‘You know when I left here that I went to my grandfather’s?’
Aurora nodded. ‘On your mother’s side?’
‘Sì. They are very modest people, who never cared much for my father. They thought my mother had made a poor choice, but she ran off and married him anyway. My grandfather suggested that I cut all ties with my father, but I could not. I got a job there and I sent half my wage home to him. I knew that he was not well and could no longer work the vines—’
‘He could have,’ Aurora interrupted. ‘He chose not to.’
‘Perhaps,’ Nico conceded. ‘Anyway, I made my own way. I worked in a bar, and then I took a loan, and then I bought a small stake in the bar and put in more hours.’
‘That does not buy you a five-star hotel in Rome and three others.’
‘I don’t own four hotels, Aurora. I have stakes in them.’
She shook her head, disbelieving. No, a Sicilian woman could not be beguiled.
‘What I do own,’ Nico said, ‘is land.’
He looked to the misty grey waters and the cliffs shining from the rain.
‘This will go no further?’ he checked.
‘Of course.’
‘Even when you sit on the hill drinking wine with Antonietta?’
‘She won’t be hearing about last night, Nico.’
‘This might be a more difficult secret to keep.’
He smiled at her slight eyebrow-raise, and the fact was he wanted to tell her. Nico wanted her take on the decision he was about to make.
‘My father married my mother not for love, but for what he thought he would get.’
‘Which was…?’
He led her out of the temple ruins and they walked towards the old monastery.
‘My grandfather owned the land we stand on—right to the edge of the temple ruins. When my mother died, he said the only good that could come out of it was that my father would never get his hands on it. He left it to me. That is why my father says I stole from him.’
‘Why did he want it?’ Aurora said.
She did not doubt it was beautiful—and, yes, the view was divine—but as far as she could see it was worthless, and she told him so.
‘Houses sit empty here for years. My father goes on about the house he had for—’ She swallowed, not wanting to say ‘us’ when no such thing existed. ‘He could not even give it away.’ She looked around again. Yes, it was her playground and, yes, she loved it, but… ‘There’s just the carcass of the old monastery and those steps down to the beach.’
‘It’s gold, Aurora. And my father would have sold it to developers. We would be standing now in a concrete jungle, with tourists being bussed in from the airport every day.’
Aurora could not picture it, though she tried to. ‘It would be good for the village, though, to have people coming through…’
‘In some ways it would—but that is not what my grandfather wanted and I agreed with him. He thought the monastery should be restored, but that would mean bringing stone up from the quarries…’ He halted. The cost and logistics were appalling. ‘Believe me, I have been tempted to just sell it—’
‘No!’ Aurora cried, and it was emphatic. ‘He left it to you!’
‘Yes.’ Nico nodded. ‘But I didn’t even know he owned it until a short while before he died.’
‘Yet you spoke of his plans for it?’
‘I thought they were just nostalgic ramblings about his hometown,’ Nico admitted. ‘And my father certainly never told me about it—though when I found out I understood better why he hates me so. He married my mother to get his hands on it.’
Aurora looked at the land she loved and knew so well, but she looked with different eyes now. It was Nico’s.
‘What will you do with it?’
‘I don’t have to do anything. It’s a huge asset and I can keep building on that.’
‘Or sell it to developers?’
‘No,’ Nico said, for he had ruled that option out long ago, even if at times he’d been tempted. And then he said what had long been on his mind. ‘I could restore the monastery.’
‘And make it into what?’
‘A very exclusive, very luxurious hotel.’
Aurora swallowed.
‘Just a few suites…’
‘But how would that make a profit?’
‘I would charge a fortune to stay in my Silibri hotel, and I believe I would get it.’
Aurora heard the steely resolve in his voice and blinked, because businessman Nico was someone she did not know.
She spoke then. ‘It would bring people back to Silibri…’
‘It would,’ Nico said, and then he made sure he crushed that last kernel of hope. ‘But not me. At least not permanently.’
‘I get it, Nico.’
She did.
Nico would not be returning to Silibri to live.
He looked at the ruins, and then he looked to the shell of an old stone cottage, and vowed it would be the first thing that was restored. Yes, he would be back to see his father, but there would be no reason to spend another night in the Messina house.
Nico would not do that to Aurora.
And finally, after years of indecision over the land, his decision was made.
He would not marry Aurora.
But he would take care of her this way.
Rome
THE LAST TEAR.
It spilled out as she began to pull herself together.
Enough.
She swore there and then that it would be the last tear she shed over Nico Caruso.
Aurora wiped it from her cheek and crumpled the sodden tissue in disgust.
Alone in her hotel room, with the others on the bus tour, she was bent double with the strength of her tears as she relived that night and the morning after.
Well, she had relived it for the last time and she had embarrassed herself enough over him.
It really was time to move on.
So, instead of peeling another tissue from the box she topped up her lip-gloss over swollen lips and tried to repair the damage her crying binge had caused to her eyes.
She would not sit in her hotel room and mourn him—or rather mourn the fantasy of him—for a moment longer.
It was springtime in Rome.
She downloaded that dating app and scrolled through it, but when she tried to write her profile she gave in and thought, Baby steps, Aurora.
She headed down to the bar, more than a little nervous about walking in alone.
And just as she was doing her best to get over Nico, who did she see walking towards her?
A scowling Nico, who,