Reunited with Her Italian Ex Read online

  She imagined his face when he’d returned to the table and found her gone.

  Vanished into thin air, she thought. As far as he’s concerned I no longer exist, and he no longer exists to me.

  In fact, the man she’d believed him to be had never existed. That was what she had to face.

  Bitterly, she replayed the scene. She’d been so sure that he was about to declare his feelings, but when he’d said, ‘There’s something I’ve been trying to tell you for days,’ he’d actually been planning to dump her.

  He’d probably spent the afternoon with Tania, perhaps in her bed.

  She thought he was being unfaithful to her with me. In fact he was being unfaithful to both of us. That’s the kind of man he is.

  After fleeing from Venice, Natasha had done everything she could to disappear for ever, changing her email address and phone number.

  But one email from him had just managed to get through before the old address was cut off:

  Where did you vanish to? What happened? Are you all right?

  Yes, she thought defiantly. I’m all right. I got rid of the only person who could hurt me. And nobody is ever going to do that to me again.

  She’d never replied to Mario, merely instructing the server to block his emails. Then she’d moved in with Helen. If he came to her old flat he would find the door locked against him as firmly as her heart was locked against him.

  At night she would lie awake, dismayed by the violence of her response. He had touched her emotions with an intensity that warned her to escape while there was still time. That way lay the only safety.

  Oh, Mario, she thought. Traitor. Traditore.

  Since then she’d devoted herself to work, making such an impression that she came to the attention of Elroy Jenson. The media magnate had propositioned her, certain that a mere freelance journalist would never refuse him. When she did refuse he couldn’t believe it, persisting until she was forced to slap his face and bring her successful career to a sudden end.

  After that, her life had been on a downward spiral. Her income had collapsed. Now she could barely afford the small rent she paid on the room she rented from Helen.

  The time had come for firm action. And if that meant leaping into the unknown, she would do it. The unknown had its attractions, and suddenly she was ready for anything.

  She exchanged brisk emails with Giorgio, the publicity manager. He informed her that she would be staying at the Dimitri Hotel and a driver would meet her at the airport. Two days later she embarked on the journey that might lead to a triumphant new life, or a disaster. Either way, she was venturing into the unknown.

  During the flight to Verona she kept her mind firmly concentrated on work. Romeo and Juliet was a story that had long touched the world: two young people who fell in love despite the enmity of their families. In the end, they chose to die rather than live without each other.

  Legend said that Shakespeare’s play was based on real events. The lovers had really lived and died. It would be her job to immerse herself in the story and entice the world to join her.

  The driver was at the airport, holding up a placard bearing the words ‘Dimitri Hotel’. He greeted her with relief, and ushered her into the car for the three-mile journey to Verona.

  ‘The hotel is in the centre of town,’ he said. ‘Right next to the river.’

  Verona was an ancient, beautiful city. Delighted, she gazed out of the window, enchanted by the hints of another, mysterious age. At last they drew up outside a large elaborate building.

  ‘Here we are. Dimitri Hotel,’ the driver said.

  As she entered the elegant lobby, a man came forward. He was in his sixties, heavily built, with a plump, smiling face. He greeted her in English.

  ‘The agency told me there had been a change of plan,’ he said. ‘Apparently the original candidate couldn’t make it, but they say you have excellent credentials.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m an experienced journalist. I hope I can live up to your expectations.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. I’m very glad you’re here. I promised the President the lady would be here for him tonight and it’s never good to disappoint him.’

  He gave a comical shudder which made Natasha ask, ‘Is he a difficult man? Scary?’

  ‘Sometimes. Mostly he’s very determined. People don’t cross him if they can help it. He only bought this hotel just under two years ago and set about changing everything practically the first day. There’s been a massive redecoration, and the staff has been reorganised to suit him. Everything has to be done his way. Nobody argues.’

  ‘You called him the President.’

  ‘President of the Comunità. It was his idea that a group of hotel owners of Verona, the Comunità, should all work together. They thought it would be an easy-going organisation but he said it needed leadership. The others just did as he suggested and named him President.

  ‘A while back one of the other owners thought of challenging him for the top job, but he was “persuaded” not to. Nobody knows how, but neither was anyone surprised.

  ‘When he gives his orders we jump to attention, especially me, because he could fire me any time he likes. I’m only telling you so that you’ll take care not to offend him.

  ‘We’ll dine with him tonight and tomorrow you will meet all the Comunità members. They’re looking forward to having you spread the word about our lovely city.’

  ‘But isn’t the word already out? Surely Romeo and Juliet is the most famous love story in the world?’

  ‘True, but we need to make people realise how they can become involved. Now, I’ll show you to your room.’

  On their way up they passed two men having a noisy argument. One was clearly in command, yelling, ‘Capisci? Capisci?’ so fiercely that the other backed off.

  ‘What does that word mean?’ Natasha asked curiously. ‘It really scared the other guy.’

  ‘It means “Do you understand?”’ Giorgio laughed. ‘It’s really just a way of saying “You’ll do as I say. Get it?”’

  ‘It sounds useful.’

  ‘It can be, if you’re trying to make it clear who’s in charge.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve had it said to me a few times. Here’s your room.’

  Like the rest of the place, her room was elegant and luxurious. A huge window looked out over the river, where the sun shone on the water. The atmosphere seemed peaceful and she took a deep contented breath.

  When she’d unpacked she took a shower and began work on her appearance. For this meeting she was going to look her best.

  She was attractive so not too much effort was required. Her blue eyes were large and expressive. Her blonde hair had just a touch of red that showed in some lights but not in others.

  Natasha pinned her hair high on her head, suggesting businesslike severity. Usually, she preferred to let it flow, curved and luscious about her shoulders in a more relaxed way.

  But not tonight, she mused, studying herself in the mirror. Tonight I’m a businesswoman, here to earn a living.

  She fixed her hair firmly away from her face until she felt it conveyed the serious message she intended. Giorgio had warned her that the owner was a man to be reckoned with, but she could deal with that. She’d meet him on his own ground, a woman to be reckoned with.

  ‘I did the right thing in coming here,’ she whispered. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’

  *

  In Venice, a city where most of the roads were water, motor cars could only come as far as Piazzale Roma, the car park on the edge of town. In the glowing heat of a sunny day, Mario Ferrone went to collect his car, accompanied by his brother Damiano.

  ‘It sounds like your hotel is doing really well,’ Damiano said. ‘You’ve got a great future ahead of you.’

  ‘I think I just might have,’ Mario said, grinning.

  ‘No doubt,’ Damiano said cheerfully. ‘After all, look who taught you.’

  This was a reference to Damiano’s successful career as the owner of se
veral hotels. Mario had learned the trade working in many of them and had finally become ambitious for his own establishment.

  ‘That’s right, I learned from the best,’ Mario said. ‘And having a place in Verona is a help. Several of us hoteliers have got together to promote the Romeo and Juliet angle.’

  ‘The city of lovers,’ Damiano said wryly. ‘That should suit you. You’d hardly believe some of the tales I’ve heard about you.’

  ‘Not recently,’ Mario said quickly.

  ‘No, you’ve settled down these last couple of years, but before that I remember you gave a whole new meaning to the term “bad boy”.’

  ‘Most of us do before we find the right woman,’ Mario pointed out.

  ‘True. I wasn’t a saint before I met Sally. But you haven’t met your “Sally”, so what made you suddenly become virtuous?’

  ‘Virtuous? Me? No need to insult me.’

  Damiano grinned. ‘So is it just a smokescreen?’

  ‘No. I really have changed, not necessarily for the better.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You’re much improved—quieter, more serious, more grown-up…’

  ‘More suspicious and demanding, nastier sometimes,’ Mario said quietly.

  ‘Hey, why do you put yourself down?’

  ‘Perhaps because I know myself better than anyone else does. I’m not the nice guy I used to be—if I ever was.’

  ‘So what made it happen?’

  Mario clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t ask me. It’s a long story, and one that—well, that I don’t care to think of too often. Let’s leave it. I’d better be going. Giorgio has hired a journalist he says will be brilliant at promoting the Romeo and Juliet angle. I’m meeting her for dinner when I get back tonight.’

  ‘Best of luck. Goodbye, brother.’

  They embraced each other. Damiano stood back, waving as Mario turned out of the car park and across the causeway that led to the mainland.

  From Venice to Verona was nearly seventy-five miles. During the journey Mario reflected wryly on his brother’s words. Damiano didn’t know that one of the turning points in Mario’s life had been Damiano’s marriage to Sally, four years earlier. Mario had been strongly attracted to Sally, something he’d had to fight. He’d fought it by working in Damiano’s hotels in Rome, Florence, Milan, only rarely returning to Venice.

  Until then his life had been free and easy. He was young, charming and handsome, with no trouble attracting women. He’d had many girlfriends. Too many, he now realised.

  He’d returned to Venice for the birth of his brother’s son and found, to his relief, that Sally no longer attracted him, except as a sister. He’d settled into a life of work and pleasure.

  Then had come the other great turning point in his life, when he’d met the one woman who could make a difference, drive away the loneliness and give his existence meaning.

  Fantasy dictated that she should feel the same and throw herself into his arms. The bitter reality was that she had walked out on him, slamming the door in his face, condemning him to a bleak isolation that was all the worse because he had glimpsed a glorious future, and come so close to embracing it.

  Buying the hotel two years ago had been a lucky chance. The owner was eager to sell and accepted a discounted price, and now Mario felt that he was headed for success and independence. If he did nothing else in his life he would triumph in this, he vowed to himself. With that hope to guide him he could banish the pain and bleakness of the last two years.

  At last he reached the hotel. Giorgio came to the entrance to greet him.

  ‘It’s all set up,’ he said.

  ‘Has the lady arrived?’

  ‘Yes, an hour ago. She’s not who I was expecting. The agency made a last-minute change, but she seems serious and professional.’

  ‘I can’t wait to meet her.’ As they walked across the elegant lobby, Mario looked around him at the place he was beginning to regard as his kingdom. ‘You know, I have the best possible feeling about this,’ he said. ‘We’re on the right road, and we’re going to reach a great destination.’

  ‘One where the money is,’ Giorgio supplied with a grin.

  ‘Of course, but that’s not the only thing. Somehow, everything is beginning to feel right.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. Get settled in and then I’ll introduce you to… Mario? Mario, is something wrong?’

  But Mario didn’t hear him. His attention had been drawn to the great staircase that led to the next floor. He was staring at it like a man stunned. A young woman was walking down the stairs. She moved slowly, pausing to look at the paintings on the wall, so that at first she didn’t seem to notice Mario standing by the bottom step.

  When her eyes came to rest on Mario she stopped suddenly, as if unable to believe her eyes.

  *

  A terrible stillness came over Natasha as she looked down the staircase, trying to understand what was happening. It was impossible that Mario should be standing there, staring up at her with a thunderstruck expression.

  Impossible.

  And yet it was true. He was there, looking like a man who’d seen a nightmare come to life.

  She tried to move but the stillness enveloped her. Now he was climbing the stairs slowly, as though unwilling to approach her too quickly or come too close. When he spoke it was uneasily.

  ‘I believe…we’ve met before.’

  A dozen answers clamoured in her head, but at last she heard herself say, ‘No, never.’

  That took him off-guard, she could see. While he struggled for a reply, Giorgio’s voice reached them from the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Aha! I see you two are getting acquainted.’ Waving cheerfully, he climbed up to join them.

  ‘Natasha, let me introduce Mario Ferrone, the owner of the hotel and President of the Comunità. Mario, this is Natasha Bates, the lady who’s going to tell the world about Verona.’

  Mario inclined his head formally. ‘Buongiorno, signorina. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘How do you do?’ she said, nodding towards him.

  ‘Let’s go and eat,’ Giorgio said, ‘and we can have a good talk.’

  Downstairs, a table was laid for them in a private room overlooking the river. Giorgio led Natasha to the chair nearest the window and drew it out for her.

  A waiter hurried in, eager to serve the hotel’s owner. His manner was respectful and she was reminded of Giorgio’s words:

  ‘When he gives his orders we all jump to attention…’

  She’d known him as a cheeky playboy, always ready to laugh and use his charm. It was hard to see the man he’d been then as the stern authoritarian that Giorgio described now. But his face had changed, growing slightly thinner, firmer, more intense. Even his smile had something reserved about it.

  Turning her eyes to him briefly, she caught him glancing at her and realised that he was studying her too. What did he see? Had she also changed, becoming older, sterner, less relaxed? Probably. Perhaps she should be glad, for it would make her stronger. And she was going to need strength now.

  Giorgio claimed her attention, filling her wine glass, smiling at her with an air of deferential admiration. He had probably been handsome in his youth, and still had the air of a practised flirt.

  ‘How much were you told about this job?’ he asked her.

  ‘Only that some Verona hotel owners had got together to promote the city’s connection with Romeo and Juliet,’ Natasha said.

  ‘That’s right. It’s already well promoted by the council, which works hard to bring tourists here. But the hotel owners wanted to enjoy a bit more of the spotlight, so they formed the Comunità di Verona Ospitalità so that they could make the most of being in the town that saw the greatest love story in the world.

  ‘Shakespeare didn’t invent Romeo and Juliet. There really were two families called Montague and Capulet, and they did have children who fell in love, and died. It happened in the early fourteenth century. In the next two hundred y
ears the story was told and retold, until finally Shakespeare based his play on the legend. Tourists come here to see “Juliet’s balcony” and imagine the balcony scene happening there.’

  ‘Which it didn’t,’ Mario observed drily. ‘The house belonged to a family called Capello, but the council added the balcony less than a hundred years ago.’

  ‘But if everyone knows that—’ Natasha mused.

  ‘They know it but they ignore it,’ Giorgio said cheerfully. ‘People are often tempted to believe only what they want to.’

  ‘How true,’ Natasha murmured. ‘That’s why we’re all so easily taken in.’

  She didn’t look directly at Mario as she said these words, but she had a sense that he was watching her with an air of tension that matched her own.

  ‘And that’s what we can make use of,’ Giorgio said. ‘Juliet’s balcony, Juliet’s tomb, where Romeo killed himself because he couldn’t bear life without her, and where she killed herself for the same reason. Is it true? It is if we want it to be.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Natasha mused. ‘True if we want it to be—until one day we have to face the fact that it isn’t true, however much we want it.’

  ‘But that’s show business,’ Giorgio said. ‘Creating a fantasy that makes people happy.’

  ‘And what more could we want than that?’ Mario asked.

  He raised his glass and drank from it, seemingly oblivious to her. But the next moment he said, ‘Tell us something about yourself, signorina.’

  She turned her head, meeting his eyes directly. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I’d like to know about you. I’m sure there is much you could tell us. What are your family obligations? Are you free to live in Verona for several weeks, or is there someone at home who will be missing you?’

  ‘I suppose there must be,’ Giorgio said. He assumed a chivalrous air. ‘This is a lovely lady. She must have crowds of men following her.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean that I let them catch up,’ Natasha teased.

  ‘Some women are very good at keeping out of sight,’ Mario said.

  ‘Of course,’ Giorgio agreed. ‘That’s the secret. Let them chase after you, but don’t let any of them get close enough to know what you’re thinking and feeling.’ He kissed her hand gallantly. ‘Signorina, I can see you’re an expert in keeping your admirers wondering.’