by Liz Fielding
Valentina’s tears, Daniele’s uncertainty, Dante’s grief.
He had not been mourning the loss of his love, but the child she had carried, given birth to and then placed in his father’s arms.
In the excitement created by the arrival of the baby, the staff crowding around to coo over him, Geli reached out a hand to him and he grasped it so tightly that it hurt while he arranged his face into a smile.
* * *
Hours later—actually, it was no more than two but it had felt like a thousand—Geli shut the door behind their visitors and turned to Dante.
‘Your father knows, doesn’t he?’ she said. ‘That the baby is yours.’
‘He had a fever when I was a child. That’s when I first came to stay here with Nonnina. Valentina is his fourth wife but there have been no more children when, as you can see, he loves them...so I imagine there was some damage. I should have told you. I would have told you, but last night—’
‘Don’t...’ She did not want to think about last night. That familiar, horrible sense of loss— ‘We have known one another just over a week. Okay, we’ve probably spent more time together than some couples spend in months, but it’s still new. We’re still learning about one another. And that is a huge secret to share with anyone.’
‘Secrets are poison. Valentina nearly fainted when she saw me last night. She was sure I was there to make trouble, to tell my father that Alberto isn’t his child. Blow their lives apart.’
‘Are you saying that she doesn’t know that he knows?’
‘Apparently not. That’s when she cried, when I told her. With relief and joy, I think, to realise just how much he loved her.’
‘I see.’ And remembering the way Valentina had gone straight to her husband, put her arm in his—not a guilty wife returning to her husband’s side, but one who knew how much she was loved—she did see.
‘You asked me once if I regretted my choice, do you remember?’
‘You said it was the wrong question. That I should be asking if you’d make the same decision again.’ Could she ask it? Could she live with his answer... ‘Would you?’
‘The truth?’
‘Parla come magni, caro.’
He smiled as she quoted his words back at him and her heart broke for him. After that first shocked moment he’d been so generous, admiring the baby, holding him, handing him back to his father to put in his buggy for a nap when it must have been tearing his heart out.
‘There will always be regret, Angel, but a baby’s place is with his mother and his mother’s place is with the man who will make her happy. I can only hope that, should I be given the chance, I’d have the strength, the wisdom, the humanity to make the same decision.’
‘You’d do that for them?’
‘What should I do? Demand DNA tests? Give the readers of Celebrità a scandal to thrill them over the breakfast table? Make his mother the centre of vicious whispers?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No...’
‘I created a trust fund for Alberto when he was born, cara. And today, when you took Valentina to your workshop to show her your designs, Papà agreed to sign documents giving me legal access to Alberto, and to name me his guardian in the event of a divorce.’
‘Will Valentina agree to that?’
‘She knows that he will always be a part of my life,’ he said. ‘I want you to know that.’
‘I treasure your trust. You are a very special man, Dante Vettori.’ And to show her confidence, her trust, she took his key from her pocket and offered it to him.
‘You are returning my key?’
‘No, caro, I’m not returning it; I’m giving it to you for safe keeping.’
He took the key, put it in his pocket and then took her hand. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘It was ten hours, Dante,’ she said, stepping into his arm. ‘But I’ve missed you, too.’
‘Did I tell you that you look lovely today?’
‘Make the most of it. I’m going to buy a pink fluffy jumper at the market on Tuesday. And if you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll wear it on television.’
His kiss was thorough and then, as a demonstration of how seriously he took her threat, he picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom and kissed every single part of her.
Later, when she was lying in his arms, he said, ‘Tell me about this pink jumper thing. Is it going to be an ongoing threat? Not that I’m complaining.’
‘I’ll tell you when you can relax.’ She looked up at him. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Ask away.’
‘What did Valentina whisper in your ear last night?’
‘You saw?’
‘I saw.’
‘She said, “Si prega di essere felice...” I’d told her that I’d met someone and, having met you, she was urging me to be happy.’ He leaned down and kissed her. ‘A command that I’m delighted to obey.’
* * *
‘Uh-oh.’
‘Cara?’
‘I’ve had a text from Elle. I knew opening the ice cream parlour at Easter was a mistake. They’re all coming to see it.’
‘They’re flying to Milan to see an ice cream parlour?’
‘Professional interest?’ she offered.
‘Cara...’
‘Okay, they’re coming to check you out. Sorry, I’ve tried to be as casual about us as I can be, but the less you say, the more big sisters read between the lines.’
‘Is there anything I should know? Topics not to be mentioned?’
‘Just be yourself and they’ll love you. But I have to find somewhere for them to stay.’
‘I’ll call Papà and ask if the villa at Lake Como is going to be free.’
‘It’s not. Valentina told me that they’re going to the Lake for Easter. She rang to invite us while you were out. I thought that maybe we could go down on Sunday for the day so that you can spend time with Alberto but...’
‘But nothing. There’s plenty of room.’ He took out his phone. ‘Four adults, three children, one baby, right?’ She nodded and he made the call. ‘They’re delighted to have them and we’ll stay over until Tuesday. It’ll give you plenty of time to catch up with your sisters.’
‘Did I ever tell you that I love you?’ she said.
‘Not since breakfast. Are we done here?’
She looked around at the rich green walls, the huge brilliant print—just the corner of an ice cream sundae with all the focus on a huge, glistening red cherry—the white-painted furniture, vintage jukebox and gleaming ice cream counter waiting to be filled.
Outside in the courtyard, tubs of red and white flowers were overflowing from old stone troughs and she’d threaded tiny white solar-powered fairy lights through the vines that would light up as dusk fell.
‘It looks done to me.’
‘Then come with me. I have something to show you.’
He took her outside and unlocked the front door of the tall narrow building next door that had, until the owner retired a few weeks ago, been a hardware store.
‘More expansion plans?’ she asked. ‘Only I’m a bit busy.’
She’d been working flat out since the photograph of her talking to the Maestro had appeared in an Italian lifestyle magazine reporting his interest in her belt. Now it seemed everyone wanted one.
He had offered her a job in return for the rights to reproduce it but, flattered as she was, she didn’t want to be a nameless designer producing ideas for a designer ‘brand’.
She had her own label and was collaborating with a student who could do amazing things with leather to produce variations on her design in gorgeous colours.
She’d also had an order for a dozen of her spider web beaded silk chiffon tops for a Milan boutique.
‘I know how busy you are and that you need more space,’ he said. ‘Welcome to your atelier.’
‘What? No...’
‘No?’ Dante repeated. ‘You do not think this would make appropriate showroom space fo
r your designs?’
‘A showroom...’ She spun around, imagining everything painted white, shelves, a display table, one brilliantly coloured piece in the small window. ‘You know it’s perfect.’
‘I’m glad that’s settled. There’s a room out the back for office and storage and two rooms on the next floor for workshop space. And on the top floor...’
She turned to him, knowing what was coming. She’d told him, that first night in Isola, about her dream. A house with three floors. One for sales, one for work and one to live in.
‘There’s a little apartment. Just big enough for one?’
‘Well, it’s a bit bigger than that. I thought we could knock it through.’
She frowned. ‘Knock it through? I don’t understand. Have you bought this?’
‘No. At least not recently. I inherited some money from my maternal grandfather when I turned twenty-one and Nonnina wanted to raise the money to help her son set up in business in Australia. She owned the whole block and it seemed like a good investment, even if part of the deal was that she stayed on, rent-free, until she decided to retire. Papà would buy it in a heartbeat if it was for sale.’
‘Madonna, Dante, you know how to take the wind out of a girl’s sails.’
He shrugged. ‘So you’re good with that? Extending the apartment? Only we’ll need more space when we’re married.’
And, while she was struggling to get her chin under control, he produced a small leather box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a large solitaire diamond.
‘Dante, caro, my love, are you sure? There’s no hurry...’
He did not pretend that he did not understand but said, ‘This is different in so many ways from Valentina. We are not just lovers, Angel, we’re friends. Siete la mia aria... You are the air I breathe. Voglio stare con te per sempre... I want to stay with you for ever. Ti amo.’ And then again in English, so there could be no mistake. ‘I love you, mia amore. I would leave here and go to the ends of the earth to be with you.’
She dashed away a tear, took the ring from the box and gave it to him, holding out her hand, and as he placed it on her finger she said, ‘Siete la mia aria, Dante. Voglio stare con te per sempre... I would live in a cave with you.’
* * *
There were two weddings. The first was in Isola early in May. They said their vows in the municipio, with Giovanni standing as his best man and his own bride, Lisa, as her very best woman. Afterwards everyone was invited to a party in the communal garden. The feast was lavish but still everyone brought something they had made to add to the table. Geli’s family returned to Isola for the occasion, bringing with them her grandmother and Great-Uncle Basil. Nonnina flew with her son from Australia to be with Dante and meet his bride. A fiddler played so that they could dance and later, as dusk fell, a jazz quartet filled the air with smooth, mellow music while the square was lit up with thousands of tiny white fairy lights.
* * *
Six weeks later, in midsummer, Geli and Dante repeated their vows in the Orangery at Haughton Manor, just as Geli’s sister had done a few years earlier, followed by a picnic in the park with Rosie in attendance to provide all the ice cream anyone could eat. This time her sisters were her best women, her small nieces her bridesmaids and Great-Uncle Basil gave her away.
Over the vintage cream slipper satin vintage gown she’d adapted for both occasions, Geli wore a luscious new belt made from shocking-pink suede, which made the front page of Celebrità and its English version, Celebrity.
An order book for a limited edition of the design was filled the same day.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A BRIDE FOR THE ITALIAN BOSS by Susan Meier.
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A Bride for the Italian Boss
by Susan Meier
CHAPTER ONE
ITALY HAD TO BE the most beautiful place in the world.
Daniella Tate glanced around in awe at the cobblestone streets and blue skies of Florence. She’d taken a train here, but now had to board a bus for the village of Monte Calanetti.
After purchasing her ticket, she strolled to a wooden bench. But as she sat, she noticed a woman a few rows over, with white-blond hair and a slim build. The woman stared out into space; the faraway look in her eyes triggered Daniella’s empathy. Having grown up a foster child, she knew what it felt like to be alone, sometimes scared, usually confused. And she saw all three of those emotions in the woman’s pretty blue eyes.
An announcement for boarding the next bus came over the public address system. An older woman sitting beside the blonde rose and slid her fingers around the bag sitting at her feet. The pretty blonde rose, too.
“Excuse me. That’s my bag.”
The older woman spoke in angry, rapid-fire Italian and the blonde, speaking American English, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying.”
But the older woman clutched the bag to her and very clearly told the American that it was her carry-on.
Daniella bounced from her seat and scurried over. She faced the American. “I speak Italian, perhaps I can help?” Then she turned to the older woman. In flawless Italian, she asked if she was sure the black bag was hers, because there was a similar bag on the floor on the other side.
The older woman flushed with embarrassment. She apologetically gave the bag to the American, grabbed her carry-on and scampered off to catch her bus.
The pretty blonde sighed with relief and turned her blue eyes to Daniella. “Thank you.”
“No problem. When you responded in English it wasn’t a great leap to assume you didn’t speak the language.”
The woman’s eyes clouded. “I don’t.”
“Do you have a friend coming to meet you?”
“No.”
Dani winced. “Then I hope you have a good English-to-Italian dictionary.”
The American pointed to a small listening device. “I’ve downloaded the ‘best’ language system.” She smiled slightly. “It promises I’ll be fluent in five weeks.”
Dani laughed. “It could be a long five weeks.” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Daniella, by the way.”
The pretty American hesitated, but finally shook Daniella’s hand and said, “Louisa.”
“It’s my first trip to Italy. I’ve been teaching English in Rome, but my foster mother was from Tuscany. I’m going to use this final month of my trip to find her home.”
Louisa tilted her head. “Your foster mother?”
Dani winced. “Sorry. I’m oversharing.”
Louisa smiled.
“It’s just that I’m so excited to be here. I’ve always wanted to visit Italy.” She didn’t mention that her longtime boyfriend had proposed the day before she left for her teaching post in Rome. That truly would be oversharing, but also she hadn’t known what to make of Paul’s request to marry him. Had he proposed before her trip to tie her to him? Or had they hit the place in their relationship where marriage really was the next step? Were they ready? Was marriage right for them?
Too many questions came with his offer of marriage. So she hadn’t accepted. She’d told him she would answer him when she returned from Italy. She’d planned this February side trip to be a nice, uncomplicated space of time before she settled down to life as a tea
cher in the New York City school system. Paul had ruined it with a proposal she should have eagerly accepted, but had stumbled over. So her best option was not to think about it until she had to.
Next month.
“I extended my trip so I could have some time to bum around. See the village my foster mother came from, and hopefully meet her family.”
To Daniella’s surprise, Louisa laughed. “That sounds like fun.”
The understanding in Louisa’s voice caused Danielle to brighten again, thinking they had something in common. “So you’re a tourist, too?”
“No.”
Dani frowned. Louisa’s tone in that one simple word suddenly made her feel as if she’d crossed a line. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
Louisa sighed. “It’s okay. I’m just a bit nervous. You were kind to come to my rescue. I don’t mean to be such a ninny. I’m on my way to Monte Calanetti.”
Daniella’s mouth fell open. “So am I.”
The announcement that their bus was boarding came over the loudspeaker. Danielle faced the gate. Louisa did, too.
Dani smiled. “Looks like we’re off.”
“Yes.” Louisa’s mysterious smile formed again.
They boarded the bus and Daniella chose a spot in the middle, believing that was the best place to see the sights on the drive to the quaint village. After tucking her backpack away, she took her seat.
To her surprise, Louisa paused beside her. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
Daniella happily said, “Of course, I don’t mind! That would be great.”
But as Louisa sat, Daniella took note again that something seemed off about her. Everything Louisa did had a sense of hesitancy about it. Everything she said seemed incomplete.
“So you have a month before you go home?”
“All of February.” Daniella took a deep breath. “And I intend to enjoy every minute of it. Even if I do have to find work.”
“Work?”
“A waitressing job. Or maybe part-time shop clerk. That kind of thing. New York is a very expensive place to live. I don’t want to blow every cent I made teaching on a vacation. I’ll need that money when I get back home. So I intend to earn my spending money while I see the sights.”