The Italian Read online

  “Congratulations,” he said, releasing her hand.

  “Thank you.” Hope casually wiped her damp palm against her grey fitted skirt.

  Antonio turned, acknowledging his sister-in-law with a smirk, “Now I understand why you were so tight-lipped about the new addition to the winery. Had I known Hope was available for hire, I definitely would’ve tried to steal her away to the vineyard.”

  “I knew you’d be crushed,” Tracy bragged. She pointed to the boxes. “Would you mind taking these out to her car? Hope can’t lift anything.”

  Facing Hope directly, his gaze fell to her breasts as he flashed a full-blown filthy grin, murmuring, “Post-surgery?”

  Her pulse throbbed painfully along the cords of her neck. This can’t be happening right now.

  “Surgery?” Tracy scoffed, loading his arms with two boxes. “First trimester.”

  Antonio froze like a statue mid-bend. Color leached from his face. His grey eyes darkened, silently doing the math in his head.

  Shock corrugated his forehead with deep indentations.

  Hope blinked back a hundred emotions watching the hostile expression mask his face. She shook her head indicating no trying to convey a silent message, but he was too far gone to comprehend.

  Oblivious to the weighted energy filling the office, Tracy nudged him with the box in her arms. “Let’s go. This is heavy.”

  His strides dug into the cobblestone, making their way to Hope’s rental car. Anger rolled off him in waves. Hope wanted to talk to him, to pull him aside for a few minutes to explain, but his date grew impatient, sighing loudly, and shifting from foot to foot.

  “Where are you staying?” he bit out through a clenched jaw. Tiny muscles near his eyes held rigid, engulfing his frown with anger.

  Feeling completely defeated, Hope’s shoulders lifted, giving a small shrug. There was nothing she could say or do.

  “I told Hope she could stay next door at Castello Giovanni in Vincent’s old apartment. At least until she finds a place,” Tracy confirmed, arranging the boxes in the trunk. “Vincent said it would be fine.”

  His eyes glazed over, looking straight through her as he walked away grumbling, “Nessun problema.”

  “Fucking hormones,” she grumbled, slinging hanger after hanger onto the stainless steel closet rod. Her unbuttoned shirt list open, kiting behind her as she marched barefoot into the bedroom to reload. Hope caught a glimpse of her voluptuous ta-tas in a large framed mirror hanging on the wall. “Post-surgery? Jerk.”

  Hope unpacked her belongings from three extra-large suitcases and the boxes Tracy had given her. The fully-furnished two-story apartment was drenched in classic Tuscan atmosphere with a small living and dining area as well as a full kitchenette downstairs and bedroom and bath upstairs. Large picture windows on each level overlooked the breathtaking estate. She would’ve considered the apartment the perfect place to stay, except it sat at the far edge of the vineyards estate, not far from Antonio’s office. The distrust that darkened his gaze gnawed at her all evening.

  Hope and Antonio had been lovers for several years, yet they also shared a great friendship. An alliance of sorts. For most people, relationships were as natural as breathing, on the contrary, Hope and Antonio were two players who mastered in the art of seduction and the fear of emotional intimacy.

  Keeping their connection casual had been fun and refreshing for each of them. No ties. No expectations. No risks. Yet, she trusted Antonio more than any man she’d ever known and the fact that he clearly assumed she was there to cause trouble for him pissed her off.

  Hope hadn’t considered the notion that Antonio might think the baby was his. Not for a second. She simply dreaded the awkward embarrassment of explaining the pregnancy. Watching him storm off overwhelmed her with guilt causing her heart to sink to her toes, but then a little dose of reality set in and her mood quickly spurred from frustrated to furious.

  It was after one o’clock in the morning by the time she fell into bed. Hope lay flat on her back, staring out the large window at the star-filled sky. Cool winter air from a cracked window pinched at her cheeks while she snuggled beneath a mound of plush bedding. Previously, a few glasses of wine always helped her adjust to the time change, but unfortunately she seemed to be immune to chamomile tea.

  The sound of a car driving down the long, paved road leading to the winery set free a dozen butterflies in her stomach. Hope would never consider herself a car aficionado, but there was no mistaking the sound pitch emitted by a Ferrari.

  Antonio.

  Her heart raced. Something inside her began to unravel, a weakness that seeped through her entire body. The hurt she’d buried for weeks bubbled to the surface and threatened to spill over. Somewhere hidden beneath her poised exterior, a part of Hope yearned to talk openly, to share her heartbreak with her old friend, but the unforgettable image of distrust in his eyes filled her with annoyance. Fisting her fingers into tight balls, her limbs turned rigid, fighting against the need to confide.

  I don’t need anyone.

  Hearing the car pull into the parking lot and cut the motor, she tossed the down comforter aside and padded down the stairs. She’d spent the last ten hours convincing herself she could handle this situation in a calm, collected manner, but standing at the door in paisley print bottoms and white camisole, her stomach bottomed out.

  Knock knock knock

  Blowing an unsteady breath through pursed lips, she opened the door. Antonio’s long muscular arms stretched above his head, his hands gripped firmly to the wooden door frame. He loomed over her with his head slumped forward like a Friday night drunk, wearing nothing but a stark white T-shirt and dark jeans.

  Hard running emotions clung to him as he brushed past her, his walk brisk and to the point. They stood in the darkness staring at each other. The full moon pushing through the picture windows gave illumination to the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Nerves skittered across her shoulders as she shut the door.

  The awkward silence felt like it could go on and on extending over mountains and valleys surrounding the vineyard. She wanted to confide in him, to share her pain, but his unspoken accusation turned her attitude as frigid as the night air. The drastic push and pull tore at her heart.

  “When did you plan on telling me?” The basement of his voice hit her like a wall.

  “I started to email you, several times, but—” Hope attempted to swallow, but had no saliva.

  “Email? I guess that might’ve been better than just showing up pregnant on my doorstep.” A small fractured grimace, forged and uncomfortable, wedged into the edges of his mouth.

  Her eyes narrowed, cutting him a sharp look.

  “I didn’t just show up at your door. Tracy offered me the apartment until I find my own place. I had no idea it’d be here at the vineyard. And we’ve never exchanged phone numbers, remember?” Hysteria frayed the edges of her voice like a piece of torn paper. She wanted to explain, but the longer he glared at her, the more she wanted to tell him off, but for some damn reason her throat constricted, deeming her words nearly inaudible.

  “Maybe you could’ve called—”

  “You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want to exchange numbers . . . email only. Remember?”

  “That’s bullshit, Hope! That was your idea . . . not mine. You could’ve called me at the vineyard. Anything would’ve been better than this. You drop this in my lap and then . . . I’ve spent the last ten hours freaking the fuck out.”

  Tears scorched the back of her throat. Weeks of anguish coursed beneath her skin, bringing heat to the surface. Hope didn’t like being backed into a corner, and she’d already been pushed far beyond her emotional limits. She was tired and cranky and just needed to get some sleep. The last thing she needed was a man accusing her of trapping him.

  “Forgive me if I don’t have time to worry about what’s being dropped in your lap because my plate is too damn full to care. Believe it or not, this has nothing to do with you. M
y life has been turned upside down.” The corner of her mouth twitched. Her voice condescending. “For the record, Tracy offered me this job the last time I was in Italy and this—” pointing to the slight curve of her belly, “—isn’t your baby. So why don’t you go crawl back into bed with your girlfriend and go fuck yourself.”

  Hope didn’t realize she was yelling. Tears dripped from the edge of her jaw and rolled down her neck. She felt utterly broken beyond repair. Swiping at the wetness, she cleared the blur from her vision, revealing every tiny muscle near his eyes softening with the blow. He looked as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  “The baby isn’t mine?” His brows furrowed into a deep scowl. There was something in his voice, a quiet, hurtful ache that surprised her. He said a prayer of sorts in Italian, fisting his hands through his thick dark hair. “Are you sure? There’s been someone else since—”

  He inched toward her, but she stepped back. Her head swung back and forth as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Hope, I thought—”

  “It’s crystal clear what you thought.” She turned toward the door and opened it, thankful for the darkness hiding the hurt splashed across her face. “You thought I tricked you or lied to you?

  “No. I—”

  “Just go, Antonio. The last thing I need is any bullshit from you right now.”

  His face glazed over, leaving her unable to get a read on his thoughts as he stepped outside into the night. “You’re certain?”

  “One hundred percent. You got your answer, now please leave.”

  Not bothering to watch him walk away, Hope shut the door, but not before catching a glimpse of his shoulders slumped forward as if he carried the weight of the world.

  LYING IN BED THE NEXT morning, she privately acknowledged that she and Antonio had both overreacted; however, her obstinacy refused to let her wallow in remorse. She hoped a little shopping might ease the pain.

  A winter gloom draped over the rolling hillsides as she drove through the countryside. Red slanted tiled roofs flowed like a river in the distance as she approached the nearby town. The hustle and bustle of tourist season was on hiatus, but the spirit of Tuscany was still on display in the warm smiles of friendly people starting off their day.

  Hope meandered the worn cobbled streets of the sleepy town, passing by the fashionable boutiques, coffee houses, and quaint restaurants. Making her way through winding alleyways, she admired the stone-clad homes adorned with hanging baskets of rose flowers and sage, now dormant and bare.

  In the past, she’d seen the town through the eyes of a tourist, but now she immersed herself in the culture. Everything seemed different. She wasn’t looking for a great bistro or hotel. Hope was investing in her future, their future. Every decision she made no longer involved just her.

  Subconsciously rubbing her hand over her abdomen, she looked down and whispered, “This is home now. Our home. You and me, little hot pocket.”

  She spent the day occupied in her new surroundings shopping for things she did and didn’t need, yet no amount of retail therapy was going to ease her mind. She needed to talk to Antonio.

  She’d never even had a disagreement with Antonio, let alone an argument. None of this was his fault and the assumption he’d made was understandable. All day long, pangs of humiliation swirled in her gut, envisioning him going out of his mind for hours, assuming he’d fathered a child. He had every right to panic.

  Hell, I’m panicking!

  It was nearly dark by the time Hope stopped by the winery to drop off a few things she’d purchased for her office. Passing by Tracy’s door, she noticed the light was still on so she knocked on the door. While waiting for a response, she couldn’t help but overhear the agitation in Tracy’s raised voice.

  “Hold on,” Tracy grumbled from behind the closed door. “Come in.”

  Hope cracked the door, barely poking her head inside. “I just wanted to say hi, but I’ll come back. Or I’ll be in my office for a few—”

  Tracy held the office phone to her chest, covering the receiver. “I’m almost done. Have a seat.” Returning her attention to the call, her tone switched from sweet to stern in a quick beat. “Look, I don’t understand why you’re so upset, Antonio.” Tracy paused to listen. “You and Vincent hashed this out weeks ago. I’ll mention it to him, but as far as I’m concerned it’s a non-issue.” Pause. “Alright. I’ll have him call you. Bye.”

  Hope tried to swallow the angst rising in her throat at the mere mention of Antonio’s name. She started to rise from her seat. “Really, I can come back.”

  “No, no, please stay. It was perfect timing. I don’t know what’s wrong with him today.” Irritation saturated the deep sigh she pushed from her lungs. Her head rattled back and forth, moving from behind her desk, greeting Hope with a brief hug.

  “I’m sorry,” Hope muttered quietly, shifting in her seat.

  Pffft Tracy scoffed, waving her hand in the air returning to the seat behind the large antique desk. “No need for you to apologize. I’m glad you stopped by. Are you getting settled in?”

  Swamped with the guilt taking up residence in her gut, Hope barely acknowledged Tracy’s question with a nod. She heard herself say aloud, “Actually, it probably is my fault.”

  Tracy opened her mouth to disagree, but hesitated, taking closer inspection of Hope’s expression. She made a face. “Oh my God. Antonio didn’t unload on you today, did he? I’m sorry, Hope. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. He’s normally—”

  “No, that’s not it. I didn’t see him today.” Hope eased back into the plush upholstery. Resting an elbow on the arm of the chair, she cupped the side of her face in the palm of her hand. She knew better than to say anything at all, but she couldn’t stop the rambled confession from spewing from her mouth. “It’s just . . . I’m sure he was surprised to see me. I should’ve let him know about the job . . . and about the . . . you know.” Hope gestured toward her belly as she expelled a long, tired breath through her nose.

  “Wait a minute.” After a brief moment of contemplation, understanding broadened in her eyes. “You and Antonio?”

  Hope nodded.

  “Oh. Oh!”

  “Exactly. I had planned on getting a hold of him once I arrived. I didn’t expect to run into him here. He usually works at the vineyard and hardly comes over here to this property.”

  “I didn’t realize the two of you dated the last time you were here.”

  “We’ve been seeing each other for years.”

  That little tidbit of scandalous information sent Tracy straight to her feet. “What?! Are you serious? I had no idea.”

  “I prefer to keep my love life and work separate. I promise, it won’t be a problem,” Hope assured adamantly. Fucking hormones are turning me into a blabbermouth. Warily, she reigned in her tell-all confession and continued cautiously. “Honestly, I really can’t believe I just blurted that out. No one knows about it and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

  Faint traces of humor lit up Tracy’s eyes. She stood beside Hope, leaning a hip against the desk. Letting out a short laugh, she beamed with curiosity. “So, let me get this straight? Antonio didn’t know you were pregnant until yesterday? When I asked him to carry the boxes?”

  Hope nodded.

  Another round of soft laughter shook her shoulders. “No wonder he’s cranky. I swear that man’s a bachelor for life. Have you explained your situation?

  “No. Not really, just that it’s not his problem. I didn’t get a chance to talk about anything else. Things got a little heated. Anyway, I saw your light on and wanted to stick my head in to say hello.”

  “Why don’t you have dinner with me and Vincent?”

  “Can I get a rain check?” She politely declined.

  “No problem. I’m sure you’re exhausted. My sister, JC was always tired during the first trimester and at the very end.”

  “Please tell me the middle was decent. If it wasn’t, just lie to me. Go ahead,
sugarcoat the hell out of it.”

  “JC loved being pregnant,” Tracy joked. “Any ovaries in a fifty-foot radius would go into production mode just listening to her talk.”

  “Faith was like that too.”

  Tracy smiled warmly, slipping into her jacket. “Let’s schedule something next week.”

  “Sounds fantastic.”

  Saying I’m sorry never came easy for Hope.

  Growing up, her mother swore she’d been cursed with her father’s stubborn genes. The harsh criticisms her mother spewed, comparing Hope to some anonymous sperm donor, were intended to hurt and belittle Hope, but they only made her stronger.

  As she got older, Hope learned to embrace her obstinate qualities. Strength and tenacity were traits she’d needed to survive and to provide for her little sister. Later, in the corporate world, she’d earned a reputation for being a tough negotiator, her decisions unbending. However, the tactics used in business didn’t always cross over well into personal life.

  Sitting in her car underneath the covered terrace outside Antonio’s villa, Hope stretched her neck to the side checking her reflection in the rearview mirror before exiting the vehicle. Anxiety and apprehension gathered beneath the grey V-neck sweater dress leaving a clammy film on her skin. She’d hoped wearing her sister’s dress would come as a sense of comfort and strength, but they hadn’t shown up yet and her nerves were firing on all cylinders.

  Making her way to the front door, she pinched at the cashmere hoping the brisk morning air would bring some relief to her internal furnace. At times, it felt as if she had a low-grade fever, but she’d read in chapter three of the purple book that it was normal to experience hot flashes and chills during the first trimester. It also promised her thermostat would return to normal after the baby was born.

  She glanced to the heavens. This book better be right.

  Mustering every ounce of courage she could find, Hope rapped lightly on the door. The heat from her breath clouded into a thin veil of mist with every deep exhale. Her critical inner voice fired off every warning imaginable, but her heeled ankle boots remained firmly planted on the ground.