that where you met your friends?”
“Si. For different reasons, Takis and Cesare came to the States from Greece and Sicily to study and work. Like me, they wanted to make a lot of money. This seminar that brought us together was a complete revelation to the three of us. We grew close, and they went on to become wealthy, highly successful hotel and restaurant entrepreneurs.”
“As did you. Why was this professor so effective?”
“No particular reason except he was brilliant. We learned it wasn’t good enough to want to make money. You’ve got to know how to get it, how to deal with brokers, renovate, assess the value of property, how to buy, sell and secure a mortgage. He sounded just like my grandfather.”
“Was that period of your life good for you?”
“Very good in some ways. Our mentor drummed into our heads how to cut costs, decide how much risk to assume in investments and balance our portfolios in order to impress anyone. His final rule was ingrained on my psyche. ‘You must find out if your friends can be loyal.’”
“You and your partners must be very close.”
“I trust them implicitly. That means everything. When I brought them together with my idea to buy the castello, I hadn’t seen either of them in at least two months and had missed them. They got excited when I showed them pictures.”
“There’s no place like it.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “After the pain you and Dimi endured at the hands of your fathers, I’m glad you’ve found friends like that.”
“So am I.”
“When I met them, I didn’t know they were owners and your partners. Both of them have made me feel comfortable. Some of the people in the culinary world are hard to deal with, but your friends aren’t stuffy or full of themselves.”
“So you like them?”
“I do. They have a lot of charm and sophistication. Before I knew what was going on, I thought that whoever owned this hotel knew what they were doing to employ them.”
“They’re the best, and they’ll be pleased when I pass on what you said.”
She cocked her head. “Do you mind answering another question for me?”
“Ask away.”
“You may not be married yet, but is there someone waiting for you to return to New York?”
Vincenzo was in a mood to tell her the whole truth. “Yes and no.”
He saw her swallow. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been away from Annette five weeks this time. Yesterday on the phone she told me I sounded different. She wanted to know why. I told her about the Italian girl I fell in love with in my youth, the girl I hadn’t seen or heard from in ten years until two days ago.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, he heard a moan pass her lips.
“I explained that meeting you was a complete accident. Annette wanted to know more. All I could tell her was that a big portion of my past had just caught up with me and I was still reeling. I know she wanted more reassurance, but I couldn’t give it to her.”
She averted her eyes.
“What about you, Gemma? There has to be someone in your life.” He braced himself for what might be coming.
“I dated a little after moving to Florence. But the only important relationship I had with a man was a year ago.”
The blood pounded in his ears. “Did you love him?”
“I tried. My feelings for Paolo were different than those for you, but I felt an attraction. He was a writer for Buon Appetito, a nationwide food magazine, and had covered the school for an article. His interview with me turned into a date, and we started seeing each other.
“After a month he wanted me to sleep with him. I thought about it, hoping it would help me forget you, but in the end I couldn’t do it. He was very upset, so I told him I couldn’t go out with him anymore because it wouldn’t be fair to him. He accused me of loving someone else even though I’d told him there’d been no important man in my life for years.”
Vincenzo’s breath caught. He’d hoped for honesty from her and her confession brought out his most tender feelings. He now had his answer to why she’d come to this particular restaurant tonight. Her ache for him had grown worse, too. They suffered from the same pain.
“Paolo said he wanted to marry me, but I told him no because I didn’t love him the way he needed to be loved. I couldn’t even sleep with him. For both our sakes, I knew we had to stop seeing each other and get on with our separate lives. I’d lost my heart to the man I’d grown up with.”
“Gemma...”
“After this long, it had to be unbearable to relive the ugly truth of your family’s tragedy to me tonight, Vincenzo. Thank you for your courage, for forcing me to listen to the last page in the book. You were right. I needed to hear the ending so I can let go of my anger. Now I can close it.”
This intimacy with Gemma, the knowledge that all the secrets were out, had changed his world forever. They’d been brought together again, and he loved her with every fiber of his being. The rush of knowing she’d been the constant heart in their relationship filled every empty space in his soul.
He grasped both her hands, ignited by the desire to be her everything. “Since we’re past the age of eighteen, I have a simple solution to our problem that has been out there for the last ten years.”
“What are you saying?”
“Marry me, Gemma.”
With those words, everything changed in an instant.
A stillness seemed to envelope the room. Her complexion took on a distinct pallor that revealed more than she would ever know.
“A duca doesn’t wed the cook.”
Somehow he hadn’t expected that response. He’d thought that because a miracle had brought them together at last, they’d gotten past every obstacle. After baring his soul to her, Vincenzo couldn’t sit there any longer knowing she was more entrenched in that old world than he would have believed. She still saw him as the son of the evil duca. Like father, like son?
Cut to the quick, he let go of her hands and got to his feet. “This duca won’t be a duca much longer. Enjoy the rest of your evening, bellissima.”
He flew out of her flat to his car. As he accelerated down the road, he could hear her calling to him in the distance, but he didn’t stop. After believing that telling her the truth would make them free to love each other as man and wife, the opposite had happened.
A duca doesn’t wed the cook. The words that came out of her had been so cold, it frightened him. He felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his world once more. But by the time he’d pulled up to the front of the castello, his sanity had returned.
Vincenzo should have been ready for that automatic response—after all, Gemma had learned it from her mother at a very early age. He’d known how Mirella had always tried to guide Gemma and put distance between them because they were from different classes. But tonight his heart had been so full, he couldn’t take the answer she’d thrown back at him.
The class divide was a more serious obstacle to a future with her than anything else. He planned to deal with that issue soon, but first he needed to leave for New York and take care of vital business. When he returned, he’d be able to concentrate on Gemma and their future. Because they were going to have one!
* * *
No sooner had Vincenzo gone than Gemma’s phone rang. But she was so fragmented after her conversation with him, she ran into the other room and flung herself across the bed. Great heaving sobs poured out of her.
Something was wrong