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He pulled a face. “I don’t have a script. Every relationship is different.”
“Come on, it’s not a big deal. I want to know what to expect, when the time comes.”
“How do you know you won’t get tired of me first?”
She opened her mouth to point out how unlikely that was then thankfully shut it in time.
Somehow, that would be revealing too much of her inner-most thoughts to him, and she didn’t want to do that.
“It’s not a one-sided thing,” he said with a hint of frustration. “Usually, it’s just mutually understood. Passion wanes. I realise it, whomever I’m sleeping with does too. Or life draws us apart—work, commitments, for one reason or another, it just no longer makes sense. We both move on. It’s simple.”
But Portia frowned, shook her head a little.
“Why does that trouble you?”
Her eyes, big and green, so deep they were like lagoons, lifted to his. “Because I’ve been in a situation before where I didn’t realise what was going on, and it was…well, an unmitigated disaster, actually. What if I don’t realise it with you?”
“What happened?” He asked, ignoring her question and responding with one of his own.
She shook her head. “It’s a long story that you don’t need to be bored with. Suffice it to say, the relationship ended, it was painful, I’m still dealing with the fallout.”
He padded his thumb over her lip, then across to her cheek, pausing at her ear. “So you want an assurance that I’ll protect you.”
She nodded quickly. “Promise we’ll keep this simple. Light. No strings. No drama. And that when you get bored of me, you’ll just…say it. Just give me the courtesy of telling me you’re not into me anymore.”
His frown was deep, scoring lines in his brow. “I’m sorry anyone made you feel that way.”
She shook her head, and he dropped his hand away, sipping his champagne. She did the same, half-finishing her glass. It was delicious, fresh and dry, ice-cold and refreshing.
“And especially promise me that you won’t do anything stupid like flirt with me at work again. In the office, you need to act like you don’t know me. Okay?”
* * *
At least once a month,Dante, Marco and Salvatore went back to Italy to have lunch or dinner with their parents and their parents’ goddaughter Sofia, who was pretty much a sister to them, and had been for many years.
It had been drummed into them from when they were boys.Famiglia è tutto.Family is everything.
“You will grow wings, my darling, and use them to travel far and wide, but never forget they can also bring you home.”
So it was that instead of being able to enjoy Portia the following weekend, he found himself back in Tuscany, staring out at the setting sun as his parents and brothers discussed the merits of the latest harvest, comparing bottles of champagne from the last ten years.
Though he was passionate about their boutique vineyards, Marco had a beer instead, irrationally annoyed.
“What’s going on?” Salvatore came to stand beside him, looking out at the view.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re brooding.”
“I’m thinking. It’s different.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Does it matter?”
Sofia appeared next, beautiful with her long blonde hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, dark blue eyes scanning Marco’s face. “You do look bent out of shape about something.”
“I’m not,” he drawled. “How’s school?” Sofia was in her final year of a law degree, a fact his parents were immensely proud of.
