A Marriage Made in Italy

by Rebecca Winters

  They were proud of their genealogy. Many of them told her she could come by their house. The others told her their information over the phone, but so far there were no leads on a woman with the middle or last name Donatello, in her late thirties or early forties, who’d been to New York twenty-six years ago. It was like looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack.

  Resolving not to be dispirited, Belle thanked him and headed for the library near her pension, to do more research on the other nineteen cities and towns within Rimini Province. They were ten to twelve miles apart and had much smaller populations, so there wouldn’t be as many Donatellos to look up. That could be bad, if nothing was discovered about her birth mother.

  En route to the library, Belle stopped at a trattoria for breakfast and filled up so she wouldn’t have to eat until dinnertime. She would be doing a lot more driving over the next few days. Before she left Rimini, she approached the woman in the research department, who spoke excellent English and knew she was looking for Donatello names.

  “I have one more question, if you don’t mind. Could you tell me anything about the Malatesta Bank?” The striking Italian who’d shown up at the pension had refused to leave her mind.

  “How much time do you have?”

  That’s what Belle had thought. “Yesterday the manager of Donatello Diamonds directed me to the bank to get information, but I learned nothing. Why would he do that? I don’t understand the connection.”

  “The House of Malatesta was an Italian family that ruled over Rimini from 1300 to 1500. There’s too much history since then to tell you in five minutes. But today a member of that old ruling family, Count Sullisto Malatesta, runs the Malatesta Bank, one of the two largest banks in Italy. They own many other businesses as well.

  “Another, lesser ruling family of the past, the House of Donatello, made their fortune in diamonds, but over years of poor management it started to dwindle. Some say it would have eventually failed if Count Malatesta, then a widower, hadn’t merged with the House of Donatello.

  “He saved it from ruin by marrying Princess Luciana Donatello, the heiress, whose father was purported to have died of natural causes.” The woman lowered her voice. “I say purported because some people insisted both he and his wife had been murdered, either by another faction of the Donatello family, or by the Malatesta family. Soon thereafter, the count made his power grab by marrying her, but nothing definite came of the investigation to prove or disprove the theories.”

  Belle shuddered. The dark stranger from the bank had looked that dangerous to her.

  “The Donatello deaths left a question mark and turned everything into a scandal that rocked the region and made the wedding into a nationwide event.”

  “You’re a fount of knowledge, and I’m indebted to you,” Belle told her. “Now I’m off to the other towns in Rimini Province to look up more Donatellos. Thank you so much for your time.”

  The woman smiled. “Good luck to you.”

  Belle was glad to be leaving the city, to be leaving him. Before she left, she would pay her bill at the pension and turn in her rental car. In case the man from the bank made more inquiries about her, he’d be thrown off the scent. Leaving no trail, she’d take a taxi to another rental agency and procure a car for the rest of the week.

  She left the library and walked out to the parking lot to get in her car. As she opened the door, she heard a deep familiar voice say, “Signorina Peterson?” Her heart jumped.

  It was déjà vu as she looked around and discovered the man who’d been responsible for her restless night. This time he was dressed in a blue sport shirt that made him even more breathtaking, if that was possible. His eyes played over her with a thoroughness that was disarming.

  “Why are you following me, signore?”

  “Because I overheard your conversation with the librarian and am in a position to help you in your search if you’d allow me.”

  “Why would you do that, when you won’t even tell me your name?”

  “Because you’re a foreigner who has suffered two frights. The first from me, because I put you through an inquisition yesterday. The second from the librarian, who increased your nervousness just now when she answered your question.”

  He’d been listening the whole time? That meant he’d followed her from the pension. Belle held on to the door handle for support. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

  “The pulse in your throat is throbbing unnaturally fast.”

  Those silvery eyes didn’t miss a detail. “I imagine it always does that when I’m being stalked.”

  “With your kind of beauty, I would imagine it’s an occupational hazard, especially at your workplace.” While she tried to catch her breath, he said, “I had you investigated.”

  “I knew it,” she muttered.

  He cocked his dark head. “Not in a way that anyone from your store could ever find out. I called headquarters in New York and explained our bank was doing the groundwork to sponsor an American cell phone company in Rimini, to see how it would play out.”

  “That was a lie!”

  “Not necessarily. American cell phone companies are one asset we’ve had an idea to acquire for some time. When I asked which store manager might be equal to the task, you were mentioned among the top five managers for your company on the East Coast.”

  “What did you do? Talk to the CEO himself?” she demanded.

  “Actually, I did.”

  Good heavens. He was handsome as the devil and just as cunning.

  “I find it even more compelling that you started with that company at age eighteen and six years later are still with them. That kind of loyalty is rare. I was told you’re going to be promoted to a regional manager in the next few months. Perhaps it might land you in Rimini.”

  What?

  “My congratulations.”

  Who was this man with such powerful connections? Belle needed to keep her wits. “Just so you know, I have no interest in moving overseas. So now that you’ve learned I’m not one of the paparazzi, I’d like your word that you’ll leave me alone, whoever you are.”

  “I’m Leonardo di Malatesta, the elder son of Count Sullisto Malatesta.”

  Her heart thudded too fast. It all fit with her first impression of a dark prince, and explained the signet ring with a knight’s head on his right hand. There was a wedding ring on his left. “I understand that name connotes someone sinister.”

  His smile had a dangerous curl. “If it would make you feel more comfortable, call me Leon.”

  “The lion. If that’s supposed to make me feel any better...”

  A velvety sound close to a chuckle escaped his lips. “I want to apologize for my unorthodox method of getting to know you, and frightening you. Considering the fact that you plan to return to the States on Sunday, perhaps if you told me exactly what you’re hoping to find, I could help speed up the process. I really would like to assist you.”

  “I doubt your wife would approve.”

  Those gray eyes darkened with some unnamed emotion. “I’m a widower.”

  “Yet you still wear your wedding ring. You must have loved her a great deal. Forgive me if I’m being suspicious. The truth is, I wouldn’t dream of bothering a busy man like you, one with so many banking responsibilities. The only thing I was hoping to get from the manager at Donatello Diamonds was a little information about the female members of the Donatello family. It would take just a few minutes.”

  “So you’re looking for a woman...”

  “That’s very astute of you.”

  A gleam entered his eyes. “Considering the very attractive female I’m talking to, surely I can be forgiven for my earlier assessment of the situation.”

  Don’t let that fatal charm of his get to you, Belle, even if he is still in mourning.

 
“That depends on what you can tell me,” she retorted with a wry smile back at him.

  After a pause, he said, “Obviously you haven’t found her yet. Why is she so important to you that you would come thousands of miles?”

  The small moment of levity fled. “Because the answer to my whole existence is tied up with her. My greatest fear is that she’s no longer alive, or that I’ll never find her.” Sorrow weighed Belle down at the thought.

  He studied her with relentless scrutiny. “Is she a relative?”

  This was where things got too sensitive. “Maybe.”

  “How old would she be?”

  “Probably in her forties.” Again, maybe. According to Cliff, her adoptive father had called her mother “that Italian girl.” Belle took it to mean she was young. “I learned she was from Rimini, Italy, but that could mean the city or the province.”

  His black eyebrows furrowed. “My stepmother, Luciana, was an only child, born to Valeria and Massimo Donatello here in Rimini. Valeria died in a hunting accident on their estate when Luciana was only eleven. As the librarian told you, some people still believe it wasn’t an accident.”

  “What she told me sounded positively Machiavellian.”

  “You’re right. It was only a few months ago that the police finally solved the case. The shooting was ruled as accidental.”

  “I see. It’s still tragic when any child loses its mother.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said in an almost haunted voice. Their eyes held for a moment. “My father was fifteen years older than Luciana, and he married her against my brother’s and my wishes. She was only twenty at the time and could never have replaced our mother.”

  Four years younger than Belle’s age now. “Of course not.” She could only imagine this man’s pain. Suddenly he’d become more human to her. He’d lost his own mother and his wife.

  “She’s forty-two now,” Leon added. “There must be quite a few Donatello women between those ages you’ve met while you’ve been here in Rimini.”

  “Yes, but so far I’ve had no luck, because none of them ever traveled to New York in their late teens or twenties.”

  * * *

  Leon’s heart gave a thunderclap. “New York is the connecting point?” he rasped.

  Belle nodded.

  What had she said in answer to his earlier question about why this was important to her? Because the answer to my whole existence is tied up with her. My greatest fear is that she’s no longer alive, or that I’ll never find her.

  As Leon stared at Belle, pure revelation flowed through him. He knew why she looked familiar to him. Had Marcello picked up on the resemblance? Or the manager at Donatello Diamonds? Probably not, or they would have said something, but he couldn’t be sure. Ruggio thought he’d seen her on television.

  Madonna mia!

  “I told you I’d like to help you, and I will, but we can’t talk here. Leave your car in the library parking lot and come with me. It will be safe.”

  “I don’t need your help. Thanks all the same.”

  She opened her shoulder bag to get her keys, but he put a hand on her arm. “If you want to meet your mother, I’m the person who can make it happen. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

  Her gasp told him everything he wanted to know. Those fabulous blue eyes were blurry with tears as they lifted to his. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Her voice shook.

  “Let’s find out. Is there anything in your car you need?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll drive to my villa, where we can talk in private. I have some pictures to show you.”

  She moved like a person in a daze as he escorted her to his car and helped her inside. At a time like this, the shape of her long, elegant legs shouldn’t have drawn his attention, but they did. Her flowery fragrance proved another assault on his senses.

  “Do I look like her?”

  “When I saw you come out of the alcove at the pension yesterday, you reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place you. It’s bothered me ever since. Not until a few minutes ago, when you mentioned New York, did everything click into place.” He started the engine. “You’ll need to buckle up.”

  Leon wove through the streets to the villa, not really seeing anything while his mind played back through the years to the time he’d first met Luciana. He remembered his father telling him and Dante that she’d lived in New York for a year and could help them improve their English. How much had his parent known about the sober young princess he’d brought home to the palazzo, besides the fact that she had money and was beautiful?

  Yet even if she’d told him nothing about having a baby, his father would have guessed, if she’d had a C-section or stretch marks. If not, he might still be in the dark. Her terrible secret might explain why she’d always seemed so remote and elusive to Leon.

  Before they reached the house he phoned Simona. After learning Concetta was back to normal and playing with her new buckets in the kitchen, he told his housekeeper to prepare lunch for him and a guest. They’d be arriving shortly and could eat out on the patio.

  Engrossed in her own thoughts, the woman seated next to him hadn’t said a word during the drive. Once upon a time she’d been a baby, separated at birth from her mother by an ocean. When Leon thought about his little daughter and how precious she was to him, he couldn’t fathom Belle’s or Luciana’s history. Leon had so many questions he didn’t know which one to ask first.

  When the white, two-story villa built along neoclassic lines came into view, he pressed the remote to open the gates and drove around to the back. When she saw the flower garden there, Belle gave a gasp of admiration.

  Leon helped her from the car and led her up the steps into the rear foyer that opened into the dayroom. “At the end of the hallway is a guest bedroom with bath, where you can freshen up. When you’re ready, come and find me in here, and we’ll eat lunch on the patio, where we won’t be disturbed.”

  “Thank you.”

  The second she disappeared, he hurried through the main floor to the kitchen, where he found Concetta in her playpen with some toys. She made delighted sounds when she saw him, and lifted her arms. He gathered her up and kissed her half a dozen times against her neck, causing her to laugh. Again he was reminded that his lunch guest had never known her mother’s kiss. Obviously not her father’s, either.

  Talia smiled. “She’s had her lunch and is ready for her nap.”

  “I brought company, so I can’t give her all my attention, but I will when she wakes up.” He kissed her once more and handed her back to Talia. His daughter didn’t like being separated from him, and shed a few tears going down the hall to the staircase.

  Much as he wanted to put her to bed himself, he was aware someone else was waiting for him, someone who’d been waiting years for any word about her parentage.

  Simona looked over her shoulder. “Do you want lunch served now?”

  “Please.”

  He retraced his steps to the dayroom and found Belle holding a five-by-seven framed photo she’d picked up from a grouping on one of the credenzas. Her back was turned to him, but even from this distance, he could see her shoulders shaking.

  “I won’t pretend to say I understand what you’re feeling. I can only imagine what it must be like to see yourself in Luciana’s image. Though you’re not identical, anyone who knows you well would notice certain similarities.”

  Belle put the picture back and whirled around, her lovely face dripping with tears. She used both hands to wipe them off her chin. “My mother is a princess? Your stepmother? I—I can’t take it in,” she stammered. “In the orphanage I used to dream about what she would be like. I had to believe she gave me up because of a life-and-death reason. But my dreams never reached heights like that.”

 
Leon put his hands on his hips. “I’m still in shock from the knowledge that she had a baby, yet there’s never been a whisper of you.”

  He heard his guest groan. “When Cliff told me my mother was from Italy, I wanted it to be the truth. But I never thought I’d really find her. Why did you bother to come to the pension?” The throb in her voice hung in the air.

  It was the question Leon had been asking himself over and over. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t honestly tell you the reason. It was a feeling that nagged at me to the point I had to investigate.”

  She clasped her hands together. “If you hadn’t come, I would know nothing, and I would be flying back to New York without ever getting an answer. Thank heaven for you!” she cried. “I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  A strange shiver chased through his body at the realization he might not have heeded the prompting. He’d tried to ignore it, until he’d been swimming in the pool. Then it wouldn’t leave him alone.

  Belle’s gorgeous eyes searched his. “But now that I see her picture, I think I’m frightened. It’s like that old expression about being careful what you wish for, because you might get it.”

  She wasn’t the only one alarmed. Already she was important to him in ways he couldn’t begin to explain.

  “Is it because you’ve discovered you’re the stepsister through marriage of the infamous Malatesta family?”

  He’d thrown the question at her in a silky voice to combat her pull on him. His attraction to her was sucking him in deeper and deeper. He didn’t want this kind of complication in his life, not after having lost Benedetta. Too many losses convinced him it was better not to get involved. Leon had his daughter. She was all he needed.

  His guest stared at him through haunted eyes. “What are you talking about? When the couple who adopted me brought me to their house, they broke their birth son’s heart. He hated me from the first day. If anything, I’m afraid of being the orphaned offspring of the woman your father brought into your home, thereby breaking your heart.”