experience of family.
He would not let it be his child’s.
He might not know what made a good father, but he knew what made a miserable childhood. No child of his was going to suffer that fate.
He slammed his hands to his hips. Right. He glanced at his watch and then rang his PA. ‘I’d like you to organise a car for me. I’m going to Monte Calanetti tomorrow. I’ll continue working remotely while I’m there so offer my clients new appointments via telephone conferencing or reschedule.’
‘Yes, sir, would you like me to organise that for this afternoon’s appointment as well?’
‘No. I’ll be meeting with Signor Conti as planned.’ This afternoon he worked. He wasn’t letting Marianna’s bombshell prevent him from sealing the biggest deal of his career. He’d worked too hard to let the Conti contract slip from his fingers now. Clinching this deal would launch him into the stratosphere.
Conti Industries, one of Italy’s leading car-parts manufacturers, were transitioning their company’s IT presence to cloud computing. It meant they’d be able to access all points in their production chain from a single system. Every car-part manufacturing company in the world was watching, assessing, waiting to see if Conti Industries could make the transition smoothly. Which meant every car-part manufacturing company in the world had their eyes on him. If he pulled this off, then he could handpick all future assignments, and name whatever price he wanted. His name would be synonymous with success.
Finally he’d prove that his grandmother’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.
In the meantime... He fired up his laptop and searched for the village of Monte Calanetti.
RYAN GLANCED DOWN at the address he’d scrawled on the back of a Grande Plaza envelope and then at the driveway in front of him, stretching through an avenue of grapevines to a series of buildings in the distance. A signpost proudly proclaimed Vigneto Calanetti—the Amatucci vineyard. This was the place.
With a tightening of his lips, he eased the car forward, glancing from left to right as he made his way down the avenue. Grapevines stretched in every direction, up and down hillsides in neat ordered rows. They glowed green and golden in the spring sunshine and Ryan lowered the windows of the car to breathe in the fragrant air. The warm scents and even warmer breeze tormented him with a holiday indolence he had no hope of assuming.
Pulling the car to a halt at the end of the driveway, he stared. This was Marianna’s home? Her heritage? All about him vines grew with ordered vigour. The outbuildings were all in good repair and the spick and span grounds gave off an air of quiet affluence. He turned his gaze to the villa with its welcoming charm and some of the tension drained from him.
Good. He pushed out of the car. He’d never doubted Marianna’s assertion that she could stand on her own two feet, but to have all of this behind her would make things that much easier for her.
And he wanted things to be as easy for her as they could be.
A nearby worker saluted him and asked if he was wishing to sample the wines. Ryan cast a longing look at the cellar building, but shook his head. ‘Can you tell me where I might find Signorina Amatucci? Marianna Amatucci,’ he added. She’d mentioned brothers, but for all he knew she might have sisters too.
The worker pointed towards the long, low-slung villa.
He nodded. ‘Grazie.’ Every muscle tensed as he strode towards it. He had to make Marianna see sense. He had to convince her not to banish him from their child’s life.
Once he reached the shade of the veranda, Ryan saw that the large wooden front door stood open as if to welcome all comers. He stared down the cool shade of the hallway and crossed his fingers, and then reached up and pulled the bell.
A few moments later a tall lean figure appeared. He walked down the hallway with the easy saunter of someone who belonged there. ‘Can I help you?’
Ryan pulled himself up to his full height. ‘I’m here to see Marianna Amatucci.’
The suntanned face darkened, the relaxed easiness disappearing in an instant. ‘You’re the swine who got her pregnant!’
He’d already deduced from the hair—dark, and wavy like Marianna’s—that this must be one of her brothers. A protective brother too. More tension eased out of Ryan’s shoulders. Marianna should be surrounded by people who’d love and support her.
A moment later he swallowed. Protective was all well and good, but this guy was also angry and aggressive.
The two men sized each other up. The other man was a couple of inches taller than Ryan and he looked strong, but Ryan didn’t doubt his ability to hold his own against him if push came to shove.
Fighting would be far from sensible.
He knew that but, recalling the way Marianna had thrown the vase at him yesterday, her brother might have the same hot temper. It wouldn’t hurt to remain on his guard. He planted his hands on his hips and stood his ground.
‘So...you have nothing to say?’ the other man mocked.
‘I have plenty to say...to Marianna.’
The brother bared his teeth. ‘You don’t deny it, then?’
‘I deny nothing. All you need to know is that I’m here to see Marianna.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
He debated the merits of lying, but decided against it. ‘No.’
‘What if she doesn’t want to see you?’
‘What if she does?’
‘I—’
‘And if she doesn’t want to see me, then I want to hear it from her.’ He shoved his shoulders back and glared. ‘I mean to see her, one way or another. Don’t you think it would be best for that to happen here under your roof?’
The other man stared at him hard. Ryan stared right back, refusing to let his gaze drop. The brother swore in Italian. Ryan was glad his own Italian wasn’t fluent enough for him to translate it. With a grim expression, he gestured for Ryan to follow him, leading him to a room at the back of the house that was full of rugs and sofas—a warm, charming, lived-in room. Light spilled in from three sets of French doors that stood open to a paved terrace sporting an assortment of cast-iron outdoor furniture and a riot of colour from potted plants.
Home. The word hit Ryan in the centre of his chest. This place was a home. He hadn’t had that sense from any place since the day his grandmother had died. His lungs started to cramp. He didn’t belong here.
Another man strode through one of the French doors. ‘Nico, I—’ He pulled up short when he saw Ryan.
Brilliant. Brother number two.
Brother number one—evidently called Nico—jerked a thumb at Ryan. ‘This is Paulo.’
He glanced from one to the other. Marianna
