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Vic smiled again and her pulse tripped. ‘Did you have a pet growing up? Marcus has never mentioned one.’
‘No, we weren’t allowed pets.’ She let out a tiny sigh and continued before she could put the brakes on her tongue, ‘I think it would have helped me to have one, though, especially after the divorce.’
‘It was a tough time for you?’ The question was delivered in a gentle and empathetic manner, not probing or intrusive at all.
‘I’d just started school, so it was unsettling to have to spend time with my dad who had moved to a house two hours away. His new partner wasn’t great with kids.’ Oh, man, what an understatement that was.
‘Were you close to your father?’
‘I was until he met Fernella.’ Her shoulders slumped. She shouldn’t have started talking about the dramas of her childhood, but somehow it was pouring out of her. Was it because it was way past her bedtime? Or was it because Vic Jacobetti had a magnetic impact on her? She was drawn to him, revealing parts of herself she revealed to no one. ‘Not that my mother was great with kids either. In fact, she and Fernella were a bit alike in that regard.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He put his papers to one side again and gave her his full attention. ‘Is your father still with your stepmother?’
‘No, they eventually broke up, but he keeps partnering with the same type of women. The self-absorbed, obsessed-about-their-appearance type.’ Her shoulders dropped on a sigh. ‘It’s like he’s trying to replace my mother but why? She made his life a living hell. I don’t think she ever truly loved him. The only thing in the end she liked about him was his name, so she kept it.’
‘Some people follow a pattern that was set in childhood. They go looking for something in a partner they recognised in their parent, but it usually ends in tears.’
‘What was your father like?’
He paused for a long moment, and she wondered if he was going to change the subject, but then he finally spoke. ‘He was loving and warm and kind and steadfast—all the things a child needs a father to be.’ There was a sad wistfulness about Vic’s expression as if he still found talking about his father painful in spite of the passage of time.
‘I can only imagine how devastating it would’ve been to lose him so young.’
‘It was.’ He flicked her a brief glance and continued, ‘I never really understood why my mother married again so quickly, but I think she was so lonely raising me by herself. And of course, the hotel business was overwhelming to her, and at six years old, I was too young to help.’ His mouth twisted in an embittered way. ‘My stepfather was a handy solution, or at least he made himself appear that way. He would take over the running of the business until I came of age and solve her loneliness in one fell swoop.’
‘But that didn’t happen.’
‘No.’ He brushed some imaginary lint off his sleeve and continued, ‘He all but destroyed the business my father had worked so hard to build up. My mother was powerless to stop him. But as soon as I came of age, I made it my mission to buy out my stepfather and rebuild my father’s business into one of the leading hotel brands on the globe.’
‘And you’ve done it. The Jacobetti chain is one of the most luxurious chains of hotels in the world. You must feel so satisfied.’
There was a beat or two of silence.
‘But you’re not, are you?’ she asked, studying his brooding expression.
A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘The only way I can ever feel satisfied is to break the hold my stepfather has over my mother, but she can see no wrong in him. Nor can Isabella.’
She frowned. ‘But how does your mother explain the business all but collapsing until you were old enough to step in?’
Vic gave a cynical smile that made his eyes go as hard as onyx. ‘He painted it as bad luck, the global economic downturn and so on. She took his word over mine. Still does.’
She could now see why he shied away from long-term relationships. He didn’t trust love as an emotion. ‘Maybe they see things in him you can’t see. I mean, he’s obviously nothing like your father, but he must have some good qualities, otherwise why would your mother and sister still love him?’
He sent her a sideways glance. ‘Love is blind, that’s why.’
‘Which is why you want nothing to do with it.’ She framed it as a statement not as a question.
‘Got it in one.’
It was late by the time they got through customs in Milan, later still by the time they were on the road to Vic’s villa at Lake Como. Addie’s eyelids were weighted with anvils, and she fought the desire to sleep with a steely resolve she hadn’t realised she was capable of. But at some point, that steely resolve must have finally rusted, because when the car eventually came to a stop, she opened her eyes to find herself slumped across Vic Jacobetti’s lap. She could feel the firm strength of his thighs against her cheek, and she scrambled into an upright position, pushing her hair away from her face. Oh, dear God, how could she have fallen asleep on him? What must he think of her? Did he think she was throwing herself at him like all those other women? She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. But then her eyes drifted sideways, and widened with excruciating embarrassment as she saw the patch of dribble on his trousers close to his bent knee.
‘I’m so sorry…’ She bit her lip, conscious of heat flooding into her cheeks. ‘I must’ve nodded off.’
‘No need to apologise.’ He gave a smile that sent her pulses skittering. ‘At least you didn’t snore.’
She grimaced. ‘But I drooled on your trousers. I—I’ll pay to have them dry-cleaned.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’ve had plenty of people drool over me before.’