Page 79 of My Fake Italian Marriage

“Then we charge more.” She injected as much charm as she could into her smile. “The wine boxes you designed are classy and elegant. I believe our clients will be happy to pay more for them.”

The flattery worked, and he smiled. She prayed he would still be smiling when she was done with him. “I’m glad you’re here, because I’d like to talk to you.” She glanced towards the workers who were setting up the barrels. “In private.”

He followed her upstairs to the office, no longer leaning on the handrail. He was strong enough now for a few home truths. Perhaps strong enough even for the biggest truth of all, though she’d promised Luca she would maintain their pretence until after the party.

They sat in the armchairs, facing one another, and Giovanni nodded regally for her to speak.

“I have invited a few extra guests to your party tonight.” She leaned back, faking casual ease so as not to put him on the defensive too soon.

“Visitors from the bank?” He nodded. “I am aware that you and your bank could have disallowed this party. You may invite whoever you wish.”

“I invited your son.”

He looked confused. “Of course Luca will attend.”

Had he seriously managed to erase his older son—his own namesake—from his memory? She lifted her chin. “Your other son.”

The shock registered on his face for barely a second before his expression smoothed into a mask. “So Luca told you.” He pressed his lips together in disapproval. “Gio is not welcome here.”

“Why?” She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the arms of the chair. “Because he married beneath him? Then why did you accept me and not Stefania? My family background is no different from hers.” It was a relief to finally ask the question that had burned inside her from the moment she’d met Gio and Stefania. Or maybe even earlier, since the day Giovanni and Letizia had welcomed her into their family, when others hadn’t.

Then, it had troubled her because of her past and her own insecurities. Now, it troubled her for Luca’s sake. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself to ask a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to. “Is it because you valued your firstborn son more, and cared more for him to marry well, than you did for Luca?”

Her words fell between them, into a stunned silence. It was gratifying to know that the question took Giovanni by surprise.

“You believe I love Luca less?”

“What I believe doesn’t matter. It’s what your son believes. You were always harder on him than you were on Gio, and you let him believe that he’s cursed.”

“The curse is real.” Giovanni held her gaze, his expression direct and unapologetic. “It is a curse to be too blessed. Things always came easily to Luca. Even as a child, he had everything that Gio did not: beauty and charm and a quick brain. He never had to work for anything, and everyone loved him. If I had not been hard on him, he would have grown spoiled. He would have turned out like my brother, using his charm and money and looks to get whatever he wanted, but loving no-one but himself.”

She dropped her voice, kept it gentle, though what she wanted to do was shout and rage. “Luca is not your brother. He is a good man who cares very deeply for people, and he will do anything for those he loves.” Including sacrificing his own dreams.

Giovanni shrugged. “Regardless of how tough I am or have been on him, Luca still leads an indolent life and never takes anything seriously.”

She couldn’t help herself; she rolled her eyes. The Fioravanti men seemed to do that to her. “Luca is only living up to your expectations. He’s afraid that if he veers too far from the path you set for him, that you won’t love him anymore, like with Gio. If you’d shown faith in him, instead of always knocking him back, he’d believe himself capable of more.” She blew out an unsteady breath. “But you still haven’t answered my question: why accept me, but not Stefania?”

Giovanni shrugged. “Even knowing our financial situation, you still married Luca. You didn’t marry him to improve your position in life, but for love.”

I didn’t marry Luca at all.Another omission, another missed chance to tell the truth, piled on top of all the existing lies to eat at her conscience like acid burning through metal.

“Stefania married Gio even after he was disowned and had nothing,” she pointed out, consciously unclenching her fisted hands. “She supported him as he worked his way up in someone else’s business, made a family with him, and she’s still with him. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“My son is a Fioravanti; he would always have risen. And she rose with him. That’s why she married him.” But his defence sounded half-hearted now. Though he still sat stiff-backed in his armchair, he no longer appeared so imperious. More like a tyre with a slow puncture, gradually deflating.

Had facing his own mortality weakened him, or was she simply the first person since Gio to stand up to his bullying? Unlike his loved ones, she had nothing to lose, and she still had the weight of Crown Venture Capital behind her. She held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “You’re right; the bank has the final say in all the estate’s expenses, as well as the power to invite who it wants to this party, and I have invited Gio.”

“I suppose this means you have decided to give my vineyard to him?”

“We are notgivingthe vineyard to anyone. Would you seriously prefer that an outsider makes your wine, rather than a member of your own family? Your own son?”

The irony of her argument wasn’t lost on her. It wasn’t so long since they’d sat in this same office, and she’d argued for hiring an outsider. So much had changed in a few weeks. Before he could respond, or remind her of her previous arguments, she ploughed on, playing her trump card. “But no, my invitation to Gio has nothing to do with the vineyard. I invited him for Letizia. Marriage is about so much more than two people. It’s about the family they create together, and Letizia’s family—yourfamily—includes your son and your grandchildren. She should have them with her tonight. You won’t ruin that for her, will you?”

For a long moment, Giovanni struggled to speak, and she wondered if she’d over-played her hand. Please God, let her not have pushed him into another stroke. He wiped a hand across his eyes before he looked at her, and she was inordinately relieved that his gaze was as clear and penetrating as usual. “I will not ruin the party for her.” He nodded, and rose from his chair. “When you first arrived, I wanted you gone as quickly as you’d come. I know now that my instincts were right. You blew into our lives like a tornado, and nothing has been the same since you arrived.”

He smiled, part rueful, part amused, and she knew he meant it as a compliment. She smiled, too, understanding what he was too proud to say. By making himself appear helpless in the face of an unstoppable force, he could save face, and acquiesce without ever admitting he’d been wrong.

If only she could get Luca to do the same.

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