The Correttis (Books 1-8). Кейт Хьюит

awful,’ Ella said. ‘She’s incredibly confident, treated me like I was her secretary, wanted to only deal directly with you. She refused to give an inch when I tried to pin her for a time to come in for an interview.’ Ella rolled her eyes. ‘To sum up, I think she’ll be perfect for the job.’

      ‘I thought I already had perfect.’

      He glanced over and reluctantly she smiled. ‘No, we both know that you didn’t.’ Maybe it was because Santo was so open and honest, that in this, Ella found that she was able to be. ‘I’m not tough enough.’

      ‘I don’t always like tough.’

      ‘I’m not…’ She didn’t really know how to say it, how to admit just how much it all had hurt her. ‘I don’t think Marianna will sulk if you don’t send her flowers.’

      ‘So you were sulking.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘What else is Marianna good at?’

      ‘Multi-tasking apparently.’ She looked out of the window at the ocean and the beauty of the day and hated her melancholy, hated that she hadn’t been able to play by the rules and happily tumble in bed with him without adding her heart to the equation. ‘She’d probably be taking dictation now and giving you a quick hand-job as she did so.’ Ella turned to the sound of his laughter, realised she was smiling now too, because that was how he made her feel. Yes, it was so good to get out.

      He pulled the car over and he just smiled as she sat there blushing, as the best lover in the world, as the man she had so foolishly thought she could bear to lose, cupped her face.

      ‘I walked into a storm that morning—I lost my director, I had stuff going on with my family, I had my brother out at sea.’

      ‘I know, I know.’

      ‘But when I knew you were arriving I did arrange flowers,’ Santo said. ‘I had them sent to the room, the same room that you took one look at and left. And I organised dinner—I really wanted to tell you how much our time together had meant, how I was looking forward to seeing you, how it killed not ring—’ He looked at her for the longest time. ‘Who hurt you?’ He saw her rapid blink. ‘Is there an ex-husband?’ He saw her frown.

      ‘Of course not.’

      ‘What do you mean “of course”?’ Santo said. ‘I know nothing about you, Ella. What I do know I could write on a Post-it note. I know your parents are together, that there are no brothers or sisters, that your mother is from here.’ He saw the well of tears in the bottom of her eyes. ‘That the sex was like nothing I have ever known, but I don’t know you….’

      ‘You’re my boss, you don’t need—’

      ‘I’m your lover!’ He almost shouted it. ‘Get it into your head.’

      ‘For how long though…’ She hated the neediness, but it was the truth, because he was telling her to open up to him, to give him more than sex, and she was terrified to.

      ‘Who knows?’ He was completely honest. ‘But if we can’t talk, then not for much longer.’

      ‘You don’t talk about the stuff that troubles you.’

      ‘I’ve tried more than you,’ Santo said.

      ‘Santo, I don’t tell anyone…’ She was close to panic now. ‘I don’t share myself with anyone and I’m not going to start pouring my heart out to you.’

      ‘You will.’ The view was more stunning than the ocean behind him—his eyes so intense, the passion blazing—and she was there in his spotlight now. He would strip her bare and she was petrified, not just of it ending, but of the togetherness too. She could simply not envisage sharing herself so completely with another, of trusting another. ‘Tell and kiss.’ She could feel the warmth of his skin so close and she teased his translation, just as he did to her.

      ‘It’s kiss and tell.’

      ‘No.’ His eyes were open. Santo had made up his mind and he moved back and started the engine. ‘It’s tell and kiss.’ And as he drove off, as always he made her smile. He took her hand and placed it in his lap. ‘Though, of course, I don’t mind a woman who can multi-task.’

      ‘Ha, ha…’ She took back her hand.

      They had been out for a couple of hours and he knew no more than he had when she had opened her hotel door.

      ‘What was it like?’ He turned to her question. ‘I mean, back there, in the café. People were nervous just to see you….’

      ‘That is because I would rarely go there, but here…’ He nodded ahead. ‘They are more used to us. This is where my nonna lives.’

      ‘But what was it like?’

      It was Santo who couldn’t answer. He could see his grandparents’ house, huge and imposing and the keeper of so many secrets.

      ‘Have you seen today’s papers?’ He didn’t wait for her response, he knew that she had. ‘There is far more to come. Always it is about power—that is how it is, that is how you are taught—but sometimes you just want to walk in a café and have coffee.’ Ella nodded. ‘That is why I like being on set—I am just Santo there. Of course, there are a few awkward looks today, given what has been said in the newspapers about my mother. I just have to wear it. Battaglia is determined to crush us and will stop at nothing—so now he makes sure that every piece of filth he can find ends up in the papers.’ He looked at Ella. ‘There is a lot of filth.’

      There was, Santo knew that, but there was a lot of good too, and somehow he wanted to show her that. But there was something he, too, had been putting off for a while, something that might be easier with Ella by his side.

      ‘Now,’ Santo said, ‘I take you where I have taken no woman before.’ He glanced over to see her wide-eyed reaction. ‘My nonna’s.’

      ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

      ‘Probably not.’ Santo shrugged. ‘She will have us married off in her mind the moment we walk in there, but I really ought to visit her. She will be very upset with all that is going on in the family and she is worried about Alessandro too, as well as mourning her husband. She never really got over losing her sons….’ He was pensive for a moment. ‘You know, for all that the cousins do not get on, for all the arguments, the one thing that unites us is our love for her—she is a good woman.’ Perhaps Ella’s silence spoke volumes, for Santo turned his head in instant defence. ‘She is.’

      ‘Of course,’ came Ella guarded response. Salvatore Corretti’s reputation was legendary, and if Ella knew a little of what had gone on to get there, then absolutely his wife must have known a whole lot more.

      ‘Her family hated that she married him,’ Santo explained a little, ‘but she loved him, and turned a blind eye to all that he got up to.’

      Ella bit down on her lip in an effort not to voice her thoughts.

      ‘Sometimes it is easier to, perhaps…’ Santo said.

      ‘Or simply more convenient.’ Ella could not stay silent on this. ‘I’m sorry, Santo. I’m trying not to judge your nonna—I haven’t met her after all—but I don’t buy that turn a blind eye excuse.’

      ‘And I am not asking you to.’ He saw her tense profile. ‘I’m just letting you know, before we go in there, that these past years have been very hard on her. These are exceptionally difficult times, so just…’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      As they approached Ella was both nervous and excited to be meeting such a legend. It was like being invited backstage and the chance to meet the matriarch of this family was just too good to pass up. But as they walked towards the house she could see Santo’s strained face.

      ‘I’m not going to say anything that might offend her.’

      ‘I