The Italian's Unexpected Love-Child

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‘Si. But Veronica, she not want to go to Blue Grotto.’

‘I’ve seen it before.’ Veronica jumped in before Franco could say anything further. ‘I came here as a day tripper when I was in my early twenties. It’s a very beautiful cave but I didn’t want to queue up to see it again.’

Leonardo nodded. ‘Understandable. Actually, the only way to see Capri is by air. I will take you up in the helicopter tomorrow.’

‘Oh,’ she said, thrilled and terrified by his offer. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘But I want to. And you will love it. Let’s go, Franco. I’m sure Veronica is anxious to see her father’s villa.’

Oh, Lord, Veronica thought as the taxi moved off. Her father’s villa. The reason she’d come here. And the last thing she’d been thinking about since the very handsome Leonardo Fabrizzi had stepped off that helicopter less than five minutes ago.

CHAPTER SIX (#u1fb875c8-6713-5890-9303-ec164a92ab67)

LEONARDO SETTLED INTO the back seat of the taxi and tried to act normally, not like a man who was finding the girl next to him disturbingly attractive. Disturbing, because he wasn’t in the mood to be attracted to any girl at the moment, having decided after today’s fiasco in Rome that the female sex was nothing but trouble.

At the same time, he owed it to his friend’s memory to be hospitable to his daughter. And to satisfy Veronica’s very natural curiosity about the father she’d never known. It was a pity, however, that she had to possess the type of allure which he’d always found difficult to resist. He adored tall, elegantly slender brunettes, especially one whose hair was long and which, once released from a ponytail prison, would cascade down her back in loose curls like the tresses of some mediaeval princess. Combine that with a delicate oval face, clear porcelain skin and a lush mouth and you had a package which would tempt a saint.

And he was no saint.

Hopefully, when she took her sunglasses off, she would have small squinty eyes and a bumpy nose, but he doubted it. Laurence’s eyes had been one of his best features and his nose had been nicely shaped. If his daughter took after him—and he suspected that she did—she would be a classical beauty, with a superb brain and an enquiring mind.

The many hours Leonardo had spent with Laurence stood out as some of the most enjoyable times of his adult life. It hadn’t been just his house he’d enjoyed but the man himself. His company. His knowledge. His probing questions.

Leonardo sighed as he was reminded how much he missed his friend.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you off the ferry, Veronica,’ he said. ‘I had some unexpected trouble at my boutique in Rome which I had to attend to.’

She turned to glance his way, her jeaned thigh briefly brushing against his. ‘Something serious?’

‘Yes and no. The manager was...what is the expression?...dipping her fingers in the till.’

‘That’s dreadful. Did you have her arrested?’

Leonardo’s laugh was very dry. ‘I would have liked to, but she threatened to ruin me if I did that.’

‘How could she ruin you?’

Leonardo shrugged. ‘Perhaps “ruin” is an exaggeration. She threatened to accuse me of sexual harassment if I had her arrested. In the end, I paid her off and she left quietly. But I’m not sure I trust her to keep her silence. She might still put something nasty on social media about me.’

‘Like what?’

‘She could say that to get her job in the first place she had to sleep with me.’

‘But that’s slander!’

‘Not exactly. I did sleep with her. Once. It was a mistake, but I could not take it back after it happened, could I?’

‘Well, no. I guess not.’

Leonardo noted the dry note in Veronica’s voice. She probably thought he was a playboy. Which he was, in some people’s eyes. But not of the worst kind. He tried not to hurt women’s feelings, but unfortunately the opposite sex often equated lust with love. He glanced over at Veronica and wondered if she was that type.

This thought brought another one.

‘I didn’t think to ask over the phone if you had a boyfriend,’ he said. They’d talked about their professional lives but hadn’t touched on the personal. He’d told her about his sportswear company and she’d explained that she worked from home as a physiotherapist, treating mostly elderly patients. She’d sounded oddly spinsterish over the phone. He could see now how wrong that impression had been. A beautiful woman like her would surely have a love life.

Her face betrayed nothing. But she stiffened a little.

‘No,’ she replied after a small hesitation. ‘No one at the moment. No one serious, at least,’ she added with a wry little smile.

‘Ah. You like to play the field.’

Her laugh was both light and amused. ‘If you like...’

He did like. Oh, yes, he liked that idea a lot, forgetting all about the antagonism towards the opposite sex that this morning’s confrontation had evoked in him. Suddenly, the prospect of keeping this lovely lady company this coming weekend was not a duty but a pleasure.

‘We have arrived,’ he announced when Franco turned his taxi through the high stone walls into the courtyard of the Hotel Fabrizzi. ‘What do you think, Veronica? Is not my parents’ hotel a delightful little establishment?’

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u1fb875c8-6713-5890-9303-ec164a92ab67)

HARDLY LITTLE, VERONICA THOUGHT, glad to turn her eyes away from this extremely handsome and annoyingly charismatic man. Lord, but he could charm the pants off any woman!

Except me, she reassured herself, blithely ignoring her thudding heartbeat.

‘It’s lovely,’ she said as the taxi came to a halt in front of a columned portico.

The hotel itself was two-storeyed and dazzlingly white, with terracotta tiles on the roof and dark wooden frames around the windows and doors. To their right as they alighted was a large pergola covered in grape vines, under which sat a long wooden table with equally long benches on either side and two large cushioned chairs at each head of the table. The closest was occupied by a huge ginger cat, basking in the dappled sunshine. When Leonardo walked over to stroke it, it purred loudly but did not get up.

‘This is Gepetto. He’s my mother’s cat and very old. He was here when my parents bought this place thirteen years ago. The previous owners abandoned him.’ Leonardo smiled a rueful smile. ‘He’s not de-sexed. Mostly because we can never get him into a cage. He doesn’t mind being stroked but don’t ever try to pick him up. He can be quite savage. I’m told there are many ginger kittens on Capri.’

Veronica looked at Leonardo and wondered how many offspring he’d sired over the years. Though perhaps he was too careful for that. Wealthy playboys would learn to practise safe sex from an early age, she imagined. There certainly hadn’t been anything about paternity suits levelled against him on the Internet.

‘Must go, Leo,’ Franco called out as he dropped Veronica’s case onto the portico then climbed back into the taxi. ‘I will see you tonight,’ he directed straight at her.

‘Tonight?’ Veronica echoed but Franco was already gone.

‘My parents will invite you to dinner,’ Leonardo explained. ‘The whole family will be there to meet you. They are very curious over the long-lost daughter of their friend and neighbour.’

‘Oh.’ It sounded like there would be a daunting lot of people gawking at her.

‘Don’t say no,’ he advised. ‘They would be most offended if you did.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of saying no,’ she said, just as two people emerged from the hotel out into the sunny courtyard.

Veronica saw immediately where Leonardo got his looks, because this had to be his parents. Both of them were surprisingly tall for Italians. Despite being obviously in their seventies, they both stood with straight backs, their faces beaming with happiness at the sight of their son.

‘Leonardo!’ his mother exclaimed, and hurried over to throw her arms around him.

‘Mamma,’ he said warmly, holding his mother’s face and covering it with kisses.

His mother laughed and smiled, hugging him even tighter.

Veronica watched with a tightness in her own chest. Was it jealousy she was feeling? Or just envy? She and her mother loved each other dearly but they weren’t much into physical demonstrations of their love. The occasional hug, maybe. Her mother had kissed her goodbye at the airport. Just one kiss. On the cheek.

Of course, Italians were like this. They were a passionate people, given to touching and kissing at the drop of a hat. Australians not so much, though they were improving when it came to showing affection—especially in Sydney, where immigration was the highest, with people from other cultures bringing with them new and possibly better ways.

Finally, Signora Fabrizzi disentangled herself from her son’s arms and turned to face Veronica whilst Leonardo’s father had his turn at hugging and kissing his son.