The Correttis (Books 1-8). Кейт Хьюит

p.m. and they had been too busy working to stop and take advantage of the catering. Now, all Ella wanted to do was to order something from room service, or…She looked over to Santo as they walked through the foyer. Perhaps they could have dinner and talk about the scenes tomorrow, or perhaps—Ella took a deep breath—they could simply talk.

      ‘So am I.’ She was beyond conflicted, wavering as to the choice she had earlier made. Santo would do nothing to jeopardise this film over something that might happen between them. And he was right—she was not her mother. She was so much stronger than that. ‘Maybe we could…’ She paused as his phone rang, waited while he took the call.

      ‘Sorry about that.’ His expression was grim when he came off the phone. ‘Right, I’ll see you in the morning. We start at six.’

      ‘Sure.’ Ella took a deep breath. ‘I might get something to eat in the restaurant, if they’re still taking orders.’

      ‘Of course they are,’ Santo said. ‘I told them we would not be finished filming till late. They are being very good—they understand the odd hours.’ His phone bleeped again, and his teeth gritted. ‘Enjoy your dinner.’ He dismissed her and, now she had said where she was going, Ella had no choice but to head into the restaurant. She told herself she was a working woman and there was nothing to be embarrassed about asking for a table for one, but all she felt was awkward. There was Vince, but he was engrossed in conversation with another of the actors and it was clear there was some serious flirting going on. Just when Ella had ordered, just when she had decided it wasn’t so bad after all, in walked Santo, still talking on his phone. She smiled as he walked towards her, but the smile disappeared when he returned it and then promptly walked past her.

      Ella couldn’t believe he’d take things that literally, would have them sit alone rather than share a meal, but as Marianna came in, Ella realised that Santo had no intention to eat alone.

      It was work, Ella told herself as she twisted pasta around her fork and tried not to hear their talk and laughter. It was exactly the same as she and Santo had done, in many hotels on many occasions, she told herself.

      But did it take a bottle of wine to go through his diary?

      It really was a hell of her own making, Ella told herself over and over through the coming days.

      On a shoot it was a small closed world, but not even that could filter out the whispers and rumours that abounded about the Correttis. Ella watched as Santo read a newspaper, one that announced that the cousins were firmly divided, that Carlo’s children were having nothing to do with Benito’s, and that they were going to offer a counterproposal against Santo’s half-brother, Angelo, who had the full weight of Battaglia behind him. Ella knew it must be killing him, knew the effect that it would be having on Teresa too.

      Yet, unless it was relevant to the movie, Santo gave her not so much as a word as to what was going on in his life.

      His usually smiling face was closed now, his eyes constantly hidden behind dark glasses, but Ella could see the tension in his lips, could hear the impatience in his words as he endlessly spoke on the phone. She loathed that at one point, as they were discussing the next scene, Marianna came over and asked if she could have a word with him.

      ‘In private…’ Marianna said and then switched to Italian. ‘Familia.’

      Ella watched as Marianna drew him aside, watched as Santo’s features paled and his fingers moved to his neck, pulling at the top he was wearing as he did when rarely he was anxious. Then he reached for his phone.

      ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked at the first opportunity. They were back at the hotel and heading up to their rooms, but instead of pressing the button for her room, Ella tried to speak with him.

      ‘Of course,’ Santo said. ‘It went well today. The whole crew seems happier.’

      ‘I meant…’ She took a deep breath. ‘With you? Have you heard from Alessandro?’

      ‘Ella, I thought we agreed that we were talking only about work.’

      ‘Santo, I know that something’s wrong.’

      ‘And?’ He glared. ‘As I said, you can’t pick and choose what bits of me you have. You want professional, then here I am. You are the one who said we can’t be both. Now, did you want to speak about the movie?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get ready to go to dinner.’ The lift was at his floor and Santo stepped out, but Ella followed him.

      ‘Santo, please,’ Ella said. ‘I made a mistake. I thought if we just concentrated on work till after shooting, then it would be better for the movie.’

      ‘And now you’ve changed your mind?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And will you change it again tomorrow?’ Santo said nastily. ‘Will you go back on your sex strike, because this is not a nice game, Ella.’

      ‘I’m not trying to play games.’

      ‘I have done everything you ask of me. I have never pushed you to do anything that you don’t want to do, but you signed out of this, Ella. I know things have been bad for you, but right now things are bad for me. That’s fine, I’ll wear it. I can deal with tough times—though it could have been a hell of a lot better with your support. But you were the one who chose separate rooms and not to be there. So now, if you will excuse me, I would like some dinner.’

      ‘Can I join you then?’

      ‘I already have company tonight,’ Santo said.

      ‘Marianna?’

      ‘Of course.’ He shrugged. ‘I have more to sort out than just this film at the moment.’ And she was determined not to go there, to just say nothing, but the words blazed from her eyes and, without hesitation, Santo answered them.

      ‘What?’ He wasn’t Sicilian for nothing. His words were harsh and direct. ‘Is she too good-looking for me to eat with?’ Santo demanded. ‘If I hire only ugly people will you trust me then?’ He looked at her for a long time. ‘You know, I don’t think you ever will.’

      ‘Do you blame me?’ She just stood there. ‘I’ve seen you in action, I know better than anyone….’

      ‘No.’ He walked right up to her face. ‘Don’t try to turn this on me. The fact that you will never trust me has nothing to do with me or my reputation, because you haven’t even given us a chance, not one. The fact is you don’t want to trust.’ Santo said. ‘We could be stuck on a desert island and there would still be a problem.’

      He could see tears in her eyes and the burn on her cheeks as his words hit home, because he was right. It wasn’t Santo with some irredeemable past that was halting her. Ella didn’t actually know if she was capable of a full-blown relationship, did not know how to love and be fully, properly, completely loved back.

      ‘You deny us even a chance.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Yes,’ Santo said. ‘You made it very clear right from the start that you wanted no relationship with me. You set the tone, so don’t blame me for meeting it. Don’t blame me for respecting the distance that you insisted upon.’ He raised his finger, to make a point in the way that every Italian man did. He watched her flinch, watched her head snap to the left, and his breathing came harder. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You think now that I would hit you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Yes.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘I will not take the blame for him—I will not take the shame for him. you are as trapped as your mother,’ Santo said. ‘You might be on the other side of the world to him, but really, you have never left home.’

      Santo could not have been more insulted.

      ‘I go now and eat with a grown-up.’

      CHAPTER