Chapter Two

Melo’s back prickled and she felt sure Cade must be watching her as she sashayed into the sitting room where her mother held court with some of the wedding guests.

“Adam. Cade.” With warm, welcoming tones, Mary Bellucci opened her arms wide. She embraced Adam, then proffered her cheek to Cade.

“I’ll go and check on Rosa.” Melo strode away from the little group, stopping in her room on the way to strap her tan suede “wedding tool belt” onto her hips, knowing from experience she would need it.

The bride was crying.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Fat tears rolled down her porcelain cheeks, bleeding an inky mascara trail in their wake. Melo pulled a packet of tissues out of her tool belt, shook one out, and passed it over quickly, before her sister’s tears reached the ivory silk of her bodice.

“Where have you been, Melo! I needed you. I’m so worried about Papa,” Rosa wailed accusingly, sobbing into the tissue.

Melo pulled in a steadying breath, led her sister toward a red velvet sofa, and eased her down onto it. Nearby, the worried designer hovered, pins sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Just give us a couple of minutes please, Eliza,” Melo calmly reassured, and Eliza slipped behind the curtain, giving them some privacy.

Rosa’s eyes were red and puffy, and her nose watered. It wasn’t the best look for a blushing bride.

“Come on, Rosa. It’ll be all right.” Melo pitched her voice low and reassuring, draped an arm around her petite sister, carefully avoiding the pins, and hugged her close.

Rosa’s frantic sobs stuttered and stopped.

Melo unwrapped another tissue, and then stowed the packet back next to the screwdriver and emergency chocolate bar. Thank goodness. She had enough on her plate without having to deal with her sister’s histrionics.

“Will Papa be fit enough to take me down the aisle?” Rosa raised her tearstained gaze to Melo’s.

“We’ll just have to see what the doctor says.” Melo’s head began to throb and she cursed the fact her tool belt wasn’t packing paracetamol.

“But he just has to, Melo!” Rosa’s voice was high, the fast words rising to frantic again. She blinked rapidly, tears welling up.

Melo pulled in a deep fortifying breath. What Rosa wanted, Rosa got. But Melo was damned if she would let their father’s health suffer. There wasn’t any point in remonstrating her sister, so she did the next best thing.

Distracted her.

“Darling, you need to let Eliza finish. She’s got to go in a couple of hours.” Melo bit back a groan. She’d hoped against hope Eliza would be sewing at this point.

“Were you with the caterers?” As if exhausted by the outpouring of emotion, Rosa’s tone was flat. She dabbed her eyes.

Bloody hell. The caterers. Melo needed to get out of here and check on the food. And make sure the braziers were lit. She smoothed her dress over her hips with nervous fingers.

Rosa’s keen gaze caught the tiny movement, and she pulled in a breath. “Oh, you’ve even had time to get changed!” Tears welled up in Rosa’s eyes again.

Melo rolled her bottom lip in and clamped it between her teeth.

She’d changed out of her old jeans, and had even managed to snatch a quick shower before she dressed to collect Cade and Adam. She’d wanted Cade to see her as a woman. And she’d been totally successful. Her heart pounded at the remembered heat in his eyes as his gaze traveled slowly up her body.

“I’ve just picked Adam and Cade up from the hotel.”

The tears evaporated like magic. “Adam’s here? Why didn’t you tell me?” A radiant smile transformed Rosa from victim to victor, and she shot to her feet. The silk flowed around her slender body like a shining cocoon. She really was exquisite. So blonde and perfect.

Melo caught a glimpse of herself in the floor length mirror as she coaxed Eliza back in. Tall, dark, curvaceous. The only thing they had in common was the electric blue eyes both had inherited from their Irish mother. Apart from that, they were so different it didn’t seem possible they were twins.

Like day and night, her father was prone to say when he had both of his daughters in front of him. In a lot of ways it would be so much easier if she were like Rosa—satisfied to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother. But she wasn’t. Never had been. If she’d been born a boy she’d be working in the vineyard now, automatically learning the business and eventually taking her place on the board with her cousins.

But her father believed a woman’s place was in the home, so instead, she’d left the island for a new life in Florence. A life where her brains were appreciated, rather than a drawback. A place where she could avoid comparison to her petite blonde twin. She shook the traitorous thoughts from her head, and sat down in front of her sister again.

“He can’t see you like this. Just let Eliza finish.”

Rosa’s headful of golden curls bobbed. Her toes tapped a frantic tattoo on the wooden floor. “I will. I can’t wait to see him.” The words tumbled over each other in a frantic bid to escape.

“I’ll see you later.” Melo unstrapped the tool belt and left it on the sofa. She cast a last look at her sister then dashed out of the room. Her sister was going to make a beautiful bride and nothing could be allowed to spoil Rosa’s big day. Rosa’s happiness was paramount.

****

Melo checked with the caterers, and made sure the musicians had everything they needed. By the time she emerged, people were everywhere. The large glass doors were thrown open, and a soft breeze teased the tendrils of hair brushing her cheek. Wedding guests lounged outside on the wooden benches facing the sea, and inside too, little groups of people were seated on the overstuffed sofas.

The bride to be had changed into a vibrant yellow sundress, and stood radiant in her fiancé’s arms.

Melo’s heart clutched at the sight of her sister’s happiness.

“You need a drink.” She jumped at Cade’s low, intimate tone and darted a glance sideways.

He was close. So close, her heart was doing the rumba.

He grasped her elbow.

A frisson of excitement shot through her at the touch of his warm fingers. There wasn’t any need for him to touch her. To steer her through the throngs of people, but the feeling was so delicious she didn’t complain. When he stopped in front of the bar, still holding her, she didn’t pull away either. His body was so close his warmth permeated the light cotton of her dress.

“Champagne?”

He could talk any woman into bed with a voice like that. Deep, dark and sexy. Melo’s mouth was parched, and she swiped her tongue over her dry lips as a shiver chased up her spine. “No. Just orange juice for me, please, I’m going to be driving later.” She couldn’t slow the shaky words down. Her whole body tingled at his nearness and she crossed her hands over her chest, grasping her upper arms in a frantic effort to regain control.

Cade leaned closer. His breath tickled her ear.

God, if this kept up she would need a dip in the pool. Or a cold shower.

“Where are you going? Running out on me?”

If only. It was becoming harder and harder to hide her reaction to him. She pulled in a breath. Get a grip. “There are four cars and a minibus to ferry everyone back to the hotel tonight. I’m driving the Mercedes.”

“So, while everyone here is throwing back the champagne, you’re staying sober?” A parallel groove wrinkled between his eyebrows.

She wanted to reach up and smooth it away with a finger. Oh boy, she was in trouble. Everything about him made her want to touch him. It was like being a teenager with a crush again. Magnified by a hundred.

“Your dedication is commendable. Rosa doesn’t deserve you,” Cade said.

“She’d do the same for me.”

Melo should step away, and put some distance between their bodies. She didn’t.

“She wouldn’t, you know,” he teased, mouth twisting in a smile.

She tried to repress it, but her grin broke through. They both knew it was true. Rosa was sunny, fun and spoilt rotten. There was no way she’d be the responsible one who drove the party guests home. No one would even expect it.

“It’s too crowded in here. Let’s go outside,” Melo said.

“Two orange juices,” Cade ordered from the bar.

His fingers brushed hers as he handed the glass over. He took a sip, lip curling, then clinked his glass against hers.

“I’ll keep you company.”

****

It was still light outside, although dusk couldn’t be far off. When Cade had spotted Melo across the room his senses had sharpened. For a moment he’d hesitated, telling himself to stay away, but he hadn’t been able to resist moving closer.

He just wanted to talk, that was all, somewhere private. Breathe in her delicious scent without Adam’s keen eyes watching his every move. He’d felt his friend’s gaze from across the room, and when he glanced over Adam’s eyebrows had raised upward, his darned eyes too knowing.

“Isn’t there a seat around here somewhere?” Ancient memories guided his steps, to a rose strewn bower.

“I can’t believe you remember.” Melo sank down onto the weathered wooden bench.

Trellising surrounded the seat and a profusion of blooms grew in and through it, effectively hiding them from view.

He did remember. It had been their talking place. A place for hiding out. He’d come across it one day when he’d arrived up at the villa with Adam to see if the girls wanted to go swimming in the waves that lapped the beach. The moment Adam saw Rosa they’d started an animated conversation.

“She’s over there, somewhere.” Rosa had waved in the direction of the silent garden.

Eventually he found her. The roses were tangled then, much like today, obscuring the plain wooden bench. Melo sat with her head in a book. Her long legs were tucked up under her and she was so engrossed she hadn’t heard him coming.

Cade grinned, remembering the way she squealed when he dropped down beside her. She’d swatted him and held her hand to her chest in shock.

“What’s so funny?” Melo asked.

“I was just remembering the first time I saw you here.”

“You almost gave me a heart attack.” The corners of her lips rose.

“What were you reading? Do you remember?”

It hadn’t mattered, back then. He’d grabbed her hand and had pulled her up. Told her the others were waiting, and she should change into her swimsuit. Now, curiosity bit hard. He wanted to know what had held her in thrall so many years ago.

“I can’t remember.” Her face colored and she avoided his eyes.

She remembered all right, but for some reason wasn’t telling him. She smoothed her dress with restless fingers, her head bent so a long tendril of hair brushed against the side of her neck.

Her skin looked soft. Invitingly kissable.

Cade angled his leg away from hers. “So, are you going to be next?”

Melo’s gaze flickered to his. “What?”

“Married,” Cade answered.

Melo laughed. “No.”

“Don’t believe in it?” Cade leaned closer and let his lips brush against her ear as he whispered, “I don’t blame you. I don’t either.”

“It’s just not for me.” She changed the subject. “How is your family—still as crazy as ever?”

“Monica is married, but the other two are still as wild as they ever were. I keep telling my mother she doesn’t need to worry about them anymore, they’re all over the age of consent, but you know how it is.”

She nodded. “Mothers worry.”

“Yeah.”

At least his mother didn’t need to worry about money anymore. He’d made enough to buy her a comfortable house outside London, and made sure the girls would want for nothing. After his father’s death, Cade had been forced early to assume the role of head of household. His mother and sisters were his responsibility.

Melo shifted on the bench, the little movement brushing her thigh against his. A rush of awareness shot through him. He swallowed. When he was a teenager he’d confided in Melo. She knew more about him than any woman, even his mother and sisters. She’d been in the right place, at the right time. And more than that, she’d been the right person.

His mother and sisters needed a strong male to handle everything, a role he’d slipped easily into. But the unexpected holiday on Isola dei Fiori, away from the confines of home had given him the gift of freedom to be himself—and he’d confided his deepest secrets to Melo, while his best friend followed her sister around like a lost puppy.

Even Alison… With a start Cade realized he’d never told his ex-fiancée about his father’s death. He’d never offered the information, and she never asked.

The last woman on earth he should be attracted to was Melo. Cade breathed deeply, struggling to pass the message on to his disobedient body.

“So, what are you doing now? Working in the family business?” he asked.

The Bellucci vineyard was hugely successful. Marco had built an empire to be proud of.

“No.” Melo looked surprised at his question. “I’m only here for the wedding. I have a business in Florence.” Her long fingers reached out and smoothed the soft perfumed petal of a red rose. “I’m a financial advisor.”

Cade would have expected her to say she was a model, or a fashion designer; she had a definite way with clothes. Somehow, he couldn’t picture her in the cutthroat world of big business.

“My clients are mostly owners of very successful businesses which have overextended. I come in and advise them how they can maximize their returns from investment. Get them back onto the straight and narrow.” Melo’s face became animated and she visibly relaxed as she spoke about her work.

“Where did you study?”

“Florence. I have a degree from the university there.”

“Didn’t you want to work in the family business?” A vague memory niggled of Melo talking of her hopes, her dreams. He was pretty sure she’d wanted to be involved in the Bellucci winery.

“Not anymore.” Melo shook her head and pursed her lips. “Papa is very independent. He doesn’t need my help.” Her fingers dropped from the rose and she clasped them in her lap. “And now he has Adam working with him, he’s preparing for the future.”

Cade nodded, he’d spent long hours listening to Adam’s plans.

“Don’t you want to be involved?”

He couldn’t work her out. When she’d been a teenager she’d been so passionate about the island he couldn’t imagine her abandoning her dreams easily.

“My father is a very traditional man, Cade,” Melo said huskily. “He feels the Bellucci winery should be run by men. Some of my male cousins work there, but the only position offered to me was that of secretary—whether I came into the business with a degree or not.” She crossed her arms, drawing his attention to her chest. “In my business I don’t have to deal with sexism. The quality of my work speaks for itself.” She glanced at him. “My business has become very successful. It’s grown by word of mouth. I don’t have to lean on my family name or connections.” Her tone and the flash from her bright eyes indicated she was proud of it too.

She was confident and self-assured. As well as her appearance, the whole way she interacted with people was different. She’d been in the shadow of her sister when she was younger, that much was evident.

Cade stroked a finger down her smooth arm. He leaned closer. “You’ve changed.” And how. She was nothing like that lanky kid. Back then, he hadn’t even thought of her as a female. Now he couldn’t think of anything else but kissing her. Running his lips over the soft curve of her neck.

“Outside, maybe. Inside I’m the same.”

She trembled at his touch. Her irises expanded. She licked her lips nervously. Awareness flared and he couldn’t look away.

A noise on the gravel outside their hidden idyll alerted him to the fact they were no longer alone. A throat cleared, and his hand dropped from her arm instantly.

“Scusami, Melo. Tuo padre vuole parlare con te…” The stranger sounded apologetic.

Melo shot to her feet, replying to the woman in Italian. She turned to Cade.

“My father is looking for me. I have to go.”

He nodded. The night was young. “I’ll see you later.”

****

Marco Bellucci sat on the chair in his room, fully dressed in a dark suit, which emphasized his pallor. He looked frail. His mouth was twisted and worry added years.

“Hello, Papa.” Melo sank down next to him. She pushed an errant lock of hair back from her face. The heavy swathe was beginning to unravel. She should have taken advantage of the hairdresser seconded to the island for the duration when pinning it up. She reached up and pulled out the clips, letting it swing around her shoulders, before it fell down on its own accord.

“Melo. I need to talk to you before the dinner.” Her father’s weak voice trembled. He twisted his hands together, agitation rising with every breath.

Melo breathed deeply. “Okay, Papa.”

Marco’s eyes avoided hers.

She had to lean forward to hear the words he muttered slowly.

“I have been very foolish. And now, I am ill, and I need you to sort out my problems for me.” His jaw was clenched tight. He was a proud man. He’d never asked for her help before. “You remember the investment opportunity in Mezzuti?”

How could she forget? The Mezzuti Group was known for building large, showy hotels and, flushed by their success, had offered an incredible investment opportunity in their growing apartment business. She’d been asked her advice on it for a number of her clients. She’d pored through the figures. The paperwork was long and complex, and for the average person, incomprehensible. It had taken hours of evaluation before she’d seen the catch. The returns were immense, but the risks enormous. And there were no guarantees.

She’d had no compunction about advising her clients to avoid it like the plague. In fact, her advice about Mezzuti was the reason her company had gone from strength to strength. The catastrophic collapse of Mezzuti’s apartment fiasco had been front page news for weeks now. Investor upon investor had lost their shirt in the ill-advised property developments. Her blood ran cold as she eyed her father’s pale face. Her father hadn’t mentioned Mezzuti before. Hadn’t asked for her advice.

“I know all about Mezzuti, Papa. Some of my clients were interested in investing.”

“And your advice to them?” There was devastation in his eyes.

“I advised them against it.”

His eyes fell, and her worst fears were realized.

“I should have asked you but I thought I knew better.” Marco’s fingers clutched the rug on his knees. His lips stretched the paper-thin skin of his cheeks in a deathlike grimace. “I invested heavily in them, Melo, and lost it all. In mere weeks I have to pay. We’re ruined.”

Melo sat in stunned silence. The Bellucci Winery was an old, profitable business. Surely he couldn’t be right? “Tell me everything, Papa.”

As her father detailed his reckless gamble, using all the funds The Bellucci Winery had earmarked for their modernization, the severity of the situation became clearer. She would have to look through the books, as she wasn’t familiar with the finer details, but it seemed as though her father was right. The winery, and the family were in trouble.

“But the wedding,” her voice wavered.

No expense had been spared to give Rosa everything she wanted. But at what cost? Could they even settle the bills that were flowing in?

“I put money aside for the wedding. We are covered. But when the payment comes due…” Marco broke off mid sentence and sank his head into his hands as his body shook with the force of his distress.

Marco never cried. But that was the old Marco. The man who sat on the chair next to her was an older, broken version of his former self. She put her arms around him. The stress must have brought on his heart attack.

“I fear we’re going to lose the house, and the vineyard. I have told no one but you, Melo. Rosa and your mother can’t know.” He raised his tear-ravaged face to hers. “It would destroy them.”

Papa always felt the winery was his, just as it had been his father’s and his grandfather’s before him. But in actuality it was a company, and earmarking company money to make investments was theft. The ramifications of his actions didn’t seem to have occurred to Marco, but the thought of her frail father in prison chilled Melo’s heart.

“You must have told Adam,” Melo said.

Adam was to take over his new role of Managing Director within weeks. Surely he would have to know about the disaster that had befallen them?

“I haven’t told him. I thought perhaps after the honeymoon I would talk to him. I wanted to try and work out a solution. Perhaps we could sell some land?” Marco’s tremulous voice was laced with empty hope.

It made no sense. They owned a lot of land on the island, but none of it was suitable for development, and anyway, planning permission on the tiny island was strict. It sounded as though her poor father was clutching at straws.

“Tomorrow morning I will start work on the accounts and see what can be done,” Melo said.

Luckily she hadn’t any outstanding work back at the office. She could stay indefinitely and work through the figures. Strength flowed through her. She’d pulled back many a company from the brink, and this time would be no exception. She had the most powerful incentive she’d ever had. She must protect her father—at all costs.