Rome is Where the Heart is: An uplifting romantic read, perfect to escape with (From Italy with Love Book 1)

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘Buongiorno! I hope you have not waited a long time,’ he greeted, kissing Kate lightly on both cheeks. It was delightfully informal, and it put her at ease straightaway. The intoxicating scent of whatever cologne he favoured was doing a pretty good job of relaxing her too, but perhaps not in a way that was quite so appropriate to the occasion. ‘You look beautiful.’

  Kate felt that irritating blush spread over her cheeks again. She couldn’t stop it, and could only hope it gave her an English rose complexion, though she suspected with her colouring it was more likely to give her the look of a Belisha beacon.

  ‘I haven’t been waiting too long,’ she lied, even though she had been at the roadside long enough to get pitying looks from the hotel doorman.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’

  She nodded, and he offered his arm.

  ‘Va bene. Then we will go.’

  Because the walk was only half an hour or so, they decided against the metro, setting off on foot, which would give them a chance to see much more of the city. Kate had been in Rome for three days now, and she had already beaten quite a path along its streets, boulevards and piazzas, but she didn’t think she’d ever get used to the beauty of the city, no matter how often she walked it. She suspected Alessandro felt the same, and the pride in his voice as he pointed out landmarks was evident. Everywhere was busy, tourists and residents alike jostling for space, skirting around them as they walked, shouting into mobile phones or at each other, giggling, chatting, kissing, or simply standing agog at some new sight, but as they drew near to the Vatican, the crowds suddenly became ten times worse. Kate stared as they approached. They were going to have to wait for a week if they wanted to get in anywhere.

  ‘You want to go into the museum?’ Alessandro asked, angling his head at a vast stone wall with a line of people snaked along it.

  ‘Is that the queue?’

  ‘Sì. But it is not as bad as it looks, and I may have some influence.’

  Kate cocked an eye at him. ‘Do you mean you’re going to abuse your position as a police officer?’

  ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘But I do have a friend I can call who will get us in.’

  Kate smiled. ‘What do you think? I’d like to see Saint Peter’s too. Should we do that first?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Would you like to be blessed by His Holiness?’

  ‘The Pope?’

  He nodded. ‘This morning he will be on his balcony to bless the crowds. It is quite moving.’

  Kate had never been particularly religious, and she certainly wasn’t Catholic, but something about the prospect of being blessed by the Pope gave her a little kick of excitement. ‘Have you been blessed before?’

  ‘Many times.’

  ‘Do you feel it’s made your life better?’

  ‘I am here with you now.’

  Kate blushed again. It was becoming an irritatingly regular occurrence. But Alessandro did things to her that no other man had ever done, not even Matt. Not that she’d had many opportunities for other men to make her blush. But although she had loved Matt, it had been a steady, safe kind of love, one that had grown organically from a deep friendship, not the heart-stopping, stomach-churning, loin-tingling kind of love that people sang and wrote about. Matt had never made her heart stop, or made her blush or pant with excitement simply at the thought of seeing his face. But love with someone like Alessandro, she was beginning to see, could be just that. Not with him, of course – in very practical terms he wasn’t the right man at all. Still, it wasn’t a crime to enjoy a taste of it while she had the opportunity, was it? ‘I’d love to see the Pope. I think it would be incredible.’

  ‘Then we should hurry. We may not get the best place to stand now, but I hope you will be able to see a little.’

  ‘It’ll be just like seeing Take That at Wembley,’ Kate said as they began to walk.

  ‘Scusi?’

  ‘A concert my sister once made me go to. We paid eighty quid each and all we saw was four ants dressed in white in the distance. We got crushed and covered in sweat into the bargain.’

  ‘So you didn’t like it?’

  ‘I loved it!’ Kate laughed. ‘But I don’t feel I can say I actually saw Take That at all. It could have been anyone and I wouldn’t have known the difference.’

  ‘I am sure this is the real Pope.’

  ‘You don’t think he has stunt doubles?’

  Alessandro nodded slowly, as if pondering the actual possibility that the Pope might have a stunt double, and Kate giggled.

  ‘Imagine if he did!’

  ‘I think there would be a lot of very unhappy worshippers.’

  ‘Would you still be blessed, even if it wasn’t the Pope doing it? Or perhaps he hides behind a curtain and does the blessing thing in secret while his stunt double stands on the balcony and acts it out? That way he can be safe from assassins and still bless everyone.’

  He turned to her and cocked an eyebrow. ‘Do you always have such strange thoughts?’

  Kate shrugged, and that burning in her cheeks returned. ‘I’ve never really considered it like that. Perhaps I do. Does it bother you? That I might be a nutter?’

  ‘A nutter?’

  ‘Mad.’

  ‘As long as it is good mad and not dangerous mad I like it on you.’

  ‘I bet you see a lot of dangerous mad.’

  ‘Some. But mostly I move drunken women from the Spanish Steps. . .’ He turned to her with that deliciously wicked smile, and Kate almost tripped over her own feet. Her heart was beating a samba and it was a good thing they were in a holy place, otherwise she might have found it very hard not to act on her decidedly unholy impulses.

  ‘I hope you don’t ask them all out on dates—’ She stopped. What she’d assumed she hadn’t meant to say out loud, but that was exactly what she’d done. If this wasn’t a date and he set her right now, things might get very awkward for the rest of the day. Or worse, he might think her arrogant enough to assume that any man offering some friendly company must fancy her. And until this precise moment she hadn’t even considered the idea that he might be gay, just like Jamie, who had offered her lots of friendly company this week and didn’t want to get into her pants at all. She stifled the groan that formed in her throat. Why did she have to make everything twenty times more complicated than it needed to be?

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘They’re not all as beautiful and interesting as you.’

  In a strange and spontaneous reaction that she would later cringe with embarrassment at the memory of, Kate slapped him on the arm. ‘Get off with you!’ she giggled. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her as if he had just decided she was quite mad after all – and not in a good way – but then he relaxed into a bemused smile. ‘This is Saint Peter’s Square,’ he said.

  Kate looked across gleaming cobbles, worn smooth by centuries of footfall, towards a sweeping arc of white Doric pillars that looked so incredible and perfect in the morning sun they just had to be the product of some computer-generated fantasy.

  ‘We must go through the security checks before we can enter. . . We join the line there. . .’ He pointed to the back of a wall of people behind barriers. The Vatican ought to be called the City of Queues because that was pretty much what they were going to be doing all day by the looks of it. At least she had good company to queue with so perhaps it wouldn’t be such a chore.

  ‘It’s good that they check everyone,’ she said.

  ‘It is very important.’

  ‘I suppose you must think so. . . in your line of work, I mean.’

  ‘There are some bad people in the world and we must all be careful.’

  ‘Do you come here a lot?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Sometimes with my mother. Not so much now – her legs are not so good.’

  ‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’

  ‘Five sisters.’

  ‘Wow! No brothers? You must feel outn
umbered.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he laughed. ‘My sisters are all very. . .’

  Kate waited patiently as he struggled for the word.

  ‘Prepotente,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t know how to say it in English. They tell me what to do all the time.’

  ‘Bossy,’ Kate said, smiling. ‘My older sister Anna can be like that, but she means well.’

  ‘You have sisters too?’

  ‘Only two. There’s just the three of us, no brothers.’

  ‘Ah, so we have something in common.’

  ‘We do. My little sister Lily is having a baby.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. I have ten nieces and nephews.’

  ‘Ten?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s not so many. Maria has four children, Jolanda has three, and Isabella has three. Abelie and Lucetta are not yet married, but Lucetta will be married soon.’

  ‘Who’s the oldest?’

  ‘Maria. Then Isabella, Jolanda, Alessandro. . .’ he prodded his chest with a grin, ‘Lucetta and Abelie.’

  Kate smiled. She liked the way he had referred to himself in the third person as he ran down the pecking order of the family; it was cute. ‘So you’re a middle child?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Me too,’ Kate said. ‘That’s another thing we have in common.’

  ‘Then we have lots to talk about today.’

  Kate beamed. ‘We do!’

  The sky was blue, the air was warm, her surroundings were beautiful and she had the company of a handsome, charming and courteous man. She had a feeling that today was going to be perfect, and she wasn’t going to let annoying technicalities like possible bunny-boiling police girlfriends spoil it.

  It wasn’t often that Kate could say she’d genuinely been stunned into silence, but after a quite moving view of the Pope – made all the more poignant by how much it obviously meant to people in the crowd – Alessandro had taken her inside Saint Peter’s Basilica where they had stood, awestruck at the majesty and opulence of the marble and stone interiors, priceless and iconic works of art at every turn. Together they had touched the foot of Saint Peter’s statue to ask for his blessing, gone down to the Vatican grottos where Popes of old lay in eternal rest, and up again to make the 320-step climb into Saint Peter’s dome where they’d emerged into the open air and gazed at the sun glinting off the rose-gold rooftops of Rome. All in all, it had been a strangely uplifting and spiritual experience, and Kate had almost been overwhelmed by it. But then they’d returned to the real world with a vengeance as they jostled through the crowds in the Vatican museums where it was hot and tiring, and she was quite glad when Alessandro suggested a quiet drink somewhere off the Via di Porta Angelica. Kate didn’t know where that was, but it sounded nice and she was delighted to see that it was indeed every bit as lovely and calm as its name suggested.

  Like the truest gentleman, he pulled out a seat for Kate to sit at a parasol-shaded table. Nobody had ever pulled out a chair for her to sit before, and Kate wasn’t quite sure how to react. She somehow felt awkward, embarrassed even, as if she had been caught out patronising a restaurant that was far too posh for her and was afraid she’d be asked to leave. But she took the seat with a nervous smile and Alessandro sat alongside her with one that was more assured. It was a characteristic of his that she was beginning to love – that he seemed so together, so certain of himself; nothing ever seemed to fluster him. It made her feel safe.

  ‘Are you cooler now?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, much. This shade is lovely. It’s this stupid ginger hair of mine. . . I burn so easily I have to be careful. . . It would probably cost me a small fortune in sun cream if I lived here.’

  ‘Then it is good you live in a country with many rain clouds.’

  ‘It is. Though we do have one or two days of sun a year.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes!’ Kate laughed. ‘It’s not that bad!’

  He grinned.

  ‘What do people from Italy think England is like?’ Kate asked. ‘I don’t mean those who have visited, but those like you who haven’t?’

  ‘I know little. Sometimes I see news reports, but it is always about your prime minister or your queen. I have seen photos of London. What is it like?’

  Kate was thoughtful for a moment, fiddling with the stem of a wine glass set out on the table. ‘Strange,’ she said finally. She looked up at his quizzical expression. ‘Nice, mostly. Very different depending on what part of the country you’re in. People are friendly on the streets but they don’t want to talk to you on a bus or train. They’ll help you when they can but they also don’t really want to get involved. It can be lonely at times even when you’re surrounded by people. . .’ She shook herself and forced a smile.

  ‘Your wedding ring,’ he said, nodding at her hand. Kate glanced at it and then back at him.

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘I think you once did. You look for it sometimes. . . with your fingers.’

  ‘Oh. So we’re getting down to business now,’ she smiled. ‘I was married. Not any more, though. And there’s been nobody else – no dates or anything. I didn’t have an affair either and I didn’t end the marriage. We married young, and I suppose we just grew up – at least Matt did. It meant that I had to grow up whether I wanted to or not. But it’s OK, because I’m learning to live again and actually, so far, it’s good.’

  They were interrupted by the waiter, and as Alessandro ordered for them, Kate watched and wondered just how her admission of a fresh divorce might have changed his opinion of her. Was he put off? Or did he see her as prey now, someone he might easily seduce and discard? Suddenly, her position felt a lot less certain than it had at any point during their time together so far. And he had a past too – that much was certain from her run-in with Orazia – but he hadn’t alluded to it yet. Although she couldn’t be sure if any of it was true without asking him outright and that seemed like a conversation that was still out of bounds for now.

  The waiter left with his order and Alessandro turned his attention back to Kate. ‘You have been honest with me, and so I must be honest with you. I am not married. . .’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Kate gave a nervous laugh and immediately wanted to slap herself. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut and listen without making stupid comments? But he seemed unperturbed by her interruption.

  ‘I was almost married.’

  ‘To Orazia?’

  His eyes narrowed for a second, and Kate cursed herself. She’d done it again.

  ‘Not to Orazia,’ he replied carefully. ‘Why do you say that?’

  If a trapdoor could have opened beneath her chair at that moment, Kate would have been glad of it. ‘Nothing. . . I guessed. . . Something she said. . .’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She phoned me – yesterday after I’d left the police station. At least it sounded like her but she didn’t give her name, only hung up when I asked if it was her. She said you weren’t allowed to date tourists. . . It kind of sounded as if she was warning me away from you. . . You’re not together?’ Kate asked, feeling more flustered by the minute and wishing dearly there was some way to rewind the conversation.

  His features hardened. ‘We were together, for a few months only. My sister, Maria, is friends with her, and my mother was keen for us to marry. But Orazia would never be a good wife for me.’

  ‘I think she might have a different opinion on that.’

  ‘She does not love me – she is angry. In time she will forget about me.’

  ‘But you work together – that has to be difficult in those circumstances.’

  ‘Work and love are separate. Always.’

  ‘It wasn’t before,’ Kate pressed, despite feeling that she was sailing in dangerous waters. ‘You didn’t have that rule when you started to date Orazia?’

  ‘No. Orazia is the reason I have that rule now.’

  ‘But what about me? Aren’t I a bit close to t
hat rule? I don’t work with you but I was work yesterday, and we’re here now.’

  He gave her a tight smile. ‘I am not perfect and sometimes I break my own rules. But you will go back to England in a week and my rule will be good again.’

  Kate nodded, still uncertain where that left them but hungry to hear more. ‘So you were engaged to be married?’

  ‘Once.’

  ‘Who was she?’

  ‘Her name was Heidi.’

  He gave a brisk nod of thanks as the waiter returned with their drinks, and Kate waited until they were alone again before she pushed the conversation further.

  ‘It’s not a very Italian name.’

  ‘Her family are Swiss, but they lived in Rome.’

  ‘Didn’t your mum like her? Because she wasn’t Italian, I mean? Is that why you didn’t get married in the end?’

  ‘She drowned in Lake Lugano.’

  Kate nearly spat out the lemonade she’d just taken a sip of. He didn’t flinch, but she could see in his eyes that he had left their table, and his mind was far away on the shores of a Swiss lake. ‘Oh. . . I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It was eight years ago. . . I was twenty-two.’

  ‘Were you there?’

  He shook his head. ‘She had gone to visit her grandfather and they went out in his boat. She hit her head and fell in. Her grandfather tried to save her but. . .’

  Kate’s eyes filled with tears, but she sniffed them back. She wanted to pull him into her arms and tell him everything would be OK, but it wasn’t very appropriate given the circumstances, and perhaps it was a reaction that would satisfy her needs, not his.

  ‘You still think about her?’

  ‘Often. But that life is no more. . .’ He seemed to rally, and he came back to the table again, giving Kate his full attention now. ‘My mother has tried to find me a wife since, but I have not liked any of them.’

  ‘Perhaps she needed to let you get to the point where you were ready in your own time?’

  ‘She said I would die alone if she did not help.’