A Moment on the Lips - By Kate Hardy Page 0,52

a wish,’ Carenza said.

Yeah. And he knew what he would wish for.

But he saw their faces round the table, all full of hope—and he remembered all the times his mother had a black eye or a tooth knocked out or a broken arm. All given to her by the man who was supposed to love her. The man who’d made those vows in front of their joined families. Nella gioia e nel dolore, nella salute e nella malattia. In joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness. Except his father had been the one to cause the sorrow and the sickness.

E di amarti e onorarti tutti i giorni della mia vita. And to love you and honour you, all the days of my life. His father had broken that vow, too.

And the wish turned to ashes in Dante’s head.

He’d inherited his father’s genes. So it followed that, even if he started with all the good intentions in the world, he could end up hurting Carenza, the same way his father had hurt his mother. And he really couldn’t take that risk. For both their sakes.

‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ Gianna said.

‘I’m fine,’ he fibbed.

‘You work too hard.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘And, knowing you, you’re trying to catch up with the work you didn’t do when you were in Paris. Even though Carenza says Mariella moved all your meetings so you’re not actually behind at all.’

‘I’m fine, Mamma,’ he repeated, and forced himself to smile. ‘It’s Fiorella’s bedtime. Let me do the washing up, and then I’ll leave you in peace.’

‘No, it’s your birthday and you’re not washing up today.’

‘Will you let me wash up?’ Carenza asked.

‘No, tesoro,’ Gianna said with a smile. ‘Thank you, but it’s fine.’ She gave Dante a pointed look, and he knew that if he didn’t offer to give Carenza a lift, his mother would nag him about it for weeks.

‘Can I give you a lift home, Carenza?’ Dante asked politely.

‘On the bike?’ she asked.

He couldn’t help smiling, then. ‘My mother banned me from riding the bike here.’

‘Because it’s dangerous,’ Gianna interjected.

Dante rolled his eyes. ‘It’s as safe as a car.’

‘Not the way you drive, it isn’t.’

He shrugged. ‘I hate waiting in queues. It’s more efficient than a car. But tonight, to keep my mother happy, I’m using a taxi. And your flat’s on my way home, Carenza, so if you’d like a lift?’

‘Thank you.’

He rang the taxi firm he normally used, and Carenza read Fiorella another story until the taxi arrived. His mother insisted on giving them both neatly wrapped parcels of cake; after hugging everyone goodbye, Dante and Carenza climbed into the back of the taxi.

She reached out to take his hand. ‘You’re really tense. What’s wrong?’

Everything. ‘Nothing,’ he said through gritted teeth.

To his relief, she didn’t push it.

When the taxi pulled up outside her flat, she smiled at him. ‘It’s not that late. Would you like to come up for coffee?’

‘That’s not a good idea, Princess.’

‘Are you angry with me for gatecrashing your birthday dinner?’

‘No.’ He was angry with himself. ‘Anyway, you didn’t gatecrash. My mother invited you.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Just leave it, Caz. Please. I’ll see you later.’

‘OK. Ciao.’

He made the taxi wait until she was safely inside, then headed for home. His head was pounding and that tightness was back in his chest. Well, tough. Nobody said that life was fair or that you could get what you wanted. And what he wanted had to stay off limits. For Carenza’s sake as well as his own.

On Friday morning, as promised, the painting arrived from the Parisian gallery.

Dante decided to give it to Carenza the next evening, when they met for their usual mentoring session. But the parcel disturbed him all day, looming in the corner of his office. Tempting. Giving him an excuse to see her.

In the middle of the afternoon, he gave in and called her. ‘Are you busy, this evening?’

‘I’m playing with ice cream recipes—but I could do with a taste-tester, if you want to come over.’

‘I’d like that. What time?’

‘Eight?’ she suggested.

‘I’ll bring pizza with me—Mario’s marinara is the best in Naples.’

‘That’d be good. I’ll see you tonight, then.’

Carenza wondered just why Dante wanted to see her tonight. She couldn’t help the flutter of excitement down her spine; they’d grown much closer in Paris, so did he want to see her for herself and not the business?

Then again, given how he’d reacted that morning to the possibility of her being pregnant, and