The Scandalous Sabbatinis: Scandal: Unclaimed Love-Child. Melanie Milburne
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that day. He watched as she ran her index finger over the designer emblem, before lifting her gaze to his. ‘It’s beautiful… thank you… but you shouldn’t have spent so much money.’
‘You’d better check to see if the catch works,’ he said with a wry smile.
She bit down on her lip and she opened and closed the purse with a snap that sounded like a gunshot. He saw her slim throat rise and fall over a tight swallow and the way her fingers trembled slightly as she refolded the tissue around the purse. A small frown had lined her smooth forehead and when she looked up at him again he saw a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. ‘Luca…’ She moistened her lips and started again. ‘There’s something we need to discuss… I should have told you last night but there didn’t seem to be—’
Luca moved to where she was sitting and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘If you’re going to make a fuss about me buying you things, then don’t,’ he said. ‘I know you can’t be bought with money. I shouldn’t have pulled that stunt over the rent. I admire your independence. But this time just accept this in the spirit in which it is given.’
She rolled her lips together and looked down at the purse lying on her lap. ‘It’s very kind of you. I really needed a new purse. Thank you.’
He held out a hand. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get going to the restaurant. I made an early booking as I figured you would probably need to get home at a reasonable hour to your little girl.’
Her eyes darted away from his. ‘Yes… yes, I will.’
Luca took her hand as they walked down to the restaurant. Her small fingers interlaced with his, but he sensed tension in them, a fluttering nervousness that made him wonder if she was having second thoughts about this evening. He had told her no strings, just dinner, but the pulse of electricity that already charged between their bodies was a heady reminder of all they had experienced together in the past. Was she thinking of how many times dinner together had led to mind-blowing sex soon after? His body twitched in memory, his blood surging to his groin as he walked his mind back through the images he had stored of them together. He had clung to those memories during his darkest hours. They had been a powerful motivation for him to fight his demons, to wrestle them to the ground so he could finally reclaim his life.
The restaurant overlooked the Yarra River and the city beyond. There were clouds in the night sky, brooding clusters of tension that crackled in the eerily still air.
‘Do you think there is going to be a storm?’ Luca asked, pointing to a particularly furious-looking cloud bank in the distance. ‘It certainly feels like it, don’t you think?’
‘I heard something about it in the weather report in the taxi,’ she said.
Luca stopped to frown down at her. ‘I thought you were going to drive in. I would have picked you up. Why didn’t you call me and tell me you’d changed your mind?’
She turned her gaze to the grumbling clouds. ‘I was running late. Ella was a bit unsettled. I wasn’t sure I’d find a parking spot.’
Luca waited until they had resumed walking before he asked, ‘Is that why you’re so tense this evening? Are you worried about being away from her?’
‘It’s hard not to worry at times,’ she said, not looking his way, nor at the view but at the ground at her feet. ‘It’s part of being a parent. You never stop worrying from the moment they are born.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Luca said. ‘My brothers and I are all in our thirties but my mother is always worrying about something or other to do with one or all of us. Mind you, I think there have been times when she has had good cause to be worried. The three of us have had our fair share of mishaps, and then, of course, there was the death of our sister when she was a baby that really did the damage.’
Bronte stopped in her tracks and looked up at him in shock. ‘You never told me you had a sister.’
He gave a shrug. ‘It was a long time ago. I hardly even remember her, or only vaguely. She died when I was three and Nic was eighteen months old. He doesn’t remember her at all. Giorgio remembers her the most clearly. He was six at the time. It really affected him. He won’t talk about it, even after all these years.’
‘What happened?’ Bronte asked.
‘Sudden Infant Death Syndrome,’ he said. ‘Or cot death, as it was called back then. My parents went through a terrible time, my mother especially. There wasn’t the knowledge about the cause of it then. My mother felt everyone blamed her. The truth is, she blamed herself. The police who came to the villa after Chiara died didn’t help matters. It was a long time before my mother got over it, although, at times, I wonder if she really ever did get over it. She’s completely obsessed about having grandchildren, my grandfather too, especially after my father died. It’s made things extremely difficult for Giorgio and his wife. I am sure it’s one of the reasons they have separated. Maya couldn’t take the pressure of not being able to conceive.’
Bronte felt a hammer blow of guilt assail her. She even stumbled slightly, as if the blow was physical. Luca’s hand tightened on hers as he steadied her, his brow creasing as he looked down at her.
‘Careful,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to break an ankle on our first date.’
She gave him a strained smile and continued walking. ‘I’m sorry about your family’s loss,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m sorry too about your brother and his wife. It must be a very difficult time for both of them.’
‘It is,’ Luca said. ‘As much as I’d like to knock both their heads together at what they are throwing away, I’ve had to stay out of it. Giorgio can be very stubborn and once his mind is made up, that’s it. He’s too proud for his own good. But then, who I am to criticize?’
Bronte mulled over that while he led her into the restaurant. It was a while before they were alone again. The waiter brought drinks and discussed the menu and the day’s specials and then reappeared with warmed olives and freshly baked bread and a tiny dish of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar, before discreetly moving away to leave them in their intimate corner.
Luca raised his glass to Bronte. ‘Here’s to new beginnings.’
Bronte’s hand shook as she touched her glass against his. ‘To… to new beginnings.’
The silence fell like a thick suffocating blanket.
Bronte could barely breathe as each second passed. The restaurant noise of dishes and cutlery and glassware faded and her ears filled with a roaring sound of impending doom. Outside, a loud crack of thunder sounded, making her flinch and almost spill her glass of wine.
‘Hey.’ Luca took her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Are you OK? Is the storm bothering you? Are you frightened of them?’
Bronte shook her head. ‘No, not really.’
He studied her for a moment. ‘You seem really on edge, cara. You don’t need to be. Just relax. We’re just two friends having dinner, remember? I’m not going to put the hard word on you at the end of the evening. We can take things as they go. No pressure, OK?’
Bronte felt sick with nerves. There was no easy way to say what she had to say. She had only made things worse by leaving it this late. She should have told him as soon as he saw the photos of Ella. Why had she made it so hard for herself by dragging it out so torturously? She took a large sip of wine to garner her flagging courage. The crisp dry wine moistened her dry throat but the shot of alcohol did nothing to settle her frazzled and frayed nerves. ‘Luca,’ she began, ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘Don’t say you don’t want to see me again,’ he said before she could continue. ‘We both know that is not the case. I know I stuffed things up before but I want to make it up to you. I think we have something special, Bronte. I think it could work if we just give it a try.’
Bronte toyed with the stem of her wine glass.