Ruthless Perfection (The Rosa Legacy #1) (15 page)

Marc drew her into a few shops and she enjoyed seeing a different side of Florence. At one small shop, Marc insisted on buying her a vintage necklace with a marble orb. He fastened the stunning necklace on her as he lightly kissed her neck. She could feel the cool marble against her skin, and his hands on her shoulders caused her body to heat.

“My cousin, Emelia, is a jewelry designer. She would love this piece. It’s so unique and yet a part of Carrara.”

“Has your cousin been to Italy?”

“Not to Carrara. My mother’s family was from Milan so I think she has mainly visited that area.”

As they stepped out of the shop, Isabel said, “I think we should return to the villa tonight.”

Marc caught her gaze. “Why are you hiding?”

Isabel looked away from him and felt torn. She wanted to tell him the truth but no good would come of it. He would insist that it didn’t matter, but she knew that it did.

“It would be a mistake.”

Understanding her meaning, Marc took her hand and led her back to the parking garage where he’d left his car. The drive back, instead of being tense or awkward, was full of laughter and teasing. Marc was getting to understand how she thought and used it to challenge her. They stopped for dinner along the route and continued their discussion about the film over an elaborate meal. Marc made suggestions and seemed genuinely interested in the stories she shared with him.

Marc poured her more wine as they waited for their entrees. She summoned the courage to say to him, “I was speaking with Alda in the garden a few days ago and she mentioned that in some ways she was surprised that you continued with the marble business after your family experienced so much loss.”

She watched as sadness flashed across his face until he masked it. “I’m not interested in discussing my family’s tragic past.”

“It’s something that the old-timers refer to even if they don’t mention it outright.”

“Isabel, leave it. It’s not something that should be in the film.”

She could see a deep emotion running through him. “It’s an important part of your history. It does raise questions and the fact that you were able to move on and build an empire is rather remarkable.”

“Spare me the commentary. Yes, it is true: my older brother fell to his death when he was barely six years old. It was tragic, but the story ends there.”

Her heart was breaking for him. She could see from his pained expression that he still felt the loss.

“No, the story didn’t end there. Alda said your mother never got over her grief and your father acted out his rage.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Do you remember her?”

“I was five years old when I found her dead near the pool. I remember feeling relieved. She had been in such agony and there was no end in sight.”

Isabel thought about the little boy who must have been helpless to change the situation.

He looked right through her as if he were somewhere else entirely.

Isabel said softly, “By trying to hide it, you are giving it more power. Everyone in this region knows the story. They may even know more of the story then you do because you were so young at the time.”

His steely gaze met hers. “It’s gossip. My father had a temper, but he wasn’t abusive. My mother was unlucky. She was alone that night or it would have ended differently.”

“Now that you are an adult, you could ask questions and discover the truth for yourself.”

A few moments of silence passed between them before he said, “There is no point. The past can’t be changed.”

Taking another sip of her wine, Isabel said, “maybe you are right, but it could give you insight into why you block out the past.”

“I block out the past because it was a dreadful time and I have no desire to relive it.”

The waiter served the main course. She watched Marc cut a piece of steak and place it in his mouth. Isabel looked at her seafood risotto and took a small bite. The dish was delicious.

Trying to move the conversation forward, she asked, “What happened after your mother died?”

“My father backed off, and Alda became a constant fixture in my life. I spent far more time in the United States than Italy, and by the time I was ten years old, I was in boarding school.”

Isabel thought about all of the tragedy the family had to deal with. It was no surprise that Marc was so self-contained and independent. “I’m sorry your family had so much loss.”

“I don’t remember Lorenzo. Only images from the photographs. I don’t even know how he fell. Alda thought he was left to run wild and just slipped.”

“Where were you when it happened?”

“I had broken my leg earlier in the summer and was confined to crutches.”

They enjoyed their meal in silence for several minutes before an acquaintance came over to the table and greeted Marc. They spoke for a brief moment and then the older man went to join his wife.

“He knew my father from years ago.”

“Your father was a lucky man to have you as a son.”

“He died when I was twenty. We barely spoke. I had almost no relationship with him.”

“Why?” Isabel watched him closely.

“I didn’t seek him out. My childhood was miserable before I went to live with Alda. I had no inclination to explore the reasons.”

“What happened when he died?”

“I was in college and beyond attending his funeral, I had no intention of getting involved in the marble trade.”

“Why did you?”

“His employees kept showing up at my dormitory. The business was in chaos, payroll was nonexistent, but the employees kept going to work.”

“So you decided to leave school?”

“The summer break happened and I decided to put off my travel plans and sort out the business. My plan was to close it. I was at Yale with two years to go to complete a graduate degree.”

Isabel took a sip of her wine and waited for him to continue.

“The business was named Santoro and Sons. I recognized almost everyone from more than a decade earlier. I knew their families. After the first few weeks, I couldn’t close the business. For a few years, I attended classes at night while I tried to salvage the company. Alda put in a ton of money. My father had only been dealing with marble, but I diversified and began seeking large design projects. I was very young and clients gave me a break. Alberto was a frequent visitor and gave advice and encouragement.”

“Now your company is hugely successful.”

“It took three years of struggling before I made enough to break even. We had a deep hole to climb out of. By that time, I began investing in other natural resources around the world.”

“Your father would have been very proud of you.”

“I didn’t do it for him. In fact, I probably did it to prove him wrong. But after the company did well, he no longer had a hold on me. I no longer felt obligated to fix his mistakes.”

Feeling grateful and touched by Marc’s willingness to open up to her and share such private feelings, Isabel was tempted to disclose the reason she protected herself——but something held her back. Marc wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship and would probably not want to deal with her insecurities around her scarred body.

Chapter 11

Over the next several days, Isabel and Alda slipped into a comfortable routine. Alda no longer complained about walking in the garden, and Isabel began to look forward to the family stories Alda would share while they were strolling.

Sitting in the garden with a cup of tea, after one of their afternoon walks, Alda told Isabel that she had a surprise for her. “Marc has gotten tickets for us to go to the theater to see a performance of
Carmina Burana
. Have you ever seen it before?”

“No, I haven’t. I have never been to an opera.”

Alda looked surprised. “I think you will enjoy it immensely. The composer, Orff, based the work on poems from medieval Europe. The text is a tribute to the beauty of life and the glory of springtime.”

“Are you feeling well enough to go out in the evening?”

“It’s not for a week yet, and
Carmina Burana
is so restorative that it will do me good.”

Alda was looking better every day. Her color had returned to normal and she was moving without much pain. The only nagging symptom seemed to be the exhaustion.

Isabel would miss Alda, and if she was being honest, she would miss Marc. Since the night they had stopped for dinner on the return from Florence, something had changed between them. She began to look forward to seeing him in the evening. She often waited up at night, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him when he returned from his evenings out.

“Maria is going to Carrara shopping. Maybe you could look for a dress to wear to the opera.”

“Will it be formal?” Isabel asked as she glanced down at her jeans and T-shirt.

“Oh, yes, and I’m sure Adrienne will be glamorously dressed.”

Isabel sipped her tea and said, “Alda, I can’t possibly compete with Adrienne and I’ve no interest in trying. I’m here to create a film and when it is complete, I’ll return to Boston.”

Instead of arguing with her, Alda changed the subject to great opera performances she had been to in the past, and continued on until Maria interrupted them for lunch.

When Alda decided to rest in the late afternoon, Isabel went to the kitchen to find Maria. It was obvious she was in her element there; a small television played in the background while the older woman chopped garlic and chatted in Italian with her husband. They both quieted when Isabel walked in and waited for her to speak.

After explaining to them about wanting to take a hike, she was ushered off with a water bottle and a light snack, a sketch of the surrounding area, and the assurance that they would let Alda and Marc know if they were asked where she was.

Being quite familiar with the gardens surrounding the house, Isabel was anxious to venture out and see more of the valley. After she passed the magnolia trees, it was easy to find the footpath that would lead to the forest.

She decided to follow it the opposite way. After walking for an hour or so, the terrain began to change. It was rough and she found it reminded her of climbing up a dry streambed. There were numerous small rocks underfoot so she had to concentrate on keeping her balance. The sun was beginning its descent in the sky, but Isabel kept climbing.

Reaching the top of the mountain, she gasped in astonishment at the view below her. Sitting down on a flat rock, she had a bird’s eye view of the quarry and could see beyond it for miles into the distance. She gripped the edge of the rock when her mind took in how far the quarry was below. She took a deep breath to try and dispel the tingling in her legs. The entire area gleamed white in the late day sun and she could see the movement of machinery emerging from out of a tunnel in the mountainside. She sat for a long while mesmerized by the enormity of the excavation site below, the history of the last few centuries made evident by the vast walls sliced out of the mountain.

She took out her camera and took several photographs of the valley laid out before her.

She opened the water Maria had given to her and took a long, grateful sip. It was amazing to watch all of the activity surrounding the giant slabs of marble. Suddenly she felt very privileged to have been invited to come to Carrara.

When she pushed herself up a short while later, she grimaced as pain shot through her hip. She realized immediately that she should have been more careful climbing on all the small stones. Slowly she walked the short distance to the path, the pain increasing with each step. Isabel knew if she didn’t force herself to move that she would not make it back by nightfall.

Staying off the path was no easier than staying on it, she soon discovered, as the thick underbrush and fallen tree limbs made real progress impossible. She was forced to stay on the rocky path heading downhill, struggling to maintain her balance as best she could in spite of the pain shooting through her hip.

About halfway back to the villa, a tree was growing in the center of the path on a steep incline. Isabel carefully maneuvered around the tree, but slipped when she attempted to put weight on her right side. She skittered down the incline on her backside, cutting her hand on a sharp root sticking out of the ground.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She could never have imagined that walking on a rocky path would re-injure her hip to this degree. Her thoughts went back to the instructions her surgeon had given her. He had said that even downhill skiing would be fine. She had done all the recommended physical therapy after surgery as well as Pilates to strengthen her hip and leg, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong.

She forced herself up and continued on her way. It was just beginning to get dark. But the pain of moving and the fact that everything on the footpath looked the same to her made it difficult to gauge distance.

She thought she was close when she saw a flashlight ahead. Her heart began to beat faster. Maybe Maria’s husband, Enzo, had come looking for her.

But as the figure came closer, she recognized the long strides and commanding height. Marc had come to find her.

“Isabel, did it ever occur to you that Alda would be worried sick? She thinks you have fallen to your death.”

“I…I lost track of time.”

She couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness but she could hear the anger in his voice.

Suddenly he switched off the flashlight. “You should have been working on the film, not wandering through the woods. Alda was frantic when she called me at work.”

“I’m sorry,” Isabel said quietly.

“Are you?” Marc was standing very close, but she couldn’t see his expression. “We’ll talk back at the house.” He turned and strode off down the path.

Isabel started to follow him, trying hard not to limp.

Marc glanced behind him. “Are you hurt?”

“I…” Isabel didn’t want to acknowledge her past injury or admit how much pain she was feeling. “I…”

“What’s wrong?” Marc came back to stand near her.

“It’s nothing really. I must have pulled a ligament during the hike.”