Emma recalled what he’d said that first time she’d officially met him about the “vampires” at press events. “Yes. Has he always been so reserved?”

Niki turned his highball glass distractedly. “No. He was a hotheaded teenager. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the center of attention or anything, but it was like he couldn’t stop it from happening . . . a little like expecting a raging inferno to be dim,” Niki said with a rueful sideways glance. Emma nodded in understanding.

“What happened to change him?” Emma asked quietly.

“Life. Death. Then . . . Meredith,” Niki said simply. He met Emma’s stare, and she could tell he was curious as to whether she knew who Meredith was. She didn’t, technically, but she made a guess.

“His wife?” she asked.

Niki nodded, looking a little relieved that she knew. “He was only twenty-two when she died. First he lost his mother young to leukemia, then—”

“Adrian,” Emma finished soberly.

Niki blinked. She had a feeling Niki Dellis didn’t look surprised often.

“Vanni told you about Adrian?” he asked, shock ringing in his quiet voice. Emma nodded. Niki’s gaze sharpened on her as if he’d truly seen her for the first time. “Well,” he said after a moment, looking away. “I knew you were having some kind of unprecedented effect on him, but I didn’t guess . . .” He seemed to come to himself and sat up straighter in his chair, taking a deep breath. “It was Adrian’s death that hit him the hardest, being as young as they were and the tragic circumstances,” Niki said grimly. He took another idle sip of his bourbon. “His mother’s and Adrian’s death turned him into a blaze of trouble. Nothing mattered to him. Nothing meant anything. As a teenager, he was on a one-way road to hell, and anyone who got in his way on the journey was going to get burned. Unfortunately, I was a hotheaded teenager myself and on a similar clueless path. Fire can’t burn fire,” Niki said, all remnants of the mischievous charmer vanished. “So I was no help. I was too stupid to realize where that trip was going to take him. Us. Then, while Van was in college, a miracle happened.”

“He met Meredith?” Emma asked through a tight throat.

Niki shrugged. “I never really knew if it was Meredith who did it, or if Vanni was just ready to stop grieving and get on with his life.” He shrugged. “Whatever the reason, he seemed to find a purpose . . . a focus, even before she came along. When his dad protested against the marriage, it only firmed his resolve. It was during those months before he met Meredith and after they were married, when Michael Senior and Cristina had cut him out—both from their lives and financially—that Van designed the revolutionary intake manifold and carburetor for racecars that made him his personal fortune. Those inventions became the linchpin for his own company, Montand Motorworks. Everything seemed like it was falling into place for him. He seemed content for the first time in his life. Then . . .” He faded off, shaking his head.

“What did Meredith die of?” Emma asked in a hushed tone.

“Thyroid cancer. It spread very fast, once she was diagnosed.”

Emma found herself staring at Vanni’s tall, striking form across the room, her heart heavy.

“After Meredith passed, he seemed to completely shut down emotionally. He turned cold and methodical—ideal for eventually being the head of two separate multibillion-dollar companies, but not so much for anything else. He eventually built that new house in the place where Adrian died, almost as if he wanted to . . .”

“Punish himself?” Emma asked, dread filling her chest cavity. She turned to Niki and met his stare. He was looking at her with blank incredulity.

“You’ve guessed that? Surely he’d never tell you—”

“No,” Emma mouthed, swallowing thickly. “I guessed from something Cristina said, when she was dying. And just . . . intuition.”

Niki didn’t respond for a moment, but then he set down his glass with a thud. Vanni couldn’t have heard the sound from far across the crowded, music-filled room, but he turned suddenly and looked directly at Emma. She felt his stare in the pit of her belly.

“Vanni was the stronger of the twins,” Niki muttered next to her when someone said something to Vanni and he turned away. “For whatever reason, Adrian was smaller and much frailer. Michael Senior used to goad both Vanni and Adrian when they were little by joking that Vanni had stolen all of Adrian’s strength in the womb, and Adrian had stolen Vanni’s kindness.”

Emma stared at Niki, stunned. “What a horrible thing to say to children.”

Niki nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t need to tell me that. Michael was not the kindest of men, although he was a force to be reckoned with. He did have his moments . . .”

Neither of them spoke for a moment when Niki drifted off, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

“They were both caught up by the riptide, you know,” Niki said quietly. “From what I gather—because Vanni never talks about it—Vanni tried to save Adrian, but couldn’t.”

“He could only save himself,” Emma whispered, shivers crawling across her skin.

“He was all of nine years old,” Niki said, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “He was lucky to have accomplished that.”

“He believes the opposite. He thinks he’s cursed,” Emma said softly.

Niki sighed and met her stare. “There’s one thing I can be thankful for. Tragedy hasn’t struck him in years. If he was cursed, so to speak, hopefully the storm has passed. Sometimes I think if something else horrible happened to him, it’d end him.”

Emma swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the spasm in her chest cavity.

Chapter 31

A little while later, the restaurant started to clear. Emma was leaving the ladies’ room, when someone caught her hand and halted her. She looked around and saw Mario Acarde standing there.

“I’ve been trying to find you all night,” he told her, the thickness of his speech making her think he’d had a bit too much to drink.

“Really?” Emma asked in a friendly, neutral tone, removing her hand from his. “I’ve been sitting in the same place the whole time.” Another hand enclosed the one she’d just dropped. She looked over her shoulder.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Hello. Sorry for leaving you like that. Everyone has something to say about the race,” Vanni replied, his gaze running over her face and then flicking over to Mario. “But I promise I won’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Excuse us, Mario.”

“Are you off to the tables?” Mario called, but Vanni didn’t respond. He just led Emma onto the terrace, which had cleared out. It was a warm, starry night, a full moon in the sky making a swath of the sea gleam and wink. The band had stopped playing and was starting to pack up their instruments. Vanni left her, approached one of the men, and exchanged a handshake with him.

“Encore une chanson, s’il vous plait?” Vanni asked quietly.

The man looked down appreciatively at his palm. “Avec plaisir, monsieur.”

The musicians all took up their instruments again and at a signal from the leader began playing. Vanni came toward her, a small, devastating smile shaping his mouth. A thrill went through her when he took her into his arms and they began to dance. She looked up at him as he pulled her closer, her smile matching his.

“Do you always do things perfectly?” she asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re playing ‘Moonlight Serenade,’ ” she said with a small laugh, glancing significantly out at the moonlit water.

“It’s not me who is perfect tonight,” he murmured. Her breath caught when his lips closed gently over hers and lingered as they spun to the music. Her flesh tingled next to his solid length. It was pure magic.