by Unknown
‘I’m sorry, just a few instructions for Marco before he leaves tomorrow. Then I am all yours, I promise.’
‘You better be.’ But she wasn’t upset or offended. She was happy just to sit back and soak in the sea air, looking out at the stars.
Her own phone buzzed and she picked it up, scrolling through to the message. Her father. She didn’t want to open it, to let his disapproval taint the perfection of this last night, but neither did she want to spend the evening worrying about what it might say.
‘What’s wrong?’
The concern in Luca’s voice wrapped around her like a heavy velvet cloak. It was nice to hear. As long as she remembered not to get too used to it.
‘Just Daddy dearest,’ she said, keeping her tone as light as she could.
‘What does he want?’
‘Probably to tell me off for something. Or to send a picture of the heir, spare or girl achieving something amazing, like first place in a finger-painting contest.’
‘You’re not close to your brothers and sister?’
‘They’re young enough to be my niece and nephews,’ Minty pointed out. ‘Plus, I am officially a bad influence, so Stepmama prefers I stay away as much as possible. It’s funny; when I was a child I longed for siblings. Now I have three and I know nothing about them. Apart from their genius at finger-painting, that is.’
She stared moodily at the phone. Damn her father. He’d cut her off from her inheritance and her family. What right did he have to intrude on her evening? He’d made it clear she had no place in his life, so he should just stay out of hers.
Luca was looking at her intently, his golden gaze drilling through all her carefully erected barriers. ‘Did your mother have any more children?’
‘And ruin her figure?’ There was no pretence at lightness now. Minty could feel twenty years of carefully buried bitterness and betrayal rising to the surface. ‘Children are terribly aging, Luca dearest. She stopped inviting me over when I turned fourteen; it’s hard to keep knocking decades off your age with a five-foot-eleven daughter standing there.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t try to touch her or comfort her and she was oddly relieved that he just let her talk.
Minty brushed away an angry tear she hadn’t even felt forming. ‘If it weren’t for Rose and Gio, I wouldn’t have had any kind of family. Once the divorce was finalised, my parents seemed to think they’d dissolved any tie to me as well. One minute I was the pampered child of London’s most glamorous couple, the next I was sat in the headmistress’s office while she phoned around trying to find someone to come and collect me for Christmas.’
Sometimes in her nightmares she was transported back there: empty, echoing halls smelling of polish; swinging her legs on a tall, straight-backed wooden chair, staring at the doors, waiting for someone to rush in with explanations, reasons for their lateness. To reassure her that she hadn’t been forgotten.
Only they never came.
‘I was seven.’ She spoke so quietly she didn’t know if Luca had heard her.
Luca shook his head, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more aware back then, more help. Of course, I knew you weren’t close to your parents, but when you first showed up I was too bound up in my own grief to find out why you spent your summers with us. I was too resentful of you, not understanding enough.’
‘That’s not true,’ Minty protested, turning to face him, admiring the strongly cut features silhouetted against the dark sea behind him, against the moon hanging low in the sky. ‘I was a complete brat. I know that. I meant to be. If you’re always in trouble, someone has to pay attention; I learnt that lesson all too well. Besides, you’d lost your parents. You shouldn’t have had to make allowances for me.’
‘Rose asked me to,’ he said simply. ‘She gave up her life in London and moved to a different country to look after her husband’s nephew. I should have listened to her.’
Minty felt a tingle of warmth; someone had cared about her. ‘It’s a shame she didn’t have children of her own. She’d have made a perfect mother.’ She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t wished that Rose was really her mother and had weaved elaborate, romantic tales of kidnapping and evil witches.
‘They wanted them but it didn’t happen. She told me once that she wasn’t sad about it, that you and I were the children of her heart.’
Minty snuggled further into the reassuring solidity of Luca’s embrace, rubbing her cheek against the soft wool of the cashmere jumper he’d pulled on as the coolness of the evening set in. Talking about Rose reminded her of the worry she felt every time she saw Gio. ‘I wish she was still here. Which reminds me, is Gio all right? He seems...’ She struggled for the right words. ‘He seems lost.’
‘He still misses Rose.’
‘We all do. But it’s been six years, Luca.’
‘It’s different for him. We loved her and grieve for her but we have our lives. She was his life.’
‘But he used to be so busy,’ Minty argued. ‘Now he doesn’t come into work any more, not outside of board meetings. He doesn’t cook or go walking or play tennis. He just sits there, watching TV. There must be something we can do, some way to help him. What have you tried in the past?’
* * *
She was so earnest, so ready to help, her own pain pushed aside in her concern for Gio’s welfare. A hot flush of shame engulfed Luca, heating his cheeks despite the coolness of the evening. How could he explain to her? How could he admit that he hadn’t been there for his uncle when he’d needed him? That once again he had let down someone he cared about, someone he loved? That over time the chasm between them had widened so much, Luca wasn’t sure he could reach him any more?
‘You weren’t here.’ It was the wrong thing to say, he knew that straight away. He felt her withdraw physically, withdraw emotionally.
But it was true, she hadn’t been there; she had run away, left the man who had effectively raised her alone in his grief. Left Luca.
‘I was hurt, confused.’
‘So was I!’ The outburst shocked Luca as much as it evidently shocked Minty. She was on her feet, back against the cabin door, the light from the cabin highlighting the surprise in her eyes. Luca took a deep breath. This night was supposed to be about fun, about the two of them. It wasn’t about dragging up the past.
‘That’s the point, Minty. We all grieved alone, and by the time I realised what a mess Gio was in it was too late. We were fractured as a family the second Rose died. I blame myself.’
He did, entirely. Every time he saw Gio, he felt the same stab of guilt.
‘I should have seen what was happening, that he was sinking, but I was too busy wallowing myself. Missing Rose, feeling guilty over what happened with you, angry with you, angry with myself. I failed Gio, just as I failed my parents.’
As he said the words it was like releasing a heavy burden off his shoulders, off his heart. He hadn’t even realised that he was equating the two tragedies, that he had bound his grief, guilt and anger over both losses together.
Minty’s eyes softened and her stance became less defensive, although she remained beyond his reach. ‘How can any of this be your fault?’ she asked. ‘Your parents died in a car accident. Rose was ill. None of it had anything to do with you.’
Nothing to do with him? If only that were true. ‘Did you know that only the front of the car was crushed?’ he asked. Minty shook her head mutely. ‘I was supposed to be with them that day, but I begged and pleaded to spend the day with a friend instead. If I’d been less selfish, if I’d been there, I might have wriggled out of the car. I could have got help earlier, maybe freed them. The policeman said that they didn’t die straight away.’
It haunted him, thinking of them crushed, injured, dying. That he might have saved them. That he could have saved them.
Minty’s eyes were fixed on Luca, her voice soft but clear, matter of fact, reaching through the guilt and anger. ‘You were eleven. You might have died yourself. If they were conscious—and they were unlikely to be, Luca—they must have been so glad that you weren’t there, that you were safe.’
‘I could have saved them,’ Luca said, but his tone lacked conviction.
‘No, you couldn’t have.’ She took his face in her hands, her palms soft and cool against his face. ‘You were just a boy then. But now you’re a man, a ridiculously sexy, successful man, who feels like he has to save the world. You know, Luca, the world doesn’t need saving. But Gio does. And you can reach him. You might be the only person who can.’
‘Will you help me?’ His chest constricted while he waited for her answer. He needed her for this, as he had needed her back then. He needed what remained of their strange family of lonely, damaged people bound together by history, by blood, by love for one remarkable woman.
‘Of course.’ And just like that he could breathe again. ‘Start now, Luca. I’m going to go and change, see what my father wanted. You call Gio. Talk to him properly. Invite him over for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll be here waiting. I’ll be right here.’
She released his face and bent over to press a light butterfly kiss on his forehead and, after one last searching look into his eyes, turned round and disappeared back into the cabin. Luca pulled his phone out of his pocket. She was right. It was time to move on. Time to let go of the anger, the guilt and the pain. Time to put the past behind them.
It was time to be a family again, and this time Minty was right here with him. Right where she belonged.
CHAPTER TEN
MINTY SWALLOWED NERVOUSLY and smoothed down her hair for the tenth time in as many minutes, adjusting the hem of her dress. Another carefully chosen outfit for another board meeting, another presentation.
Only, this one was different. This time she had the CEO’s support.
Looking down the length of the table, she locked on to his gaze for a moment. Desire shivered down her spine at the molten heat blazing in his eyes: lust; pride; affection. A heady combination.
Gio was also at the table. It was only a few weeks since he had come to dinner, just a few weeks since a long, frank, cathartic conversation that had gone on long into the night. He still wasn’t the Gio she remembered—she wasn’t sure he ever would be—but there was a marked improvement. Regular meals at the house, including him in business decisions and trips out, making him part of the family, were already having a positive effect.
Family... Funny how she’d spent her life mourning the disintegration of hers, yet had never realised that she’d created a new one in the Italian sunshine.
All her good intentions about slowing things down with Luca, possibly stopping them altogether, had come to nothing. The present was too irresistible. Luca was too irresistible.
And where he was concerned she was proving all too weak.
Twenty pairs of eyes were looking at her expectantly, with interest. This wasn’t the time to brood. She had a job to do—and it felt good. Minty took a breath and launched into her spiel. ‘One of the tasks Luca has asked me to take on is raising awareness of Di Tore Dolce at home and in both new and existing markets. After all...’ she smiled round at the attentive faces ‘...I have had some success at getting my name into the papers.’
As the board members chuckled approvingly, Minty began to relax and swung smoothly into the presentation she had been painstakingly preparing over the past few days. ‘I wanted to really play to our strengths,’ she explained, as picture after picture of the staff and local countryside flashed up on the screen. ‘To me that’s the absolute authenticity of our brand; the loyalty and love of our employees. Abroad that will play as bringing a taste of Italy into their lives; here, it’s about localism, patriotism.’
It was working like a charm. The late nights, the trawling through market research, the time spent out and about talking to staff, filming and photographing them, was beginning to pay off. At times Minty had felt so far from her comfort zone, so out of her depth, that she had wanted to hand the whole project over to someone more experienced and return to scooping out gelato in the café. But each time she’d wavered Luca had been there, encouraging her, providing a sounding board, asking the right questions.
Believing in her.
As Minty went through the facts and figures, the research, the conclusions, her confidence began to rise. It was working. The board looked engaged, interested. Convinced.
‘To keep costs low and to promote our image as a family-run, local business, we have decided against a glossy campaign. Instead we want to utilise social media, kick-started by some strategically placed adverts,’ she said. ‘These will lead people on to all our different social media platforms, where they can view recipes and short videos all presented by our best asset—our staff. As you can see from this sample I mocked up.’
As the video ran she anxiously scanned the faces of the board members to see their reaction. She had used Alfonso and Gianni, the delivery drivers she had travelled with just a few weeks before. Framed leaning against their cab, the rolling hills of Oschia lush and green behind them, they discussed their favourite ice-cream flavours, laughing and joking as they did so.
‘I want our people to be the face of the company,’ Minty continued as the closing credits rolled. ‘From the people who make the gelato to those who deliver it; from the man who looks after the cows to the graphic designer. If they share why they are passionate about what we do, then they will hopefully inspire passion in our customers too.
‘The plan is to make it interactive. People can discuss their favourite combinations online, post their recipes. Three or four times a year we’ll run competitions and ask people to design their perfect flavour or combination and produce them as seasonal specials.’
She smiled around at the attentive board. It had gone well; she could tell. The atmosphere was optimistic, excited. ‘Any questions?’
* * *
‘You were brilliant in there.’
A sense of déjà vu shivered down Minty’s spine; once again she was back in Luca’s office, once again waiting for a meeting with the sales director. It was as if nothing had changed.
Yet everything had.
‘I think you should accompany the sales team to some of the preliminary appointments, especially to the British ones,’ Luca continued. ‘They all speak the language, but there may be some subtle cultural nuances that they miss. The first appointment is in three weeks’ time; will that work for you?’
‘Should do,’ Minty said, reaching for her iPad and pulling up her diary. ‘I’m not sure what an asset I’ll be, though. I have a certain reputation in the UK, remember?’
‘I have every faith in you.’ Luca shuffled some papers onto the table and began to point out some figures and projections. Minty barely heard him.
It was pleasantly warm in the office but a sudden chill shocked through her, goose-bumping her arms. Her heartbeat got louder and louder, the blood thrumming in her ears drowning out every sound. Was that really the date? In which case...
Numbly she began to count backwards. She must have made a mistake, surely? But, no; not last week, or the one before, or the one before that. In fact, not since before the trip to Sorrento.
She was nearly ten days late.
But I’m never late.
Minty shook her head in denial. It could be the stress of the move to Italy, the worry over Gio. She could have got her dates wrong.
Her stomach twisted, nausea rising, choking her. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when she was actually, finally, audaciously happy.
Why did she have to mess everything up? It was like she’d been made with a self-destruct button ready to detonate the second she got comfortable. ‘I have
to go home,’ she broke in, interrupting Luca as he continued to discuss the trip overseas, unable to meet his eye, even to look at him. Her vision blurred. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t feel well.’
Concern filled his voice. ‘What’s wrong, cara? You’ve gone so pale. I don’t think you should be driving. Why don’t you rest here and I’ll get someone to drive you back?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll be fine.’ Minty tried to muster up a smile, to allay his worry. The last thing she needed was company. She had to get to a chemist—not in the village, where anybody could see her, but in the next town along. Somewhere she could be anonymous. She had to know.
Oh, God, what if? She thrust the thought aside. This couldn’t happen to her. It mustn’t. They had been so careful.
Hadn’t they?
* * *
Luca pressed redial yet again, trying to dampen down the worry that engulfed him each time Minty’s phone went straight to voicemail. People didn’t pick up for a variety of reasons. She could be in the bath or sleeping; she could have forgotten to recharge her phone. Just because a person wasn’t available didn’t mean they were lying in a crumpled car, dying.
She could have fainted and hit her head, though. She had gone so pale so quickly; something was clearly wrong. He shouldn’t have let her go home alone.
The all-too-familiar panic threatened his carefully built peace. It had taken years after the accident for him to be able to relax, not to be consumed by worry at a minute’s tardiness. But Minty wasn’t late, she was simply unavailable. Everything was fine. He was overreacting.
Luca took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the report in front of him but after ten minutes he pushed it to one side irritably. He hadn’t taken in a word. He checked his phone again. Nothing. She had been gone for three hours.
He tapped his fingers on the desk. Sitting here worrying was achieving nothing. He should just work from home, keep an eye on her. And when he got back to find out she was absolutely fine, well, he would feel like a fool and know better next time.
