The Correttis (Books 1-8). Кейт Хьюит

denying his words, rather than defending herself to herself, instead she saw the hurt in his eyes, the absolute offence taken by Santo, and she didn’t blame him a bit.

      It wasn’t that she didn’t want to trust him, more that Ella simply didn’t know how to, had found it far safer to hide behind her career and excuses rather than take a chance with a relationship.

      It didn’t feel such a safe place now. It felt empty, and worse, it felt selfish. Ella knew that she hadn’t been there for Santo, hadn’t shared in the tough times with him, and because of that, she might have blown their slim chance.

      Why the hell had she had to go and fall in love with Santo though? Of all the billions of people on the globe, how had someone with major trust issues ended up with a man as wickedly bad as Santo? Ella even gave a wry smile to the heavens at the cruel lesson they had sent her, but then jumped when her phone rang. Now she wasn’t Santo’s PA, it was unusually quiet, but she jolted again when she heard who it was.

      ‘Mum?’ It was the first time her mother had rung her since she had started off on her travels. ‘Is everything okay?’

      ‘Everything is fine,’ Gabriella said. ‘Well, the same,’ she corrected. ‘But I waited till your father was asleep so that I could speak to you.’

      ‘Has something happened?’

      ‘I miss you,’ Gabriella said. ‘It seems strange to know that you are there. What have you been doing?’

      And Ella told her—not about the promotion, more the news her mother would be stunned to hear.

      ‘You ate dinner with Teresa Corretti? Ella, you must be careful.’ She sounded terrified. ‘Do not tell your aunts.’

      ‘Mum, she’s a lovely lady and I don’t think their name is all bad now. All the locals are watching the filming and seem really excited—’

      ‘What did you eat?’ Gabriella interrupted and it was actually a nice conversation. She told her about the food, and yes, her mother asked about the furniture. ‘She gave me some olive oil to send you.’

      ‘She gave you that for me?’

      ‘She said you would miss it.’

      ‘I do.’

      There was a very long silence and then Gabriella revealed the real reason she had rung.

      ‘Ella, I am so sorry.’

      ‘Mum…’ She was about to tell her to stop, but wasn’t that what she scorned her mother for, for not talking about things, for just closing off?

      ‘I should never have asked you to cover up for him, but I was scared. If we told the police, what would happen afterwards? You were right to get away and you are right to not want to speak with him. I will never ask you to again.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      How she’d needed to hear her mother say sorry and they spoke some more, cried some more. As Ella hung up on her mother, she knew that there was someone she had to say sorry to herself.

      Properly though.

      Except he was at dinner, and it really would be poor form to disturb, so Ella texted instead, asked if she could speak with him, that it didn’t matter what time.

      Ella wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer.

      She’d hurt him, offended him, and she knew that Santo was incredibly proud.

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      HE WAS SCOWLING and completely unapproachable on set the next morning, arms crossed. He was talking with Luca, one of his cousins, and the conversation didn’t look as if it was pretty, but Ella tried to focus on Taylor.

      ‘We’re going to zoom in to a close-up,’ Ella said to Taylor. ‘Just go for it, but anything we can’t get today, we’ll get in the studio. I’m not going to be asking you to do this over and over. Just give it all you’ve got now.’

      As Taylor headed off for a touch-up of hair and make-up, she glanced over to the dark brooding shadow of Santo. Luca was nowhere to be seen now. The cameras were all set up and ready and, even if she was dreading it, even if this might prove the most embarrassing moment of her life, still she had to face him—had to tell Santo that it wasn’t a game she’d been playing, that she’d just not been able to stick to a playboy’s rules.

      She walked over to him, and even with dark glasses on, she could feel his eyes telling her to back off. He was leaning on a trailer, arms folded, and he said nothing as she walked over.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ God, it was a very hard thing to say when you absolutely meant it. ‘I am so sorry. I know how much I insulted you yesterday. I know that you would never hit me.’

      Still he said nothing. It was like talking to a cardboard cut-out of him because his face never moved, his body was still. The effusive, expressive Santo was lost to her now and she wanted him back.

      ‘I spoke to my mum last night and I realised you are right. I have been holding back.’ Ella took a deep breath. ‘I’ve liked you for a very long time,’ she admitted. ‘A lot, and yes, I was jealous even if I didn’t want to admit that I was. And because I know that you don’t do long-term, I knew that by sleeping with you I’d be pretty much writing my own resignation. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to work alongside you if you were with someone else.’ She wished he would speak but, when he did, she wished that he hadn’t.

      ‘You assume so much.’

      Santo looked at her from behind his dark glasses. Not once had she even hinted that his lifestyle bothered her—irritated her, maybe. He had heard the barbs. He thought of the cards he had had her dictate to the florist. Except there had been none in recent months, for the familiar, well-used lines had stopped coming so readily. Jewellery was a far easier option with a quick, simple line about matching her eyes…

      And Ella had written them.

      ‘It was a lot more than sex to me and I didn’t want you to know how I felt, but now you do.’

      ‘Taylor’s taking her place.’

      ‘Santo…’

      ‘Get to work, Ella.’

      She was shaking as she walked away from him. She had told him everything and he had given her nothing back.

      Not everything.

      Ella knew she hadn’t been completely open with him—but how? She wasn’t about to play the sympathy card. She’d declined the chance to talk to him on too many occasions. It wasn’t exactly fair to demand that right back now.

      ‘Ready?’ Ella checked in with her leading lady.

      ‘You want to take my place?’ Taylor asked when she saw Ella’s brimming eyes.

      ‘Right now, I probably could,’ Ella admitted, ‘except it wouldn’t be acting.’

      ‘If I get this right you can buy me a drink tonight,’ Taylor offered. ‘And I’ll lend you an ear.’

      Taylor did get it right.

      Whatever place Taylor took her head to, she was in agony and it was a privilege to watch. To witness her pure pain. There was no question that Vince would be drawn to her. Absolutely the viewer would understand why the characters would make love on the beach a few minutes later. Ella almost wanted to tell Taylor to stop, to breathe, because even though Taylor was hardly making a noise, it was clear she was broken.

      Her eyes were screwed closed against tears that squeezed out, her lips were pressed tight and there was this river of pain building. She was locked in hell, just as Santo had been that morning where she had found him crying in the bath.

      It hit her then.

      She remembered the tears that Santo had shed that morning, the hell he had been in, all they had shared. It had been, she