Vettori's Damsel in Distress (Harlequin Romance Large Print) (15 page)

‘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 for 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

I
TALY
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 teacher 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.”

As the bus eased out of the station, Louisa said, “That’s smart.”

Dani sat up, not wanting to miss anything. Louisa laughed. “Your foster mother should have come with you.”

Pain squeezed Daniella’s heart. Just when she thought she was adjusted to her loss, the reality would swoop in and remind her that the sweet, loving woman who’d saved her was gone. She swallowed hard. “She passed a few months ago. She left me the money for my plane ticket to Italy in her will.”

Louisa’s beautiful face blossomed with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. That was careless of me.”

Daniella shook her head. “No. You had no way of knowing.”

Louisa studied her. “So you have no set plans? No schedule of things you want to see and do? No places you’ve already scouted out to potentially get a job?”

“No schedule. I want to wing it. I’ve done a bit of research about Rosa’s family and I know the language. So I think I’ll be okay.”

Louisa laughed. “Better off than I’ll be since I don’t know the language.” She held up her listening device. “At least not for another five weeks.”

The bus made several slow turns, getting them out of the station and onto the street.

Taking a final look at Florence, Dani breathed, “Isn’t this whole country gorgeous?” Even in winter with barren trees, the scene was idyllic. Blue skies. Rolling hills.

“Yes.” Louisa bit her lip, then hesitantly said, “I’m here because I inherited something, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She paused, studied Daniella’s face as if assessing if she could trust her before continuing, “A villa.”

“Oh, my God! A
villa
!”

Louisa glanced away. “I know. It’s pretty amazing. The place is called Palazzo di Comparino.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Yes.” She pulled out a picture of a tall, graceful house. Rich green vines grew in rows in the background beneath a blue sky.

It was everything Dani could do not to gape in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

Louisa laughed. “Yes. But so far I haven’t seen anything in Italy that isn’t gorgeous.” She winced. “I hate to admit it, but I’m excited.”

“I’d be beyond excited.”

“I’m told Monte Calanetti developed around Palazzo Chianti because of the vineyard which is part of the villa I inherited. Back then, they would have needed lots of help picking grapes, making the wine. Those people are the ancestors of the people who live there now.”

“That is so cool.”

“Yes, except I know nothing about running a vineyard.”

Daniella batted a hand. “With the internet these days, you can learn anything.”

Louisa sucked in a breath. “I hope so.”

Daniella laid her hand on Louisa’s in a show of encouragement. “You’ll be fine.”

Louise’s face formed another of her enigmatic smiles and Daniella’s sixth sense perked up again. Louisa appeared to want to be happy, but behind her smile was something...

Louisa brought her gaze back to Daniella’s. “You know, I could probably use a little help when I get there.”

“Help?”

“I don’t think I’m just going to move into a villa without somebody coming to question me.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m going to be at a loss if they’re speaking Italian.”

Dani winced. “Especially if it’s the sheriff.”

Louisa laughed. “I don’t even know if they have sheriffs here. My letter is in English, but the officials are probably Italian. It could turn out to be a mess. So, I’d be happy to put you up for a while.” She caught Dani’s gaze. “Even all four weeks you’re looking for your foster mom’s relatives—if you’d be my translator.”

Overwhelmed by the generous offer, Daniella said, “That would be fantastic. But I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“You’ll certainly earn your keep if somebody comes to check my story.”

Daniella grinned. “I’d be staying in a villa.”

Louisa laughed. “I
own
a villa.”

“Okay, then. I’d be happy to be your translator while I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Glad for the friendship forming between them, Daniella engaged Louisa in conversation as miles of hills and blue, blue sky rolled past them. Then suddenly a walled village appeared to the right. The bus turned in.

Aged, but well-maintained stucco, brick and stone buildings greeted them. Cobblestone streets were filled with happy, chatting people. Through the large front windows of the establishments, Dani could see the coffee drinkers or diners inside while outdoor dining areas sat empty because of the chilly temperatures.

The center circle of the town came into view. The bus made the wide turn but Dani suddenly saw a sign that read Palazzo di Comparino. The old, worn wood planks had a thick black line painted through them as if to cancel out the offer of vineyard tours.

Daniella grabbed Louisa’s arm and pointed out the window. “Look!”

“Oh, my gosh!” Louisa jumped out of her seat and yelled, “Stop!”

Daniella rose, too. She said,
“Fermi qui, per favore.”

It took a minute for the bus driver to hear and finally halt the bus. After gathering their belongings, Louisa and Daniella faced the lane that led to Louisa’s villa. Because Dani had only a backpack and Louisa had two suitcases and a carry-on bag, Daniella said, “Let me take your suitcase.”

Louisa smiled. “Having you around is turning out to be very handy.”

Daniella laughed as they walked down the long lane that took them to the villa. The pale brown brick house soon became visible. The closer they got, the bigger it seemed to be.

Louisa reverently whispered, “Holy cow.”

Daniella licked her suddenly dry lips. “It’s huge.”

The main house sprawled before them. Several stories tall, and long and deep, like a house with suites not bedrooms, Louisa’s new home could only be described as a mansion.

They silently walked up the stone path to the front door. When they reached it, Louisa pulled out a key and manipulated the lock. As the door opened, the stale, musty scent of a building that had been locked up for years assaulted them. Dust and cobwebs covered the crystal chandelier in the huge marble-floored foyer as well as the paintings on the walls and the curved stairway.

Daniella cautiously stepped inside. “Is your family royalty?”

Louisa gazed around in awe. “I didn’t think so.”

“Meaning they could be?”

“I don’t know.” Louisa turned to the right and walked into a sitting room. Again, dust covered everything. A teacup sat on a table by a dusty chair. Passing through that room, they entered another that appeared to be a library or study. From there, they found a dining room.

Watermarks on the ceiling spoke of damage from a second-floor bathroom or maybe even the roof. The kitchen was old and in need of remodeling. The first-floor bathrooms were outdated, as was every bathroom in the suites upstairs.

After only getting as far as the second floor, Louisa turned to Daniella with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the house would be in such disrepair. From the picture, it looked perfect. If you want to get a hotel room in town, I’ll understand.”

“Are you kidding?” Daniella rolled Louisa’s big suitcase to a stop and walked into the incredibly dusty, cobweb-covered bedroom. She spun around and faced Louisa. “I love it. With a dust rag, some cleanser for the bathroom and a window washing, this room will be perfect.”

Louisa hesitantly followed Daniella into the bedroom. “You’re an optimist.”

Daniella laughed. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t need to call a contractor about a few things. But we can clean our rooms and the kitchen.”

* * *

Raffaele Mancini stared at Gino Scarpetti, a tall, stiff man, who worked as the maître d’ for Mancini’s, Rafe’s very exclusive, upscale, Michelin-starred restaurant located in the heart of wine country.

Mancini’s had been carefully crafted to charm customers. The stone and wood walls of the renovated farmhouse gave the place the feel of days long gone. Shutters on the windows blocked the light of the evening sun, but also added to the Old World charisma. Rows of bottles of Merlot and Chianti reminded diners that this area was the home of the best vineyards, the finest wines.

Gino ripped off the Mancini’s name tag pinned to his white shirt. “You, sir, are now without a maître d’.”

A hush fell over the dining room. Even the usual clink and clatter of silverware and the tinkle of good crystal wineglasses halted.

Gino slapped the name tag into Rafe’s hand. Before Rafe could comment or argue, the man was out the door.