She took a sip of her champagne. Watched another round of fireworks light up the sky. “I used to lie in bed at school at night after my father died, so scared of the future, of what would happen to me. I’d wonder why God had taken him and not my mother. I used to secretly wish that he had, then be terrified he’d punish me for thinking such awful thoughts.”
“I would say that’s understandable thinking coming from an eight-year-old.”
“Perhaps.” She lifted a shoulder. “To me they seemed wicked and irredeemable thoughts. So I made up a pretend family instead to keep me company. I had five brothers and sisters so I’d never be lonely, a dog named Gigi, who slept on the end of my bed, and parents who came to get me for every holiday.”
He frowned. “Your mother left you alone for some of them?”
“Often. After I met my friend Celia, I would spend the holidays with her family.”
He was silent for a long moment. “You’ll have a family of your own someday,” he said finally.
Would she? Did she crave the fantasy more than the reality? She had so much she wanted to accomplish before then, most of all finding out who she really was. What she wanted.
“Who was your mentor?” she asked Nate. “The one you spoke of?”
“My grandfather, Giovanni. He put me through university, took me in to work at Di Sione Shipping with him.”
“Is this the same grandfather who wants the ring?”
“Yes.”
“You said before your father wasn’t a part of your life. How did you come to know your grandfather?”
“My father died in a car accident when I was ten. My relationship with Giovanni began in my late teens when he developed leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. None of my half siblings were a match, so my eldest brother, Alex, sought me out to see if I was. I was a match and I did the transplant. Our relationship developed from there.”
Wow. “That must have been an incredibly emotional introduction to each other.”
“It was...intense.”
“You said you weren’t close to your brothers and sisters?”
He took a sip of his champagne. Rested his glass on the railing, a distant look in his eyes. “There is too much history between us to make that possible.”
“How so?”
“A lot of complicated relationships with many layers. Sometimes it’s simply easier to leave the past in the past. To not reopen old wounds.”
She recalled the lack of a personal background in his media profiles. It had not been an accident. He was protecting a past he had distanced himself from.
What had driven his father to abandon him? What had happened to keep him and his siblings from becoming close after his father’s death when one would think it would have been the ultimate bonding experience to give his grandfather his life back?
It was an incredibly enticing train of thought to want to pursue, but she left it at that because the walls around him as he stared out into the night said that particular conversation was over.
“Giovanni is very lucky to have had you.”
The lazy, seductive bars of a Duke Ellington tune filled the silence that followed. “I think it’s the other way around,” he said finally. “But I won’t have him for much longer. His leukemia is back and this time it will kill him.”
Her stomach dropped. That was why his grandfather wanted the ring. To reclaim a piece of his past before it was all lost to him.
“Nate—” She put a hand on his arm. “Mi dispiace. I’m so sorry.”
His expression hardened. “It’s fine. I’m lucky to have had him as long as I have.”
Except it wasn’t fine. She could see just how unfine it was in the glitter of emotion that darkened his eyes. In the clench of his jaw. The way his gaze refused to meet hers. He was suffering but you would never have known it. Taking a precious memory back to his mentor, who had perhaps been the father figure he’d never known, only to watch him die.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly, “for it not to be fine.”
He spared her a glance. “What else can it be? He’s dying and there’s nothing I nor anyone can do to prevent it.”
“Talking about it might help.”
“I’ve come to terms with it.” Storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “Leave it alone, Mina.”
She did. The pieces of her enigmatic husband starting to fall into place, she finished her champagne in silence. So much loss, so much pain, and no way to express it because he considered himself the ultimate gladiator. He would never show weakness.
A Frank Sinatra tune she loved drifted out to them on the night air. Nate put his glass down and held out his hand. “So we can say we danced at least one song after all the trouble Mingmei went through.”
She thought maybe that was a bad idea. The champagne was starting to hit her bloodstream, infusing her with that languorous, dangerous desire to play with fire. Not a good idea when keeping things on a business level between her and Nate seemed so very important.
He pulled her close. Close enough that she felt his hard thighs brushing against hers, the intoxicating, spicy smell of him filling her senses. His big hand was laced through hers, while the other rested lightly on her waist as he guided her expertly through the steps.
He hadn’t been lying about being a good dancer. He was rather dreamy, in fact. She’d danced with a great deal of men at all the social events she’d endured, but somehow dancing under the stars with Nate with only Sinatra to accompany them was an experience of an entirely different realm.
He was so strong, so heart-poundingly virile, it was impossible not to think how easily he could command her if he wanted to. To do all sorts of unthinkable things. Her thoughts should have put her guard up. Instead, she was afraid of what he might never do to her. What might never happen between them.
“She’s in love with you, you know.”
“Who?”
“Mingmei. She didn’t say it, but I can see it.”
An impassive expression claimed his face. “We ended things on good terms. Mingmei knew the deal with me.”
The question that had been burning a hole in her head all week tumbled from her lips. “Why? Why break things off with her? Mingmei is stunning, intelligent, extroverted, entertaining... How could she possibly be lacking in any department?”
“It isn’t about how amazing a woman is or isn’t. I’m not interested in a permanent relationship with anyone.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?”
His lips curved in a cynical twist. “I don’t mean sex,” she qualified, blushing. “I mean for true companionship.”
“And how would you define true companionship sweet, innocent Mina?” He swung her into a tight circle, his gaze holding hers. “Having sleepovers with the women I date so I can spill my deepest, darkest secrets to them? Telling her how I feel over breakfast so I can start the day a whole man?”
Her chin lifted. “I mean someone who’s there at the end of the day to confide in, whether you’ve had the best day or the worst. Someone who cares what your day is like. Who nurtures the emotional side of you.”
“I don’t have an emotional side.”
Not one he would admit. Pretending he didn’t care was his self-defense mechanism as much as hers had been withdrawing into herself for so many years. Because she had seen him care. Everything