Page 14 of Beneath the Sapphire Sky

“What is it?”

“More like, who is it,” she said quietly.

A softahhhexpelled on Dante’s breath. They moved to the edge of the window frame and peeked through.

“Dammit,” Dante bit off a curse.

Belle’s shoulders dropped. Dammit indeed. Jack was home and had his girlfriend over. There was no way to make her brother leave the room if they’d set themselves up in there.

While technically Jack still lived there, he’d been at his girlfriend’s place more and more the last few months. They had an old worker’s cottage that he’d mumbled about renovating and moving into for privacy, but Belle wasn’t sure that would be up to Patrice’s particular standards.

“Come back to my place. We can’t use the TV in my room—Raph’s staying in there until we get his old room cleaned out of all the junk that’s been piled in there over the years. But Dad will be in bed and I doubt the others will still be up. We open for breakfast tomorrow.”

Belle glanced at him. They didn’t do full meals at his cellar door, only cakes and biscuits, but Sunday mornings were a different story—a fully laid-on Italian-style breakfast on old-fashioned, wooden trestle tables in the bistro patio area. Huge, ancient vines covered the massive gazebo, the tables set up on the old terracotta paving. It felt like visiting a vineyard in old-world Tuscany, which is why they were booked solid every Sunday for at least a month in advance.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Her belly sank to her toes. So much for time alone. Not that Dante knew that’s what she’d been looking forward to; she’d be mortified if he even suspected. He’d probably feel sorry for her, having a crush on her best friend like that.

It was embarrassing, if she thought about it too hard. Even crushing on Raph or Leo would be ridiculously clichéd. The onlyone not would be if she had the hots for Ria. She almost laughed aloud at that. Ria was lovely, but she wasn’t the one Belle wanted to get her hands all over.

She looked up at Dante as they crossed the road in the light of the full moon.

He glanced at her and flashed a grin her way. He literally took her breath away. He looked nothing like his older brothers; they were hazel-eyed blonds. Dante had his mother’s raven hair and deep, dark-blue eyes, a dangerous combination in anyone’s book. The only thing they all had in common was their gorgeous Mediterranean skin, courtesy of their father.

Quite simply, he was stunning.

Dante thought he was the odd one out, the changeling. She’d always thought he was the most beautiful.

Raph’s flashy, pretty-boy looks had him never without company, and Leo could almost pass as his twin. Angel wasn’t far behind in the looks department, but his blond hair was darker, more of a butterscotch colour, and curly.

They were all lean and well-muscled; growing up working on the vineyard had made sure of that. Height-wise, Leo was the shortest at an impressive six-foot-one. Dante sat in the middle, just over six-two, something he never let Leo forget.

Their feet crunched on the gravel path as they got closer to the house, taking the path veering off to the right rather than going straight ahead to the cellar door.

Welcoming lights blazed cheerily out into the bright night from the front porch, bugs happily clunking into the amber glass of the vintage, hanging coach lights along the front of the house, their brass chains as shiny as the day they’d been installed.

Dante opened the door and stepped back for Belle to pass him and go inside. Her shoulder brushed his chest and she tried to hide the shudder winding from the point of contact down her back to her toes.

They rounded the corner to the large, couch-filled living room. Belle’s gaze fell to the formal brocade love seat that sat near the open bay windows. Clear plastic covered the seat, back, and arms.

A small smile passed over her mouth.

Dante’s mother’s seat. She’d never even touched the fabric. It could be as rough as razorblades for all she knew.

Olivia Casellati had never let anyone sit on the good chair.Ever.

Belle had tried to once, many years ago, only to be shooed away by the frantic matriarch of the Casellati family.

That chair was for important people only. So important that none important enough had ever sat on its hallowed fibres. She thought even the Pope would’ve been given the evil eye if he’d presumed to sit there.

Dante flopped down on the large corner lounge in the centre of the room. Two oversize recliners sat either side of it, a large rectangular ottoman sitting squarely before it.

He grabbed the remotes and blipped on the TV on the wall opposite. He grinned and tossed the pack of popcorn at her.

“You know where the microwave is.”

Belle shook her head and muttered under her breath.

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