by Sara Wood
‘You’re crying,’ he croaked.
‘No!’ she sniffed.
‘You’ll miss Lio,’ he whispered, his face so tragic that she wanted to hold him and comfort him and…
She frowned. Why was he upset?
‘’Course.’
‘Let me know when you’re coming. I’ll send you the return ticket to come over here.’
Vittore couldn’t bear it. She nodded, unable to speak and he couldn’t keep away from her any longer. In two strides he was there with her, sitting on the floor with his arms around her. She sobbed into his shoulder and he stroked her hair in silence.
She must want this independent life, this…loving husband and… He bit his lip hard, grinding his teeth into it angrily. Yes. She’d have children. And she must want these things badly if she was prepared to leave the child she loved and return to England.
‘I’ll take care of Lio,’ he said, trying to hold back the crucifying emotion. ‘Send you photos. Progress report. Perhaps a video, tapes of him talking, perhaps even my mother chatting—that would fill a tape or two.’
She didn’t laugh. Instead she clung to him as if her heart was breaking.
‘Just promise me one thing,’ he said, barely managing to speak at all. ‘Don’t come unannounced. I—I don’t want to be here when you arrive.’
Her weeping ceased. Knuckling her eyes and blinking at him with her incredible violet eyes, she mumbled jerkily, ‘W-w-why not?’
He looked at her helplessly. How would he live without her? That smile, the laughter they’d shared, her sweetness…
‘You know why,’ he growled in resentment. ‘Because I couldn’t bear to see you and not touch you. Because I will hold you in my heart until I die. I have gained my son and lost the only woman I could love. You are my soul, my life, mi alma, mi vida, amanda mia. Ti desidero tantissimo—’
‘Vittore!’ Her shocked face swam into his vision. ‘What are you saying?’ she gasped.
He frowned, not understanding. ‘You know what I feel. I have, I believe, wanted you from the first moment I saw you. It was like being hit by a thunderbolt. That’s why I made that outrageous bet, suggesting that you should become my lover if I gained Lio’s trust. I was confident then that I could. And that, once we had made love, you would feel the same way about me. You were always on my mind. You and Lio. And then I wove fantasies about the three of us, living here together, and that’s when I knew I couldn’t live without you.’
‘And…you asked me to marry you!’ she whispered.
He shrugged and clambered unsteadily to his feet. It was all over now. He’d make a life with his son and remember Verity to the rest of his days.
‘You said you’d never marry without love. Can’t force people to love you, can you?’ he said, trying to sound cheerfully resigned.
‘No,’ she agreed and if he’d had any hopes that she’d fall into his arms when he revealed his feelings, they were finally dashed. The pain knifed through him, slicing at his heart. ‘Just one thing, Vittore,’ she said, her voice shaking oddly. ‘I’d like to see the garden before I go. Would you mind coming with me? It’s dark and I don’t want to break my leg before I fly home!’
Hell was spending time with the woman you loved while she dreamed of a future without you. But good manners prevented him from refusing.
‘You’ll want to see Lio first.’
‘No. After.’
‘Right.’
Now he knew what it must be like to impersonate a steel rod, he thought, stomping down the stairs at a safe distance from Verity. Sourly he glowered at her. She seemed carefree as if all her troubles were over and she was looking forward to her new life. Without him. Without Lio.
His rigid frame shook with anger. Everything blurred into a red mist. He had no idea where they were heading or where they were but eventually she stopped and sighed at the moonlit sea and the lights of the settlements around the bay.
‘Wonderful.’ When he made no comment, she touched his arm, but he dragged it away. Masochism wasn’t his game. ‘Vittore,’ she mused and he hated her for being so happy, ‘I know this is very forward and not the kind of thing that a girl like me should say, but…’
To his astonishment, she grinned and slid her arms around his neck, locking her hands firmly together.
‘Don’t,’ he snarled, despairing when his body betrayed him and said ‘please!’.
‘But I love you,’ she whispered, stars in her eyes. ‘I love you so much I think I will burst if you don’t kiss me! I tried not to love you because you were obviously going to send me home, but…what can a girl do when confronted by the most handsome, kind, considerate, loving man in the whole of Europe?’
‘You said you didn’t love me!’ he cried in disbelief.
‘I said,’ she corrected, ‘that I wouldn’t marry without love. I thought you were proposing a marriage of convenience because you wanted Lio—and he was attached to me at the time.’
He blinked in astonishment. ‘I—’
‘Is that it?’ she reproved, her laughter ringing out into the hushed night. ‘And I thought Italians were romantic! Vittore. Let me make it clear. You love me, I love you. Ask me to marry you again.’
‘I—’ Maledizione! Where was his tongue, his brain, his mind? ‘Verity!’ He couldn’t believe it. One man could not be so lucky, so blessed… ‘Oh, Verity!’ he whispered. ‘I love you so much! I can’t…do you…?’
‘I love you,’ she said solemnly. ‘So?’ she prompted, her eyes sparkling.
‘Marry me!’ he blurted out in case the dream ended and he found himself alone and despairing again.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said demurely. ‘Now, can we make a baby?’
His head whirled. ‘Mia adorata—!’
Verity pulled him down to the soft grass. ‘Not words,’ she said softly. ‘Deeds.’
They were beneath the mimosa, with the stars shining brightly in the great black canopy of the sky. And just before she closed her eyes in ecstatic happiness as Vittore began to kiss her with all the tender passion she craved, she saw a shooting star arc across the sky.
‘I wish for happiness,’ she whispered. ‘For all those I love.’
‘Unselfish as ever,’ he murmured softly in her ear. ‘I worship you, Verity. With my body, my heart, my soul.’
EPILOGUE
‘NO, OVER there, yes, by the lilies—what are those beetles doing there? Lio, pick them off, there’s a darling. And—oh, thank you, Isabella, what a sweetie you are, I’m always dropping my glasses. Just keep an eye on Dante, will you? He’s going to do himself an injury with that vicious-looking pruning knife and heaven knows if the agapanthus will recover from his enthusiasm. Oh, Verity! How’s everything going? Have they put out the flowers I suggested on the table—’
‘Yes, Honesty!’ Verity laughed, knowing now to interrupt her mother-in-law loudly or forever remain silent. ‘Everything’s looking wonderful.’
‘He doesn’t know?’ Honesty asked anxiously.
‘Hasn’t a clue. The young people are hidden in the marquee and are trying hard not to breathe. Lio, caro, I think it’s time you shooed all the villagers into various corners of the house.’
‘Will do.’ Lio, incredibly handsome in sky-blue shirt and cream slacks, placed a loving hand on his grandmother’s shoulders. ‘Now, nonna,’ he said sternly. ‘You must be quiet until Papa arrives. Do you need assistance? A little sticky tape over the mouth, perhaps?’ he asked wickedly.
‘Dreadful child!’ Honesty scolded, her smile belying her words. ‘I don’t know what young men of eighteen learn nowadays about their elders and betters.’
‘That we wouldn’t have half as much fun without them,’ Lio said, kissing his grandmother fondly. ‘Right. All systems go. Come on Issy. Dante! Get your fingers out of that soil for once. You’re as bad as nonna.’
Verity felt her heart flutter as her children raced to the house. Lio, blond, assured, god-like. Isabella, tall and willowy and surely th
e most beautiful sixteen-year-old on the Amalfi coast. Dante, fifteen, dark and strong and so passionate about gardens that he often worked at night with his doting grandmother and had actually helped Verity on one or two of her acclaimed landscape designs in the area.
A bell rang. The signal that Vittore was arriving. As planned, she greeted him and coaxed him onto the terrace, just out of sight of the marquee.
‘Good meeting?’ she asked, knowing full well it hadn’t been.
Vittore frowned. ‘All the way to Naples, only to find nobody there!’ he complained. ‘I waited for an hour. Had lunch, still no sign of everyone. And hopeless trying to contact them on their mobiles. A wasted day! I can’t understand it—’
‘Never mind. You’re home now,’ she soothed. ‘I’m sure there’s a good reason. I thought we’d have a drink and a simple supper,’ she said, feigning tiredness. ‘Such a busy day,’ she sighed.
‘Oh.’ He looked disappointed. ‘Nothing…er…planned?’
She widened her eyes. ‘No. Why?’
‘Well… Never mind, darling. I know you’ve been busy. I’ll be happy to be with you. Kids around?’
‘Somewhere,’ she said vaguely, loving him for not minding that there were, apparently, no birthday celebrations for him. And no sign of a present, either!
It had gone on long enough. She picked up the silk scarf that had been lying ready on the table and waved it casually as if shooing mosquitoes.
Vittore frowned and tipped his head to one side. ‘I can hear singing.’
‘Really?’ She clamped her mouth shut, dying to jump up and down and squeal with delight.
‘It is!’ He rose. Looked across the lawn. His face was a picture. Verity hugged herself. ‘Darling…’ he croaked.
Her eyes glistened with tears. Slowly, hampered by all kinds of difficulties, the large contingent made their way towards them. These were some of the deprived, damaged special needs children Vittore had saved from hell. Many were young adults now, their voices strong and sure and filled with love as they sang for the man they adored.
‘Turn around, see who else is here,’ Verity said, unable to stem her happy tears.
Honesty, Lio, Isabella and Dante held a banner with the legend ‘Happy Fiftieth!’ upon it. And behind them crowded the villagers, their voices swelling the sweet singing as they poured their hearts into the melody.
‘Oh, my darling!’ Vittore’s dark eyes glistened with unshed tears. He hugged her hard and then kissed her with gentle passion. ‘You arranged all this. You flew them in from all over the world… I—I can’t tell you what this means to me, how happy I am—’
‘We all wanted to show you how happy you have made us,’ she said, dabbing her eyes. ‘I hope you’re up to this, old man!’ she giggled. ‘We’ve planned to celebrate till dawn!’
‘Thank you. Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘And after dawn, I’ll prove to you that I’m not an old man at all!’
Verity laughed and hugged him. Then his children flung themselves into his arms and he was surrounded by dozens of people and she didn’t see him for a long time.
She stood beneath the mimosa, listening to the wonderful songs being sung to him, music in many languages sung by people from many countries. But all offered with love.
She smiled dreamily and hugged herself—just to make sure it wasn’t a dream. Because she was rich. Not because Vittore was a billionaire, but because he had the ability to draw love to him and she had the good fortune to be part of his enchanted circle. The best riches of all, she thought with a smile and quietly walked back through the magical garden to be with the people she loved.
ISBN: 978-1-42687731-5
THE ITALIAN’S DEMAND
First North American Publication 2003.
Copyright © 2002 by Sara Wood.
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