Page 251 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

Enzo heaved a sigh. Emilio had taken the comfort of home away from him, and now he was trying to take the vineyards too. Would his brother not be satisfied until he’d sullied every bit of Perlano for him? Enzo didn’t want to acknowledge it, but that thought hurt. He remembered being so excited when he was three at his brother’s arrival in the world. It was his earliest memory. Being involved in his father’s business so much as he grew hadn’t left much time for him to bond with his brother, but he’d still tried. Even when he noticed his mother coddling Emilio, with her obvious favouritism, it didn’t bother Enzo.

With another sigh, he turned around and walked back to the house. He noticed how quiet it was. It seemed Isabella had retired for the night without turning out the lights. That wasn’t like her, but maybe she’d deliberately wanted to remind him of the beauty here. Of everything this home held. She was always trying to lure him back, but the problem was that it was filled with ghosts. Of his father preparing him to take over. Of his mother’s affection. Of Emilio and Gia. The anger and pain.

He wasn’t himself here. He wasn’t controlled. His usual discipline always seemed to escape him; his emotions got the better of him. He hated it.

He really did not want to retire to his room yet. He was glad that he no longer slept in the room in which he had grown up, no matter how luxurious it was. No matter how much of him it reflected. The master suite was now his, but even to that he did not wish to go.

Hoping to delay what would obviously be a short and troubled sleep, he went down to the cellar and picked out a bottle. A little quiet and some good red wine might at least allow him to relax a little. It was worth a try.

He ran his thumb across the label with pride and went to fetch a glass from the kitchen, but on his way, he noticed a figure out on the terrace. Celeste was out there. He couldn’t blame her for enjoying the view. She was the first woman he had brought here since Gia, he realised, since that relationship had crashed and burned so spectacularly.

Celeste was different, though. Where Gia craved the limelight, Celeste shunned it. Where Gia was fashionable and glamorous, Celeste was muted.

There was something deliberate about it, as if she tried to erase all evidence of her existence from one interaction to the next. Enzo admired her professionalism, but he knew so little about her. Come to think of it, all he really knew about her was that she was well-educated and that she had once been to Italy. But on the plane, when he had found her sound asleep, frowning and curled in on herself, something about her struck him. He’d never realised how small she was, and it dawned on him that he had always thought that her presence simply...filled a space. He hadn’t liked that look of discomfort on her face, so he’d reached over her to close the blind, catching a whiff of blackcurrant and vanilla. A pretty fragrance that he’d found he rather liked. He had put away her work and covered her in a blanket, watching as the frown dissolved away and was replaced by a small smile.

Why had he suddenly found her so intriguing?

Rather than try to figure it out then, he had gone into his private bedroom to sleep. It had been no use.

Now, though, instead of fetching one glass from the kitchen, Enzo took two, along with a corkscrew. What harm could come from sharing a drink? Besides, Celeste was in his home. Even if she was there to assist him, he could still be a gracious host.

He stepped out onto the terrace. The gardens before them were framed by the centuries-old stone arches. He placed the glasses on the wrought-iron patio table with a clink that clearly startled Celeste.

‘Jesus!’ she exclaimed, clutching her heart.

‘Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said, pulling the cork from the bottle with a pop.

‘Oh, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here.’

‘I have always enjoyed sitting out here.’ He filled a glass with rich red wine that he placed at the vacant seat at the small table. ‘Sit, have a glass of wine with me.’

‘Thank you.’ She turned the chair to face out towards the gardens and eased back, plucking her glass off the table and taking a small sip.

For some reason, the act gave him great satisfaction. He batted the thought away. It had nothing to do with Celeste herself. It was just the fact that she seemed pleased by the wine that he enjoyed. After all, he was proud of his heritage. The small smile curving her lips was not at all distracting. Just like it hadn’t been distracting when he saw her smile in her sleep on the plane.

‘It’s good,’ she said before taking another sip.

‘Again, you sound surprised.’ He filled his own glass and set the bottle down on the table, then stepped to the edge of the terrace and slid his hand into his pocket.

‘I’ve never had it before.’

‘I wonder, should I be insulted that my PA could not be bothered to sample our wines? Or is it that she didn’t know about them, which would be no less worrying?’ She wouldn’t be able to see his smirk. Why was he teasing the woman? In two years, they had never had this kind of relationship. Nothing at all had changed apart from coming back to Perlano, to his home.

You know why. You’ve already compared her to Gia.

‘Well, Ihavealways known about them, Mr De Luca, but it’s a little pricier than a PA can afford, you know.’

That was a lie. Enzo knew what he paid her. She could afford a few more luxuries than she seemed to allow herself.

‘I can see why you enjoy sitting out here. It’s so peaceful. We don’t get to see the stars quite like this in Sydney,’ she said.

She was trying to change the subject. His suspicion that she tried to remove traces of her presence came back to him. He asked her a question—an inconsequential one at that—and she moved on to a subject that required no revelations about either of them. But she was right, they didn’t see the stars, not with the bright city lights, and he missed it. He missed his home; he missed his people; he missed all that was his. But he didn’t miss the feelings this place made resurface.

‘Perlano is a special place. There was a time when the people of Calabria moved north or emigrated to other countries. We took the opportunity to start another vineyard in Piemonte. But the people of Perlano stayed.’

‘They were happy to be here.’

‘And it is the conte’s responsibility to make sure it stays that way.’