by Heidi Rice
‘You were right,’ she chirped. ‘It is in San Giminiano. And I’ve got my posh frock on, just like you suggested. So we’re all set.’ She smiled, looking deceptively sweet as she pressed the button on the dash to bring up the car’s inbuilt navigation system. ‘Shall I programme the GPS?’
He shoved the panel back into the dash. ‘We’ve already had this conversation. We’re not going,’ he said firmly, prepared to argue the point if she decided to sulk.
But instead of the expected pout she simply stared at him. ‘You said I could choose. I choose to go to your cousin’s christening.’
There was that stubborn little chin again. And it wasn’t enchanting him any more.
‘He’s not my cousin.’ Why couldn’t she get that through her head? ‘He’s nothing to me. None of them are.’
‘If that’s the case, why are you so frightened of paying them a visit?’
‘I’m not frightened.’ She’d accused him of that before, and it was starting to annoy him.
‘Then prove it,’ she said softly.
He opened his mouth to tell her to go to hell. He wasn’t ten any more, and he didn’t take dares. But then he saw the sympathy, the understanding in her eyes, and the words wouldn’t come.
He cursed under his breath. ‘Okay, we’ll go to the christening.’ He flipped up the GPS. ‘But you’re going to be bored out of your brain. I guarantee it.’
As he stabbed in the co-ordinates, she leaned across the console and kissed his cheek.
‘No, I won’t be. And neither will you.’ Her fingers touched his thigh, stroked reassuringly. ‘It’s going to be an experience you’ll never forget.’
I know, he thought grimly, as he gunned the engine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘GIOVANNI, mio ragazzo. Benvenuto alla famiglia.’
Issy blinked away tears, hearing the gruff affection in the elderly man’s voice as he threw his arms wide to greet his long-lost nephew.
Stiff and hesitant in the designer suit he’d worn for a different occasion entirely, Gio leant down and accepted the kisses Carlo Lorenzo placed on his cheeks. The old man chuckled, then clasped Gio’s hand with gnarled fingers, talking all the time. Issy hadn’t a clue what was being said, but she could guess from the confusion on Gio’s face and his short, monosyllabic answers that Carlo was as overjoyed to see him as the rest of his family.
She huffed out a breath, so relieved she had to reach into her purse and find a tissue.
As the Ferrari had swung round the twisting mountain roads to the Lorenzo farm, she’d begun to doubt her decision to make Gio come to the christening.
What if she’d been wrong to suggest he come? What if the family didn’t welcome him as she expected?
With each mile that passed Gio had become more tense and withdrawn, answering her questions in curt sentences and handling the car with none of his usual skill. It was the first time she’d ever seen him nervous, and his reaction had forced her into admitting an unpleasant truth.
What had made her think she had the right to meddle in his life? He’d never shown any interest in meddling in hers. They’d been in an intimate relationship for a grand total of three days. An intimate relationship that would be over very soon. Yes, they were friends, but that was all they were. Did that really give her the right to make assumptions about what he needed in his life?
Now, as Carlo continued to chat away to Gio, she let her pleasure at the wonderful way Gio’s family had greeted him push the doubts away. This could have gone so horribly wrong. But it hadn’t—which counted for a lot.
‘You are Giovanni’s ragazza, yes?’
Issy glanced round to see a petite, pretty and heavily pregnant young woman dressed in a colourful summer dress smiling at her.
Issy stuffed the tissue back into her bag and held out her hand. ‘I’m Issy Helligan,’ she said quickly, not quite sure how to reply to the question.
Didn’t ragazza mean girlfriend? Was she Gio’s girlfriend? Not really. Not in any permanent sense.
‘I’m a friend of Gio’s,’ she said, feeling oddly dispirited. ‘I’m so sorry, but I don’t speak much Italian.’
‘It is good I speak excellent English, then,’ the woman said, her brown eyes—which were the exact shade of Gio’s—alight with mischief. ‘Or we would not be able to gossip about my long-lost cousin. My name is —after La Loren.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sadly, I only got her name and not her body.’
Issy laughed, liking Sophia instantly. ‘When is your baby due?’ she asked.
Sophia looked down at her bump, her eyes glowing as she stroked it. ‘In two weeks. But my husband Aldo says it will be sooner. Our two boys were early, and he will not let me forget it.’
‘That’s sweet,’ she said unable to deny the whisper of envy.
Hearing the love and contentment in Sophia’s voice made Issy want to reach for her tissue again. This woman looked younger than her, and she already had two children and another on the way—and a man who loved her.
What on earth have I been doing with my life?
‘Come.’ Sophia deftly linked her arm with Issy’s. ‘I have been told to fetch you by my sisters, my aunts and all my girl cousins.’ She drew her away from Gio, who looked shell-shocked and a little hunted as Carlo introduced him to more relatives he had never met.
‘They all want to know about you and Giovanni,’ Sophia added, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘He is like the prodigal son, no? You are very beautiful.’ She gave Issy an appreciative once-over. ‘And we are very nosy.’
‘Oh, Gio and I aren’t really…’ Issy hesitated. ‘We’re not exactly…’ She paused again. She didn’t want to mislead Sophia, but how did she describe what she and Gio were, exactly? ‘There isn’t that much to gossip about,’ she said lamely, glancing over her shoulder. ‘And I feel like a traitor leaving Gio alone. I’m the one who suggested he come today.’
Gio glared at her as he was kissed and hugged by a group of older men she assumed were his other uncles.
‘Giovanni is a big boy,’ Sophia said, patting Issy’s arm and tugging her towards a huge trestle table on the farm’s flagstone terrace, laden with an array of mouth-watering dishes. ‘And he will not be alone.’
A large group of women and girls, ranging in age from twelve to ninety, clustered around the table, watching Issy with undisguised curiosity—making her feel like even more of a fraud.
‘My father has been waiting for over twenty years to see il ragazzo perduto again,’ Sophia added. ‘He will be showing him off for hours. But when the dancing starts we will get him back for you.’
Dancing? Issy smiled at the thought. Funny to think she’d never danced with Gio before.
She allowed Sophia to lead her away, ignoring the panicked plea in Gio’s eyes. It would do him good to be fêted by his family. That was exactly why they were here. So that he could reconnect with what really mattered in life. And it wouldn’t do her any harm to stay out of his way. To absorb the wonder of this large, happy and loving family—and reconnect with her own priorities in life.
‘What does il ragazzo perduto mean?’ she asked absently.
Sophia sent her a warm smile. ‘Carlo calls Giovanni “the lost boy”. He has worried about him ever since he went to Rome years ago and met him. Carlo said without the family he had no one to love him, to care for him.’ Sophia’s smile turned knowing. ‘But, seeing the way you look at him, I don’t think he’s lost any more.’
Issy’s pulse jumped at the softly spoken words.
Pardon me?
‘Let’s dance, Isadora.’
Issy’s head turned at the deep, commanding voice as strong fingers gripped her elbow. ‘Oh, hi, Gio.’ Her lips tilted up in an instant smile.
He looked confused, harassed and exhausted.
‘So you finally escaped from your uncle?’ she said brightly.
‘Don’t you dare laugh.’ He skewered her with a quelling look. ‘The man has been talking my ear
off for two solid hours. And he’s introduced me to more people in one afternoon than I’ve met in my entire life. All of whom he insists I’m related to.’
He treated Sophia and the other women to a quick greeting in Italian, but before any of them could reply, he clamped his hand round Issy’s arm and directed her towards the wooden dance floor that had been constructed in the middle of the olive grove.
Dusk was falling, but fairy lights had been hung from the heavily burdened olive trees, casting a magical glow on the couples already slow-dancing in the twilight.
‘I’ve had my cheek pinched by not one but two grannies,’ he continued, his voice pained as they stepped onto the uneven boards and he swung her into his arms. ‘I’ve been made to recite my life story about twenty times.’ He wrapped his arm round her waist and pulled her flush against his lean, hard body. ‘I’ve been force-fed my Aunt Donatella’s fusilli ortolana and my second cousin Elisabetta’s rabbit cacciatore.’ He twirled her round in time to the slow, seductive beat of the music before holding her close in his arms. ‘And come within a hair’s breadth of getting peed on by the guest of honour.’
Issy stifled a laugh as her heart kicked in her chest. Beneath the confusion and the fatigue she could see the creases around his eyes crinkling and hear the amusement in his voice.
The day had been a success. He looked tired, but happy.
She rested her cheek on his chest, gripped his hand. There had been no need to panic. All the questions she’d been fielding from Sophia and her family had unsettled her, but coming to the christening had been an unqualified success.
‘I’m shattered,’ he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, his hands flattening on the bare skin of her back. ‘And the only thing that’s kept me going is the thought of all the ways I’m going to make you pay for this later tonight.’
Issy pulled away to lay a palm on his cheek. ‘Poor Gio. It’s tough being loved, isn’t it?’
He stopped in the middle of the dance floor. ‘What did you say?’ His face was masked by the lights behind him, but she could hear his wariness, his sharpness.
‘I said it’s tough being loved,’ she said, wishing she hadn’t seen him tense. The emotional stability she’d been working so hard on in the last few hours started to wobble again.
‘They don’t love me. They’re just good people doing what they consider to be their duty.’
They did love him. How could he not see it?
She wanted to argue the point, but knew from the rigid line of his jaw he would refuse to believe it. The ripple of disappointment had her shivering, despite the sultry evening air.
‘My father wants me to translate for him.’ Sophia stood beside Carlo as the old man clasped Issy’s hands. ‘Because Giovanni has told him your Italian is not so good. Yet.’
‘Oh, has he now?’ Issy joked, although her emotions felt perilously close to the surface.
Sophia smiled back as Carlo began to speak in a sober, steady voice, before lifting Issy’s hand to his lips and giving it a chivalrous kiss.
Sophia translated. ‘My father says that his heart is full with gratitude to you for making Giovanni come today, after being lost to his family for so many years. He says that you are a beautiful woman both inside and out and he hopes that Giovanni can see this too.’
Issy felt herself blush, dismayed by the old man’s words.
Carlo turned to Gio and took his hand. Issy felt Gio tense beside her as his uncle spoke. He dipped his head, spots of colour rising on his cheeks beneath his tan as Carlo patted his cheek, his voice rough with pride.
Tears pricked the back of Issy’s eyes as Sophia translated.
‘My father says that the Lorenzo family is very proud of Giovanni.’ Even Sophia’s voice sounded more sober than Issy had ever heard it before. ‘For all he has made of his life, despite a mother who did not know how to be a mother. Carlo says that Giovanni has made strong, important and beautiful buildings that will stand for a long time.’ Sophia swallowed, her voice as thick with emotion as Issy felt. ‘But he must not forget that the only thing that lasts forever is a man’s family.’ Sophia gave a half-laugh as Carlo finished his speech. ‘And that Giovanni is getting older and shouldn’t waste any more time getting started.’
Issy laughed too, at the old man’s audacity and the roguish sparkle in his eyes. As Gio replied in Italian Issy noticed the measured tone, devoid of his usual cynicism, and felt her heart lift. He wasn’t completely blind to what these people had to offer, whatever he might think.
As they said their goodbyes to everyone, Issy’s hand strayed automatically to her belly.
What if their mistake ended in a pregnancy?
To her surprise, the question didn’t bring the panic she might have expected. But she forced the thought away anyway. A pregnancy was highly unlikely. And today had been quite emotional enough already.
The last to say her goodbyes was Sophia, who gave Issy a final hug as Gio climbed into the Ferrari.
‘You must both come to the next battesimo, as it will be for my baby,’ she whispered, before standing back and winking at Issy. ‘And if Giovanni does as he is told, maybe the one after that will be yours.’
Issy waved furiously as Gio reversed the car down the farm track, sniffing back tears and trying not to take Sophia’s little joke to heart.
What she and Gio had was fleeting. That had always been understood.
But as the whole family shouted salutations at them, and a group of children raced after the car, a few tears slipped over her lids. This was what it felt like to belong, to be part of something bigger than yourself—and she’d never realised how much she wanted it until now.
‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Gio said, resting his palm on Issy’s knee as he turned the car onto the main road.
Issy sank into the leather seat and watched the dark shapes of San Giminiano’s fortress walls disappear into the night as Gio accelerated. Leaning her head against the door, she rested her palm on her belly, the emotion of the day overwhelming her.
‘Will you go back again?’ she asked.
He said nothing for several seconds. ‘I doubt it.’
Despite the murmured reply, a tiny smile touched the corners of Issy’s mouth. Was it wishful thinking, or did he sound less sure of himself than usual?
Easing up the handbrake, Gio stared at the woman fast asleep beside him in the car. She’d been incredible today. So beautiful, so captivating and so important to his peace of mind. He’d needed her there in a way he never would have anticipated.
All through the afternoon and evening, whenever the impact of being introduced to his family had become too much, his gaze had instinctively searched her out. As soon as he’d spotted her—chatting to Sophia and the other women, or playing games with some of the younger children, or charming his elderly uncles with her faltering Italian—and their eyes connected, his heartbeat had levelled out and the strangling feeling of panic and confusion had started to ease.
At one point she’d been cradling baby Carlo in her arms. He’d marvelled at how she could look so relaxed and happy, as if she were a part of this family, even though these people were strangers and she didn’t even speak their language. When his uncle had whispered in his ear, ‘She will make an excellent mother for your children, Giovanni. She is a natural.’
The old man was hopelessly traditional and sentimental. It hadn’t taken Gio long to realise that. But the foolish words had still made Gio’s heartbeat pound, just as it was doing now.
He continued to stare at her in the moonlight—her rich red hair framing that pale heart-shaped face and her hand lying curled over her belly. A picture of her lush body heavily pregnant with his baby formed in his mind. He imagined her full breasts swollen with milk, the nipples large and distended, and her belly round and ripe, ready to give birth. Desire surged to life so fast he had to grit his teeth.
Okay, this was more than temporary insanity. This was becoming an obsession. An obsession he was begin
ning to fear he had no control over whatsoever.
Adjusting his trousers, he waited in the darkness until he’d finally calmed down enough to scoop Issy up and carry her to their bedroom without causing himself an injury. She barely stirred. But as he undressed her and tucked her into bed the visions of her body ripe with his child refused to go away.
It wasn’t the desire that bothered him, though, as he climbed into bed beside her. Their livewire sexual attraction had always been as natural as breathing. It stood to reason a pregnant Issy would turn him on too.
What disturbed him much more was the irrational need and the bone-deep longing that went right along with the lust.
Sweat trickled down his back as the fear he’d been holding onto with an iron grip all day kicked him in the gut.
Issy squinted at the pre-dawn light filtering through the terrace doors, then moaned softly as cramping pain gripped her abdomen. Gio’s warm hand stirred against her hip as she listened to the low murmur of his breathing, and tears caught in her throat. The familiar pain could mean only one thing. She was about to start her period.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip, lifting his hand and laying it down behind her. She didn’t want to wake him up and have him see her in this state. Slipping out of bed, she made a beeline for the bathroom.
After taking care of the practicalities, she donned one of Gio’s bathrobes and sat on the toilet seat, feeling utterly dejected. Which was ridiculous.
The fact that there was no baby was good news.
She’d have to be an idiot to want to get pregnant under these circumstances. She wasn’t ready for motherhood yet. And Gio certainly wasn’t ready to be a father. Yesterday’s trip had proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. The man was deeply suspicious of love and families and relationships in general. And even though that may have started to change, it would take a lot more than an afternoon spent with his extended family to repair the damage his parents had done.
