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Story: Modern Romance June 2025 1-4
And, with Jasmine gone, he had no idea how his baby was doing. His child, that so completely owned his heart. But he’d lost the right to be there for them. Whatever life he’d get with them now would only be what Jasmine allowed him.
He had to stop trying. Stop attempting to drive to her home, the home that had so nearly been his. It was doing them both no favours.
That last little bit of hope that had been keeping Emilio together winked out.
Desolate. That was the only way to describe what he felt. As if part of him had just died and there would be no reviving it.
His phone rang. When Enzo’s name flashed across his watch face, Emilio rejected the call. Enzo had attempted to call numerous times; each time he’d left a message just asking to talk, but Emilio had nothing left to talk about. He’d lost his family and the vineyards in one day. What would Enzo say—that his father had lied to them all for years and had never legally transferred the vineyards to their mother, and had been right not to do so? Emilio didn’t need to hear that.
Walking into the office, he felt nothing. For the first time this job held no excitement for him. Perhaps he should leave. There was no reason for him to be at De Luca and Co. He had no De Luca legacy to leave to his child. Maybe his time would be better spent solely focussed on the interests his mother had left him.
‘Mr De Luca…’
‘Morning, Rachel,’ Emilio greeted her emotionlessly, hurrying past. It was only when he opened his office door that he registered that she hadn’t said ‘Emilio’ as usual.
There was the reason why: Enzo, in a perfectly tailored suit, sat in his visitor’s chair.
Emilio closed the door. The soft click felt sonorous in his office. In the tense silence.
He wasn’t sure what he felt first. Anger? Hatred? Shock? They hadn’t been in the same room with each other since their mother’s funeral. When they met online for work, Emilio always had time to prepare for his brother’s presence. Today Enzo had given him no choice and no courtesy.
Maybe he was tired of you rejecting his calls.
Maybe Enzo deserved it.
‘What are you doing here?’ Emilio said, sliding his hands into his pockets. He stayed near the door. If he had his way, it would soon be slamming on Enzo’s back. ‘Have you come to gloat?’
‘No,’ Enzo said simply. ‘I’ve come to give you something.’ He stood. In his hand, he held a leather-bound book with an unfastened clasp. He walked to Emilio and handed it over.
Reluctantly, Emilio accepted it. It was odd to see their almost identical hands connected by this small object. Looking at Enzo was always like looking into a mirror. Apart from their eyes, they were so similar—the same height, similar builds—yet their lives had been so vastly different.
‘What is this?’
‘Mamma’s diary.’
Emilio’s eyes snapped to Enzo’s in shock. Shock that part of his mother still existed. Shock that Enzo had shared it at all. And then he realised he had seen it on her bed that last day he’d spent with her.
‘I’ve come for a few reasons, Emilio. The most important of which is to apologise. I just want to talk.’
Emilio wanted to say no. He wanted to send his brother away and never think of him again. But he had called and begged Jasmine for a chance to talk, to apologise, the night she left. It ate at him that she hadn’t taken those calls. His conscience wouldn’t let him get away with the hypocrisy of denying the same chance to his brother.
‘Sit,’ he ordered. To his surprise, his brother obeyed without question and without snarkiness.
‘Will you join me?’ Enzo asked with no hint of arrogance. ‘Please.’
Emilio took a deep breath and sat in the chair next to Enzo’s, turning it to face him.
‘I meant what I said. I do want to apologise.’ Enzo looked away. Looked ashamed. ‘After Gia, and again when I found out you wanted the vineyards, I wondered why you were so set on ruining Perlano for me.’
‘Did you ever consider that I just wanted to make some of it mine?’
‘Not at first.’
‘But then?’
‘Then I met someone.’ Enzo’s face softened. He smiled so gently. Emilio understood what that feeling was like, and he ached all the more for Jasmine. ‘She helped me see a lot of things more clearly.’
Enzo looked at Emilio then. There was sincerity in his eyes and Emilio noticed how open his usually closed-off brother was being. Enzo was usually cold; he’d been unmoved at their mother’s funeral but he wore no mask now. ‘And I needed the help, Emilio. I wasn’t the brother you needed when you needed me. I didn’t fight for you when you needed me to, and I’m sorry.’
He had to stop trying. Stop attempting to drive to her home, the home that had so nearly been his. It was doing them both no favours.
That last little bit of hope that had been keeping Emilio together winked out.
Desolate. That was the only way to describe what he felt. As if part of him had just died and there would be no reviving it.
His phone rang. When Enzo’s name flashed across his watch face, Emilio rejected the call. Enzo had attempted to call numerous times; each time he’d left a message just asking to talk, but Emilio had nothing left to talk about. He’d lost his family and the vineyards in one day. What would Enzo say—that his father had lied to them all for years and had never legally transferred the vineyards to their mother, and had been right not to do so? Emilio didn’t need to hear that.
Walking into the office, he felt nothing. For the first time this job held no excitement for him. Perhaps he should leave. There was no reason for him to be at De Luca and Co. He had no De Luca legacy to leave to his child. Maybe his time would be better spent solely focussed on the interests his mother had left him.
‘Mr De Luca…’
‘Morning, Rachel,’ Emilio greeted her emotionlessly, hurrying past. It was only when he opened his office door that he registered that she hadn’t said ‘Emilio’ as usual.
There was the reason why: Enzo, in a perfectly tailored suit, sat in his visitor’s chair.
Emilio closed the door. The soft click felt sonorous in his office. In the tense silence.
He wasn’t sure what he felt first. Anger? Hatred? Shock? They hadn’t been in the same room with each other since their mother’s funeral. When they met online for work, Emilio always had time to prepare for his brother’s presence. Today Enzo had given him no choice and no courtesy.
Maybe he was tired of you rejecting his calls.
Maybe Enzo deserved it.
‘What are you doing here?’ Emilio said, sliding his hands into his pockets. He stayed near the door. If he had his way, it would soon be slamming on Enzo’s back. ‘Have you come to gloat?’
‘No,’ Enzo said simply. ‘I’ve come to give you something.’ He stood. In his hand, he held a leather-bound book with an unfastened clasp. He walked to Emilio and handed it over.
Reluctantly, Emilio accepted it. It was odd to see their almost identical hands connected by this small object. Looking at Enzo was always like looking into a mirror. Apart from their eyes, they were so similar—the same height, similar builds—yet their lives had been so vastly different.
‘What is this?’
‘Mamma’s diary.’
Emilio’s eyes snapped to Enzo’s in shock. Shock that part of his mother still existed. Shock that Enzo had shared it at all. And then he realised he had seen it on her bed that last day he’d spent with her.
‘I’ve come for a few reasons, Emilio. The most important of which is to apologise. I just want to talk.’
Emilio wanted to say no. He wanted to send his brother away and never think of him again. But he had called and begged Jasmine for a chance to talk, to apologise, the night she left. It ate at him that she hadn’t taken those calls. His conscience wouldn’t let him get away with the hypocrisy of denying the same chance to his brother.
‘Sit,’ he ordered. To his surprise, his brother obeyed without question and without snarkiness.
‘Will you join me?’ Enzo asked with no hint of arrogance. ‘Please.’
Emilio took a deep breath and sat in the chair next to Enzo’s, turning it to face him.
‘I meant what I said. I do want to apologise.’ Enzo looked away. Looked ashamed. ‘After Gia, and again when I found out you wanted the vineyards, I wondered why you were so set on ruining Perlano for me.’
‘Did you ever consider that I just wanted to make some of it mine?’
‘Not at first.’
‘But then?’
‘Then I met someone.’ Enzo’s face softened. He smiled so gently. Emilio understood what that feeling was like, and he ached all the more for Jasmine. ‘She helped me see a lot of things more clearly.’
Enzo looked at Emilio then. There was sincerity in his eyes and Emilio noticed how open his usually closed-off brother was being. Enzo was usually cold; he’d been unmoved at their mother’s funeral but he wore no mask now. ‘And I needed the help, Emilio. I wasn’t the brother you needed when you needed me. I didn’t fight for you when you needed me to, and I’m sorry.’
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