Ruthless Perfection (The Rosa Legacy #1) (13 page)

She wanted to offer some sort of explanation, but there was nothing she could think of that didn’t sound completely inadequate. She looked down at her hands hoping Marc would say something first.

“Goodnight.” His voice was gruff.

“Goodnight.” Isabel climbed out of the car and closed the door. Without any further communication, Marc drove off. It was clear he intended to go out, and walking up the path to the villa, Isabel tried to dispel a feeling of regret. She sternly reminded herself that he was completely free to do whatever he wished, and she should be happy that she had enough sense to stop him before he discovered her secret. In the long run, it would let her escape with at least her dignity.

Chapter 10

The next morning, she found Alda sitting out on the terrace with Marc. The older woman was wearing a white robe but seemed quite alert as she sipped from a teacup and listened intently to her nephew. Isabel hoped that both she and Marc could forget about the passionate encounter last night. It had been a huge mistake.

Coming forward, Isabel said, “Good morning.”

“Please join us,” Marc said.

Isabel slipped into a cushioned chair at the round table that had been set for a late breakfast. As the conversation resumed, Isabel poured herself a cup of coffee.

Alda said, “This evening Maria and I are playing cards so I thought you could take Isabel out to do some sightseeing.”

Isabel felt uncomfortable as she caught Marc’s gaze. Without realizing it, Alda was making it even more awkward between them.

“I already have plans for this evening. Possibly another night.” Marc bent and kissed Alda on the cheek.

“
Ciao
, Isabel.” He nodded in Isabel’s direction and strode off.  

“Marc doesn’t mean to be abrupt, but his mind must already be on work. His father was the same way.”

Isabel marveled at Alda’s ability to change from demanding Marc acquiesce to politely excusing her nephew’s behavior.

“Alda, I think we need to talk about Marc.”

The older woman looked surprised and reached out to cover Isabel’s hand with her own. Smiling warmly, she said, “He is besotted. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Isabel had to mask her smile. “Alda, I don’t think Marc is besotted and I’m not ready for a serious relationship.”

Instead of asking her why, Alda merely waited for her to continue.

Isabel gently gave Alda’s hand a brief squeeze before pulling back and placing both hands in her lap.

Without missing a beat, she could see Alda gathering her momentum, so to forestall her, Isabel held up her hand and said, “There is a lot about me you don’t know.”

“It is impossible to know every detail about someone else. But throughout my recovery, we have become very close. Isabel, you have become so dear to me and I know you are just what Marc needs in his life.”

Glancing at the formidable older woman, who was now declaring genuine affection and gratitude, Isabel felt a surge of happiness. She allowed the feeling of accomplishment to spread through every part of her.  

Isabel decided to change tactics with Alda. “You have become very dear to me as well. But I’m here to film a documentary not get involved romantically.”

Instead of looking defeated, Alda appeared quite satisfied. “I think you are quite right, my dear,” she said, nodding. “You should focus on the film and everything else will fall into place.”

Alda’s instantaneous reversal gave Isabel a moment of concern, but she determinedly suppressed it. “Well, after breakfast, before I start to work on editing the film, you should walk at least fifteen minutes.”

“I don’t want to be seen walking about in my bathrobe. People should see me when I am feeling better.”

“Alda, the villa is in a remote area on the top of a mountain. Who is going to see you?”

Alda raised her eyebrows. “The villa seems secluded, but the locals walk along footpaths to the village so it is very possible for someone to catch a glimpse of me looking old and feeble.”

Isabel stood up and motioned with her hand for Alda to follow her. “Fine. Then let’s get you into some clothing.”

Alda followed her haltingly. “Yes, but just moving slowly will be enough to cause embarrassment.”

“Carrara is a small town and people may stare. But you can’t let others intimidate you. You need to get outside and walk.” Isabel purposely kept her voice even and controlled even though her heart went out to the older woman.

After helping Alda change into a cotton sundress, they slowly walked through the back courtyard into the garden.

The signs of late spring surrounded them as they leisurely admired the flowers. Isabel felt the warm sun on her shoulders and instinctively pulled the rim of her weaved hat down a little. It was warm without being uncomfortable, and a light, steady breeze flowed down through the mountains. She wondered what would happen with the stretches of heat during the summer. She wouldn’t be able to hide behind long pants and shirts.

As they reached the side yard, Isabel stopped to look at a mass of perfumed white flowers overhead. “These trees are beautiful. I forget what they are called.”

“Magnolias. The large shiny green leaves and perfumed white flowers are a favorite with most people,” Alda said with a wistful half smile.

“Yes, of course. I have seen magnolias but never like this. These trees are simply amazing.” Isabel reached out and touched the outline of the tree trunk as it wound through curving graceful lines toward the sky.

“My father planted these trees almost fifty years ago. He used to fuss endlessly over these magnolias. At the time I couldn’t understand his fascination, but now I’m so grateful to have this link to the past.”

Isabel allowed the quiet to settle in around them as they both stood under the shelter of the magnificent trees planted so long ago.

“I’ll get a couple of chairs,” Isabel said, leaving Alda to her memories.

Easily finding a couple of small wooden chairs near the garden shed, Isabel retraced her steps back to Alda.

“My mother was American,” Alda said, “and as children we spent our summers in Massachusetts, so instead of just having olive trees, cypress and other indigenous plants, my father was drawn to creating a mixture.”

Isabel quietly placed a chair near the older woman, then brushed off the dust and made certain it was on a secure footing. After Alda was seated comfortably, she placed another chair next to her and sat down herself.

“Each year it is the same. Just as I begin to doubt spring will ever come, in a matter of days the buds have formed and everything is green and then blooms gloriously.”

The sweet fragrance permeated the air around them as they both enjoyed the beauty of the white canopy above. Isabel heard birds chirping along with a gardener in the distance trimming the hedges.

“I’m so tired.”

Isabel let Alda’s words hang in the air. She knew the recovery process could be difficult and included unexpected twists and turns. She imagined a much younger Alda relying on her family for comfort and support. She knew it wasn’t uncommon for grief to resurface at critical mileposts in the recovery process. Alda must miss her parents and brother. It was no surprise that she wanted Marc to settle down and produce a family.

“Being tired is a good sign. It is part of the recovery process. It’s hard to believe it now, but soon you will have more energy.”

There had been plenty of moments after the accident when Isabel had felt like giving up. It wasn’t only the pain. There had been times when she was so tired that just to stand up seemed like too much effort. Then, a corner would be turned and everything would become manageable again.

“Carrara is so quiet and peaceful,” Isabel said tactfully changing the subject.

“It is a different world when you enter the quarry.”

“Do you go there often?”

Alda shook her head. “No. The work is hard and it can be dangerous.” With a sad smile, she continued. “I tried to get my brother to leave the quarry after his oldest child had a tragic accident. He wouldn’t leave. Often, Marc would stay with me in Boston and I hoped he would make a different life. But after his father died, he was drawn back into the business.”

Isabel was surprised that Alda spoke of the tragedy. She quietly asked, “How old was the child?”

“He was six years old. Marc was only four at the time.”

“I’m sorry, Alda. It must have been very difficult for the family.”

Alda looked off into the distance. “It was a long time ago. Marc’s parents were very young and weren’t ready for the responsibility.”

Isabel thought about Marc and realized there was so much she didn’t know about him. He seemed so polished and in control.

Isabel decided to change the conversation. “Could I walk to the quarry from here?”

“If you follow the path through these magnolia trees, it will lead you to a low stone wall. Pass through the opening in the wall and follow the path going down and you will end up at the quarry.”

“Is it possible to get lost?”

“No. The path has been used for generations so once you pass through the stone wall, the way is clearly seen.”

They returned to the villa a short while later. Isabel worked for hours on the scene list for the documentary, barely stopping for an early dinner with Alda before returning to her work. Now that Alda had gone to bed early and Marc was out for the evening, Isabel decided to walk down and see the quarry in operation at night. She knew Marc had wanted her to have a guide but decided to just a have a quick look and she would set a schedule with Marc the next day.

The path was surprisingly well lit from the moonlight. After walking a considerable distance, she heard the machinery as the quarry came into view. The climb down felt surprisingly good, as she had been sitting for hours. The quiet night allowed her to think about that the clips she had edited during the day.

There were stone steps built into the side of the mountain and the noise became louder as she entered the quarry. She could tell that work was happening in the underground galleria so she followed the path down to the entrance. The pathway seemed dark and she regretted not bringing a flashlight. Should she walk in the entrance? It seemed barely big enough for a truck to pass through. As she started walking, she realized the mud was deeper than she thought. The noise was almost deafening and she considered turning back, but she pushed herself to keep walking.

All of a sudden the space opened up and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. Massive lights illuminated the enormous cavern. She could see two workers using a commercial wet saw, and they worked together to cut a slab of marble. The noise penetrated her body, but she took out her camera and began shooting images of the men. The bright white marble and the mist from the wet saw created the perfect backdrop.

She caught sight of a few men standing and examining a far wall. She felt a tremor run through her when she recognized Marc. He was wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt.

She stepped back to shield herself, but one of the men noticed her, and then Marc turned and saw her. Her heart began to beat faster and she tried to break eye contact, but she could see him heading over.

It was so noisy that she couldn’t make out his words, but from the stiff way he held his body, she knew he was angry.

He motioned for the men to take a break. Within a few minutes, silence filled the space as the men retreated.

“Your presence is too much of a distraction. You need to schedule a shoot in advance. You can’t just show up.”

“Sometimes being spontaneous can work well.”

“You need a guide if you are at the quarry. I told you that. You don’t have ear protection or a light. What if a truck was pulling out when you were walking in? You don’t know any of the signals.”

Isabel watched him in fascination as he touched her arm. He was so attractive that she felt overwhelmed by his closeness.

His voice rose in frustration. “Why can’t you follow directions?”

Isabel could feel his hand tightening on her arm and felt a tremor run through her body.

“I was going to just watch from the distance but then it seemed all the work was happening inside. I was just curious.”

“It’s not safe for you to just show up.”

One of his workers approached them and Marc let go of her arm. The man offered her ear protection and a light, then told Marc they were taking an early dinner break. Within moments, they were completely alone in the massive cavern.

“Please don’t be angry. The quarry is spectacular at night.”

“I need you to be safe. Promise me you will ask me before coming here alone.”

“It doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s well lit and from the noise, you can tell where the machines are.”

His voice rose. “I won’t argue this point with you.”

“Fine. But can I stay this evening?”

“You are immensely distracting. But yes, you can stay.”

He ran a hand through his short hair. Why did he have such a strong impact on her? She was finding it difficult to rein in her reaction to him.

The night moved quickly as she followed him from one task to another. She observed him debating the quality of different areas of marble and discussing the cutting schedule. She tried to stay in the background and took a series of photographs of workers using a laser to take measurements.

After a while, she went back to taking photographs of the two men cutting marble.

Marc indicated with hand gestures that they should leave. Isabel stood up and stretched for a moment before tucking her camera back into her bag.

Removing her ear protection as they passed into the tunnel, Isabel realized she felt energized by the evening. The tunnel seemed darker than before and she walked faster to keep up with Marc.

He stopped abruptly and she walked straight into him. Stepping back, she slipped in the mud and he caught her before she fell.

“You were almost lost to the mud.”

His arms felt strong around her. He shifted his weight and pulled her closer. Isabel became aware of his breathing as she felt his chest expand under her hands. A heat spread along her nerve endings, and she wanted to touch him. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel his desire for her. But she knew acting on her desire would be a mistake.