A Legacy of Secrets - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,29

know...’ God, but she hated the word. ‘Issues...’

And where most men would run Santo was over in a flash. He moved his chair right beside her and wrapped an arm around. ‘Tell me.’

‘No!’ She did not want his arm, did not want a man who was so comfortable in his own skin that he could sit in a restaurant and not care who saw, nor one who thought she could discuss such things.

‘I’ll tell you mine.’

‘No.’ She was not going to let him make her smile.

‘I’ve got hundreds of them,’ Santo said, and yes, he made her smile. Then he was terribly kind. ‘But right now, my main issue is you.’

‘We’ve got to head over to the set.’

‘I’ll say when we go.’

‘I can’t talk about it.’

‘You could.’

‘No.’ Ella shook her head. She didn’t have to explain her choices to him, except she found herself trying to. ‘You don’t talk about things you don’t want to, you don’t discuss your family.’

‘You know my family are...’ He didn’t finish and she looked over, watched his hand move to the collar of his shirt as he struggled to come up with a suitable answer, but Ella found it for him.

‘You’re a Corretti,’ Ella said. ‘So your troubles are far darker and far more serious than mine could ever be.’

‘Yes.’

‘I was being sarcastic, Santo.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘And so was I, but what I’m trying to tell you is that there is little that hasn’t happened in my family. My nonno, Salvatore, started with nothing and died one of Sicily’s most powerful men, so yes, there are things that I cannot talk about. His sons—my father, Carlo, and his brother, Benito...’ Santo stopped then. ‘You know what they say about loose lips...’

‘Speaking of ships...’ She went to tell him about an arrangement for the film but he stopped her.

‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘I am changing it, Santo, because in being so open about your family and issues, you’ve told me precisely nothing.’

‘I’m trying to let you know that you can tell me if you want to,’ he said. ‘And if you can’t, that is fine, but you are never to spend a night like that alone again when I am a short elevator ride away.’

‘Santo...’ Someone was calling out to him, telling him it was time to head off, but he called over his shoulder that he would catch up with them there.

‘Do you understand me?’

‘Sometimes it’s better to be on your own.’

‘You prefer what you went through last night to making love with me?’ He kissed her temple. ‘Then you are mad.’

‘Sex isn’t the answer to everything.’

‘It’s a good one though,’ he said. ‘It works very well for me. But if you want to continue with your sex strike, still we can talk.’ He stood, offered his hand. ‘Come on, we can walk to the set.’

‘It will take too long.’

‘They can wait for me,’ Santo said with all the arrogance of someone who knew that the world would. He handed her back her sunglasses as they stepped outside and he was the nicest company, pointed out villages as they walked down the hillside.

‘My mum’s from there,’ Ella said, wondering if it was being here that had upset her and perhaps brought it all to a head. ‘I’ve got aunts there.’

‘Are you going to visit?’

‘Maybe after we finish shooting.’

‘Don’t tell them you work for me then,’ he nudged. ‘They will warn you.’

‘I already know your reputation.’

‘Not me,’ Santo said, ‘my family.’ He pointed yonder. ‘My nonna lives over there. There is a lot of history, a lot of enemies have been made. Ours is not always a good name.’ He gave her another nudge. ‘Issues.’ But this time it didn’t make her smile and for the first time Santo knew he couldn’t just joke his way out of things, that her silence was perhaps a demand for something more, something he had never given. Except he looked at her swollen lips and thought of her eyes puffy behind the glasses. If he wanted more, then Santo realised he had first to give.

‘My father and his brother were killed in a warehouse fire.’ He wasn’t telling her any great secret. It had been the talk of Sicily then and still was at times. ‘That is when my grandfather divided everything up.’

‘When the warring started?’

‘Oh, it started long before that,’ Santo admitted. ‘My father and Benito were always rivals, Salvatore saw to that.’

‘You call him Salvatore?’

‘I call him both,’ Santo said. ‘You don’t really sit through business