Charli, I’m worried that I might have fallen for him, even though nothing in these last few days has felt real. I know I should be careful to protect my heart. And I have to keep reminding myself that this might only ever be a vacation fling, which never lasts. A bit of fun that is unlikely to lead to happy ever afters.
Sis, I miss you today more than ever. I could really do with one of your hugs.
I close the cover of my journal, running my hand over the gold-embossed lettering on the front before putting it away.
The rhythmic chug of the wheels on the track rattles the thoughts in my head, but I still don’t have any answers as to why I’m feeling so down. There’s no reason to be so sad, because I’m going to see Gio again in Paris.
He promised.
Chapter fifteen
Gio
One Month Later
This is crazy! I’ve never been this hung up on a woman before. And it’s even crazier when I think about how little time we’ve spent together. I’ve missed Tori from the moment she boarded the train, and that is a new feeling for me. We’re continuing to keep in touch, but with her traveling and me busier than ever, the texts are brief, and it’s often days between calls.
It’s not long now, and I’ll be flying to meet Tori in Paris. Sadly, I’ll only be able to spare twenty-four hours, but hopefully when I’m in Manhattan shortly after for a brief visit, my time will be more flexible. I just finished telling Ryan and Hunter on our monthly Zoom call that I hoped to be able to catch up with them at the club soon, and it’s no coincidence that it’s about the time that Tori is due to arrive there.
Lost in thought, I continue to stare unseeing out the passenger window. I’d much rather have continued the lighthearted banterwith my friends and business partners than be on my way to meet my father. But I’ve been summoned. My shoulders slump lower into the seat’s soft leather. I really don’t have the energy for another of his twisted mind games.
But when my father issues a demand to see me, or any one of his children, none of us have the balls or grit to disobey. It’s especially difficult when I’ve been a resident in Florence these last couple of months, so the excuse of time zone differences is out of the question.
Driving through the narrow streets to a soundtrack of honking horns is slow going until we cross the Arno River and the road opens up to the tranquility of the hills. My father’s villa hugs one of those hills overlooking the historic city. It’s a beautiful part of the countryside, yet one I’m never keen to visit.
Sooner than I’d have liked, we are turning in through the iron gates and passing beneath rows of tall cypress trees that line the drive. I’ve never lived in this house, so I don’t see it as a home, and like any other visitor, I tap the thick metal ring against the solid wood front door.
The housekeeper is obviously expecting me, as almost immediately the door swings open, and I’m led along the polished marble hallway to my father’s office.
“Father,” I say in greeting as I enter his inner sanctum. As a child, I hated visiting him in his office—wherever it was in the world—because it usually meant I was in trouble. I still don’t like it all that much, even though it’s no longer fear that drives my emotions.
“Son,” he replies, looking up from the massive solid desk. “This is a nice surprise.”
I grit my teeth, holding back the biting response that springs to my lips. My mother’s words, “You should respect your father,” still ring in my ears, even though she’s been gone for more thanten years. I never could understand how such a beautiful, kind woman could end up with a man like my father.
“I was told you wanted to see me urgently, and I wouldn’t dare ignore one of your demands.” My words drip sarcasm that my father’s narcissistic nature won’t allow him to notice.
I move to stand behind one of the two chairs facing him and rest my hands on the back of it.
“Sit down,” he commands, and I note the lack of pleasantries. His gruff voice no longer has the ability to make me jump to do his bidding.
“I’d rather stand, as I can’t stay for long,” I reply in a firm tone, and my grasp on the chair tightens.
His brow furrows into deep crevices. “I expected you would stay for dinner.”
I guess my visit wasn’t the surprise he suggested after all.
“Sorry, I can’t. I have plans for dinner in the city.”
“A woman?”
“No, Father. Antonio and a couple of business acquaintances.” It’s only a half-truth. I’ll be meeting Antonio for a debrief over drinks. It usually takes a few after one of my father’s urgent meetings. I only mentioned business acquaintances because I knew it would piss him off. And I’m right when his frown deepens.
He doesn’t give two fucks about me or my brothers. With him, it’s always business. My father’s personality traits that made businessmen fear him, politicians court his favor, and women compete to share his bed, made him a terrible role model and father to his four sons.
Over time, we’ve all come to dislike him in varying measures. For me as the oldest, I cling to my mother’s words. But surely now as adults, it should be a case of respect earning respect.
“Why don’t you tell me why you wanted to see me, and then I can be on my way.” I steel my features to remain neutral,something that in recent months has become harder and harder to do.
