Page 27 of The Scandal Behind The Italian’s Wedding

“Home,” he said. “For a while yet.”

“It’s very wild,” she said.

He chuckled. “Wild?”

“Do you know what it reminds me of? Swiss Family Robinson. More the film from the 1960s than the book, I suppose. But it’s a very modern house sort of up in the trees in the jungle.”

He nodded slowly. “I thought of that, as well.”

She turned to look at him, feeling surprised. “Did you?”

“Yes. I quite liked that movie when I was young.”

“Did you?”

“For a while I went to a free community day care center, and they had a few old films on VHS. Swiss Family Robinson was one of them. I always thought that would be a good life. Off on a remote island where no one could reach you. Where you didn’t have to answer to anyone. And you could build whatever you wanted for yourself. Make whatever you desired. Resources from the land. Provided you weren’t attacked by pirates, of course.”

“I thought the same thing,” she said. “But then, I also thought that I wanted to live on a farm on Prince Edward Island. And that I might want to live in Atlanta in a grand mansion.” She sighed. “I’ve been so many places because of books. My college travels were supposed to be... They were supposed to be my big adventure where I could be the heroine instead of simply reading about heroines.”

“And you brought back an enemy.”

“I did,” she said mutely. “I wanted adventure, but not quite like this.”

“Well, you can have an adventure here. I promise you it will be safe.”

Something about that promise settled heavy and hot over her skin, and she tried to ignore it. It was very disconcerting, the way his words had the power to affect her. They shouldn’t. Things should be the same between them. Their mouths touching a couple of times shouldn’t have profoundly shifted the balance between them any more than vows that had no honesty behind them.

“You’ve gotten very quiet again,” he said.

“I should think you would like me to be quiet.”

“I find it unsettling. Because it’s not normal.”

“I’ve never been accused of being normal, Dante. You of all people should know that.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and she had the vague sense he could see something inside her she couldn’t even see clearly herself.

“What possible attraction did a man like this have to you?” When he asked, the question was so rough and fierce it caught her off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem like the kind of woman to be taken in easily, Min.”

She sniffed loudly. “Who says it was easy?”

His expression tightened, even as he kept his gaze on the road. “He didn’t force himself on you.”

“No!” The denial came swift and fierce. She knew enough about Katie’s story, and about what had attracted her to Carlo, that she could easily repeat it to Dante, but she found that she couldn’t. She didn’t want to talk about being seduced, not when she hadn’t been. Nor would she take a trauma on herself that she hadn’t experienced. So she thought it best just to change the subject. Deflect as best she could.

“It is impossible for me to say what the attraction to a man like him is.” She placed each word carefully, as if it were a footstep in a minefield. “Once you know everything about his character, whatever might have been charming is lost. He’s not a good man.”

That much was true.

“And he is dangerous,” she said, thinking of Katie again.

They drove up the house, and Minerva—who was used to a certain amount of grandeur—was utterly enthralled. Her family’s opulence was like a mix of Tuscany and California. Ornate and lavish.

This was incredibly sleek and spare, but each detail was perfect. Everything about it looked solid, like the best version of itself.

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