paid higher.’
Angelo tried to break her gaze down with the laser force of his but she was indomitable. It was like trying to melt a wall of steel with a child’s birthday cake candle. ‘I won’t give up on you, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I don’t care how long it takes. I will not give up until I see what’s written on your heart.’
‘Good luck with that,’ she said airily, and sashayed to the door. She stopped and addressed him over her shoulder. ‘Are you coming or not?’
NATALIE was handed a glass of champagne as soon as she entered the salon on Angelo’s arm.
‘This is such a happy occasion for us,’ Francesca said. ‘We were starting to wonder if Angelo would ever settle down, weren’t we, Sandro?’
Angelo’s father gave a benign smile as he raised his glass. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘But we always knew he would only ever marry for love. It is a Bellandini tradition, after all.’
‘Isn’t it also twenty-first century tradition to do so?’ Natalie asked.
‘Well, yes, of course,’ Francesca said. ‘But that’s not to say that certain families don’t occasionally orchestrate meetings between their young ones to hurry things along. Parents often have a feel for these things.’
‘I’m not sure parents should get involved in their children’s lives to that extent,’ Natalie said. ‘Surely once someone is an adult they should be left to decide what and who is right for them?’
Sandro’s dark brown eyes glinted as he addressed his son. ‘I can see you have chosen a wife with spirit, Angelo,’ he said. ‘Life is so much more exciting with a woman who has a mind of her own.’
Francesca gave Sandro a playful tap on the arm. ‘You’ve done nothing but complain for the last thirty-six years about my spirit.’
Sandro took her hand and kissed it gallantly. ‘I adore your spirit, tesoro mio,’ he said. ‘I worship it.’
Natalie couldn’t help comparing her parents’ relationship to Angelo’s parents’. Her parents spoke to each other on a need basis. She couldn’t remember the last time they had touched. They certainly didn’t look at each other with love shining from their eyes. They could barely be in the same room together.
‘Papa, Mamma,’ Angelo said. ‘You’re embarrassing Natalie.’
Francesca came over and looped an arm through one of Natalie’s. ‘Angelo tells me you are a very talented interior designer,’ she said. ‘I am ashamed that I hadn’t seen your soft furnishings range until I searched for it online. I cannot believe what I have been missing. Do you not have an Italian outlet?’
‘I’ve limited my outlets to the UK up until now,’ Natalie said.
‘But why?’ Francesca said. ‘Your designs are wonderful.’
‘I’m not fond of travelling,’ Natalie said. ‘I know I should probably do more in terms of networking in Europe …’
‘Never mind,’ Francesca said, patting her arm reassuringly. ‘Angelo will see to it. He is very good at business. You will soon be a household name and I will be immensely proud of you. I will tell everyone you are my lovely daughter-in-law and I will not speak to them ever again unless they buy all of your linen and use all of your treatments in their homes, si?’
Natalie thought of her father’s dismissal of her latest range as ‘too girly’ and ‘too Parisian’. She felt more affirmed after five minutes with Angelo’s mother than she had in a lifetime with her father.
‘I’ll get my assistant to send you a catalogue,’ she said. ‘If you want a hand with anything I’d be happy to help.’
‘Oh, would you?’ Francesca’s eyes danced with excitement. ‘I’ve been dying to redecorate the guest rooms. I would love your help. It will be a bonding experience, si?’
‘I’d like that,’ Natalie said.
Francesca smiled. ‘I have been so nervous about us meeting,’ she said. ‘But I am happy now. You are perfect for Angelo. You love him very much, no?’
‘I … I …’
Francesca squeezed Natalie’s forearm. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘You don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, si? But I can see what you feel for him. I don’t need you to say it out loud. You are not the sort of girl who would marry for anything but for love.’
Angelo came over and put an arm around Natalie’s waist. ‘So you approve, Mamma?’ he said.
‘But of course,’ his mother said. ‘She is an angel. We will get on famously.’
Dinner was a lively, convivial affair—again very different from meals taken at Natalie’s family home. At the Armitage mansion no one spoke unless Adrian Armitage gave permission. It was a pattern from childhood that neither Natalie nor Lachlan had been courageous enough to challenge.
But in the Bellandini household, magnificent and imposing as it was, everyone was encouraged to contribute to the conversation. Natalie didn’t say much. She listened and watched as Angelo interacted with his parents. They debated volubly about politics and religion and the state of the economy, but no one got angry or upset, or slammed their fist down on the table. It was like watching a very exciting tennis match. The ball of conversation was hit back and forth, but nothing but good sportsmanship was on show.
After the coffee cups were cleared Angelo placed a gentle hand on the nape of Natalie’s neck. ‘You will excuse us, Mamma and Papa?’ he said. ‘Natalie is exhausted.’
‘But of course,’ Francesca said.
Sandro got to his feet and joined his wife in kissing Natalie on both cheeks. ‘Sleep well, Natalie,’ he said. ‘It is a very great privilege to welcome you to our family.’
Natalie struggled to keep her overwhelmed emotions back behind the screen she had erected. ‘You’re very kind …’
Angelo kept his hand at her back all the way upstairs. ‘You didn’t eat much at dinner,’ he said. ‘Are you still feeling unwell?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not a big eater.’
‘You’re very thin,’ he said. ‘You seem to have lost even more weight since the day you came to my office.’
She kept her gaze averted as she trudged up the stairs. ‘I always lose weight in the summer.’
He held the door of their suite open for her. ‘My parents adore you.’
She gave him a vestige of a smile. ‘They’re lovely people. You’re very lucky.’
Angelo closed the door and watched as she removed the clip holding her hair in place. Glossy brunette tresses flowed over her shoulders. He wanted to run
