He longed to go for a run, but the Amalfi Coast was rocky and steep, not like the flat shoreline of the Hamptons. Hiking the cliffs and mountains, with their gorgeous view of the sea for miles, would have to do.
Pulling on a T-shirt and shorts and running shoes, he pushed himself as fast as he could, climbing and descending the rocky path, watching the ground so he did not stumble and fall off the edge to his death. His mind was carefully blank of everything but survival.
He went five miles, brutally pushing himself into the mountains as the sun climbed the wide Italian sky. When he reached the top, he looked back at the vast blue sea. The world was fresh and new and he’d never felt so worn-out and old.
Had she ever been his to lose?
I love you, Nico.
He could still remember how her eyes had glowed so dreamily when she’d first spoken the words. And the way her light had faded in his weeks of silence, as he’d never said the words back to her. How could he, when he didn’t know what love was? When his heart was stone?
Honora deserved better. Both she and their baby deserved more than a man who had nothing to offer except cold, hard cash.
A noise came from the back of his throat, and he suddenly stumbled over the steep rocky path. Looking down the rocky slope toward Trevello, he saw his father’s ancestral villa, the one he’d wanted for so long, and fought so hard to possess.
I wonder if that’s what you were wanting this whole time, Nico. Not revenge. Connection. For your father to acknowledge you. And your stepmother. It was never about the villa. I think you were just trying to get their attention. I think you wanted to be a family.
No. Ridiculous. He clawed through his hair. What kind of feeble thing would that be, for Nico to still be trying to get the attention of the people who’d hurt and abandoned him as a child? No. He wasn’t that weak or spineless. He’d done it purely for vengeance.
And now he had it. His stepmother was giving the villa to him, as a gift. Last night, she’d publicly acknowledged him as her deceased husband’s son.
But looking at the Villa Caracciola clinging to the cliff, Nico didn’t feel the happiness and pride he’d craved. Setting his jaw, he descended to the villa’s gate.
The door was dangling open. Apparently Egidia Caracciola had already left. It was empty.
As empty as he felt.
His shoulders hurt. He felt bone-weary. And something more. Something he’d spent his whole life trying not to feel.
He felt sad.
But as he started to turn away, he heard a noise. Peeking past the gate, he saw the elderly widow collapsed across the steep, crooked stone steps. She was still wearing her ball gown from last night.
Was she dead?
With an intake of breath, Nico rushed forward. He only exhaled again when he discovered she was, in fact, still alive.
Seeing him, Egidia whimpered, “My leg... I think it’s broken.”
He reached for his phone, only to remember he hadn’t brought it on his hike. “I’ll go get help.”
“No, please, don’t leave me.” Her voice was a quiet sob. “I’ve been out here all night. I thought I would die alone...”
“Where’s your phone?”
She gestured wildly to a dense thicket of trees farther down the treacherous hill. “Somewhere—over there—I think,” she gasped. “After I tripped, I couldn’t find it. I...tried.”
Her breathing was uneven, her voice weak with her cheek pressed down against the stone. Nico felt a surge of worry. He kept his voice calm. “I’ll find it. What does it look like?”
“It’s silver, a clutch bag.”
He strode to the copse of trees, looking around with a swiftly pointed gaze, and soon found the 1990s-style bag and the barely more modern phone tucked inside it. Turning it on, he immediately phoned for medical assistance. Then he returned to kneel beside her.
“The ambulance is on the way. Everything’s going to be fine,” he said gently. “Can I help you get more comfortable?”
Egidia’s face was filled with pain and panic, but she nodded. He slowly helped her turn over, so her face wasn’t pressed into the stone steps. He flinched when he saw her fractured leg bone, stretching her skin. Following his gaze, she tried to laugh.
“Serves me right. I should have sold you this villa last year, after Arnaldo died. The truth is, the stairs are too much for me.”