Worth Everything (7 page)

Mortified, Stasia shook her head. Just the thing she didn’t need to happen, Renzo and everyone else assuming she and Gavin were somehow involved. Not that she’d discouraged it when she called Renzo to make the arrangements. She’d kept quiet so her mother wouldn’t be suspicious. “I think you might’ve misunderstood...”

“You’re right, we are good friends.” Gavin stepped close to her, grabbing her hand and giving it a meaningful squeeze. His hand was large, his touch electric and she took a deep breath, desperate to calm her suddenly racing heart. “I couldn’t refuse her invitation to the villa for a little escape from the city.”

“A fine choice,
signore.
Miss Renaldi can show you many sights. She has explored this entire area since she was young. She knows all its secrets.”

“I look forward to exploring it with her.” Another squeeze, his long fingers were tight around hers.

She sent him a look, hoping he got the message. That she expected a thorough explanation the moment Renzo left. What the hell was he doing?

“Very good.” Renzo clasped his hands together and bowed. “Dinner will be served at precisely eight o’clock.”

“And my mother, Renzo? Will she be in attendance this evening?” Gavin released his hold on her, smoothed his hand down the middle of her back in a reassuring gesture, which she found oddly comforting.

She could not depend on this man for comfort, not like this.

“Ah.” Renzo shook his head, his mouth turning grim. “I’m afraid she takes every meal in her suite.”

Disappointment crashed through her. Mama wasn’t going to make this easy. “Does she know we’re here? That I’m here?”

Renzo nodded. “I told
signora
and she seemed to understand. Sometimes it is as if she’s left us, you know? She’s not…all here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger.

Sadness filled Stasia. Her mother wasn’t in a well state of being. It wasn’t right, wallowing in her loss, allowing it to consume her life. Claudia Renaldi needed to find a purpose again. Needed to realize she had a family depending on her to be strong and pull through. A young grandson who surely missed his grandmother, her sons and their wives, her only daughter...

Stasia frowned. It had been too long since she’d seen her only nephew, Matteo’s son, Matty. The first grandchild, the prodigal grandson and heir, he was precious, the sweet, bright light in her mother’s life.

She knew for a fact her mother hadn’t seen Matteo or his family since their father’s death either. Despite her earlier worry that she was all alone, her brothers did their best to stay in contact with her and keep her informed on what was happening in Italy. Her eldest brother called or emailed Stasia at least once a week, as did Rafe and Vincenzo, though Matteo stayed in touch more frequently. Her big brother had no idea how much she appreciated his efforts. He was the one connection to her old world she could depend on.

“Thank you, Renzo,” she finally said with a faint smile. She couldn’t remember life at the villa without the man. “We shall be in the dining room at precisely seven-fifty-five, ready and waiting.”

The old man chuckled. “Very good.” Turning on his heel, he left, closing the door behind him. Leaving the two of them alone in a gorgeously romantic room.

Nerves made her palms clammy, and she clutched her hands together, fighting the foolish sensation.

“Well, I’m sure you’d like a few hours to rest, shower, whatever you need to do before dinner.” She stepped away from him, needing some distance.

“Yeah, I feel kind of grimy. And I should probably change, try not to look so lawyer-like.” He flashed her a quick smile. It sent a zing to all her feminine parts, leaving her uncomfortably warm.

“Very well.” She sounded too formal and she wanted to roll her eyes. The man made her uncomfortable. “I’ll see you later at the main house?”

“Sure. I can just…walk in, right?”

“Of course. Don’t bother knocking. We’re the only ones in residence, besides my mother.” She frowned. If she was brave enough, she’d go straight into the house and knock on her mother’s door. Demand to be let in so they could hash this out. It was ridiculous, how secretive Mama was being.

Stasia deserved to know answers. But she wasn’t quite brave enough to ask for them.

Yet.

“We’ll work through this, Stasia,” Gavin said, his voice low and full of sympathy. She wondered if he could read her mind. “Don’t worry.”

She appreciated the words, but they were so easy for him to say. He had nothing to lose, nothing at risk. Though she’d already lost everything, maybe someday she could gain some of it back. At least a semblance of peace.

Hopefully.

Chapter Six

Dinner was an elaborate meal for only two people, Gavin mused. At least three different kinds of pasta, a giant bowl of fresh green salad dotted with vibrant red tomatoes from the garden and a basket of warm crusty bread, it was enough to feed a family of ten. Fortunately Gavin was ravenous enough for at least three men, and he ate with an intensity that shocked him.

Probably shocked Stasia as well, not that he could worry about it. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten all day…which, he realized, he hadn’t.

“Renzo’s wife is the cook,” Stasia said as he’d served himself a second plateful. “Elena is very good, no?”

Her Italian accent became more pronounced the longer she was here. “Very good,” he said after he swallowed. His belly might be protesting, but he wasn’t ready to stop.

She smiled, dropped her gaze to her still full plate, dragging her fork back and forth through the cream sauce. “And the shrimp is fresh from the ocean. Renzo picked them up from the market just this morning.”

“They’re delicious.” Plump and full of flavor, they were the best damn shrimp he’d ever tasted, and he’d eaten at plenty of fine restaurants in Manhattan.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal.” Clearly, she wasn’t.

He set his fork on the edge of the plate, didn’t say anything in hopes she would look back up and find him waiting.

She did, rather quickly. Her eyes widened the slightest bit and she pushed her plate away as if the meal disgusted her. “You want to talk.”

Stasia was rather perceptive, and he liked that. “I want to know what’s bothering you.”

Well, he could be perceptive too.

“I’m afraid.” She spoke in a broken whisper, the depth of emotion in her voice making his chest ache. “I think I might be wasting your time here.”

“I just had the best meal of my life. This was definitely not a waste of my time.”

She smiled, but it was weak at best and it didn’t mask her sadness. “I’ll let Elena know you approve.”

“Stasia. Stop.”

Her startled gaze met his, her damp, lush lips parted. “You’re angry.”

“I want to know what’s wrong with you. Why do you think being here is a waste of my time? We just arrived.”

“And my mother refuses to talk to me. I went to her suite of rooms before dinner and knocked on the door. She wouldn’t open it.”

“Did she talk to you?”

“No. She told me to go away.” She dropped her gaze once more, as if afraid to look at him.

“Did you tell her it was you?”

“Of course, I did. She still told me to go away.” Her face crumpled and she dashed at her cheeks with the tips of her fingers, as if wiping away tears. “She hates me.”

Jesus.
He’d had plenty of clients cry before. He dealt mostly with estate law; he understood the despair people went through after they lost a loved one. The anger and the fighting that usually accompanied such a loss as well, considering most of his clients were wealthy, much like the Renaldis.

So why did this woman’s tears upset him so? Tempt him to go to her, pull her into his arms and whisper words of comfort? He wanted to bury his face in her hair, kiss her temple, smooth his hands all over that curvy body and tell her everything was going to be all right.

Though he didn’t know that for a fact, had no way of knowing. Maybe it wasn’t going to be all right. Maybe it was going to be a complete disaster.

“Don’t give up. This is the first time you’ve approached her. Once she realizes you’re not going away, she’ll come around,” he said.

“Maybe four days isn’t enough. What if it’s not enough, Gavin?” She lifted her head, tear-filled eyes meeting his. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry. I’ve cried enough tears to fill a thousand oceans, I swear. I’m so tired of being sad.”

“Then stop being sad and start getting angry. Let it fuel you, let it give you the determination you need to reach your mother and get her to talk.” Anger was an excellent motivator, far better than sadness.

She sniffed, dabbed at her eyes yet again. No streaky make-up, no flushed cheeks and red nose for her, oh no. Even in her complete and utter despair, she was beautiful. “I tried angry. It got me nowhere.”

“You haven’t tried angry on your mother, I bet.”

“It won’t matter. Doesn’t seem like much matters to her but herself.”

“Then tell her that. Tell her how much it hurts, how selfish she’s being. Tell her how damn angry you are, finding out your life has been completely turned upside down from something
she
did. You’re the innocent one in all of this. You realize that, don’t you? It’s not your fault your mother had an affair. It’s not your fault you’re not the blood daughter of Giorgio Renaldi.” Anger flared in his blood, made his voice rise. Damn it, it was ridiculous, how she’d been treated. By the man who raised her, her father, though he denied it now in death.

What a cowardly thing for Renaldi to do. The only brave one in this situation was the crying woman sitting across a too-wide table from him.

“There’s no need to yell,” she said softly.

“I’m pissed off.” He leapt to his feet, started pacing back and forth. “I yell when I get mad. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

He thrust both his hands in his hair, glaring at her incredulously. “I’m not mad at
you
. Jesus.” He threw his hands into the air, gesturing at the ceiling. “You’ve been put into a shitty situation, Stasia, dealt a really bad hand, yet you won’t give up. You keep coming at it and coming at it, turned down at your every single move. Don’t give up now, not while you’re so close.”

“I’m not close. I’m back at square one.” She wrapped her arms around herself, ran her hands up and down her bare arms. She wore a simple red cotton sundress held up by skimpy straps, one of them drooping off her shoulder, revealing that she wore no bra. He hated that his thoughts went there. Straight to deliciously intimate images, his mouth pressed against that beautiful shoulder, his hand beneath the front of her dress, cupping her supple flesh, his thumb rubbing against her hard nipple…

“If you think like you’re defeated, you’ll believe it,” he said, shoving the lurid thoughts from his brain. She was consumed with sadness, left vulnerable by all the wrongs done to her. And it wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t, how much he wanted to take advantage of that vulnerability and offer his comfort, which he had a feeling would be welcomed.

He was a complete shit for even thinking it.

“She blames me,” Stasia whispered. “She looks at me and I’m the reminder of her past indiscretions. I’m nothing but a mistake in her eyes.”

Damn it, that was it. She couldn’t keep thinking like this, talking like this. He had to put a stop to the pity party now.

He went to her, stopping just behind her chair. Her bare shoulders beckoned, her bent head causing her hair to spill forward, revealing a slice of her neck. That beckoned as well, twisted up his insides, made him want to press his mouth there. Whisper words of comfort as he drew her into his arms. Those words would slowly change, become heated as he described what he wanted to do to her, with her, for her…

“I need a good night’s rest, I’m sure.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder, a tremulous smile curving her lips. “It’ll all be better in the morning, no?”

No.
But he wasn’t about to disagree. Whatever she needed to do to gain back some of that strength he’d glimpsed only a few hours ago, she should do it. “Sure.” He stepped back, helped pull out her chair and she stood. So close, he could smell her, sweetly floral, her wavy hair a little wild about her face.

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. He dropped his gaze to her breasts, noted how full they were, how her nipples were the slightest bit hard and pushing against the thin fabric of her dress. “I appreciate you not mocking me for being so upset.”

“I would never mock you, Stasia.”

She sent him a skeptical look and he chuckled, glad they were over the earlier constant arguing. It was—pleasant, spending time with her.

More than pleasant.

“Tomorrow, I’ll approach her again,” she said with a firm nod. “She needs to know she can’t ignore me forever.”

“That a girl,” he murmured, glad to see the stiffening of her spine, the hint of fire flare in her gaze once more.

Another shaky smile appeared as she leaned in, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you, Gavin.”

His skin tingled where her lips touched, his entire body stiff with want. That kiss, however brief, was unexpected. Unwarranted.