Page 45 of Slow Burn

The atmosphere between Sofia and me hadn’t improved much by the time dinner came around.

Gabriele and I had spent the last couple of hours in the kitchen preparing a fresh pasta sauce, a roasted vegetable salad and an apple tart for dessert.

Surprisingly, he was a very good cook and approached it in the same way he approached his dancing – there were rules, and he followed them to a tee, but then he added something unexpected on top; something extra that changed it from ordinary to spectacular.

I couldn’t wait to tuck in and thought the feast we’d – mainly he’d – created might improve Sofia’s mood, just a tiny bit.

But when she joined us at the table in their open-plan dining room, she was so aggressively silent that you could have heard a pin drop.

In fact, if somebody had dropped a pin, I’d have gladly dived under the table to look for it and stayed there until the meal was over and I could be alone with Gabriele again.

I was going to have to try to work out what I was supposed to have done so that I could take steps to remedy it.

Because this didn’t feel like just grief, although of course I didn’t know Sofia well enough to say, and everyone reacted differently.

I just had the sense that it was me specifically she mistrusted.

She’d probably guessed there was more between Gabriele and I than we were letting on – and sure, walking out to meet her, hand in hand with her son probably hadn’t been the best idea, not when emotions were so high.

Perhaps she didn’t think I was right for him.

You only had to look at this place to realize that they were likely one of the wealthiest families in the area and she could probably tell on sight that I didn’t come from that kind of affluent background.

‘Where did you two first meet? At the audition for the show?’ asked Sofia, serving herself a tiny plateful of pasta and salad.

I felt a pang of sadness for her and could almost visibly see the pain of losing Enzo playing out in her inability to eat.

‘Actually, that is a funny story,’ said Gabriele, laughing softly as he stroked my knee under the table. ‘We met many years ago, in Paris. We danced the Argentine tango together – Lira was nineteen and I was twenty-two, and even then we had great chemistry.’

I smiled at Gabriele. Hopefully, he would spare his mother the remaining details of that night…

‘And then, yes, the next time I saw her was when she walked into the audition. Carlos had discovered her working in a dance studio in a small town outside of London. It was completely random. A moment that could so easily have been missed.’

Sofia took a sip of her wine. ‘Carlos found you and put you in his show? Like Cinderella?’

‘There was definitely something fairytale-like about it,’ I admitted. ‘But I wasn’t exactly sweeping floors. My family own the dance studio. I’ve been the manager there for thirteen years.’

‘And now you want a career in dance?’ asked Sofia.

‘Mama…’ warned Gabriele gently.

‘It’s fine,’ I said to him.

It was a fair enough question, although not one I would have asked when I’d only just met someone. Perhaps the Argentinians were naturally direct.

‘I know I’ve left it late,’ I said, looking at Sofia.

‘But I had family responsibilities before. As the eldest of three girls, with parents who still had successful careers in entertainment, I was expected to take the lead with the business my parents had set up. I was very compliant with what my family wanted, which now I kind of regret.’

‘Oh?’ said Sofia. ‘You wish you had told your parents that you couldn’t help them as they’d asked?’

I glanced at Gabriele.

‘I think there might have been a way to compromise,’ I said carefully.

‘Instead of giving up on my dreams completely. Much as I loved – love – working in the studio and teaching other people how to dance, I’ve never quite got rid of the desire to be up on stage myself.

So yeah, I guess Carlos did perform some magic that evening.

And now I’ve got a chance to experience what it’s like to be a professional dancer.

I know there’s only a small window of time, that I’ve only got a few years of dancing left at most, but my plan is to make the most of it. ’

‘You are too talented not to, Lira,’ said Gabriele.

Sofia took a sip of her wine. The atmosphere was so loaded that I’d started dreading what she was going to say next. The food was delicious, but I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it.

‘So what is next for you?’ asked Sofia. ‘More travel? Another show?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I answered honestly. ‘I’m planning to set up some meetings with agents for when I get back to the UK and I’ll take it from there.’

‘And your family’s studio?’ asked Sofia.

‘We’ll make it work.’

Sofia nods. ‘And what about you, Gabriele? Will you be joining Lira on another tour?’

‘Mama, please,’ said Gabriele. ‘This is not a conversation to have in front of Lira; it is between you and me.’

‘I am not blind, Gabriele. I can see that the two of you have become close. And I am happy for you, but perhaps not for myself, because I would love you to stay here and run the farm with me, but I think that’s not what you want in your heart. Is it, Gabi?’

Gabriele pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Mama, please, we must change the subject. I will fetch a jug of water for us, and when I get back we will talk about something else.’

Gabriele disappeared out to the kitchen, leaving one of the interminable silences I was getting used to, the only sound being the scrape of our forks on our plates.

‘I don’t mean to upset you, Lira, but I am lost without Enzo, you understand?

I know nothing about wine, except the tiny amount I have picked up from listening to him over the years, but I could not run the business alone now he’s gone, and I am too old to learn.

But Gabriele could learn , and I know that is what his father wanted for him.

I will not force him, of course. I know how much he loves dancing.

He would have to want to stay. And rather selfishly I’m concerned that now he has met you, he will definitely not want to live out here in the hills with his melancholy mother. ’

‘I understand family responsibility, Sofia,’ I said, treading carefully.

‘And if running the vineyard is what Gabriel needs to do, wants to do, then I would never try to stop him, even if I could. I’m not sure whether you’ve noticed, but he’s quite headstrong,’ I said, laughing lightly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Sofia smiled tightly – it was a start, I supposed, and it was better than having her scowling at me from across the table.

‘Anyway, what we have isn’t serious. Not yet,’ I added, to reassure her that Gabriele would not be factoring me into his decision about whether to stay or go.

Sofia looked up from her plate, surprised.

‘I’m not sure that is correct, Lira,’ she said.

I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that Gabriele has never brought a woman home to meet me before. He has never sat down at a table with me and someone he is interested in romantically, not once.’

I secretly thought I understood why he hadn’t, if this was the level of interrogation Sofia was likely to give every woman he brought home. And I felt a thrill that I was the first, although, in fairness, I had rocked up on his doorstep unannounced. He hadn’t had much choice, had he?

‘You must be special to him. For him to ask you to stay the night, to have dinner with us. It means something. I’ve just lost the love of my life, and I am wondering whether Gabriele has just found his.’

There was a fluttering of hope that what she was saying was true, and that Gabriele liked me as much as she seemed to think he did.

When he walked back into the room, I’d never been so pleased to see anyone in my whole life.

He was carrying the dessert we’d made, placing it in the centre of the table. Sofia looked at it admiringly.

‘Who would like some apple tart?’ asked Gabriele, looking from one of us to the other.

Later that evening, Sofia told us she was having an early night and Gabriele and I sat out in the garden with a glass of wine.

He’d brought a speaker outside and had attached it to his phone so that soft, sexy Latin music played over our conversation.

The Tuscan sky was beautiful – a bright, full moon; stars that I hadn’t even known existed because, in London, and even in Castlebury, the sky was never this dark and clear.

‘It’s beautiful out here,’ I said, tipping my head back, taking some deep, relaxing breaths.

I felt my shoulders soften now that I didn’t have to watch every word I said for fear of upsetting Sofia even more than I seemed to have done already.

‘I apologize again. About my mother. She is very intense sometimes, and losing Papa seems to have taken her to a whole new level. I am terrified to say anything in case I set her off.’

‘I’m glad it’s not just me,’ I said, smiling wryly at him.

He took my hand, caressing it gently.

‘I am glad you are here,’ he said.

‘Me too. Although I’m slightly worried I might have made things worse for you. Your mum seems to think that I have some kind of hold over you. I tried to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to influence your future plans for the vineyard one way or another.’

Gabriele looked thoughtful. ‘Is that really what you think? That you have not had an impact on me or my decisions at all?’

I frowned. ‘Well, that’s what I assumed. I mean, sure, we’ve enjoyed each other’s company recently. But I’ve never let myself think beyond that.’

A hurt look crossed his face and I wondered if I’d read it all wrong. If maybe his mum had been right after all.

Gabriele looked at me. ‘It’s true. My priorities have changed over the last week or so. I could never leave my mother alone up here without Papa.’

‘Of course. You have to put your family first at a time like this,’ I agreed.