Phantom Marriage

by Penny Jordan

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘DON’T LOOK SO WORRIED,’ Leonardo said as he inserted the key into the lock of one of the sliding glass doors. ‘We don’t have a crime problem on Capri. Perhaps a little pickpocketing, occasionally, but not serious crime. Laurence always kept a key in that pot so that Carmelina could get in when he wasn’t around.’

  ‘Carmelina?’

  ‘One of my sisters. She used to clean for Laurence. And shop. I asked her to go through the place this week and stock up with food. And, no, you do not have to pay her. She was happy to do it.’

  ‘That was very kind of her. Do you have her number? If she speaks English I would like to thank her.’

  ‘Everyone in my family speaks English. And you don’t have to ring her. You can thank her when you see her tonight. At dinner.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Dinner…’

  Dinner tonight with his family was going to be a trial, she thought. But not as much of a trial as handling Leonardo’s disturbing presence right here and now. She needed a break from his overwhelmingly attractive persona so that she could get a grip on her treacherously excited body. Veronica had the awful suspicion that if she let him stay with her any longer she might do something foolish. Once they went inside together, they would be alone. In this gorgeous house. With bedrooms and beds. She didn’t trust herself. Or him. Not that he would force himself upon her. She didn’t think that. But it was obvious Leonardo would not waste time when he fancied a girl.

  And he fancied her, if the looks he kept giving her were anything to go by.

  ‘Leonardo,’ she began as he slid open the first of the huge glass doors.

  He swung round to set those incredibly sexy eyes upon her. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Would you mind terribly if I walked through the house without you? I just want to soak it all in by myself. And I really do need to ring my mother. Let her know I’ve arrived and everything’s okay. She worries, you see.’

  Veronica knew she was babbling, but Leonardo was the sort of man who could make a woman babble. She would have to get control of that before tonight. He was sure to seat her right next to him at dinner. Already she was wondering what to wear.

  His smile hinted that he understood she was slightly afraid to be alone with him. Or maybe she was just imagining it. Guilty conscience and all that.

  ‘Let me just put your luggage inside,’ he replied, and turned to where he’d left it.

  Panic almost had her screaming at him to leave it, but she held her tongue just in time, instead dredging up the cool smile she’d used on men for the past three years but which was in danger of deserting her. With Leonardo she wanted just to smile fatuously at him and agree with everything he suggested. She’d already agreed to let him take her sightseeing tomorrow. In a helicopter, no less.

  Helicopters frightened the life out of her. She didn’t like the idea that if the engine conked out and the rotor blades stopped you’d drop like a stone. No hope of gliding down to a soft landing. Not that you could do that in a big plane. Maybe she could suggest tonight over dinner that they cruise around in a boat instead. Not a small sailing boat. One with a big crew, to stop him from pouncing once they were at sea.

  As soon as her black wheelie case was safely inside the enormous living area, he took her gently by the shoulders and gazed down into her ever-widening eyes. Lord, was he going to kiss her?

  He didn’t. She just wished he had. Instead, he shook his head at her, as if he knew what was going on in her head.

  ‘You should have a rest this afternoon,’ he advised. ‘Dinner with my family is not a quick event. Mamma will want to impress you with all her best dishes, so don’t eat too much before you come. I shall be here to pick you up at seven.’

  ‘What…what should I wear?’

  He shrugged. ‘Nothing formal. If you wear a dress, then bring a wrap. Or a jacket. The evenings start warm but cool down quickly. Arrivederci, Veronica.’

  And then he did kiss her. Not a big, swooping, passionate kiss. Just a peck, really. But on her lips. A light, lovely kiss which made her long for more. And then he was gone, not looking back once as he’d stridden away from her, his long legs carrying him down off the veranda and swiftly out of sight.

  Veronica just stood there for long moment, staring blindly after him, not breathing, not thinking. Only yearning. No…craving. She craved Leonardo Fabrizzi. It was a stunning realisation. Because she’d never craved a man like that before. She knew it wasn’t love she was feeling. It was lust making her heart thud and her lungs ache from not breathing. She gasped in then, sucking in the gloriously fresh air, clearing her light-headedness to a degree.

  Crossing her arms, she hugged herself, then turned and stared through the glass doors at the view of the sea once more, using its soothing quality to find some common sense, asking herself what did it matter if she lusted after this man? What would it matter if she even had sex with him? It didn’t have to lead anywhere. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. Anyone who knew anything about Leonardo Fabrizzi would know that.

  A slow smile spread across Veronica’s face as she thought about Leonardo. What a devil he was. But a very charming devil. And sexy as hell. A girl would have to be dead to resist him.

  ‘And I’m far from dead,’ she said aloud as she unwrapped her arms and spread them wide. ‘I’m over Jerome. I’m here on the gorgeous Isle of Capri. And I’m about to inspect my father’s equally gorgeous house!’

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT WAS GORGEOUS. The living area, especially. It was open plan, but not overly modern, though it did have all the mod cons. The floors were Italian marble in swirls of white and grey, the rugs very colourful. The furniture was an eclectic mixture of stuff one might see in an English home, the two sofas rather formal and chintzy, the armchairs large, squashy and very country. The dining table was oval-shaped, and made of an almost black wood, with six matching high-back chairs around it, the seats covered in green velvet. In the middle of the table sat the most glorious green glass…thing. Not a bowl. Or a vase. More of a sculptured shape with no visible purpose other than to be beautiful.

  Possibly Murano glass, Veronica decided, having briefly visited Venice and the island of Murano during the Italy-in-a-week tour she’d undertaken when she’d been twenty-one. Whatever it was, she loved it. Had her father chosen it?

  Thinking of her father sent Veronica hurrying over to the far wall where there was a selection of photos arranged on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. At last, she would see what her father looked like.

  Her eyes immediately went to the wedding photo, which was black-and-white and showed the bride dressed in a long, straight gown and a heavy lace veil which had gone out of fashion aeons ago. She was short, slim and pretty in a soft blonde way. The groom was very tall, dark and handsome. Strong looking, with an air about him that was impressive at first glance until you looked a second time. His face was turned towards his bride, his expression both loving and vulnerable. Here was a man very deeply in love, with a love that surprised him.

  Turning the frame over, she saw there was writing on the back:

  Laurence and Ruth

  On our wedding day, March 1968

  Twenty-two years before I was conceived, Veronica thought.

  The other photos showed them growing older, some of them alone and others in groups. Laurence had aged very well, keeping his thick, lustrous hair even when it had turned grey. His wife had faded with time, growing frailer with the years. But her smile remained bright and warm, her eyes loving whenever they were lifted to her husband. Which was often. He in turn always had his hands on her somewhere, either on her shoulders or around her waist. His body language was both protective and possessive. Yet not in any way threatening. Despite Ruth being the more fragile looking, Veronica suspected it was she who had worn the trousers in their relationship. Only one photo showed the colour of her father’s eyes. They were, as ev
eryone had pointed out, violet, just like hers. They were shaped like hers too.

  It pleased her, then made her sad.

  She would have loved to know her father when he had still been alive. Instead, all she could do was pick over other people’s memories of him. And stare at old photos. Suddenly, the tears came, rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her nose. Thankfully, they didn’t last long, Veronica pulling herself together by turning and looking through the mainly glass wall at the view beyond.

  What was it about that view? It was only water, after all. Did the Mediterranean possess some kind of magic? Or was it Capri that was magical?

  Whatever, it did the trick, bringing a sense of peace to her soul and an acceptance of the situation. At least she had some sense of her father’s memories now. And photos. And this lovely villa. For a while, anyway. What a shame she could not live here permanently.

  ‘Don’t start wishing for the moon, Veronica,’ she told herself sternly, then turned and went to discover the rest of her father’s home.

  * * *

  Two hours later, after taking more photos than she could count, Veronica sent them to her mother’s phone then rang her.

  ‘Hel…lo?’ came a very fuzzy voice after several rings.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Veronica said, wincing. ‘I’ve woken you up. Sorry, Mum. I forgot about the time difference.’

  ‘No trouble,’ she said, sounding a little more awake.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Er…just after four. In the morning. What’s up?’

  ‘I’m here on Capri, in the villa.’

  ‘What’s it like? Not a crumbling ruin, I hope.’

  Veronica laughed. ‘Hardly. I’ve taken heaps of photos and sent them to you. Have a look and see for yourself.’

  ‘Just a sec. Oh, yes. I’ve got them. Oh…wow! That is some view. Is that the view from the villa or somewhere else?’

  ‘No, that’s the view from the villa.’

  ‘No wonder the place is worth heaps. That view alone is worth millions.’

  ‘I agree. And the villa is fantastic.’

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely. Not very Italian-looking inside.’

  ‘No. The decor is more English but the bones are Italian. Lots of marble on the floors and in the bathrooms. And the fireplace is very Italian. The kitchen is modern, despite the wooden benches. And the huge cooker.’

  ‘Four bedrooms, I notice. Yet they didn’t have children.’

  ‘Leonardo said they used to entertain when his wife was still alive.’

  ‘What’s he like, this Leonardo chap?’

  Veronica swallowed. To lie or not to lie? She didn’t want her mother worrying about her. And she might, if she said he was utterly gorgeous and she fancied him like mad.

  ‘Oh, he’s a typical Italian. You know the type. Very charming.’

  ‘And very good-looking,’ her mother said, startling her.

  ‘How would you know that?’

  ‘After you left I looked him up on the Internet. He’s quite the playboy, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ Veronica admitted. ‘But harmless, once you know the species.’

  Her mother laughed. ‘Remember that Brazilian exchange student who chased after you during your first year at university.’

  Veronica groaned. ‘How could I forget?’

  ‘He got you in the end, though, didn’t he?’

  ‘Mum! How on earth did you know that? I never said.’

  ‘You always did like guys who refused to take no for an answer.’

  She did, she supposed. Jerome had been like that. He’d pursued her like mad. She hadn’t really wanted to go out with a doctor. Certainly not a surgeon. She knew the hours they worked. But she’d given in after the tenth lot of roses had arrived, and then she’d fallen in love with him, agreeing to marry him in a few short weeks. She’d never suspected Jerome had had a secret agenda. Never suspected anything.

  ‘Has he made a pass at you yet?’ her mother asked slyly.

  Now she really did have to lie. ‘No. He said something about a girlfriend in Rome. Though I am going to his family’s place for dinner tonight. They own a hotel just below the villa. It’s only a short walk down some stone steps. But first I must have a sleep. I’m exhausted.’ And hungry, she suddenly realised.

  ‘You might be exhausted but you sound happy. Happier than you’ve been in years. I was angry with Laurence for putting you in his will at first but now I’m grateful. This inheritance has been good for you, love. You’re sounding like the girl you were before you met Jerome.’

  Veronica blinked. ‘Don’t you mean before Jerome was killed?’

  ‘No. I mean before you met that bastard.’

  Veronica was truly taken aback. ‘But I thought you liked Jerome. I mean…before we found out about him.’

  ‘I just pretended to like him. For your sake. I always thought he was up himself. And so was his family. Talk about snobs!’

  ‘They were on the snobbish side,’ Veronica admitted.

  ‘They thought you weren’t good enough for their precious son. Little did they know he wasn’t good enough for you.’

  Veronica sighed.

  ‘Now, none of that,’ her mother said. ‘Go back to the girl who rang me a few minutes ago. She’s the girl you used to be before Jerome. She was a terrific girl who knew how to have fun. That man turned you into a try-hard. And then he turned you into a bitter cow like me.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, you’re nothing of the kind.’

  ‘Yes, I am, and I hate myself for it. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me all these years. The one thing I truly regret is that I didn’t try to help you out of your unhappiness. To my shame, I just let you wallow in it.’

  Veronica was so astonished by her mother’s words she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  ‘Of course, I liked it that you didn’t have anyone else but me,’ her mother confessed. ‘And that you were living and working from home. I used to smugly think, now she knows what it’s like to have your trust in men destroyed. Laurence’s will was a wake-up call to me, I can tell you. When I saw how upset you were, it nearly killed me. I vowed then and there to stop being so selfish and to encourage you to get out there and make a life for yourself. I’m sure not all men are as rotten as Jerome, or that excuse for a husband I once had. There are good men out there. Men like your father. He was a good man. Very loving and loyal to his wife. I’m sure there is someone out there just right for you. Meanwhile, if this Leonardo makes a pass at you, then go for it, darling. He’s one hot hunk.’

  ‘Wow, Mum, I don’t know what to say!’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything at all. Just accept my apology and go have some fun. Oh, and one last thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Please don’t feel you have to ring me all the time. Nothing worse than going on holiday and feeling you have to check in with your mother. But feel free to send any photos and the odd text. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ she agreed with a smile on her face.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LEONARDO LEAPT UP the stone steps two a time, excited by the prospect of seeing Veronica again. And having her meet his whole family. They were excited to meet her as well, his two sisters very curious over this girl who was Laurence’s biological daughter.

  Carmelina had liked Laurence a lot, but then she was the one who had seen him the most, being his cleaner as well as Ruth’s sometime carer. She’d been astonished by the news that he had a secret daughter, and relieved when she heard that Veronica had been conceived through IVF and not some sordid affair.

  The sun had set but it was still light, a golden hue hovering on the horizon. A silvery half-moon was up as well, bathing Laurence’s villa in soft moonlight.

  Leonardo bounced up onto the terrace and was about to press the front doorbell
when the sliding glass door opened and there stood Veronica, looking even more beautiful than she had earlier that day. Gone were the jeans and simple striped top and in their place a sexy lilac sundress which left her shoulders bare, the halter neckline hinting at just enough cleavage.

  Across her right forearm lay a black lacy cardigan.

  ‘I won’t need to bring a bag, will I?’ she asked, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, their violet colour darker than they had been in the sunshine. Dark and sexier.

  ‘Not on my account,’ he replied with a smile. Dio, but she was delicious. Her hair was still up. Not severely but softly, with dark curls kissing her pale cheeks and throat. Her mouth was glossed in a plum colour, her eyes shadowed in a silvery grey which matched the moonlight. He couldn’t wait to bring her home after dinner and take her to bed. She wouldn’t say no. He could already feel the heat sizzling from her skin. Could feel his own as well, his hot Italian blood charging through his veins.

  Thank God he was wearing loosely tailored slacks. They stopped his erection from being obvious. Leonardo didn’t like being obvious.

  She smiled back at him. ‘I’ll just lock up and put the key in that ridiculously obvious pot. I hope this building and its contents are insured,’ she added as she did just that.

  ‘They are,’ he assured her, amused by her concern over security.

  ‘Did you have a good look at everything?’ he asked her as he took her elbow and guided her from the terrace.

  ‘Yes. It’s a lovely house. I had a look at some photos of Laurence as well. I do take after him, don’t I?’

  ‘You do. In looks. But you’re much nicer.’

  She halted at the top of the stone steps. ‘What do you mean? Wasn’t my father a nice person?’

  Leonardo instantly regretted his tactless words. ‘He was a very nice person,’ he said, regrouping quickly. ‘But you’re even nicer.’

  ‘Oh…’ Her cheeks coloured a little, her eyes blinking with the most charming embarrassment. ‘How can you say that? You don’t really know me.’