Page 249 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

She retrieved her bag and pulled out a compact mirror to look at the frightful state she was in. Playing the role of the plain PA had its advantages: all she had to do was brush out her hair and pop a mint in her mouth.

A small part of Charlotte was excited. She hadn’t been to Italy since she was much younger. It had been a different life back then, and all she had seen was Rome and Venice. This trip might not be the vacation she hoped to have—she didn’t go on those any more: they were too risky—but at least she was still able to see new places in the world and admire the coastline she had dreamed of one day sailing along.

The plane touched down, and as soon as the doors opened, her passport was being stamped and, without another word, the immigration officials were gone. With a pounding heart, Charlotte gathered her things and made for the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and found...a gleaming grey Maserati Quattroporte waiting on the tarmac, just as she’d arranged. No one but airport staff around, no one waiting to corral her into a waiting vehicle that would whisk her back to her father.

Only once her feet hit the tarmac and she knew she was safe did she feel like she could breathe again. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, and she sprang into action.

She retrieved the key to the Maserati and dismissed the driver. With her tablet in one hand, she waited at the base of the staircase for Enzo.

Charlotte watched him jog down and cursed the unfairness of life. He looked every bit as fresh as he did when boarding, as if he could be stepping out of a glossy magazine cover, whereas she was in some sort of corporate ghillie suit that made her invisible. Not just to Enzo but to everyone. A part of her railed at being hidden. It wasn’t fair that she lived half a life. It wasn’t fair that she should be punished when all she wanted was freedom. But she had to swallow her irritation.

‘Here are your keys, Mr De Luca,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ he replied, taking them from her, barely breaking his stride.

She had to almost run to keep up with his long strides, but after two years, she was used to it.

The lights on the car flashed as he unlocked it, and immediately their luggage was being loaded into the boot.

‘You might as well put your tablet away. It’s over an hour to Perlano,’ Enzo said in his deep voice. While there was no emotion to his tone, it still felt like an instruction.

‘Yes, sir.’ She did as she was told and, when she walked around the car, found that the passenger door had been opened for her. This was different. Normally she and Enzo shared the back seat and discussed his schedule, meetings and anything else that needed to be addressed for the trip. Now she was meant to sit beside him while he drove. Would she be expected to talk to him? They usually didn’t discuss anything that wasn’t work-related. What if she slipped up and mentioned something incriminating? Maybe it would be best if she found alternate transport. Except she didn’t really know where they were going. All Enzo had said was that he would arrange their accommodation.

She was back in her spiral of overthinking, which was helping nothing. Buckling herself in, she pulled out her phone and decided to do some research on the area.

She typedPerlanointo the search bar and pulled up an article on the history of the region. It was an old place, and she felt some relief knowing it would hold little value to her father. It was unlikely that he would think to look for her there. She flicked to the images tab, seeing hundreds and hundreds of beautiful pictures of hills and sea.

‘It would be better if you looked out your window instead of looking at pictures that do it no justice.’

Charlotte started at the sound of Enzo’s voice. They’d left the airport and were now driving along an undulating, curvy road with green hills on her left, dotted with stone ruins among tall trees. And on her right, the Tyrrhenian Sea stretched to the horizon in a rainbow of blues, the surface of the water shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Charlotte noticed the number of yachts out on the water and wished she could be lying on the deck of one of them, having the sun kiss every inch of her skin.

And as they drove past one of the many littleborghi, Charlotte’s breath caught. The little town cascading down the mountainside was something straight out of a fairy tale. It was as if she’d been transported back in time.

She had to admit, Enzo was right.

‘Have you been to Italy before?’ he asked.

‘Once, when I was young, but we didn’t see much of it. Though, I do wish that we had. Especially the coast.’

‘Let me guess, you went to Roma?’

‘And Venice.’ Charlotte was a little shocked that Enzo was asking her about herself. While she revealed nothing of any real consequence, it would be far safer to steer the conversation away from herself.

‘Those are beautiful places, but Perlano is different.’ Charlotte hazarded a look at him and found his gaze firmly focussed on the road, his hands holding the steering wheel in the gentlest grip. For some reason she thought she’d never seen him so at ease, while still being so utterly tense. His body might be languid, holding all that effortless confidence that seemed so natural to him, but the lines around his eyes and mouth told a different story.

Not wanting to be caught staring, she shifted her gaze out the window.

‘How so?’

‘You will see when we get there. It’s best to experience it. No explanation will be adequate.’

Charlotte caught the flicker of a smile in his reflection on her window. Well, there was information for her to store away. He might not return home very often, but he certainly did love it.

Within minutes the view changed, and gone was the sea. Instead, they were surrounded by hills, long green grasses dancing in the wind and, in the distance, what must have been farmland. It was beautiful. And the warmth of the afternoon sun on her skin was heaven. Sydney’s winter chill was a distant memory here.

‘I read that Perlano is quite old,’ Charlotte offered when the silence in the car grew too thick and she could bear it no more. Her father had always wielded stilted silence like a weapon. Rather than endure it, Charlotte would escape with her friends, and then she didn’t have to be quiet. She would be her natural self, talking and rambling without worrying about the consequences. Well, she had no friends now, but still she didn’t have to bear any real silence. The office was filled with various sounds. At home, she kept the television on nearly constantly even if she wasn’t watching.

This silence was different to the one she’d grown to hate. It felt overwhelming for a different reason, and she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was apart from Enzo’s presence. This was a big car, but it didn’t seem like it with him in it. Charlotte was aware of every movement his body made, the way his hands splayed on the steering as he adjusted his grip. Perfect hands and long fingers...