‘From the window of five-star hotels.’
‘Yes, you have really suffered, Luca.’
‘I know I have been fortunate.’
‘You have been given everything and now it is time to give something back. It’s time you remembered your duty to your family … your name … it’s time you settled down, my boy.’
‘The moral blackmail is not going to work this time.’
His father ignored the interruption. ‘When you take over the company—’
‘I am not going to take over the company.’ Gianluca could still recall the relief he had felt having made the confession—it had been short-lived.
The anger died from his voice as his father sank heavily into a chair. ‘If you don’t marry Aurelia there will be no company for you to take over.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Returning to the safe, his father came back with a file. ‘You know the name Jason Stone?’
‘Of course I do.’ Everyone knew the name of the American who had given a new meaning to the word con.
Luca had always been mystified how the man who had nothing but charm to sell had had to fight off wealthy clients convinced by all his wild promises and eager to put their fortunes in his unscrupulous hands.
The man was now behind bars; of the missing billions there was no sign.
‘Read it, Luca,’ his father instructed.
As he scanned the pages he realised why his father was looking older … he suddenly felt older himself.
‘How much?’ he asked finally.
His father mentioned a figure that drew a groan from Gianluca.
‘I thought it was safe and I thought I would be able to pay it back before anyone—’
‘You used money from the …?’ Gianluca, seeing his father’s expression, bit back his reproach. ‘Who knows?’ Even the suggestion of embezzlement, when added to the disgrace of financial ruin on this scale, would be impossible to hide. ‘Mother …?’ Emotionally vulnerable, she worshipped her husband. The shame of such a scandal, Gianluca realised, would be hard if not impossible for her to bear.
‘The bank, obviously, though not all, and Alessandro … he warned me at the time, but too late now.’
Mention of Aurelia’s father made Gianluca stiffen, he knew what was coming.
‘You know you are the son Alessandro never had and after his last heart attack he feels he needs to hand over the reins. He has run a deal past me … a form of merger. His offer is very generous, Luca, and it will all be kept within the family.’
And now they were family, Gianluca had stepped up to the mark and done what was expected of him—did that make him a hero or a coward?
Aware that such speculation was futile, he pushed away the question. His future was mapped out and he had no regrets, he told himself. He had done the right thing … the only thing.
Duty had been drummed into him since birth. He had made his choice and he would live with it. He would make his marriage work.
Next year Alessandro Cosimo would retire, his own father had already stepped down from his position as CEO, and Gianluca would take charge of the merged business empires.
He had hurt Poppy. It didn’t matter how often he told himself she was young, she would get over it, move on, be happy with someone else … someone who wasn’t him … the knowledge she was hurting because of him ate away at him like corrosive acid.
The thought of her being with someone else—this pain he locked away waiting until it would pass, because it would.
It had to!
She had come today. That he hadn’t expected—why?
He’d never seen Poppy in heels before. The ones she wore today were high and spiky, the bare skin of her shapely calves a toasty pale gold. Attired in a silk shift a shade paler than her green eyes, she looked poised, effortlessly elegant and supremely desirable.
The service in the cathedral with a strategically placed marble column to hide behind had been the place to shed tears, or even during the speeches, but not out in the sunlit gardens while a lady in a very large hat was waiting for her to respond to a question.
Not now, thought Poppy as she took a deep breath and, ignoring her aching cheek muscles, produced an utterly fake smile of brilliant proportions as she snatched a glass from the tray of a passing waiter.
It was a struggle to swallow the fizzing liquid past the emotional lump that lay like a lead weight lodged behind her breastbone. She tossed it back in one deep swallow before excusing herself from large-hat lady in her halting Italian.
Luca had been teaching her, and, though each summer she had increased her vocabulary, her grammar was still shaky. He was a good teacher. Poppy had always planned that he teach her other things. Eyes scrunched closed, she shook her head, causing the dangling beatengold discs suspended from her ears to ring like bells as they brushed her neck.
God, she hated him!
She heard her grandmother call her name and pretended not to hear as she wound a hasty path between the guests who had spilled out onto the manicured lawns overlooking the hillsides covered in olive groves and topped with the darker green of pines.
She held back the tears until she reached the relative seclusion of a small gazebo hidden behind a hedge of tall fragrant lavender.
How had this happened? Life had been perfect and now … had Luca fallen out of love with her? In her head she could hear his voice telling her that it had been a mistake.
Had he ever loved her?
Did he love the perfect Aurelia?
What was not to love? she thought darkly, seeing the tall raven-haired beauty standing at his side and feeling the familiar knife thrust of jealousy. Aurelia didn’t have a mother who made the cover of every European scandal sheet on a monthly basis!
Shaking her head to stem the constant flow of tortured thoughts, Poppy reached into her bag for the wad of tissues inside.
‘Damn!’ She sniffed as they fell to the floor. Bending to pick them up, she froze.
And then he was there, she could feel him.
Poppy lifted her head and he just stood there. Even though he was twenty feet away she could feel the emotion coming off him in waves as he walked towards her.
‘You’re crying.’
Poppy scrunched the tissues in her hand and got to her feet. ‘No—hay fever,’ she lied.
‘Why did you come, Poppy?’
‘I didn’t believe you’d really
