‘For a while we lived in the South of France and I lived next to a large family. They had a family fishing business and were always fixing their gear themselves. I watched. Then I helped.’
From the warmth in her voice he knew she’d enjoyed that time. ‘Did you ever go back to see them? Later, when you’d come out of hiding?’
Her expression froze and she busied herself with fiddling with one of the chrome gauges.
‘Gracie?’
‘People move on,’ she said with a determined smile that he just knew hid heartache. ‘I was only there about ten months, and when you go, people get on with their lives without you.’
‘So you went back?’
She sighed and sent him a look. ‘I did. Years later. And sure enough they were busy with their own families, their own friends—people they’d known all their lives. When you’re only around for a short period, you’re easy to forget.’ She shrugged as if it all made perfect sense.
And it had only been short periods that she’d stayed in each place. So she’d felt forgotten? Unwanted? Unloved. Now he began to understand her current resistance to a nomadic existence. And why she worked so hard to fit into Bellezzo and be needed.
His stomach knotted. ‘I can’t imagine anyone forgetting you.’
She chuckled again. ‘That’s just another example of your feeble imagination.’
He laughed, as she’d intended, but he kept thinking as well. She’d been so lonely. That was why she wanted to put down roots, why she warmed to the merest touch of friendliness, why she worked so hard to make herself indispensable. And she knew that he saw that need in her—to be wanted. Her expression tightened.
‘You leapt to my defence so swiftly tonight,’ she said quietly. ‘Is that what you did for your mother?’
He knew she was asking this to deflect his thoughts from her. Doubtless she thought he’d distract her with desire the way he usually did. But not this time. Somehow it seemed important that she understand. He wanted her to know everything about him, the way he wanted to know everything about her.
‘I wish I could have,’ he replied. ‘But I hardly had the chance. She died when I was twelve.’
‘Only a few years after your father?’ She frowned. ‘But she was so much younger—what happened?’
‘You know my father was over seventy when I was born. My half-siblings were not impressed. They successfully stopped him from marrying her. She refused, because she knew they hated her. They tried to have him declared mentally incompetent, and when that failed, they just waited for the inevitable. The moment Roland died the accusations flew openly—was I even his son? Roland had vetoed any DNA testing, saying it was insulting to my mum. For his will, it was essential.’ The public shame and humiliation of the procedure still swept over him when he thought of it.
‘And you were his son.’
‘Yes. Of course. It seems impossible for anyone else to believe, but they did love each other.’
‘So the test silenced the wider family?’
If only. ‘Suddenly I was an heir and a future Butler-Ross. Apparently that meant I needed “protecting”.’
‘From?’
‘My mother.’
‘What?’ She stared at him, her eyes widening in horror. ‘No.’
‘Money brings so much power, Gracie,’ he said grimly. ‘They told her I’d be better off with the education, the connections that the family could offer. That she had nothing to offer me that could compete with all they had.’
‘But—’
‘I know.’ He held up his hand and smiled at her. ‘And she argued exactly that—she was my mother and she loved me. But then they threatened—courts, custody, you know the drill precisely. They pressured her, she believed she couldn’t compete. She didn’t have the money or the support. So she agreed to their terms. They paid her off, but she still thought we’d see each other.’
‘You didn’t?’
‘I was the illegitimate secret sent to a boarding school on the other side of the country to be smartened up. They used the promise of a visit from her as a reward for good behaviour. If I did well, I’d get to see her. And if I was really good, maybe I could even come to the villa they loved to holiday at in Italy. The one our father had always stayed at for a few months each year...’
‘Oh, Rafe. Did they never let you?’ She glanced back across the water to the beautiful villa—it had been that symbol of happiness, so out of reach for so long.
‘No. And in those years my mother was very unhappy, and she became unwell.’
She looked up at him with those emotion-laden eyes.
‘Addiction,’ he said softly.
‘I’m so sorry.’
Numbing her nightmare, filling the gaping holes inside with temporary plugs.
‘She was beautiful, you know. That’s how I like to remember her.’ Not from the photographs his horrendous half-brother Leonard had so maliciously shown him. ‘Valentina Vitale—not her real name obviously.’ He smiled in reminiscence. ‘She made it up to sound more Italian. She actually was Italian, on her mother’s side, but Valentina Vitale sounded more glamorous. As does Rafael Vitale.’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘I was her angel baby after all.’ She had loved him. She and the old man had doted on him when he’d been small. He had few memories of that time, but the ones he had were good.
‘And so you’ve kept your name, not your father’s.’
‘They wouldn’t let me have it until after he died and then they tried to force me to change it. But I am who I am and I was hers,’ he said roughly. ‘My name was what she gave me. I’ll never hide or change that.’ He would never let her be forgotten.
‘I changed my name so many times and I hated it.’
‘Yeah.’ Identity mattered. He put his hand over hers. ‘Don’t you hate your parents for what happened?’
She looked over the water. ‘They both thought they wanted the best for me, but they were so busy fighting they forgot what I really needed. Just a home, Rafe. That’s all. Security. Instead, I became the bone between them. And I still can’t win. I still can’t choose. So I visit them each at least once each year and otherwise just stay here. But I don’t hate them, I get it. They love me in their way.’
‘You’re determined to be positive about it?’
‘Well, why would I want to be miserable?’ She turned back to the water.
‘Because what happened was miserable,’ he said simply. ‘Because you were isolated and without roots for years and it’s okay to feel rotten about it sometimes. And, yes, you’ve chosen your new home town and it’s lovely but not everything is perfect all of the time. Like tonight. You felt lonely and to bury it you went back to work.’
‘Well, wasn’t that better than sitting alone and moping?’
But she hadn’t needed to sit home alone. She could have come to him. And it still hurt that she hadn’t.
Beneath his, her hand tightened on the wheel. ‘Let’s see how fast we can get this girl to go, shall we?’
She was the one distracting and deflecting this time, but he decided to let her. Because he was exposed too. He never had told anyone else what had happened to his mother.
‘You’re a secret speed freak,’ he said with a smile.
‘Not so secret,’ she purred, and pushed the boat’s motor until the wind whipped her hair from its braid and her own smile was wide and her eyes sparkled.
‘You want a turn?’ She turned to him after a while.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to give up the steering wheel.’
‘Well, it is a wrench,’ she acknowledged archly, lifting her hand from the wheel. ‘Promise me you won’t crash it.’
‘Have a little faith.’
‘But you’re a novice, right?’
Not completely, but he was enjoying the joke. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m going to be us
eless,’ he answered in mock outrage. ‘You weren’t useless when you were a novice.’
‘Because I’m a quick learner.’ She smiled smugly.