Page 82 of My Fake Italian Marriage

Cleo glanced between them, hands on her hips. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to do this?”

Sofia sent him a narrow-eyed look that could have curdled milk. “Our deal is off.”

ChapterThirty-Four

Non si può fare una torta senza rompere le uova.

(You can’t make a cake without breaking eggs.)

Overwhelmed by déjà-vu, Cleo took a moment to calm her breathing. She looked from the fleeing Sofia back to Luca.

It really was unfair that he looked so damned gorgeous. But she could not, would not, let the way her body electrified at the sight of him distract her from being mad at him.

“How can you even think of ruining this night for your parents?” she demanded. “Because that’s what you plan to do, isn’t it? To create a scandal?”

He slid his hands into his pockets, not even trying to look remorseful. “This way, no-one will expect us to stay together.”

She pressed her lips together, taking the tiniest satisfaction from the way his gaze dropped to her mouth and his eyes darkened. “What are you worried about? That your family will want us to stay together, or thatImight change my mind and want to stay?”

His flinch showed she’d hit the bullseye. “You knew from the start this affair would only be temporary.”

Affair. Such a tacky word. Was that how he saw what had happened between them? Nothing more than one affair of many, a brief fling he couldn’t wait now to end so he could move on?

When she didn’t speak, Luca rushed to fill the silence. “I can’t be the man you want me to be, and I can’t give you what you want.”

The déjà-vu was back, even stronger, and for a moment she was in another moonlit rose garden, fifteen years ago, wanting a man to love her enough to take a chance on her, and hearing those same words.

She shook her head, clearing the memory. This time was different; she was no longer young and naïve, and she knew from experience that she would survive this heartbreak. She could live a full and contented life without Luca, even though she could see herself much happierwithhim. They could be a good team, if he weren’t so afraid of letting anyone in.

She stiffened her spine and met his dark, hooded gaze. “We both know it’s not that you can’t commit to something more, but that you won’t, not to a relationship and not to the vineyard. You’re clinging to that ridiculous curse as an excuse because you think if you take yourself out the game you’ll avoid risking failure. But you’re wrong. If you aren’t in the game, you can’t lose. But you’ll also never win.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, and Cleo released a resigned breath. “You can rest assured that I have absolutely no desire to stay here with you.” She had her pride, after all. She would not make a fool of herself again over a man who did not want her enough to even try for a relationship with her. “Tomorrow, after the guests leave, I will tell your parents that I don’t want to be married to you and I’m returning to my old life and my old job.”

He frowned. “Then they will be upset with you instead of me.”

“It’s better that way. I will be gone, and you will be here. Now, we have a party to get back to. That’s why I came to look for you. Sarah is ready to bring out the cake, and the whole family should be there when your parents cut it.”

For a moment, their gazes held, a world of unspoken regret passing between them. She blew out a breath, then she turned and walked away, not looking back. She would not give Luca—or anyone else—the satisfaction of knowing that, yet again, she’d fallen for a man from whom she wanted more than he was willing to give.

Just as well she hadn’t been honest with Sarah about her feelings. She’d prefer to keep this humiliation to herself, thank you very much. She did not want to admit that Sarah was right, that Luca had the ability to make a woman believe in happy ever afters, with no intention of ever being part of one himself, and she had been a fool to think he might change for her.

Hold your head high, and don’t let them see them see that they hurt you.Her father’s voice echoed in her head from long ago.Play the cards you’ve been dealt, and regain your dignity by winning the game.

* * *

Luca trailed Cleo back to the house, her words stuck on repeat in his head.If you aren’t in the game, you’ll never win. She was wrong. He hadn’t taken himself “out of the game”. Had he?

When he reached the ballroom, he was greeted by the hum of happy voices and soft laughter rising above the music, spilling out through the French doors. He paused on the threshold, shaking out his shoulders the way he did before a match, psyching himself up, before he stepped inside.

Across the dance floor, he glimpsed his father and Gio, their heads bent close in conversation, and warmth filled his chest. They might not be back to the way they’d been before, but at least they were talking. That alone made everything he’d done worthwhile.

A high-pitched ting-ting-ting sounded, and the crowd turned to where Sarah was striking a champagne glass to attract attention. The music trailed off, the dancers stopped moving, and Sarah gestured for his parents to take centre stage.

Luca crossed the room to join them. When the family was gathered around, Sarah opened the double doors behind her with a flourish to reveal Tommaso and Stoyan, pushing an antique tea trolley bearing the cake Sarah had baked. They wheeled it into the ballroom, to the sound ofoohsandaahsfrom the crowd.

The cake was a four-tiered extravaganza, frosted with mascarpone and decorated with fresh strawberries and white roses from his mother’s own rose garden.

Across the circle of people, Cleo licked her lips, and his body tightened.

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