Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

“Of course you don’t want to talk about it. You’d rather not hear me tell you what a fool you can be.”

“I presume you’re going to tell me anyway. In detail.”

Leo rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Vittorio. Believe me when I say I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Then don’t. I told you, I don’t want to discuss Maya. She’s gone and will not be returning. The conversation will be moot. Don’t waste your breath and my time.”

“Fine. Let’s talk about you, then.”

This time, Vito didn’t bother to suppress his groan. Leo ignored it and continued. “How long are you going to beat yourself up about an event that may or may not have happened? An event you weren’t the cause of, regardless of how often you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

Vito had half a mind to leave the table. But he had no doubt Leo would simply follow him. If they hadn’t been out in public, things could very well have turned physical. Vito was all too tempted to head in just such a direction—between the stunt Leo had pulled with the fake engagement at Nonna’s and the way he was pressing Vito right now.

He clenched his fist on the table. “I will beat myself up for as long as it takes to come to terms with all that has happened.”

“Is that really what you think you’re doing? Coming to terms with what happened?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think,” Vito said with finality, hoping against hope that Leo might get the hint and finally drop the subject.

He should have known better.

“Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re using the past as a reason to hide from the future.”

Vito flinched in his seat. The other man’s words were nearly identical to the ones Maya had thrown at him. “You go too far, Leo.”

But his cousin wasn’t ready to back down. He leaned closer over the table between them, bracing his elbows on the glass surface. “You forget I was the one who first saw you after you got that tragic phone call, Vito. I saw the self-loathing you punished yourself with when you had no reason to do so.”

The reminder of that night served to temper Vito’s anger with Leo. He didn’t know what he’d have done if his cousin hadn’t shown up to console him moments after Vito had received the news.

“What would you have me do, Leo?”

“Stop punishing yourself,” Leo immediately answered.

Vito started to argue. But what would be the point? Leo couldn’t understand. Leo had never let his wife down on such an unforgivable level. Lynetta had never felt unloved or ignored. Unlike Vito, his cousin hadn’t failed so devastatingly as a spouse.

“Your stubbornness is draining you of all your passion. And all of your will,” Leo continued. “You haven’t created anything in three years. It’s destroying you from inside out to be so dormant. It has to be.”

He was wrong about the creating part, Vito mused, thinking of the painting currently sitting on his easel. A painting he’d covered with a drop cloth, unable to bear looking at it now that its subject was gone. Though now he was at a loss as to what to do with it. He died a little inside every time he walked by it. But neither could he bear to throw it away.

“It’s not a switch I can flip on and off, Leo.”

“Of course not. But you have to have seen over this last week that you can gradually move past your grief. The way you were with Maya reminded me of the man you used to be. Before...” Leo leaned back, not completing his sentence.

He didn’t need to. But the man Leo was referring to was gone. Vito had long ago buried him deep within his soul. “I’m not meant for relationships, Leo,” he tried to explain. “I learned that the hard way. I can’t risk so much again with another woman who might end up paying too steep a price for having loved me.”

“Everyone pays a price for love, cousin. You are no exception.”

“Nevertheless, I can’t give a woman like Maya what she needs. She deserves stability, steadiness. A full commitment from a man to love and cherish her without limits or conditions. I know for a fact that I’m not capable of being that man.”