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‘I’ll show you to our room,’ Emilio said, before they could say any more. He hadn’t let go of her hand during their entire interaction with Isabella, and now he led her through the house. It was somehow even more spectacular inside than out. Parts of it seemed historic—Jasmine had no idea how old—while others seemed modern, carefully styled to fit with the rest. She wondered how much of it had been altered over the years. Wondered what it would be like to be part of a history like this.
She stuck close to Emilio as he led her up a flight of stairs. She could feel the heat of his body radiate through his suit, the warmth that she was growing so accustomed to.
Their room was situated in the corner of the house and painted in a dark green. There was a sturdy carved four-poster bed against the one wall with dark wood accents. The air of masculinity in this room was unmistakeable, but Jasmine could see how the man who’d dreamt up this room would have such a wonderland of a garden in New York. And, when she walked to the window, she could see the gardens were just as stunning, with a hedge maze and a breath-taking fountain.
‘This is where we will sleep,’ Emilio said. ‘I’ll bring in our luggage. You can get comfortable.’ He was out of the door before she even had a chance to ask him if he was okay. She wanted to go after him, but if he had left it meant he wanted a moment to himself and she had to respect that.
And, after all, weren’t her rules in place to prevent her from becoming emotionally attached to him?
That didn’t mean she didn’t want answers. She was curious about so many things. Who Emilio really was. What had happened in the past. What his family was like. And she had never in her life stayed anywhere as old as this place. So, despite Emilio’s words and her own exhaustion, what she really wanted to do was explore. She hadn’t been told she wasn’t allowed to…and, as a De Luca herself, surely she now had the right?
She left the room and made her way along the top floor, opening doors and peeking inside. Many seemed to lead to guest rooms, but there was only one that she thought could rival Emilio’s room for the best view. When she looked out of the large window, she saw rolling hills of vineyards, all lush and green. The bed was positioned in such a way that whoever lay there would be able to see them lying down.
She continued exploring and found a library and an office which also had a view of the vineyards. Every wall had some sort of painting; some looked ancient.
Finally, she came upon a small staircase—probably intended for staff. Eager to see where it led, she went down the winding stone steps that led to a door that was slightly ajar. Beyond it, she could hear voices. One of them was unmistakeably Emilio’s.
‘Does Enzo know you’re here?’ A woman said—Isabella, Jasmine realized—just as she was about to step through. Something made her pause to stop and listen. ‘With a wife, no less!’
‘Lower your voice,’ Emilio instructed. ‘And, no, he doesn’t know, and you won’t be telling him either.’
Jasmine was torn. She wanted to know what was being kept from her, but also knew she shouldn’t be caught eavesdropping either. Quietly, she turned and retreated upstairs, her heart racing and a tingling in her chest. Why wasn’t Enzo to know they were there? Why had Isabella, who’d seemed genuinely welcoming to Jasmine, twice now spoken to Emilio without that same warmth? Surely Emilio couldn’t keep their presence in Italy a secret from his brother? Prior to their wedding, being seen in public had been the plan.
None of this made any sense.
She paced the room, wringing her fingers. There was very obviously a secret being kept from her. Another man withholding information. Another man she shouldn’t trust. A man she was having a baby with, whom she was married to.
She had been understanding enough, but no more. Emilio was going to tell her the truth.
When he walked into the room carrying their luggage, the words were out of her mouth before he could even close the door. ‘What’s going on, Emilio?’
‘What do you mean?’ He closed the door with a soft click.
His calm infuriated her even more. A stiffness formed in her neck. ‘I heard you and Isabella,’ she said in a sharp tone. ‘Enzo doesn’t know about me or that we’re here.’
‘Were you eavesdropping on me?’ His eyes flashed. As if she should be the one ashamed of their actions, when he was the person keeping secrets! Just like Richard. Just like Zara.
‘I was exploring and overheard you, then came straight back here to giveyouthe opportunity to be honest with me,’ she said lowly, barely able to keep the growl out of her voice.
‘It’s nothing you have to worry about,’ he said, placing the bags on the tufted ottoman at the foot of the bed.
‘Like hell it isn’t!’ Jasmine had to take a breath to stop her temper taking over. ‘You’ve dragged me across the world for a “honeymoon” that isn’t happening. I could have been home working. It’s a sacrifice for me to be here, Emilio, so I demand answers. Whatwasthat between you and Isabella? Why shouldn’t Enzo know we’re here?’
‘Jasmine.’ Emilio pinched the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slumped. When he looked at her, his eyes appeared haunted.
In that moment, he seemed so weary, so tormented, that it almost took the wind out of Jasmine’s sails, but she still had a right to know. Otherwise, she would leave. She’d had enough of disappointment, of secrets. She couldn’t be lied to again.
‘What. Is. Going. On?’
‘I don’t want Enzo to know we’re here. I don’t want to give him a reason to come here.’
She remembered their chat on the plane, and why they were in Perlano. How Emilio’s father had left nothing to him. He’d clearly favoured Emilio’s brother.
‘In death as in life.’It wasn’t easy having a disappointment for a father; Jasmine knew that. She tried hard to calm herself, to push through her anger and annoyance so she could understand his actions. ‘Why? Is it because of the will?’
‘Yes. As soon as Enzo finds out, he will do what he can to see it doesn’t happen.’
‘Why would Enzo fight you for the vineyards if your mother has left them to you? You both run the company anyway, so what does it matter? Wouldn’t he want to respect her wishes?’