The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2) by Carol Marinelli (reading books for 4 year olds .txt) 📗

‘Hardly an accident,’ Gian retorted, and she heard a trace of bitterness to his tone. ‘With the amount of alcohol and class-A drugs my family consumed, I think it could be called inevitable.’

Ariana was stunned.

She had heard whispers, of course, like little jigsaw pieces of scandal that had been gathered together over dinners and parties, but all too soon scooped up and put away. But now it was Gian himself putting the pieces together and giving her a glimpse.

‘They were renewing their wedding vows?’ Ariana checked.

God, she was persistent. Perhaps it was the emotion of the day, but he found that tonight he didn’t mind. ‘Yes. It sounds romantic, doesn’t it, like the Duke and Fiordelise, but the truth is it was an excuse for a party. They renewed their vows every couple of years,’ Gian said drily. ‘They would fight, they would make up, they would say never again... I got off the hamster wheel and left before then. I was at university, studying architecture. I was asleep in the residences...’

‘You didn’t live at La Fiordelise then?’

‘God, no.’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘I was more than happy to leave it all behind. Luna came with the police and woke me...’

‘Luna worked for your parents?’

‘She was actually working her notice,’ Gian said. ‘They had been late again paying her and she had resigned, but after they died Luna said she would stay until things were more stable.’ Gian gave her a tight smile. ‘Fifteen years later, she still reminds me on occasion that she is working her notice.’ He shook his head and closed the subject.

Except Ariana wanted to prise it back open. ‘Tell me...’

‘Tell you what?’

‘How you felt when they died?’

‘As I told you, I barely knew them.’

‘They were your parents, your brother...’

‘Just leave it,’ he warned. ‘Ariana, I respect your boundaries. Why can’t you respect mine?’

‘Because I want to know you some more...’

He kept right on walking, though a little faster than before. ‘Wait...’ Ariana said, and grabbed his coat to slow him down, except her hand found its way back into his. ‘I’m sorry for pushing. I just wonder...’ she didn’t know how best to say it ‘...when the grief goes?’

‘I can’t answer that,’ Gian admitted. ‘I grieved for them long before they died.’ He should close it there, but her hand was warm and he sensed she would walk for ever just to hear some more. ‘Eduardo and I were both repulsed by their ways. He was older, the one who would look out for me when I was small, make sure my nanny was paid, that sort of thing...’

She stayed silent in the hope he would continue and her reward was great, for he revealed more.

‘Then he took up their ways and I ended up looking out for him.’

Still she stayed silent but she felt the grip of his hand tighten and it seemed like the darkness of his truth guided her through her own pain.

‘I found Eduardo one morning; I thought he was dead. I couldn’t rouse my parents. The hotel doctor came and for all the hell of that morning, by that evening the incident was forgotten.’

Now she spoke. ‘Not by you.’

‘Never by me,’ Gian said. ‘It happened several times again. I said to Eduardo one day, “I won’t always be there to save you.” And it was then that I stopped...’

‘Stopped what?’ Ariana asked.

‘I can’t answer that,’ Gian admitted. ‘And I’m not being evasive, I just...’ He shrugged. ‘Stopped.’

Ariana stopped asking, which he was grateful for, because revelations like these were hard.

He had stopped...not loving, not caring, just stopped all feelings.

Stopped hoping for change.

Stopped trying to control their chaos.

‘I like order,’ he admitted, and looked over at her. ‘Why do you smile?’

‘Because it’s hardly a revelation. I know you like order, Gian.’

‘You know too much,’ he said, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as they walked.

It was a tiny kiss, but when it came from Gian, it felt as if he had just picked her up and carried her.

It felt so perfect that she actually let out a little laugh and touched her head to feel where his lips had just pressed, for her scalp tingled. ‘You’re crazy, Ariana,’ he told her.

‘A bit.’

It was unexpected bliss on the saddest of nights, to be walking on a cold Rome night, hand in hand, along Piazza d’Arecoli, their breaths blowing white in the night air. Ariana had run out of words, and she was terrified that he might drop her hand.

His hand was warm and it was so unexpected and so nice and just everything she needed tonight.

Gian too was pondering the light weight of her fingers that wrapped around his and how, on the near-empty street, when they could easily walk apart, they were strolling like this.

It was Ariana Romano.

She’s a friend, he told himself.

He was simply doing what any friend would.

Except he did not have friendships of this type.

And he never confided in anyone, yet he just had.

Still holding hands, they took the stairs and there before them, ever beautiful, was the Altar of the Fatherland. Soldiers stood guarding the tomb of the unknown soldier and Ariana knew she should guard her own heart with the same attention and care.

‘Oh,’ she gasped as they took in the altar of the goddess of Rome.

His stomach growled and he turned her to face him. There were tired streaks of mascara, like delicate lace, smudged on her cheeks. Her mouth, rarely devoid of lipstick, was swollen from days of tears. She smiled briefly and it lit up her face for a moment. He wanted to capture it, to frame it and hold onto it—and he did so with his hands.

She felt the brush of his fingers on her cheeks and then the soft pressure as he held her face. Surely the eternal flame flared, because something lit the sky and seared her as his lips made first contact.

Just the gentlest brush at first then soft and slow and exploring.

His kiss