by Daisy James
‘Confidentiality clause? What confidentiality clause?’
‘Call her!’
‘Luca…’
But Luca was already racing towards the gazebo leaving Meghan reeling from their conversation. She believed him when he said he wasn’t involved with Sabrina, that they weren’t the wedding couple but the best man and the bridesmaid. Yet, looking at Luca in his elegant morning suit and fancy pink tie and matching buttonhole, she could equally understand how Izzie had jumped to the conclusion she had. She grabbed her phone and tried Izzie’s number again, but again it went to voicemail, so she left a message.
‘Hi Izzie, darling. I’ve read your note and there’s been a complete misunderstanding. I’ve spoken to Luca and he is not, I repeat, not getting married – he’s actually the best man, and a last-minute replacement at that – and the person you saw him with is a bridesmaid. And they are not a couple. I don’t know what’s going on, my head’s spinning to be honest – I need to speak to my idiot of a brother – so whatever you do you have to give Luca a chance to explain. He’s genuinely upset about what’s happened, but the wedding’s about to start so he can’t come and find you. Please, please, please, wherever you are, you need to wait for him at Antonio’s so he can talk to you.’
Meghan disconnected and replaced the phone in the pocket of her jeans, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she thought it would burst through her ribcage and canter away through the vines.
‘Okay, right,’ she muttered to herself, inhaling several steadying breaths before she pushed back her shoulders and tilted her chin in the air. ‘You’d better have a good explanation for all this, Brad Knowles!’
When Meghan emerged from the foliage, the wedding guests were all in their seats, their expressions filled with happy expectation, and Luca had taken his place in the gazebo next to the groom. With chiselled good looks, brilliant blue eyes and elegantly tousled dark hair, she had to admit that the guy about to take his vows oozed super-charged sex appeal and she recognised him as Stefano Rossellini, the actor who had won a Nastro D’Argento award for Attore Non Protagonista in one of her brother’s most successful films. Whilst he could probably walk down the street in London without a second glance, he most certainly couldn’t do the same in Italy.
Within seconds the music started, and she completely forgot her annoyance at her brother as she watched the bride and her two bridesmaids make their way down the red carpet. Stefano’s wife-to-be looked stunning in an off-the-shoulder, floor-length gown in ivory silk that enhanced her willowy figure perfectly. She carried the most amazing bouquet, as did her bridesmaids, her dark hair was threaded with fresh flowers and the smile on her face told its own story. Meghan glanced back to the groom and when she saw the depth of love reflected in his eyes her heart performed a somersault of joy.
Why shouldn’t this couple be afforded the privacy they craved on their wedding day? No wonder her brother had gone to such lengths to keep the whole thing under wraps – not everyone wanted their wedding day splashed across the front page of a daily newspaper.
The ceremony was the most beautifully orchestrated, visually stunning, occasion she’d ever had the pleasure of attending, and yet the whole thing was marred by the fact that the person the bride and groom should really be thanking for pulling the whole thing off without a hitch, was not there to enjoy her triumph.
Where was Izzie? Had she got her message? Would she be waiting at Antonio’s to give Luca a chance to explain? And how did Luca know Stefano? Why had he been asked to step in as best man at the last minute? What had happened to the original best man? And how soon could she grab her brother and give him a piece of her mind, because all this was totally his fault! If he had only trusted her, and Izzie, to start with, none of this would have happened.
Chapter Twenty Two
Antonio’s Trattoria, San Vivaldo
Colour: Romance Red
Izzie fingered her phone, contemplating the voicemail Meghan had left and wondering why she hadn’t answered straight away when she’d rang her back. Then she checked her watch and realised that she was probably, at that precise moment, witnessing the bride and groom exchange their vows.
Okay, so she’d made a mistake about thinking Luca and the bridesmaid were a couple about to become man and wife, and she was embarrassed about that. But when she had seen them together in the limonaia, their heads bent towards each other, the intimacy of the gesture told her there was clearly more than friendship between them.
She sat on the Vespa, surrounded by the same sunflowers she had crashed into when Luca had driven her off the road the previous week, which seemed like a lifetime ago. So, Luca had asked her to wait for him at Antonio’s to give him a chance to explain, but did she really want him to? Was there any point? He didn’t owe her anything – they had been friends for only a short time. He wasn’t to know how much that had meant to her, how much his kindness had helped her to cast off the cloak of misery she had worn around her shoulders for too long.
Wouldn’t it be better to just make her way to the airport and fly back to London a day early, to use the time to prepare for a new start at Hambleton Homes on Monday morning? But then, no matter what he had done in the limonaia, she would always be grateful to him for what he had given her and surely that deserved a chance to explain?
She scrolled through her contacts in her phone and selected a number, then paused trying to work out what to say before deciding just to keep it simple. That way there could be no misunderstandings.
‘See you at Antonio’s.’
She had no idea how long it would take Luca to get away. She suspected Italian weddings could go on for hours and the fact that Luca was best man would mean he’d have to deliver a speech at the reception afterwards. She sighed, resigned to the fact that she could be indulging in more than the permitted one cup of the thick, dark espresso she had grown to love, along with a myriad of other tasty treats that were as far away from her coffee-and-toast routine as you could get.
She pushed the Vespa out of the field and back onto the road, replaced her helmet and took a moment to absorb the scenery. Despite the trauma of the last hour, her spirits edged up a notch as her previously sluggish creativity tore away from its tethers and a kaleidoscope of new ideas and design concepts burst into her brain, all featuring the spectacular colour palette that was spread out before her. She started to mentally catalogue how she could weave them into her next commission; the dark emeralds and silver-greens of the foliage, the saffron yellow of the sunflowers, the rich terracottas of the roof tiles, the honey-gold façades of the buildings, the infinite blues of the sky dotted with random puffs of cotton wool.
A kernel of intense excitement popped like corn in her chest and a feeling of complete elation whipped through her veins as the ideas came thick and fast, like a technicoloured tsunami. She thought of the bedroom in her flat, of what she could do to transform the space from drab functionality to a place she wanted to spend her time nurturing fresh designs, textures, fabrics, paints, wallpapers. Maybe she could persuade Jonti to let her loose on his room, or approach a couple of her old clients who might be ready for a change of scenery?
She paused, allowing the thoughts ricocheting around her head to calm to a canter. Did all the enthusiasm mean she had made the decision not to return to Hambleton Homes?
Yes!
She smiled at the momentous decision she had just made, euphoria whooshing through her like a revitalising breeze. She grabbed her phone, searching for the number she had dialled more often than any other down the years. When she found it she stopped and a dart of intense pain scorched through her whole body causing her to gasp at its ferocity.
In that moment of unbridled joy, she had forgotten that Anna wasn’t simply at the other end of a phone, that she would never again hear her sister’s sweet, cheerful voice encouraging her, supporting her, championing every idea she had. Sadness and loss threatened to overwhelm her and she could do nothing to prevent tears from tr
ickling down her cheeks and landing with a splosh on the dusty earth at her feet.
Yet, she brushed them away, raising her eyes to the clouds as they raced towards their uncertain destination. Anna wouldn’t want to see her cry! She would encourage her to rush headlong into a new chapter of her life, to squeeze every bit of happiness from every situation. And anyway, she may not be on the end of a phone, but Izzie could feel Anna’s uplifting presence right there next to her, accompanying her every single day, urging her to be the best she could be – her beloved sister was her own personal guardian angel.
With a surge of optimism, she mounted the little pink Vespa, contemplating the possibility of investing in one when she got back to London – it would certainly solve her parking problems. As she navigated the twists and turns of the road leading to San Vivaldo, another thought niggled at her brain.
If she wasn’t going back to Hambleton Homes, could she perhaps reconsider Luca’s suggestion to speak to the owner of Villa Limoncello about their plans to host courses there? She realised with a start that she never had found out who owned the villa and made a mental note that she would get their details from Luca before she left – just in case.
By the time she arrived in San Vivaldo, her stomach was complaining vociferously that she hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. That was another thing that had changed since she’d arrived in Tuscany. Breakfast was a new concept to her, but she loved it! All those warm, flaky buttery croissants and cannoli oozing with cream. On impulse, she decided to call in at Oriana’s bakery, ordering a frothy cappuccino from a smiling teenager before taking a seat at the bistro table outside to savour every mouthful.
It had taken her a while to realise it, but food, and patisserie in particular, was one of the good things in life and the injection of sugar and caffeine sent her spirits skywards. She had only been in Italy for a few days and already she found that her clothes were actually starting to fit her instead of hanging from her frame as if she were a human coat hanger.
She glanced across the cobbled piazza to Francesca’s flower shop where her sister Gabriella was holding the fort for the day, then on to the fruttivendolo where a medley of exotic fruits had been displayed with the artistry of a grandmaster. Local residents were going about their daily business, their shopping expeditions bathed in golden sunlight, with smiles on their faces and all the time in the world to stop for a few words with their neighbours. This sense of community was something Izzie had never experienced in London. In fact, it was quite the opposite, with the early morning rush of time-starved commuters, their heads down so as not to risk inadvertent eye-contact, their shoulders hunched against the drizzle and the burden of making it to work on time.
What would it be like to stay in San Vivaldo? Could she perhaps take a sabbatical before starting up her business again? She still had most of her redundancy money left, and when she received her fee from Brad for organising the wedding she should be able to eke out a couple of months there.
As she sat back in her chair, relishing the warmth on her face, she experienced an overwhelming surge of positivity and she knew for certain that Anna was looking down on her and smiling, nodding her head in agreement and shouting ‘go for it’.
Could she?
However, before she could plan any further, she had to talk to Luca. The clock on the church tower struck three o’clock. Where had the time gone? She gathered her duffle bag and wheeled the Vespa down a narrow alleyway towards Antonio’s Trattoria with a smile on her face and a plan forming in her mind.
‘Hey! Izzie! Thank God, I thought I’d missed you!’
Her first glimpse of Luca running towards her from the veranda of Antonio’s, his hair flapping at his forehead, his dark eyes filled with anxiety, told her everything she needed to know. He had changed out of his morning suit into his preferred uniform of black jeans and matching T-shirt, for which she was grateful, and greeted her with a broad smile before depositing the usual kisses on her cheeks.
Strangely, the power of coherent speech seemed to have deserted her, but she smiled back and followed him into the trattoria where he guided her to a table in the corner. At that time of the day there were only a couple of patrons, both perched on bar stools next to the bar, staring morosely into their cups as if hoping that the meaning of life would be lurking somewhere in the dregs at the bottom.
Izzie slid into a chair and Luca brought over a couple of glasses of iced lemonade.
‘Izzie…’
‘It’s okay, Luca, Meghan’s told me what happened.’
Luca held her gaze, clearly struggling with where to start. Izzie wanted to make it easy for him, but that meant admitting the fact that the reason she had jumped to a very embarrassing conclusion was that she had feelings for him.
But so what? It wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her.
‘When I saw you in the limonaia, I thought you and Sabrina… well, I made a mistake, but you seemed very… erm, close and I just thought… Anyway, it’s fine…’
‘No, it’s not fine. When you told me about your misunderstanding over the film shoot, I tried to contact Brad to talk to him about it, to insist he brought you up to speed or I would, but I couldn’t get hold of him. Let me assure you, I’ve wanted to explain what’s been going on all week, but everyone involved – the guests, the suppliers, the waiting staff – we were all asked to sign a confidentiality agreement preventing us from revealing any details whatsoever about the wedding, so if I’d said anything, well…
‘It’s okay, Luca, I completely understand.’
‘No, you don’t.’
Luca heaved a long sigh, took a gulp of his lemonade and placed the glass down on the table before meeting her gaze head on.
‘Will you just listen? Let me finish before asking questions?’
‘Luca, it’s okay…’
‘Please? It’s too complicated to deliver in short bursts.’
‘Okay, but there is something really important I need to talk to you about, too.’
‘Want to go first?’
‘No, you can go first.’
‘Sure?’
Izzie nodded, intuition warning her that if she told Luca about her discovery in the vineyard before he’d had a chance to get his explanation off his chest he might just explode. The vines weren’t going anywhere, and she suspected that the culprit wouldn’t risk returning that day.
‘Okay. So, Meghan told you I was the best man, right?’
‘Right.’
‘And that Sabrina was one of the bridesmaids, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, up until last night, I was happily anticipating performing the role of usher at an old university friend’s wedding. Stefano and I did our degree together in Siena and we’ve been friends ever since, although I don’t get to see him as often as I would like now that he’s a major film star!’
‘He’s a major film star?’
‘Well, he is in Italy, and he gets a lot of attention wherever he goes. However, there was no way he was going to risk a coterie of exuberant fans causing mayhem on his wedding day or the paparazzi taking photographs and splashing them all over social media. That was why Brad offered to organise the whole thing, so that Stefano and Louisa wouldn’t have to talk to anyone about the arrangements, and it would be less likely to get out. Of course, they’ve planned a fabulously excessive party in Venice next weekend with everyone who’s anyone invited, but for the actual ceremony they just wanted an intimate declaration of love in front of family and a few close friends and a fabulous Italian feast afterwards.’
‘Okay, but…’
‘Anyway, after leaving you last night, I got a call from Stefano in a complete panic, asking if I would step in as best man because Alessandro’s mother had been rushed into hospital in Naples with a suspected heart attack and wasn’t expected to survive the night. Of course, I agreed, but it also meant I didn’t have a best man’s speech prepared for the reception. Alessandro emailed me his. I�
�ve been an extra in a few films before, so I tried to think of it as just another role, but I admit I was terrified and wasn’t thinking straight when Sabrina offered to help and dragged me off to the limonaia to “rehearse my lines”.’
‘But when I saw you…’ Heat flooded her face and she couldn’t meet his eyes.
‘When you saw me I was in the middle of telling Sabrina that there was no way I wanted to resume our relationship. As well as reminding her that she was newly engaged to Claudio, I also had to tell her that I no longer had feelings for her and that the best thing we could do was forget the conversation had even happened.’
Izzie’s brain felt like it had been crammed with cotton wool as she tried to connect the dots and come up with a realistic picture after all the twists and turns of the last few days. It was so surreal, she actually felt like she could be in a film!
She swallowed half her lemonade in one go, wishing Luca had added a shot of vodka. Everything was slowly falling into place, and instead of annoyance at being kept in the dark, or embarrassment over running away from the villa, a surge of hilarity bubbled through her chest. She burst into laughter, laughter she couldn’t control until tears ran down her cheeks and she had to wipe them away with her sleeve as Luca watched on, bemused, uncertain how to react to her sudden hysterics.
‘I’m sorry, Izzie.’
‘You don’t need to apologise – none of this is your fault. I’m sorry, too. Sorry for jumping to conclusions about you and Sabrina. Sorry for running away when I should have stayed and given you the chance to explain. We’ll call it evens, shall we?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’ll always be grateful to Brad for asking me to come over here, no matter what his intentions. If I hadn’t come to Villa Limoncello, I would never have met you and I wouldn’t have realised that hiding from the past is never a catalyst to meaningful change.’
Luca smiled, producing those dimples that caused her heart to squeeze. ‘Come here.’
