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“You can let him borrow your chalet when he does Switzerland,” Elio suggested slyly.

“You can kiss my ass,” she retorted before downing her tequila shot mutinously.

Dinner was served. Although Mattia knew what he was eating was delicious, he ate automatically. He was just too aware of Elvira to concentrate on anything but her, could hardly keep up with the light conversation his sister and Elio were doing their best to draw them both into.

Elvira didn’t even pretend to join in. She picked at her food, barely making eye contact with anyone. The lemon dessert hadn’t even been cleared away when she jumped to her feet. “Thanks for dinner, but I’m out of here.”

Elio raised an eyebrow. “So soon?”

“I don’t think much of the company.” She flashed a tight smile to Siena. “That wasn’t directed at you.”

She left the room without another word. Without any embraces or kisses. Without her clutch bag. She was wearing the heeled boots she’d been wearing when Mattia had kidnapped her. Her posture was as tight as the smile she’d just given Siena, and as she disappeared from the dining room, Mattia caught his sister’s eye.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked softly.

He just stared at her, then turned to Elio, who simply raised an eyebrow at him.

Understanding flashed through him, and suddenly he was shoving his chair back and jumping to his feet, grabbing Elvira’s clutch bag and racing through the villa’s plentiful rooms.

His sister had found happiness with a Ranieri. A Ranieri had found happiness with an Esposito.

Just as his parents’ sins weren’t Mattia’s, their past didn’t have to dictate his future.

The only future he wanted – the only future – was with Elvira. She’d burrowed into his heart, and now it belonged entirely to her.

Maybe a future with Elvira was for the fairies, but he’d never know if he didn’t try. He had a very strong feeling he’d marked her as indelibly as she’d marked him.

He found her in the large reception room, about to walk through the front door.

He called her name.

There was a moment of stillness before she cut a baleful stare to him that was completely negated by the emotion pouring out of her eyes. “What?”

His chest rose. It was there. Everything he was feeling. It was all there, reflecting in her beautiful eyes.

He held out the clutch bag. “You forgot this.”

She closed her eyes before treading over to him, palm out.

He pulled it to his chest and gazed into her eyes. “Come with me.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Give me my bag.”

“I’ll give it to you when you agree to come with me.”

“Come with you where?”

“On my road trip.”

She affected boredom. “Why?”

“It’ll be more fun with you.”

“But I hate you.”

He took a step closer to her. “That’s okay.”

Her chin wobbled, and she dropped her hands from her hips. “You’re supposed to say that you hate me, too.”