Summer with the Millionaire

by Unknown

  There had been moments during the past few weeks when she had thought she wouldn’t be able to carry on. That falling into the mire of lethargy and depression and allowing herself to sink was the only thing she could do.

  And yet here she was, still standing—just.

  Fenella was shaking her head. ‘But, Minty, you’re not most people. Of all your projects, this is definitely the dreariest, I give it two months before you’re bored, tops. Just make sure you don’t burn all your bridges before then, okay?’

  ‘This is different. Honest, Fen, I know what I’m doing. A brand-new, man-free start far under the tabloids’ radar is exactly what the doctor ordered. Right, I’m off. Wish me luck?’

  But as Minty exited the apartment Fenella’s words echoed in her ears. She desperately wanted to change, to anchor herself down with the responsibilities of work and routine, but what if she couldn’t? What if she threw it all up for the illusion of love again?

  Except she wouldn’t. For her heart was back in Italy, with Luca. And Minty wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to retrieve it. She was done with illusions.

  If only reality wasn’t so bleak. And so very, very lonely.

  * * *

  ‘I think we should resurrect the summer party.’

  Luca looked up in surprise. Although Gio had been working in his office for the past couple of hours, he had been so quiet Luca had almost forgotten he was there. ‘Summer party?’ he echoed.

  ‘It was your father’s favourite event of the year,’ Gio said, leaning back in his chair and stretching, a reminiscent smile on his lips. ‘We would have a conference in the morning for all staff, a way of updating them on what the plans were for the year ahead. Of course, there were a lot fewer in those days. Di Tore Dolce wasn’t quite the empire you have made it.’ He looked fondly over at his nephew.

  ‘I remember,’ Luca said slowly, dredging up memories of carousels, ice cream and the annual ‘factory versus managers’ football match—usually a good-tempered affair. ‘There would be a huge barbeque in the evening and we would invite all the employees’ families. There were fireworks.’

  ‘We cancelled it the year your parents died,’ Gio said. ‘Somehow the time never felt right to reinstate it. But this year, with the expansion, the new marketing plan to unveil, the ads...the time is right, I think. Don’t you agree?’

  Luca didn’t answer at first. He didn’t feel remotely like a party, even a company one. All he wanted to do was work, work until he was so tired he could fall into bed and into a dreamless, exhausted sleep. Work until there was no room for thoughts, for memories, for regrets.

  But Gio had obviously not received the ‘no fun’ memo. He was full of ideas. ‘I thought we could introduce an awards ceremony as a thank-you for all the hard work people have been putting in, only without prizes but with personalised gelato. It all fits in with the new campaign, and it’s a really personal thank-you, too.’

  ‘Si, it’s a good idea.’ It was. And it was great to see Gio involved and enthused. If only Luca could feel it too. If only he could feel anything.

  ‘I also think you should invite Minty.’ Gio sounded so placid, as if he was discussing whether to hold the ceremony indoors or in a marquee; whether to have a carousel or a Ferris wheel. But of course Luca had told him so little. Just that Minty had, true to form, got bored with corporate life and rural living and had headed back to London. That she was cutting her ties once and for all, surrendering her shares.

  As Luca had foreseen. As he had wanted.

  If only she’d done it earlier.

  But of course Gio must know there was more to it. He had spent time with them, had come to dinner, on days out. They had been discreet but not that discreet; it had been impossible for Luca not to touch her.

  His stomach clenched, his fingers suddenly impossibly cold. Empty. They ached to feel that warm, smooth flesh just one more time.

  A sharp pain was a welcome distraction as his nails bit into his palm, wrestling for control with his treacherous body. There was no point in missing her. She was never coming back.

  ‘I know it was a shock when Rose left her share of the company to Minty,’ Gio said. Luca could feel his sharp eyes on him and forced himself to appear calm, uninterested in the conversation.

  ‘They were her shares,’ he said lightly, focussing on the screen in front of him, although he couldn’t make out a single word.

  ‘She thought you had a tremendous future, you know,’ Gio continued. ‘That’s why she backed your plans. And thank goodness she did. Look how unreliable the banks have been the past few years. I know you’re sharp, Luca, and if anyone can be successful in these dreadful times it’s you, but it’s been a blessing not to be burdened with bank loans.’

  ‘I have always been very grateful to Rose for everything, not just investing in the company.’ It was an understatement. Not only had she given up her life in London to raise him but she’d handed over her inheritance to a nineteen-year-old boy with big plans and bigger dreams. If only she’d lived to see the fruition of those dreams.

  ‘But Minty was her niece. Rose wanted to make sure she was included, would still be part of the family when she was gone. That’s why she left half of her part of the business to her. To keep her close, give her those ties. Don’t let her go without a fight, Luca. Make her see that she belongs here, that she is part of us.’

  Don’t you think I’ve tried?

  But had he? Had he fought or had he just let her walk away, talk herself out of their future, out of his life?

  When he tried to remember that evening, there was just a blurred tangle of feelings. The worry at her absence, the surprise at the realisation that she meant so much more to him than he had ever imagined, the shocking hope when he’d seen the test. And then the crushing of his dreams as she’d rejected him, rejected a future with him, had walked away.

  But what he couldn’t remember was what he’d said. If he had said enough, or if he had bowed to the inevitability of her departure.

  And if he hadn’t fought for her, well, then, he was no better than the three starter-fiancés. He was worse.

  No, he had tried. Hadn’t he?

  ‘She doesn’t want to be here, Gio.’

  ‘Doesn’t she? She looked pretty happy to me.’

  She had been happy. Until the end. Until she’d seen a future trapped with him.

  ‘At first.’ Luca shrugged. ‘But you know Minty. Always fluttering off to the next thing.’

  Gio looked at him, his eyes shrewd, knowing. Uncomfortable. ‘Minty reminds me of Rose in many ways, and your mother, a little: city girls on the outside, but at heart? They belong here. In Oschia. None of them meant to settle here, but they did. Their souls belonged here.’

  That was what Luca had wanted to believe, had hoped.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s too late, Gio. She’s gone.’

  ‘Then it’s up to you to bring her back, to convince her to stay. I’ll get her to come to the party but the rest is up to you. If you love her, Luca, you’ll find a way.’

  If he loved her? Of course he loved her.

  Minty. Lady Araminta Henrietta Davenport. For goodness’ sake, what kind of name was that? And yet, it suited her. It was fresh, quirky, unique.

  If she’d been an ice cream, she’d have been more than the obvious, a gelato miles away from the usual menta flecked with chocolate chips. A delicate sorbet—mint mixed with elderflower, maybe—or perhaps something richer, more decadent? Dark chocolate, of course; maybe something alcoholic. Lime juice and a touch of rum mixed with mint, her namesake? Or how about something quirky and sweet: peppermint swirled with chocolate bunnies?

  Luca’s mind was racing. How would he define Minty? Vibrant yet vulnerable. Sophisticated and sweet. Proud and passionate. Impulsive and intoxicating.

 
He pulled a piece of paper towards him and began to sketch out a series of ingredients and combinations, images flashing through his mind as he did so: Minty walking through the countryside, listening, comforting. Minty perched on his desk, flushed with the success of her work, hair back, tired after a long shift away. Minty wrapped round him, long limbs and smooth skin, utterly desirable.

  How could he have let her walk away?

  If he wasn’t so scared of losing everyone he loved then maybe he would have thought to fight. He hadn’t fought for Gio; he’d needed Minty to push him. Now Gio was repaying the favour. But Luca shouldn’t have needed that push. He should have made her see, made her stay. Let her know he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  The old fear was nothing compared to this. Luca knew all too well how much it hurt to lose the ones you loved, but never loving them at all? Infinitely worse.

  The inertia of the past few weeks was gone. Energy and excitement flooded through him. She thought he didn’t understand her; that he was in love with a phantom, a cipher?

  It was time to show Lady Araminta that she didn’t know as much as she thought she did.

  It was time to take control. And this time her knight in shining armour was determined not just to win the battle; he was going to win the whole damned war.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT WAS ODD to be back.

  It was just a few weeks since Minty had packed up her bags to get the first budget flight back to the UK, yet in some ways it seemed a lifetime ago. Ensconced in Fenella’s luxurious Chelsea pad—invites to parties, launches and society events pinging into her inbox; the same crowd, the same haunts, the same gossip—it was as if she had never been gone. Each day Italy retreated further and further away.

  Night-times, however, were a different matter. She woke up still feeling the warmth of the sun, smelling the ripening olive trees, hearing Luca call her name. She woke up running her hands over the ripple of muscle under smooth, tanned skin, feeling the caress of his skilled, knowing hands, the touch of his lips.

  Minty shivered.

  Coming back would help. It had to help. She needed to convince her treacherous, yearning heart that this was just a place, that he was just a man and that she could move on. She would sell him her shares and then she could find a nice little flat in a sensible part of town and start the new job she had worked so hard to get. She would be sober and respectable and achieve something by herself, for herself.

  It was a laudable aim.

  If she thought too much about the lonely reality of the life she faced, she would cry.

  But not here. She was here because Gio had made it clear it would mean a lot to him if she showed up, would mean a lot to the employees who were so excited about launching the new campaign, the campaign she was responsible for.

  And because had Luca insisted she sell him her shares in person. Obviously, she had intended to tell him to stuff his money and stuff his shares. Unfortunately a quick glance at the London rental market had persuaded her that discretion was very much the best part of valour. It turned out that junior account executives did not earn enough to rent their own flats, or even to share a flat anywhere Minty had heard of. It would be much easier to start her new, self-sufficient life if she wasn’t sharing a house with five other people a two-hour commute away from work.

  Besides, this time she had to say goodbye, make sure the door was firmly shut. Otherwise she would never move on. For his sake, she had to.

  He deserved better.

  And maybe one day she would deserve something good too.

  Okay, enough introspection. Any more maudlin thoughts and she’d be back to writing ‘nobody understands me’ poetry, and that behaviour was not acceptable in anyone over the age of fifteen. She would go in, she would smile and she would make polite conversation.

  Then she would collect her cheque and leave.

  * * *

  The summer conference was being held in the large field that lay next to the office. Usually full of peacefully grazing cows, it had been cleared and cleaned for the day’s festivities. A large marquee erected at the far end was ready for the business part of the day; the remainder of the field was filled with carnival rides and food stalls, all complimentary—even the large beer tent. Mid-afternoon, the workers’ families would arrive and the party half of the event would begin. Minty was planning to be long gone by that point.

  She looked over at the marquee and her stomach lurched in panic. What did people know about her departure? To walk in, an object of curiosity to every person there, to find a seat and make polite conversation—she suddenly feared it was beyond her. She might have graced the cover of every tabloid, every gossip rag, in the UK but that wasn’t really her. That was just a persona, a created image. She didn’t give a toss what the readers of those papers thought. ‘Tomorrow’s fish-and-chip wrappings,’ her grandmother said.

  Of course, nobody wrapped their fish and chips in newspaper any more, but Minty appreciated the sentiment.

  Yet somehow, improbably, she cared far too much about what the three hundred employees of Di Tore Dolce thought. She didn’t want them to feel let down, to hold her in contempt.

  She cared far too much about what Luca thought.

  Minty shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously, the temptation to turn back almost overwhelming her. After all, nobody knew she was actually here.

  ‘Minty, bella. You’re a sight for sore eyes. Have you lost weight? You need to eat more.’ Gio materialised behind her, gathering her to him in a warm hug.

  Minty clung on to Gio gratefully. ‘My flatmate only eats canapés; it’s quite the diet.’

  ‘Barbaric English. We need to feed you up. The meeting’s about to start but let’s see what we can find.’ And, tucking her hand through his arm, Gio led her off towards the big tent, keeping up a flow of voluble conversation that required Minty to do little but nod agreement or add the odd ‘mmm’.

  In less than a couple of minutes they were at the large tent and Gio was ushering her inside. The tent was nearly full of laughing, chattering employees, sitting in long rows, facing a wide stage that ran along the width of the tent. A row of chairs on the stage looked out towards the audience and Gio steered Minty in their direction after snagging her a large cup of coffee and a plate filled with cheese, fruit and little pastries.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said in some alarm at the thought of facing so many pairs of eyes. ‘Gio, this isn’t right. I’m not going to be on the board for much longer. I was planning a discreet seat at the back. Besides, I can’t eat this lot with everyone staring at me.’

  ‘We’re launching your campaign today, it’s only right you take a seat on the stage,’ Gio admonished her, but he stopped and gave the plate in her hand an assessing glance. ‘But there’s still five minutes before we need to be seated. If you stand here in this corner, nobody will see you. I’ll be back for you soon.’ He directed her to a discreet corner of the tent behind the lectern and the large screen that dominated the stage, pulling up a spare chair and telling her to ‘Eat up, there’s a good girl.’ It was like being a child accompanying him to work again. Minty found it strangely comforting, allowing someone else to make the decisions.

  Leaning back against the rough canvas of the tent, Minty looked at the plate. Nausea twisted her stomach. She couldn’t eat a thing despite the early start and the lack of breakfast. She just wanted to get the meeting with Luca over with and to leave. She placed the plate on the chair gingerly and clasped the coffee cup closer, dropping her head to inhale the rich aroma.

  ‘Are you going to drink that or snort it?’

  Luca.

  An unexpected, fierce joy filled her. She lifted her head and looked at him, aiming for friendly and causal. ‘Hello.’ To her annoyance, her voice came out breathy and she swallowed desperately, trying to get some m
oisture back into her dry mouth. ‘You look well.’

  He did. Disgustingly well. He obviously wasn’t missing her at all.

  Yet seeing him was like coming home. What was she doing, battling to forge a new, different life in London? She’d had a new life here and thrown it all away simply because she’d been scared.

  And it was too late. Luca was looking at her quizzically, possibly even affectionately, but he didn’t seem at all bothered by her presence. ‘You look tired.’

  Well, that did a lot for a girl’s confidence. ‘You know how we party girls are with our late nights and early-morning flights.’

  He nodded unsmilingly. ‘We’re about to start. Do you want any of that?’

  Minty looked at the plate of food and shook her head. ‘Gio insisted, but I’m not really hungry.’

  ‘Okay, then, shall we?’ He took her arm, and at just that light touch a tingle ran up Minty’s arm, snaking down her spine. Her treacherous knees weakened in response. Pull yourself together, she told herself sharply, pulling her elbow out of his grasp.

  ‘I can manage, thanks.’

  Luca threw her an amused glance but didn’t comment, instead leading the way across the tangle of wires at the back of the stage, standing aside to allow her to mount the stairs before him.

  Standing up there, alone, three hundred pairs of eyes fastened on her, was terrifying. Minty resisted the temptation to wipe her palms on her skirt; resisted the even bigger temptation to scuttle away as fast as her suddenly tight, crushing heels would allow. Instead she allowed herself to meet the eyes, searching out familiar faces: Gianni, Alfonso, Natalia. She braced herself to see contempt, dislike, disgust; instead, the frank, welcoming smiles that greeted her almost overwhelmed her. She held each of the gazes, answering the smiles with one of her own, blinking back the tears that had sprung unexpectedly to her eyes.

  Was she planning to throw all of this away? Leave the sweet-smelling countryside for the London fog? Leave the fresh air for two hours a day jostled against someone’s armpit on the Tube? Leave a company where she was respected and loved for a junior position in a place where she knew no one?