how appetising and original they’d looked even though he’d had no appetite for them, his gut too churned up to be there in the first place.
He got up from behind his desk and stood at the huge window with hands in his pockets, observing but not really seeing the hive of activity out on the racecourse. He turned back to face Valentina, who was sitting in a chair. She looked as delicate and brittle as spun glass.
‘The annual Corretti Cup race meeting is coming up in three weeks. It runs for three days with the Corretti Cup race on the last day. We provide a full entertainment package here, including a set menu for lunch every day. I’d like you to come up with the menu for that main luncheon each day, and also look after catering for the evening champagne receptions.’
His words took a minute to sink in. Valentina stood up, feeling a little shaky and disbelieving. She’d imagined Gio telling her she could work on the lowest rung of the ladder in his kitchen. Not that she could be handed the entire catering job for the Corretti Cup! Suspicious now she said testily, ‘I’m not a charity case.’
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