by Billy London
“Rooms?”
“Yes, you have an en suite. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re mother of the bride.” He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. People really needed to stop shocking her. “Come outside for now. When Gina and Sofia come back, we can do a proper tour.”
“Hmm, you’re much nicer than I thought you’d be.”
Paul sent her a half smile. Goodness, he was a very handsome boy. “I’ve had my moments.” He led her to where five stone pillars supported what looked like a football pitch of a balcony, underneath, a terrazzo setting of cosy chairs and a long, wooden table. The gardens stretched out as far as the eye could see.
“The vineyards are that way. The olive grove is to the right, and up there is the swimming area. This terrace before the sea and that tree is where we’ll have the ceremony. We can have the customary rites under the loggia. This bit here with the pillars.”
Belinda really wanted to close her mouth but it was exquisite. “What’s that?” She nodded to a distant peak in the midst of the vibrant, blue water.
“That’s Capri.” Paul looked down at her. “We can do a boat tour tomorrow. Or after the customary rites,” he added finally heeding the expression on her face. “You should definitely go before the week’s up.”
“We’ll see if we have time,” Belinda said, desperate not to be swayed by the beauty of the place.
“Come up this way, you get a better view.”
They took several stone steps upward where the view of the sea ran at a panoramic level along the pool, designed so it looked as though the water merged with the sea. A natural swimmer, Belinda felt quite smug in packing her swimming costume. Someone was rapidly moving through the pool.
“Dad,” Paul called, “Zia Belinda’s here.”
The figure in the pool cut through the water like a razor and heaved himself onto the edge. So that was the Big Man. He stood up and Belinda lost the breath in her lungs. Slick, black hair was pushed from a high Roman forehead, his whole body a deep manuka honey glazed colour. Water trickled from his broad shoulders, down a well-defined chest a man half his age would be proud of, to black trunks over sinewy legs and long, elegant looking feet. He tugged goggles from his eyes.
“Belinda, forgive me. Time ran away from me and I forgot you were on your way. Did you have a good flight?”
Her mouth opened for words to form but she really couldn’t see above his chest and that was nothing to do with her being long sighted either. It should have been clear that with two very good-looking children in their thirties, their father would be just as attractive, but this was nonsense!
Massimo frowned. “Are you all right?”
“Can you cover yourself please?” she said irritably, her cheeks blazing with heat. Massimo picked up a towelling robe and finally put his body away. She needed a fan. A chair. Air conditioning. Or she could just jump in the pool until he went away. Goodness, she hadn’t behaved like this since she saw David Bowie in concert.
“I apologise. Has Paul offered you a drink?”
“I was getting to that, Dad,” Paul replied with a sigh.
“I’d quite like to have a bit of sleep.” Belinda insisted, quite eager to be alone now, preferably with the Bible and her rosary beads.
“Of course. You know which rooms she has?”
Paul patted Belinda’s hand. “I’ll walk you there. See you later Dad. Feel free to find clothing and not disturb anyone else.”
Massimo replied in Italian and Paul laughed. “Bring it on Padre. Zia, let’s go.”
Belinda started listing excuses for her reaction. She’d lived in London for too long. He’d practically been naked. She was too old to be around semi-nudity. There. They were the only possible explanations for feeling more than a little faint.
Chapter Two
Sofia and Gina returned to the villa in a flurry of shopping bags, squeals of “Oh my God!” and “‘Padre!” Belinda heard the commotion from her room and wandered downstairs to see Gina practically swinging from her father-in-law’s arms, chattering away in Italian. Belinda hadn’t seen for herself the affection her niece had for Massimo and was quite touched by the display. He turned around and caught sight of her half way down the staircase. “Ah, you are awake.”
“And you’re dressed.”
Sofia and Gina exchanged looks then looked at Massimo. “What did we miss?”
“Don’t be cheeky,” Belinda warned, coming to stand beside the tall, mouthy one.
“We’re just interested, Auntie,” Sofia said, blinking with faux innocence.
“And we bought you some things,” Gina added with a sly grin. “We went to Via Toledo. The Dude is not allowed to look at my credit card statement.”
Belinda frowned, “I thought you said you’ve got everything?”
“No one can have everything. Where’s Paul?”
“He is resting,” Massimo answered.
Sofia’s eyes turned even more catlike. “I’ll see you all later. Round about dinner time.”
She vanished up the stairs before anyone could say anything else. Massimo turned back to Gina, “Would you like to see the rest of the villa?”
“Absolutely! Auntie, are you coming or have you looked around?”
“Paul said we should wait for you.”
Gina held out her arm and Belinda linked her own through the girl’s. Massimo took Belinda’s other arm and the three of them walked together. “Are you finally wearing the Acqua di PalmaTM I bought you for Christmas?” Gina asked Massimo as he led them through the hallway into the dining room.
“Yes.”
“Out of guilt?” she teased.
“Quite a bit, yes, Georgina,” he replied drolly.
So that was the divine scent coming from him. Belinda’s fingers flexed automatically against his brick-hard arm. “Are you all right Belinda?”
“Fine, carry on.”
The villa was a masterpiece, not only of construction in the arched doorways, but the suites. Some bathrooms were designed with free-standing bath tubs big enough for two people, combined with showers Belinda had only seen in spas. For other rooms, walls were tiled in mosaic fashion and coordinated with brushed glossy marble, stone flooring. Sumptuous fabrics were draped throughout the villa, thick piled rugs lay beneath huge four poster beds, and the views were the stuff of pure imagination. Gina stood on the balcony of her own rooms and pressed a few fingers to her mouth. Massimo released Belinda’s arm and touched Gina’s back. “What is the matter?”
“It’s just so beautiful. You’ve worked so hard, Pads, it looks fantastic.” She wiped her hands beneath her eyes. Belinda watched as he curled his arms around her.
“Please do not be upset.”
“I’m okay, I’m just… overwhelmed! Thank you.”
“I want you to have everything to make your dreams realised. If there is something missing or something you want, tell me. Do not be afraid to ask me.”
“This,” she gestured to the villa, “is pretty damn on it! The whole wedding was supposed to be just a party prelude to the rest of my life with Nick. It didn’t matter as much as the whole being married bit. But can I be a bit Bridezilla and say, argh!”
Massimo said something to her in Italian before kissing her forehead. Gina pulled back and pointed at him, “Stop that or I’ll be a proper mess. Auntie, what do you think? You’ve been unnaturally quiet.”
She’d been watching the older man, not altogether surprised by just how much he cared about Gina. Belinda doubted the girl had paid for a single thing for her wedding. “It’s beautiful. You’re very blessed.”
“My Nicholas is very blessed,” Massimo corrected to Gina’s blush.
“I’ve told you stop that! Now, what’s to eat?”
Massimo released her. “Plenty. What would you like?”
“I need carbs. Lots of carbs and meat. I’m in a Tuscan sausage mood, you know?”
Massimo grinned. “If that is what you want, I will have Fiore p
repare something for you. Belinda, any preferences?”
“As long as it’s fresh and hasn’t been sitting in the fridge for days on end, I’ll be happy.”
He inclined his head toward her. “Very well.”
As he left the room, Gina sighed, “He’s like the best father-in-law ever. God knows I thought I’d never say that but hey, dude’s lending me his palace of a villa for the week. What do you think? Do you like him?”
Men like him reminded her that she was a woman who had lived on her own for too long. He was most likely as troublesome as his son, if not worse. “He seems all right. What did you buy me?”
“Oh, we went a little mad in Naples and bought stuff to lounge around in. We bought you some kaftans since I know you’re like a little dolphin. I’m just going to have a shower before we have dinner. This place is mint!”
Belinda had to laugh. The girl could turn a phrase.
Nick closed the door of the car and heaved his case out of the boot. He’d been apprehensive about getting married here, but looking up at the villa, the decision seemed nothing less than perfect. He just needed his woman. Sweeping swathes of blue-black hair out of his face, he gave the door a kick. Paul opened the door for him, looking rumpled.
“Hey!” he greeted his younger brother with a broad hug. “Were you banging?”
“Look, Sofia just climbed into the bed. Short of trying to break out of the handcuffs, I just let her have her way.”
Nick paused for a moment. “Yeah, I didn’t need to know that. From now until I die. Never tell me things like that again.”
“It’s there now,” Paul shrugged. “We’re all about to sit down for dinner. Getting in some pre dinner drinks. Want anything?”
“Yeah, a beer would be good. Where’s Gina?”
The woman herself came hurtling down the stairs and practically leapt on him. He held her tightly, the familiar scent of coconut on her skin both comforting and arousing. It wasn’t as if they’d been away from one another for weeks on end, but it felt much longer. That was the last time he would ever travel without her.
“Hello ‘ho,” she murmured.
“See, you’re starting all sorts of trouble,” he warned, “I’m just going to have to take you upstairs.”
“I said hello!” she protested on a laugh, “Not unpack the whip!”
“The idea is now in my head, so let’s go,” he said firmly, taking one step toward the stairs.
“Excuse me, go where?”
Nick looked to where the command came from and saw his fiancée’s aunt. Ah Hell. “We’re just going to have a chat.”
“It better be in two separate rooms.”
“What?” Nick and Gina asked, stunned. “We’ve been living together for a year and a half.”
“This is your father’s roof.”
Gina glanced at Nick who said absently, “Far too late for that. Remember that time after dinner—”
His fiancée shook her head, “Now’s not the time to reminisce. That was good though.”
“Yeah?” His brows raised, “you liked that I—”
“Have some respect,” Belinda interrupted, “and try to behave properly. You are not married yet. You’ll appreciate a little abstinence.”
“No I won’t,” He argued.
“It’s three short days. Besides you have things to do. You have to learn what to say tomorrow, make sure you have everything on that list and coach your best man as well.”
He did not like where this was going—not one little bit. “I can do that in my sleep.”
“Auntie,” Gina interjected, “it’s a bit like bolting the stable door when the horse has migrated to Canada.”
“I don’t care. For the sake of the people who don’t know the details of your sex life, and in respect for the family you are marrying into, just stay in separate rooms.”
Nick opened his mouth and received a clip around the ear. “Oww!”
“Don’t cheek me. It won’t make me change my mind.”
“It’s all illusion. Owwwch!” The same ear received a painful clip again.
“Why does your father need to know what you do in the bedroom? Why does anyone? It will give you time for some much needed meditation before you get married.”
“In case Gina changes her mind?” he asked warily, stepping quickly out of the reach of the older woman, not releasing his grip on his woman. If he put her down he was very aware that Belinda would not let them within touching distance until the wedding.
“So you can appreciate what you have. You, put the poor girl down and take your bags upstairs. Dinner is almost ready.”
Sighing and with Gina giving him a shrug of helplessness, he released her. She leaned up and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Enforced celibacy is going to suck.”
He sent her aunt a wary look before saying in his own language, “Not likely. We’ll work around it.”
Her grin of assent was all he needed to take his case to one of the rooms on the east side of the house. If he figured correctly Belinda was probably in the room next to Gina’s. Dammit. He sat on the bed and allowed his heart to have a little feel around the house. Automatically, his hand went to the rosary beads he always wrapped around his wrist.
The sea had always relaxed him and to find the villa so changed was a relief. Like his mother hadn’t laid a finger on any part of it. There were days where he couldn’t think of his mother without hearing the last words she said before she died. There were days where he hated her still so much his jaw ached with it. Therapy wasn’t helping because to resolve his issue would involve resurrection. But here, even with his mother’s touch of the Renaissance rubbed out, he still felt her. And he missed her. Hateful woman and he still missed her.
Belinda’s voice disturbed his reverie. “I’ve been calling and calling and you were ignoring me.”
He glanced up from the beads and smiled in apology. “Just thinking, sorry Auntie.”
She sighed and sat down on the chaise next to the bed, the chiffon of her long dress drifting over the cushions. “What’s the matter?”
He debated talking about this but he needed to get it out. Dwelling on his mother guaranteed his irritation. “I haven’t been back here since my mum died. There’s nothing left of her.”
“And what are you? Are you not her child?”
He glanced down at his scuffed shoes, “You don’t know what she did.”
“What did she do? She gave birth to you. She raised you. She loved you. What else do you want?”
“I’d like to understand why that’s the final card for everything. She could do whatever she wanted but it’s okay, she was my mother? She was wrong. So wrong.”
He could feel himself getting angry, until she spoke again. “You make mistakes in your life. No one is ever just right. When you have your own children, you’ll understand that.”
“I would never do to my children what she did to me and to Paul. Paul especially, and he loved her more than any of us.”
“Then you’ve learned from her mistake. A parent is there to teach, to guide but never control. Some people have years to learn that lesson.”
“I didn’t need it,” he said stiffly. No one needed that type of lesson.
“Do you now appreciate your father? Do you now know what sort of marriage you wish to have? The type of father you wish to be? It’s a painful lesson Nicholas, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy to lose a parent the way you have. But you are strong and you have a strong woman next to you. Don’t let anger of the past take that away from you.”
“You sound like Gina,” he said in surprise. “It’d be better if I was in the same room as my wife,” he added with a suggestive smile.
Belinda’s dark and perpetually suspicious eyes narrowed immediately. “She’s not your wife yet, you sneaky boy. Meditate and appreciate and respect that. And don’t try to forget your mother. Whatever wrong she did, it led you here to this day with this family.”
Wise old bird, he
thought. “Thank you.”
She smirked, “You didn’t think I’d be smart and beautiful did you?”
“It crossed my mind,” he murmured, resisting the urge to start laughing. “Gina’s lucky I met her first.”
She kissed her teeth. “Silliness! Hurry up and make yourself presentable. We’re all hungry and that Sofia is drinking champagne like it’s water.”
“Sounds about right.” He got up and gave her a brief hug. “I’ll be ten minutes.”
She still scared the hell out of him, but there was definitely something comfortingly maternal about her. Now, how to get around the enforced celibacy rule?
Dinner wasn’t at all what Belinda was used to and it took will power she wasn’t sure she had to keep her jaw in place. They were all seated under the loggia, surrounded by candles as mosquitoes batted against the flames. Large fans circled from the roof of the loggia.
“They’re mosquito repellent candles,” Paul assured her as he pulled out her chair. “In case you haven’t got your spray on.”
“They haven’t been too bad this year, actually,” Sofia answered as she sat herself down and reached for the nearest bottle of champagne. The balmy air was infused with gardenias and freshly baked rosemary focaccia bread, served with balsamic vinegar and olive oil.
“Red or white, Belinda?” Massimo asked, standing to pour her drink.
“White wine, please.”
She watched as he filled her glass, sending her a smile before he sat down. He didn’t look much older than his sons. She itched to see photographs of him when his wife was still alive. Her death must have taken its toll on his body as well as his mind.
Despite Belinda’s warning, Nick practically had Gina in his lap, their chairs pushed firmly together, his arm around the back. As olives, prosciutto, tomatoes and mozzarella were placed on the huge oak table, Paul voiced his fascination with Belinda’s relationship to Gina.
“Wait, you’re not related?”
“Not by blood, no,” Belinda replied, helping herself to the mozzarella which was drizzled with pesto.
“We tend to call everyone older than us aunt or uncle out of respect,” Gina answered, putting down her Amalfi lemonade. “I grew up thinking I was related to everyone in London and my grandparents had been seriously busy.”