Unlike Bella, however, he had no family of his own. Whoever his parents were, they’d been gone from his life soon after he was born. Abandoned when he was just a baby, he’d been raised in one Darkhaven orphanage after another until he was old enough to take care of himself.
He thought he’d found something close to family when he met Bella’s brother, Consalvo, at university and the two became fast friends. He had regarded Sal like a brother, helped work the vineyard with the family as if it was his own.
For a long time, he had actually believed he’d found someplace to belong.
He had belonged…until his desire for Arabella had been found out and he’d been informed by her father that he was no longer welcome there.
Not good enough for his daughter.
Bella deserved something better.
Hell, Savage wouldn’t argue that, even now.
But as he glanced over at her and watched her lovely face turn ashen with dread on their approach to the long gravel drive that led to the homestead at the base of the mountain, he felt a wave of possessiveness—and protectiveness—he could not deny.
And he felt guilt too.
For leaving her the way he had, for letting her think he didn’t care.
For not being present to ensure that she never knew a moment of pain or heartache or fear.
All the things he could see playing across her features now.
Because of him.
She sucked in a sharp breath when she spotted the ominous-looking, empty black sedan parked halfway up the drive to the rambling villa. “Oh, no. Ettore, we’re too late.”
He clamped his molars tight, holding back the curse that leaped to his tongue. She was right. It didn’t look good.