‘I am,’ Vincenzo said. ‘But since when did I ever miss a party?’
Antonietta frowned, a little surprised that Vincenzo wasn’t in Florence. But then Tony walked in, carrying silver trays laden with seafood and all kinds of delicacies, smiling proudly. He almost overbalanced when he saw that Vincenzo had arrived.
She turned and looked as a flush crept up Vincenzo’s cheeks when Tony smiled at him. Oh, my! No wonder Vincenzo was putting on weight. Imagine if Tony was trying to constantly feed you!
‘Is Tony the reason you aren’t home for Christmas?’ Antonietta asked with a smile.
‘I am home for Christmas,’ Vincenzo said. ‘Here is home. It just took me a little while to work that out. My family have refused to accept Tony and me. So it is time to start our own traditions...’
‘Good for you,’ Antonietta said.
The table was groaning with the most delicious food. Christmas Eve was the Feast of the Seven Fishes, and there was lobster, scungilli... And as they sat and laughed it was impossible not be happy.
As the feasting ended the speeches started, and she looked around the table and saw that these people were the ones she loved.
Nico started by thanking his staff, and Antonietta for her marvellous idea. And there was clearly too much champagne flowing, because they all toasted Aurora for persuading him.
Then Francesca spoke. ‘My staff have never let me down...’
Antonietta flushed a little at that.
‘Never,’ Francesca said. ‘There is nowhere I would rather be than here this Christmas.’
And then Antonietta stood, and though her speech was short and sweet it came from her heart. ‘I am so lucky to have you all.’
She truly was, Aurora knew. She finally had her magical Christmas.
‘I might go for a walk in the temple ruins,’ said Pino. ‘And burn this dinner off.’
‘A good idea!’ Francesca smiled.
For a second Antonietta thought Francesca was going to suggest joining Pino, but there was something in his stance that suggested he wanted to be alone.
‘Enjoy your walk,’ Francesca said.
‘Thank you.’ Pino smiled.
But one day Francesca would join him. Antonietta just knew it.
It really was a two-by-two world, Antonietta thought as she bounced little Gabe on her knee and looked over to Vincenzo and Tony, who were happily holding hands.
‘Antonietta,’ Francesca whispered in her ear. ‘Sorry to pull you away, but I need someone to take a trolley up to the August Suite.’
And it seemed that ‘someone’ would be her.
‘Here,’ Antonietta said, and handed little Gabe back to Aurora. ‘I have to take a trolley up. I shouldn’t be long.’
‘We ought to get going,’ Aurora said.
‘Yes.’ Antonietta forced a smile. ‘You have an announcement to get to.’
Antonietta could hear the laughter wafting up from the ballroom as she pushed the trolley along the cloister. She hadn’t been back to the August Suite since her cruel parting from Rafe, and it didn’t help that it was Christmas Day.
And that everyone was happy except her.
She pressed her fingers into her eyes and rued the champagne she had drunk, because guests did not need a chambermaid with tears in her eyes.
‘Service,’ she called after knocking.
When she got no reply, she swiped her card and let herself in.
‘Service,’ she said again.
And then stepped into a room that was not in complete darkness, for though the drapes were drawn, every candle in the suite had been lit. The August Suite was softly illuminated with twinkling lights that stretched and danced to a gentle breeze she hadn’t even been aware existed.
It felt like a church, or a ballroom, as if the stars had been brought down from the sky.
‘Buon Natale, Antonietta.’
She jolted at the sound of his voice.
‘Rafe!’
She must be dreaming. Hallucinating, even. For he was dressed in military finery, and now that her eyes were adjusting she saw that the August Suite had a Christmas tree, with presents beneath it. And a dining table set for two.
Yes, she was dreaming, Antonietta decided. She would wake up in a moment and her pillow would be wet with tears and she would be late for duty...
‘I forgot my present,’ Rafe said when she could not speak.
‘I gave you your present, Rafe. The neroli oil, remember?’
‘Of course. It is on my dresser at home. I meant the chocolate.’
‘I gave it to Pino,’ Antonietta said, utterly unsure as to what was going on, and expecting him at any moment to disappear.
Except he did not disappear. In fact, when she walked over he wrapped her in his arms, but that only served to confuse her further.
‘I saw you on the balcony...on the television,’ she said.
‘That was a couple of hours ago. It would be a break with tradition if I did not appear...’
‘Rafe.’ She pulled back. ‘I cannot do this. Does Francesca—?’
‘Stop,’ he said. ‘There is no conflict—this is no clandestine meeting. She knows that I am here, and so do Nico and Aurora.’
‘They know?’
‘Of course. And they agree that Christmas Day should be spent with the people you love. Oui?’
Yes. Did that mean birthdays too? And all the other special days? Would he return to Silibri on a whim?
‘I have ravioli caprese for us,’ said Rafe, ‘and chocolate torte too...’
‘I’ve eaten, Rafe.’
Perhaps it was not the kindest reply, when he had gone to so much trouble, but Antonietta didn’t know what his being here meant.
When she didn’t lift the cloche, Rafe did.
But it was not a romantic dinner for two that lay beneath.
It was her Blue Grotto stone. She would recognise it anywhere, even set in a ring.
‘It’s beautiful, but...’
Rather than pick it up, she cast anxious eyes up to him.
‘Please don’t play with my heart, Rafe. Please don’t tell me that this sapphire means you will one day return...that we will kiss and be together again in the light of the Blue Grotto...’
‘I would never do that,’ Rafe said. ‘And it is not a sapphire, Antonietta. It is a diamond. Forgive me for ever thinking it should be a pendant. We shall kiss and be together again in the light of the Blue Grotto—but as husband and wife...’
‘How...?’
‘How not?’ Rafe said. ‘How could I ever marry anyone else? It would not just be unfair to us both, but it would be cruel to my wife also. I have my mother to thank for that insight.’
He told her the truth.
‘My father used to take his lovers to Capri, and I confess, for a while I considered doing the same with you. And Nico said that Silibri could be my bolthole...’
‘Never!’ Antonietta shook her head.
‘Silibri can be our bolthole,’ Rafe said. ‘I know it will be a huge change for you, and I know you might need time to think, and it’s a lot to take in...’
‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘I don’t need to think—you are my lid.’
‘Scusi?’
‘Every pot has its lid. And you, Rafe, are mine.’ She picked up her Blue Grotto ring and placed it on her own finger. ‘I would love more than anything in the world to be your wife.’
And then, when her bravery ran out, when she was daunted by all that lay ahead, Rafe carried her to the candlelit bedroom where he made her his lover for life.
EPILOGUE
‘I HAVE TO go to my parents’ house later...’
They lay in bed as she stared at her ring, which sparkled in the fading candlelight.
‘I said I would go there for a drink
.’
‘You are speaking to each other now?’ Rafe checked.
‘It would seem so.’
‘That is good,’ Rafe said. ‘Tell them that I have married you.’
‘Not yet!’ Antonietta laughed. ‘You must ask my father’s permission!’
‘Oh, no,’ Rafe said. ‘We will be married by then.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘There will be a huge formal wedding in a few weeks,’ Rafe told her. ‘And there will be duty and cameras and parades...’ He looked over at his bride-to-be. ‘But I want you to know how committed I am before I take you home. Life is going to change for you, Antonietta...’
‘I know.’
‘But my love for you never will.’
‘I know that too,’ Antonietta said. ‘But, Rafe, I have nothing—and I mean nothing—to wear.’
* * *
Enter Aurora. The best friend, the best seamstress and the best keeper and sharer of secrets that a girl could ever have.
Antonietta’s dress was a sheath of Italian white lace, so slender that for a second Antonietta was sure that Aurora had got her measurements wrong.
‘Hold still,’ Aurora warned. She wore gloves just to do the zipper up. ‘Oh, Antonietta, look!’
Aurora was crying—she actually was—as she admired not only her handiwork, and the pretty shoes she had selected, but her best friend’s happiness.
And then Francesca arrived and dotted her hair with flowers, handed her a little posy.
‘I am so happy for you,’ Francesca said. ‘And I take back every word I said about him.’
It was the most intimate and unofficial wedding in Tulano history. But what it lacked in paperwork, it made up for with love.
Rafe slid a heavy ring on her finger and said, ‘I loved you the morning I met you, though I told myself I had a head injury.’ Everyone smiled. ‘And I hope every day to see your eyes smiling.’
And Antonietta smiled up at her impossibly handsome groom and said, ‘I love you, and that is never going to change.’
‘I know,’ Rafe told her, and he kissed his shy bride who melted solely for him.
He held her hand as Pino read her favourite verse from Corinthians and choked up a little, for it was the one that had been read at his and Rosa’s wedding. One that was still relevant now...
‘“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”’
And Nico did a speech, during which both Aurora and Antonietta sat, just a little tense, hoping he would not share too much of the groom’s chequered past.
He did not.
‘Aurora considers Antonietta family. So I guess,’ Nico said, looking over to Rafe, ‘that my old friend is now almost my brother-in-law. Welcome to our family.’
Christmas had delivered its magic.
With Rafe by her side she belonged in this world.
And with friends like these surrounding her as she danced with the love of her life, Antonietta had got her for ever family...
* * *
If you enjoyed Secret Prince’s Christmas Seduction you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Carol Marinelli!
The Innocent’s Shock Pregnancy
The Billionaire’s Christmas Cinderella
Claimed for the Sheikh’s Shock Son
The Sicilian’s Surprise Love-Child
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Deal to Carry the Italian’s Heir by Tara Pammi.
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A Deal to Carry the Italian’s Heir
by Tara Pammi
CHAPTER ONE
“ARE WE REALLY supposed to think he’s given up his twisted revenge scheme?”
Leonardo Brunetti, CEO of Brunetti Finances Inc., asked the question of his younger brother, Massimo, about the man who had done too much damage over the last few months to both BFI and Massimo’s brainchild, Brunetti Cyber Securities.
Contracts had fallen through at the last minute, their father Silvio Brunetti’s embezzlement from BFI and his corruption—everything Leonardo had cleaned up in the last decade since he’d taken over as CEO of BFI—was being recycled in the news again and again, and even worse, Vincenzo Cavalli had hired a consortium of hackers from the dark net to hit Massimo and his wife Natalie’s multilayered security design for a billion-dollar contract for BCS.
They had almost lost that contract, too, except Natalie’s genius had saved it at the last minute. And now, Vincenzo had disappeared. They both knew better than to think the man was done, not after his brutal tactics to bring everything related to the Brunettis down.
“What happened to the financial trail that Natalie gave us?”
“The investigator found only one small nugget of information. That account has ties to Mario Fenelli.”
Mario Fenelli was one of the oldest members on the board of BFI, one of the old guard, a relic left over from when their father, Silvio, had ruled the board, and the staunchest, most vocal opponent of Leo.
While Leo, with his grandmother Greta’s and Massimo’s help, had cleaned up Silvio’s corruption and ousted him from the board, BFI’s founding board were members of Milan’s upper echelons of society. Old money, old power—men who didn’t want to give up what they had in the name of Leo’s financial reform and ethics that he’d brought to the firm.
Vincenzo’s actions had already had far-reaching consequences.
Contracts falling through, the cyber-attack on financial information of BFI’s clients, leaving BFI’s and BCS’s cybersecurity vulnerable, and then leaking the information to the board—Mario had been one step behind with his accusations that Leonardo was following in Silvio’s footsteps, creating an atmosphere of doubt and confusion among their clients, breathing rumors that Leo was just as corrupted.
It was because of the unprecedented growth and revenue BFI had seen under his leadership and the fact that the Brunettis—Greta, Leo, Massimo and their father, Silvio—still held the majority of stock in BFI that Leo hadn’t been forced to step down.
With the financial connection between Mario and Vincenzo, it was clear that Mario had been bought.
“Mario Fenelli is a greedy bastard,” said Massimo with a bite to his words.
“There has to be something in the old man’s history that we can use against him,” Leo said. “And if we can find Vincenzo through him, we can finally put an end to this.”
“Ms. Fernandez is here,” came his assistant’s voice through the intercom.
“Neha is here to see you?” said Massimo, his brow tied. Neha Fernandez, Leo’s oldest friend, was Mario’s stepdaughter. “You’re not involving her in this thing with Mario, are you?”
Leo wasn’t insulted by Massimo’s accusation. If he’d turned into the man that Silvio had brainwashed him to be, he wouldn’t have hesitated to use Neha.
Massimo and he had made a pact to run BFI with ethical and clean practices—basically, to be the opposite of what their father had been.
But Massimo had had the influence of a mother who had tried her hardest to fight their father’s corrosive and toxic influence on her weak son. A mother who’d strived to make sure that Massimo
understood what was right and what was wrong. A mother who’d put up with an abusive husband because to leave would’ve been to give up on her son. Massimo’s ill health, while making him the subject of Silvio’s vicious rants, had also kept his father away.
Leo, on the other hand, had worshipped his father until he’d learned what Silvio was capable of. His mind had been filled with bitter poison against the woman who had walked out on her young son in the middle of the night by an infuriated Silvio.
“No, I’m not,” he finally said.
Neha was the one woman with whom Leo’s association spanned the longest. The one woman he respected and admired. The one woman he’d always been intensely attracted to but hadn’t pursued because he wasn’t a relationship kind of man.
The tentative friendship had built the first day when Mario, a new board member of BFI, had brought Neha with him on his trip to Milan, and Silvio had brought Leo.
While her mother and stepfather had postured about their wealth and connections, Neha—even then a quiet, sharp, pretty girl—had arrested his attention. She’d already been running her late father’s bakery single-handed, and had been full of ideas for new branches. Leo, meanwhile, had been roiling with anger and rage—he’d discovered that week that not only was BFI in ruins, but that Silvio had been abusing Massimo emotionally for years, and that the man he’d worshipped for all his life was nothing but a bully all around.
Neha had listened to him rage about his father, the devastation he’d felt. She’d clasped his hand shyly and said, “But all you have to do is tell your brother that you’re sorry. That you do care about him. That... You love him.” He’d vowed that when he returned home with Silvio, he’d do just that.
In the meantime, he’d distracted himself by offering Neha ideas about how to raise seed money to expand her business.
And through the meteoric rise of her fame, from winning a local English village baking show contest at sixteen to transforming a chain of baking goods she’d created into a multi-million-pound business, Neha had come to him for advice and Leo had given it to the best of his ability.
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