The Italian's Unexpected Heir Read online

  But as she reached for the pendant, Enzo said, “Hold still. I’m having a hard time with this catch.” When she stopped moving, he said, “I’ve almost got it... There we go.”

  Sylvie moved her long hair, letting the chain rest against her neck. And then she lifted the pendant, finding the stunning mixture of gemstones and wire art. “How did you know?”

  When she turned a smile to him, he returned the gesture. “I was hoping for that reaction.”

  “What reaction?”

  “Your smile. It brightens the whole world—at least my entire world.”

  His words caused her heart to pitter-patter faster. “Thank you so much.” She fingered the pendant. “I love it. But you shouldn’t have done it. I’ll pay you back—”

  “No, you won’t. That was a gift from me to you.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, just enjoy it. It looks good on you.”

  They moved on, stopping to visit the bust of goldsmith/sculptor Benvenuto Cellini, where lovers from near and far had visited and affixed hundreds of locks to the fence surrounding the statue. Legend had it if they threw the key in the Arno River, their love would be eternal.

  Sylvie wondered about having a love like that—a love like her parents’. She didn’t believe it happened for everyone. It wouldn’t happen to her, but the thought of having a love that endured time, trials and tribulations was very tempting indeed.

  From the bridge, they visited Piazza della Signoria, Florence’s town center with its remarkable open-air sculpture gallery with its stunning works of art. There was so much to take in that it couldn’t all be done in a day, but they kept moving.

  Sylvie snapped photo after photo on her phone. She didn’t want to forget a single moment. At the Galleria dell’Accademia, she marveled at all the statues and paintings. However, the sculpture of David by Michelangelo made her pause and admire the level of skill involved. Sylvie never considered herself a fan of Renaissance, but she was starting to change her mind.

  With a lull in the crowd, she paused to consider how someone could carve stone with such detail. It was truly amazing. It would definitely take a lot of talent and strength as well as imagination. She wondered if people doubted Michelangelo’s talents in the beginning. Did his parents encourage him to do something more traditional with his life—like blacksmithing? Or did they encourage him to follow his dreams?

  She thought of her loving mother, who’d always wanted the best for Sylvie. She’d thought Sylvie had talent designing wedding dresses but believed it took more than talent to make it in this sometimes challenging world they lived in. And so her mother had encouraged her to find a more traditional career. Sylvie had heeded her mother’s cautious words, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d been brave and followed her dreams.

  Sylvie turned to Enzo. “Thank you for bringing me here. I will never forget this day.”

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you and for one reason or another, I’ve kept putting it off.” His sincere gaze met hers. He drew in a visible breath. “I’m sorry for how I acted after Paris. It wasn’t right. I tried to blame you and it was so wrong. The truth is the night meant more to me than I was willing to admit. I made every excuse possible to avoid dealing with those feelings. Thank you for not giving up on me and giving me time to get my head screwed on straight.”

  His words touched her heart, making it flutter in her chest. She wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to tell her. A part of her wanted to delve deeper into this subject, but the other part of her didn’t want to ruin this moment. As hard as it was for her, she believed it was best for both of them to accept what he was willing to give and not push for more. But that didn’t mean she didn’t owe him an apology, as well.

  “I’m sorry, too.” She glanced back at the famous statue as emotions churned within her. “I was freaked out, too, after Paris. I never expected things to go in that direction. And then I thought you were mad at me, which made everything worse.” She chanced a glance in his direction. “I don’t normally act so bold.”

  A smile played at the corner of his lips. “I like that bold side of you.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “Bold looks good on you.”

  She smiled, too. His gaze caught and held hers. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was so loud it echoed in her ears. How was it possible this man could have such a powerful draw over her?

  “About last night—”

  “We were both exhausted,” she said. “There’s nothing more that needs said about it.”

  His gaze searched hers. “You don’t think less of me?”

  “No. I think you’re a very caring brother and friend.”

  And then his gaze noticeably lowered to her lips. Was he going to kiss her right here in front of all these people? She didn’t care who watched. All she cared about was being in his arms once more.

  Her heart thumped harder and faster with each passing moment. The background faded away. In that moment it was just the two of them—

  Someone bumped into Sylvie. She landed against Enzo’s muscular chest. Jarred from the magical spell that had been spun over them, Sylvie jumped back. They both turned to find a teenage boy.

  “Sorry.” The boy’s face was flushed.

  “Be careful,” Enzo warned. “You could have hurt someone.”

  The boy nodded and moved on, submerged into the crowd.

  Enzo turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded as her heart slowed. The stolen moment was over before it’d even begun.

  “Come on,” Enzo said, “we need to keep moving. I don’t want you to miss visiting the shops before they close.”

  He took her hand in his and moved onward, working their way to the exit. Her hand felt good within his grasp. She refused to define what it meant. A label on this thing happening between them would ruin the moment. It was best just to live in the moment and not analyze it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HER FINGERS BRUSHED over the pendant.

  A warmth swirled in her chest.

  She told herself not to read too much into the friendly gesture. Enzo didn’t want attachments—in fact, he was doing his best to minimize his commitments in life with the sale of the estate. She’d do well to remember that. Her hand lowered to her side.

  They’d made their way through a number of stores. In a secondhand shop, she found some crystal vases. And then in a florist shop, she found some dried flowers that were stunning. There were vivid reds and deep purples as well as ivory flowers. In addition, she picked out some fresh arrangements. Considering the magazine people would be there the following day, the flowers would just be blooming when she got them home.

  She turned to Enzo, who was standing by the door as though anxious to move on. While the sales clerk packed her purchases, Sylvie approached Enzo. He looked totally bored out of his mind.

  She held out a fresh bouquet of deep purple and white blooms. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged. “They’re fine.”

  Not the ringing endorsement she’d been hoping for, but she supposed it’d have to do. “Do you like the other things I picked out?” When he nodded, she asked, “Do you even know what colors I picked?”

  “Pink?”

  She sighed. For a man who spent most of his time dealing with grapes and vines, his interest certainly didn’t extend to flora and fauna. “No. Reds and purples.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re almost done.” And that was when her gaze skimmed past him to the notice just over his shoulder. It was an ad for an apartment.

  She initially dismissed it. But as she turned to walk away, she realized Enzo hadn’t given her any real reason to believe he was going to change his mind about keeping the estate. If she didn’t take this situation se
riously, she’d end up homeless again. Having gone through that situation once, she wasn’t about to let it happen again—especially when she was in a position to prevent it.

  She turned back and read the write-up again, paying attention to the details. One bedroom. Pets allowed. The thought of coming home to a dog or cat appealed to her. Her gaze latched on to the rent. It was affordable. Very affordable.

  When she realized the apartment was right above the florist, she knew she couldn’t leave here until she saw it. The posting said to inquire at the desk and that was exactly what she intended to do.

  “I’ll be back,” she said to Enzo.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see an apartment.” That was unless it was already taken. She hoped not because it fit in her tight budget. She had a decent amount in savings, but she really hated to rely on it to live. So modesty was the course of action until she secured a job. The next item on her to-do list.

  “An apartment? What apartment?”

  She didn’t stop to answer him. She was a lady on a mission. But she could hear his footsteps behind her. She came to a stop at the checkout counter. The young man who’d been waiting on her was gone, so he likely had stepped into the back.

  Enzo leaned close to her. “Why are you interested in an apartment?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Well, I know what you do with an apartment, but what I don’t understand is why you would want one here. I thought you’d return to Patazonia.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have any reason to return. My mother was my only family and now that she’s gone, I’m on my own. I like it here and I’ve made some contacts here in Florence. I’m hoping to be able to find a job here.”

  Enzo grew noticeably quiet. Did he feel bad that she had to search for a new home? It didn’t stop her from talking to the young man, who said the apartment was vacant. The sales clerk handed over the key and told them to head upstairs to have a look.

  And that was exactly what they did. The apartment wasn’t anything fancy, not at all. It was older and could use a fresh coat of paint, but it was clean and with a little work it could be cozy enough.

  “You know the kitchen faucet is going to need replaced,” Enzo pointed out.

  “I’ll mention it to the landlord.”

  “And the bedroom door sticks.”

  She didn’t say anything as Enzo continued to point out the apartment’s faults, but all she could see was its possibilities. She needed this to work out. She needed a plan—a way to move forward.

  There was a ledge above the kitchen sink where the morning sun would come in. There were small shelves on the walls of the living room where she could place the framed photo of her mother and a picture of her favorite spot by the stream on the Bartolini estate. Little by little she could put her personal stamp on the place, making it feel homey like...like the home she already had in Enzo’s guesthouse.

  Thoughts of leaving the estate made her sad. She couldn’t believe how quickly she’d felt so comfortable there. Maybe it was the country setting or maybe it was her handsome host. Her gaze moved to Enzo as he examined the closet. She was going to miss him—sharing meals with him, morning coffee out on the veranda and their talks.

  Tears rushed to her eyes. She blinked them away. She was not a crier, but ever since she’d learned she was losing her home and business, her emotions had been harder to conceal.

  “Are you ready to go?” Enzo asked.

  She gave the tiny apartment one more look, still not ready to commit to this new future. She nodded her head. “Let’s go home.”

  With the flowers collected and stowed in the car, Enzo drove them back to the vineyard while Sylvie stared out the window at the beautiful scenery. But it wasn’t the tall Cypress trees lining the road or the rolling hills that captured her attention; it was the war raging within her between sticking out her plan to convince Enzo to change his mind about the estate or cutting her losses and moving to Florence now. The sooner she got there, the sooner she’d accept the reality of her situation—she had no future with Enzo.

  She focused her thoughts on what was awaiting her in Florence. The location of the apartment was superb as it was in the heart of the city. And best of all, it was furnished. Old furniture, but it appeared to be well taken care of. All the money she’d save with the low rent and not having to buy furniture would help stretch her savings until she landed a job.

  But she also realized she’d been the one responsible for inviting the magazine to the estate. She had to stay and see this through until the end. And then she would move on—no matter how hard it would be for her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE BIG DAY had arrived.

  Praises and compliments were bandied about.

  But all Enzo could think about was the small apartment in Florence—where Sylvie was considering living. It was so much smaller than the house on this estate. And it needed a lot of work.

  He knew those were all excuses. The truth of the matter was he didn’t want her moving there. He didn’t want her to be so far away.

  And yet, he couldn’t ask her to stay here. Because soon, he would no longer own the estate. So what did that leave him? To ask her to move to France with him? Impossible. That would mean strings and commitments, things he was just now untangling himself from with the sale of the estate.

  “This is great.” The reporter, Jameson Asaro, seemed more interested in smiling at Sylvie than exploring the estate. “I think we have all we need of the villa and vineyard.”

  “Are you sure?” Sylvie asked.

  “You’ve been an excellent guide.” Jameson smiled once more at Sylvie. “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

  Color rose in Sylvie’s cheeks. “Thank you.”

  Unhappy with this conversation, Enzo cleared his throat as he made a point of checking the time on his wristwatch. It was definitely time to move this interview along.

  “You know, Enzo’s father built all of this,” Sylvie said. “Isn’t that right, Enzo?”

  He knew she was trying to get him to talk. He didn’t like this guy or the way he flirted with Sylvie. Still, Sylvie was looking at him expectantly. “Um, yes. That’s right. He inherited the land from my grandfather, but until that point, it was just wide-open space.” He pressed his hands to his trim waist. “This was all my father’s hard work.”

  The reporter made a note on his digital tablet. “But you have worked on the grapes, right?”

  “Yes. I’ve been instrumental in blending the grapes.”

  “How did you do that if you were living and working in France?”

  “I started the work before I moved to France. And though my father and his crew did the day-to-day maintenance, I came home periodically to oversee things.”

  “So you and your father must have worked closely together.”

  Enzo paused, recalling his time with his father. In the beginning his father wouldn’t listen to Enzo’s ideas. But as the years went by and Enzo gained more experience, his father would actually seek out his advice. It had been the greatest feeling in the world. “We did.”

  The reporter made a notation in his notes. “Then why move to France? Why not work here with your father?”

  “My father believed in everyone learning to be independent.”

  “So you were planning to return?”

  He didn’t like the direction of these questions. He never should have agreed to the interview. He didn’t want to dissect his life with his father. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d headed off on his own to learn as much as he could in order to return to the Barto Vineyard and make it bigger and better. And to one day have his father hand over the reins—trusting Enzo with what his father had created and worked his whole life to make thrive.

  “Yes.” Enzo’s voice rumbled with emotion. He slammed the
door on those memories. He swallowed hard. “We should get going.” He turned for the door. “I’ve arranged to give you a horseback tour of the estate. It’s the only true way to see the place.” He paused and turned back to them. “Do you ride?”

  * * *

  The reporter’s questions were opening doors to Enzo’s past.

  But would they be enough to change the course of the future?

  Sylvie’s breath caught as she waited to see how this would play out. Luckily, both men were agreeable to a horseback ride. She let out the pent-up breath.

  In the next breath it struck her that Enzo had planned the horseback tour on his own, without even consulting her. If he didn’t care about the estate and was so anxious to get rid of it, would he have gone to the bother? Would he have gone along with any of this?

  She didn’t think so. As they all got saddled up, she was smiling broadly. Enzo might not be willing to admit it, but he was attached to the estate. Talking about selling it and doing it were two totally different things. When it finally came down to putting pen to paper, she didn’t think he could do it.

  Once the reporter and photographer were seated on two of the most mellow horses in the stable, Sylvie mounted Duchess at the same time Enzo climbed on Emperor. Off they went. Enzo took the lead and she was curious where he would lead them. It didn’t take her long to figure out he was leading them to her favorite spot, next to the stream.

  “You own all of this land?” the reporter asked.

  “Yes.” Enzo didn’t expound upon the answer.

  Sylvie had taken up the rear, sandwiching their two visitors in between so no one got lost, because there was a lot of land out here in which to wander off in the wrong direction.

  “It’s very picturesque.” Sylvie admired the passing scenery. “I love to come out here when I have time just to take in the quiet beauty and unwind.”

  “How long have you worked here?” Jameson asked.