Conquer Your Love (8 page)

“I’ll wait outside,” the lawyer said, before
shutting the door behind him, leaving Alessandro and me alone.

“Please.” The old man’s accent was heavy as he
patted the chair next to him, offering me a seat. “We don’t have much time.
Alessia
will return shortly and she won’t leave us alone
again.”

I walked around him and sat down, unsure what
to say.

“You remind me of my dear wife, Maria,”
Alessandro began. “You look just like her. I wish you had met her. She would
have adored you because she always wanted a daughter.” His eyes misted over,
reminiscing as he traveled back in time. “She was so strong and kind. So
beautiful on the inside and out.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I whispered past
the sudden lump in my throat, but Alessandro didn’t seem to hear me. His eyes
filled with moisture.

“She died ten years ago, but I remember her
like it was yesterday. She loved this estate. Sometimes that’s the only thing I
remember, yet I don’t tell anyone because if I do, all will be lost.” His gaze
focused on me and for a moment his eyes sharpened. “You’re my only heir,
Brooke. You mustn’t sell this estate and never to the wrong people.”

This was the time to assure him that I never
would. The estate certainly didn’t hold the same emotional value for me that it
did him, but I had enough respect to grant a dying man’s wishes as long as I
lived. And yet, as much as my heart wanted to speak out to him, to ensure him
of my good intentions, my mouth remained shut, unable to utter a word in the
face of so much passion emanating from him.

Alessandro gripped my hand softly, holding it
as his eyes locked with mine. “I promised my wife to keep the property within
the family. My health is deteriorating by the day and I know one day, very
soon, I won’t wake up again. It’s my greatest wish to see to my wife’s
happiness even beyond the grave and respect her wish. Please promise me that
you’ll take care of this property when I am gone and it will be yours.”

I stared at him, not seeing
him
but the fact that he was dying and
he knew it. It pained me because I didn’t want it to happen. I wished for him
to live for many more years to come, to enjoy the estate and everything he ever
missed out on. The face I saw in front of me would someday cease to exist,
belonging to a past that would be forgotten. While it wasn’t in my power to
change time or fate, I could at least carry on his legacy.

“Family blood is the strongest of all,”
Alessandro whispered, sensing my thoughts. “We don’t have much time to get to
know each other, but you’re part of this family and you’ll always be—”
his fingers gently touched my chest where my heart was located “—in
here.”

“I promise,” I whispered, meaning every word
and more. “I won’t let you down.”

He smiled and leaned back in his wheelchair. A
few moments later
Alessia
returned with our tea and
sat down near the window, not leaving us out of her sight, just like Alessandro
predicted.

Alessandro and I talked for about an hour,
during which he wanted to hear everything about my life. I told him how I grew
up,
leaving out the part with my sister and my father,
because I didn’t think it mattered. Besides, I didn’t want to depress him. I
tried to ask questions, but I could sense his reluctance at talking about more
than his upbringing. He mentioned his son who died at birth and Maria’s
miscarriage a few years later. He told me of his wife’s battle with cancer and
how she lost it ten years ago, making me aware how lonely he must have been in
the years after her passing. At some point,
Alessia
refilled our teacups, like a shadow slipping into my view and out of it, but
never leaving the old man out of her sight. Alessandro and I talked some more
until another nurse entered to remind him that it was time for his medication
and therapy. Before he left, his shaky fingers pointed at an envelope on the
table, bearing the conditions of his final will and photos he wanted to share
with me.

“Thank you, Alessandro,” I said.

He smiled and his shaky fingers touched my
cheek gently. “Thank you, Brooke. Now that you’re here I can finally rest.”

His words hung heavy in the air as
Alessia
wheeled him out of the room. With a heavy heart and
moisture in my eyes I watched him leave, vowing to keep my word to him no
matter what. We had barely skimmed the surface of our lives, and yet I felt as
though we were interconnected, our paths intertwined by fate, even if for a
brief time. I felt as though I knew him on a deeper level, and that knowledge
made it even harder to accept just how little time we had.

Call me naïve because I liked to believe in
the good in people, but I knew that Jett’s claims about Alessandro
Lucazzone
couldn’t be true. I could feel it. I could see it
in the old man’s eyes. He wasn’t flawless; like everyone else, he had made
mistakes. He married my ancestor for money rather than live the life he was
born to live—with a man. Or maybe he had loved her, in his own way. I didn’t
know and even if I did, it wasn’t my place to judge. But he was no murderer.
Whatever Jett’s private detective thought Maria
Lucazzone
had written in her diary, I knew it couldn’t be true and I would prove it.

Opening the window, I stared out onto the
beautifully landscaped park-like garden as I took a long, deep breath to regain
my composure, and then returned to Clarkson and Sylvie.

***

I found Sylvie on a bench on the veranda,
sitting near the rosebushes and sipping lemonade. The sun was hiding behind
light gray clouds, and a soft breeze coming from the lake ruffled the leaves
and green grass, promising a light rain shower. The fragrant air was still warm
though, as if not even the lack of sunrays could cool down the earth beneath
our feet.

She frowned when I arrived, but if she caught
my shaky emotional state she didn’t dwell on it. “You’ve been in there forever.
How was the meeting?”

“Great.” I managed a half-hearted smile that
wouldn’t have fooled anyone. “It went really well.” I sat down next to her and
she pushed her lemonade glass toward me, silently welcoming me to take a sip.
My fingers tightened around the glass but I couldn’t bring myself to lift it to
my lips. I didn’t want to risk shattering it.

“Brooke,” Sylvie said slowly. Sensing something
in her tone, I looked up to meet her stare. A shadow clouded her blue eyes and
a soft line formed between her delicate brows.

“What?” I said warily.

She took a deep breath before replying and let
it out slowly. I could tell she was preparing her words carefully, or maybe she
was hesitant to share with me whatever was bothering her. “I’m sure I’m just
blowing it out of proportions and it’s probably nothing.”

“What?” I repeated. “Just spit it out.”

“Okay. While you were in there, the old man
asked to speak with Clarkson. Alone.” She raised her brows meaningfully. “I
found it a little strange and followed them to a room down the hall.” Nothing
strange about a client wanting to talk with his lawyer in private, but I didn’t
argue with Sylvie.
She wasn’t usually one to notice
any
sort of activity that didn’t concern
her so, naturally
,
my suspicion was roused
.

“What did they talk about?” I asked.

Sylvie inched closer and peered over her
shoulder as though to make sure no one was listening. “The old man asked Clarkson
to make sure no one knows you’re here. He also said he wanted to spend as much
time as possible with you before—and I quote—the vultures descend
upon their prey. I don’t even know what that means. At least he didn’t speak in
Italian.”

“He said that to Clarkson?”

Sylvie nodded. “I swear I was around the
corner. They didn’t know I was listening.” She faked a shudder. “Seriously, old
people give me the creeps. They’re so weird. My grandfather was like that. He
was so paranoid of children, kept saying he could see them and
hear
their laughter when no one was around. I guess it comes
with age.”

I grimaced.
The poor guy.
I could only hope Sylvie’s relatives were accepting of his quirks. But she was
right. Paranoia
was
a scary disorder
of the mind and not easy to deal with.

“So where’s Clarkson?” I asked, changing the
subject.

“Don’t know. I guess still with him. What did
you talk about?”

I pulled out the envelope and held it out to
her so she could peek inside. “Nothing big really. We talked about his life and
the conditions of my inheritance. He made me promise not to sell the estate.
Actually, he was pretty specific about that. He doesn’t want me to alter it
either. He also wanted to—” I saw Clarkson standing in the doorway to the
backyard and dipped my head toward him, deciding now wasn’t the right time to
talk “—I’ll show you later.” I sat up and waved at Clarkson to get his
attention.

“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” Clarkson said.

I nodded. “I’m glad Alessandro is taken care
of in such a nice place.”

***

Clarkson explained he had some business to
tend to. After a short talk we agreed that he’d be calling me with updates.
Alessandro
Lucazzone
hoped to see me again in the
next days and I was happy to oblige, not just as his heir but also as the last
family member he had.

 
Anxious, I kept glancing at my watch.
With every second that passed, I was moving closer and closer to 11.45 a.m.
Jett and I had agreed to meet at noon and I couldn’t wait. My only problem now
was getting rid of Sylvie. She wasn’t his biggest fan, so there was no way I
could tell her about my lunch arrangement. If she found out, she’d only end up
thinking I was still into him—which was true—and she’d try to talk
me out of it. Not only did I promise Jett that I wouldn’t back off, but his
over-protectiveness had managed to spark my interest. My sole intention was to
listen to his reasons and clarify what exactly he thought put me in danger.
Maybe even discover a way to heal my heart, like parting on good terms rather
than in anger and pain. Only the truth can set the heart free. With knowledge I
could move on, learn from my mistakes. If I
was
lucky,
his sincere apology would be enough to make amends and help me move on.
Although it wouldn’t stop the pain, I was sure it could heal some of my bruised
ego.

By keeping our meeting short and to the point,
there was no need for my best friend to know about it. I’d tell her eventually
when I could deal with her angry outburst, but right now I sure wasn’t going to
listen to her ranting for the next hour.

 
So how best to distract her?
Three things always managed to
help Sylvie forget the world around her: fashion, men, and parties.

Considering it was late morning, the clubs
were closed and Sylvie had no date, taking her shopping was my best bet, even
if she probably had more clothes than Carrie Bradshaw from Sex And The City.
But could I convince her to go on a shopping spree without me?

Probably not.

Throughout the first years of our friendship,
Sylvie had always joked about how clingy she was. Turned out, it wasn’t really
that much of a joke. This left me with one other option: treat her to a spa
visit.

Sixty minutes of sighing under the expert
hands of a massage therapist should provide enough distraction so I could meet
with Jett. I had another problem: Alessandro was stationed at a private
hospital in a secluded area far away from the city center. According to
Clarkson, the bus station was a half hour walk away.

“So what now?” Sylvie asked as we stepped out
of the hospital. She sounded so bored already, and I hadn’t even shared my plan
with her. I scanned the area. The residential street was almost empty. Apart
from a busy café at the corner and some parked cars, there was nothing that
could possibly be of interest to Sylvie or help my quest.
Until
my glance fell on a parked taxi on the other side of the road.

“Let’s drive back to the city,” I suggested,
interloping my arm with hers so I could use bodily force to push her in the
right direction, if need be.

She eyed me carefully. “Why? What’s there to
see?”

“I want to treat you to a spa visit. I’ve
heard nothing but amazing things about Italian spas, and I think you should try
one. Come on.”

Dashing for the taxi before she could object,
or the driver could decide to take off, I pulled her after me. Sylvie opened
the door and we both slumped onto the backseat. I instructed the driver to take
us to the hotel Jett booked me in during my first trip to Italy. As he drove
off I sat back in my seat.

“New city, new scene, and you’re already
forgetting Jett. My work’s almost done,” Sylvie said.

“Yeah.” I cringed inwardly at hearing his
name. She couldn’t be farther from the truth. If only she knew. It was
impossible to forget him, not least because he was here.

By taxi we reached the city in less than ten
minutes. As it turned out the driver would have made a great sightseeing guide.
Speaking half English and half Italian, he recalled everything he knew about
Bellagio’s history and ancient buildings. It wasn’t exactly Rome, but I
listened nonetheless and even Sylvie seemed fascinated. As we cruised down the
busy main street, the driver pointed out the designer shops and even
recommended the best places to get a bargain. Not that Sylvie needed to save
cash. She had always been loaded—courtesy of her rich family whom she
actually despised. But what woman is immune to the prospect of a mid-summer
sale?