ALSO BY LOUISE ROSE-INNES
Antarctic Affair
Lessons in Love
Visit Louise at www.LouiseRoseInnes.com
THE ITALIAN INHERITANCE
By Louise Rose-Innes
Published by The Romance Collective
ISBN: 978-0-9574269-0-0
CHAPTER ONE
When something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
Well, that was her opinion anyway. Experience had taught her that. Nothing in life ever came easily, and if it did, it probably wasn’t worth having. She’d worked hard to get where she was today. Blood, sweat and tears, hard. And no one had given her anything on a silver platter. She’d done it all herself.
So when the owner of the Bella Vista hotel had nodded and written down this address, she’d been more than a tad suspicious. What were the chances of finding her birth father only hours after arriving on the island of Capri? Slim, at best, right?
She glanced thoughtfully at the piece of paper in her hand. Maybe the old guy at the hotel really did know Giovanni. Her father would probably be in his sixties now, just like the old man. Capri wasn’t a very big island. It was feasible that they knew each other, or of each other, at least.
Only one way to find out...
Anna trudged along the quaint cobbled path looking for the romantic sounding Villa San Rosanna.
So far Anna loved everything about Capri. The smells were sweet and pungent, the heat balmy and all-encompassing. She’d never seen sky so blue and peering into the azure depths of the Mediterranean as the ferry had docked, Anna was overwhelmed by its shimmering clarity. She could even make out the sandy bottom, which had her fighting the urge to throw her hot, sweaty self overboard and into the inviting depths. Capri was a far cry from the austere greyness of London and Anna felt like she’d landed on another planet. It was such a pity she didn’t have more time (or money) to enjoy it.
The path narrowed and the golden stone walls suddenly grew in height obscuring the residences on either side. Anna slowed down to wipe a bead of sweat from her temple. How much farther was it? The stone pathway seemed to weave nonsensically all over the hilltop. How she was going to find her way back, she had no idea. The views were amazing, however. Every now and then, between sprawling hibiscus and palm trees, Anna caught a glimpse of the cobalt blue Mediterranean and would stop and stare, mesmerised by its colour and tranquillity.
Finally she rounded yet another corner and saw it. On the wall, in rusty gold lettering was a sign Villa San Rosanna. It glinted in the late afternoon sun as if taunting her. Anna leant against the cool, whitewashed wall in relief. She’d found it. Now all she had to do was ring the bell.
Yet she couldn’t move. Her knees suddenly felt weak and her hands were shaking.
Come on, Anna. You haven’t travelled all the way from London to turn back now.
She glanced up. The wall surrounding the villa was high which prevented anyone from seeing into the property. It seemed to stretch forever in both directions and Anna realised that the property itself was probably much larger than it looked from the outside. Vibrant bougainvillea in every shade of pink swept over the wall and mingled with the wild roses protruding from terracotta urns on either side of a tall, wooden gate.
It was picture postcard perfect. Anna spotted a smart intercom system to the left of the gate. It looked new. With a deep breath she pushed the buzzer.
Nothing.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Would the man that opened that door be her mother’s lover of twenty-five years ago, the mysterious Giovanni? And if it was, how would she recognise him? Would he look like her?
She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer. Please let it be him.
Anna had dreamed of this moment many times since reading her mother’s letter. She had visions of the two of them, both tall and blonde, with the same clear blue eyes, gazing at each other in wonder. Then she would whisper, Papa... And he would open his arms and envelope her, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. That she was safe. That she belonged. That she had a family.
But those were childish dreams. Reality was nothing like that. On the off-chance that Giovanni actually lived here, he wouldn’t recognise her because he had no idea he had a daughter. Her mother had taken that secret with her to the grave. The only proof Anna had was the letter.
For Anna, that childish urge to be safe and protected had long gone. She’d learned to survive on her own. Now, fiercely independent and confident in her ability to fend for herself, Anna didn’t need anyone. She’d come a long way from that shy, sad little twelve year old, who was sent to boarding school after her mother’s death.
The one thing she did want, however, was a family. Deprived of a father growing up and losing her mother at a young age, Anna had big plans in that department. She wanted a big house, a loving husband and lots of dogs and kids running around the place—in that order. On this, she was non-negotiable.
She pushed the buzzer again, more urgently this time. A long minute passed in which all Anna heard was the buzzing of the bees in the nearby Frangipani tree.
Perhaps there was no one home?
A little of the tension dissipated, but then disappointment moved in. Please don’t let this be a dead-end. Maybe she should have waited until the morning to go scouting the island for Giovanni. She was exhausted after travelling all day. The flight from Heathrow had taken three and a half hours, then the ferry to Capri added an extra hour to her travel time. She felt hot and sticky—and she desperately wanted a swim. If the man at the hotel hadn’t given her this address she’d be submerged in the refreshing depths of the hotel pool right now. A wave of longing swept over her.
There would be time enough to come back tomorrow. Her appointment at the attorney’s office, the place where her mother’s letter had been addressed, wasn’t until eleven. If she got up early enough she could come back here en route.
Decision made, she turned to leave.
“Si?” The voice came over the intercom.
Anna froze.
So much for that idea.
Her heart rate escalated. For a fleeting moment she considered bolting, but her feet wouldn’t move. Slowly she turned on her heel to face the gate.
Leaning forward, Anna spoke clearly into the intercom. “Is this the residence of Giovanni Albertosi?”
A pause, then, “Who wants to know?”
Anna hesitated. Should she give her name? Her father might recognise her mother’s surname. Maybe it would help. If it wasn’t her father... well, then it didn’t matter anyway.
“Anna Crawford,” she said finally, offering no further explanation.
Another pause.
“Un momento.” There was an audible click as the intercom went off.
How Anna got through the next few minutes she had no idea. After twenty-five fatherless years she could be about to face the man who had sired her. She stood her ground as heavy footsteps crunched down the garden path. Blood pounded in her ears. She hardly knew what to think, let alone say.
Anna touched her mother’s sacred letter in her pocket as if it would give her the strength she so desperately needed to get through the next few minutes.
If, and that was a big if, this was her father, she had so many questions to ask him. Like how had he met her mother? Why had their affair ended? Did her mother walk away, or did Giovanni end it? Most importantly, how did he feel about having a daughter? Would he even care?
Hopefully he’d be as excited as she was and they’d hit it off straight away. Perhaps once they’d got to know each other better she could pop over for long weekends. Italy wasn’t that far away from London. But she was getting above herself here. F
irst things first...
The tall, wooden gate creaked open and Anna gasped for the man standing there was a good twenty years younger than the man she had expected to see. He was tall, taller than her, which was saying something since she was nearly six feet, and casually dressed in denim jeans and a black t-shirt. She must have interrupted him in the shower, because his hair was wet and spiky.
“Can I help you?” he asked cordially, but with an impatient edge to his voice. His dark eyes studied her with interest.
“You aren’t Giovanni Albertosi, are you?” blurted Anna, then instantly regretted it. Of course he wasn’t. Fifty-year-old men didn’t look this good. Her eyes wandered over his broad chest straining under the T-shirt and down his smooth, tanned arms. This guy was probably in his early thirties. She raised an eyebrow at the brushed metal Rolex on his wrist. Nice accessory.
“Er, no. I’m not.” He was looking at her strangely. She didn’t blame him. She would also be curious if a stranger appeared out of the blue looking for someone she’d never heard of at her address.
“He doesn’t live here, by any chance, does he?” she asked, trying to peer round him into the property.
The man shifted his position to block her view. “No, he does not.”
Anna suddenly felt foolish. “Sorry,” she said with a nervous laugh. “It’s just that I’m desperately looking for this man, Giovanni Albertosi, and I was told to come to this address.”
“Really?” The man’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Who told you to come here?”
“The manager at the Bella Vista hotel.” Anna fiddled in her handbag and retrieved the slip of paper. She handed it to him. “When I asked if he knew Giovanni, he gave me this.”
The man glanced down at the piece of paper, but didn’t take it. “Yes, that is this address, but there is no one here by that name.”
Anna frowned, puzzled. “I wonder why he thought I’d find him here.”
The man didn’t answer.
“He seemed so sure,” Anna said almost to herself. “I can’t understand it.”
“He must have been mistaken,” suggested the man indifferently.
Anna nodded slowly. It was possible the manager had gotten it wrong. The language barrier was a problem. She spoke no Italian while the manager’s English was stilted at best. Anna tried to think logically. Perhaps Giovanni had lived here years ago, when he met her mother. Twenty-six years was a long time. This man wouldn’t have been around then.
“Why are you looking for him?”
The question caught Anna by surprise. For a moment she didn’t know how to answer. She couldn’t explain her predicament to a complete stranger.
“It... It’s personal,” she stammered. “I’d rather not discuss it.” It was certainly none of his businesses, whoever he was.
“I see.”
He almost sounded offended. Anna shrugged apologetically. Then she tried a different angle. “You wouldn’t know if the previous owner was a Giovanni Albertosi, would you?” It was worth a shot.
“This house has been in my family for generations,” the man replied. Anna stared at him in dismay.
“Really?” That ruled out the previous owner theory. This was looking more and more like a dead-end.
He nodded firmly. “Yes, it has never changed hands as far as I know.”
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.
Back to square one.
The man raised his eyebrows, “Is that all?”
“Yes, I’m sorry to have bothered you,” she said wearily. “You’re right. There must be some mistake.” The guy at the hotel had obviously gotten it wrong or misunderstood her.
“No problem.”
Anna should have known it was too good to be true. To come this far and expect her father’s whereabouts to fall directly into her lap on day one was wishful thinking. It had been foolish to expect it.
Tomorrow morning she’d visit the attorney’s office as originally planned. This was the office to which her mother’s letter had been addressed and the only definite clue she had to her father’s whereabouts. Hopefully they would be able to help her. If not, she had no idea what she was going to do.
She couldn’t go chasing all over Italy looking for a man who didn’t know she existed. As it was her meagre budget would barely stretch to a week on the island. As much as she adored her job, maternity nurses didn’t get paid a lot and she’d already charged the hotel deposit to her credit card. A cardinal sin as far as she was concerned. Usually so financially aware, she’d already spent a bundle on this impromptu trip.
That was another thing. She only had two weeks leave, at the most. Patrick in HR had pulled some serious strings to get this approved. She didn’t want to mess him around more than she could help it. A double-shot toffee-nut latte was coming his way when she got back to London.
As the nervous tension that had been building throughout the day dissipated, Anna felt like collapsing. Instead she smiled bravely, gave a little nod and pulled on her dark glasses, relieved she’d remembered to bring them.
With her head held high she walked back down the cobbled path to the main road, the teasing scent of bougainvillea wafting after her.
CHAPTER TWO
The lawyer’s office was situated a few minutes’ walk from La Piazzetta, Capri’s central square, but due to the ramshackle layout and intertwined cobblestoned streets it took Anna the better part of half an hour to find it.
For her appointment, she’d dressed carefully in a floral wrap-around dress with strappy leather sandals and only a smattering of make-up. It never hurt to impress. She finally came to a stop outside a quaint side-walk restaurant which spilled onto a splendid veranda overlooking the street.
“Signorina, come and join us?” A table of men gestured frantically from the patio. Anna smiled politely and shook her head. She had no interest in frivolity right now. The only thought in her head was to find out why her mother had addressed her letter to this office, and what they could tell her about her father.
The restaurant was packed to capacity and the smell of herbed pizza wafted through the balmy midday air. Anna’s stomach grumbled and she realised her mistake at skipping breakfast. Stressed or not, she had to keep her energy levels up.
After the meeting with the attorney she’d stop for a cappuccino and a bite to eat. But first things first…
Where was the entrance?
Anna finally located a zigzagged staircase on the side of the building. She climbed the two flights to the door and as there was no railing, trailed her hand along the dimpled white-washed wall to keep her balance. It felt dry and powdery beneath her fingers.
The plaque on the door said, Attorney: Rafael Vialli.
Well, Mr. Vialli, thought Anna as she brushed the dust off her hands, I really hope you can help me.
Entering the office, Anna was surprised to find it was light and airy and much bigger than it looked from the outside. A pretty receptionist in a crisp, white shirt with glossy black hair and a sulky pout sat behind the front desk reading a magazine. She looked up as Anna entered.
“I’m here to see Mr. Vialli,” said Anna. “I have an appointment. Sorry, I’m a few minutes late. I got lost. It’s like a maze out there.” She smiled at the girl who studied her curiously. Perhaps she didn’t speak English.
“Signore Vialli?” Anna raised her eyebrows.
“Si. Signore Vialli is here.” The girl got up from behind the desk. “One moment, please.” Her English was accented, but perfectly clear.
Anna watched her saunter to an interleading office door, knock and open it without waiting for a reply. She wore a tight pencil skirt, which looked great on her curvy figure, paired with high heels. She poked her head around the door, said something in Italian, nodded, then returned to her desk.
“Yes?” prompted Anna about to burst with anticipation. All her hopes were pinned on this man, this Signore Vialli. She was dying to see him. Needed to find out what he knew about her father, i
f anything.
“You can go in now,” motioned the receptionist, leaning forward to arrange some papers lying on the desk.
Anna exhaled. Yes!
She marched to the interleading door, scarcely able to contain her excitement. It opened easily and within seconds she was in an elegant, spacious office. The man behind the desk stood up to greet her.
“You!” Anna gasped in surprise. “But you... I thought...” Confusion clouded her brain. What was he doing here? He’d turned her away from Villa San Rosanna yesterday. He didn’t know anything about Giovanni Albertosi. Or did he?
She stood rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend what was going on.
The man appeared unaffected.
“Signorina,” he said in a pleasant voice. “Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to a big leather chair positioned on the opposite side of his desk.
In a trance, Anna sank into the soft leather and stared at him. He looked far more professional today than he had last night. Gone were the casual denims and T-shirt, replaced by a smart, steel-grey suit and black shirt that hinted at his authority.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she began hesitantly. “Yesterday you said you didn’t know Giovanni Albertosi and today...?” Her voice faded out.
The lawyer put the tips of his fingers together and studied her contemplatively. “Let’s start at the beginning,” he suggested. His tone was not unfriendly. “What is your name?”
“Anna Crawford,” she replied quickly. “I made an appointment a few days ago, from London. I’m looking for...”
“And how are you related to Signore Albertosi?”
Anna stared at him in astonishment. “How did you know I was related to him? I didn’t say that.” She searched his face but his expression was neutral, only the eyes regarded her warily.
“Aren’t you?” he enquired politely.
Anna didn’t see how that was any of his business. Who was he in relation to Giovanni? He could be anyone. She didn’t know him from a bar of soap. So she ignored his question and instead asked, “So you do know Giovanni? Why did you lie to me yesterday?”
The Italian Inheritance Page 1