Summer Romance with the Italian Tycoon Page 15

  He’d never know.

  And knowing he didn’t actually believe in happily-ever-after brought him no satisfaction, just an all-consuming suspicion that maybe he was missing out on really living.

  The door opened and Arianna mooched in. Dante’s heart squeezed at the sight of her. She hadn’t been her usual exuberant self since the night of the ball. She wasn’t usually one for tears, but she had wept whilst waving her aunt and cousins off, whilst saying goodbye to her nonna. The only time she hadn’t cried was when they left the castello and she had said her adieu to Maddie. She had heeded his words, chin up, a proud smile on her lips even as her eyes burned.

  Dante wasn’t sure exactly what he had said to Maddie or she to him. Commonplace platitudes, no more. She had been back to professional, smooth Madeleine Fitzroy. Gracious and polite to the last, no sign that two days before she had been begging him to tell her that he loved her.

  ‘I’m bored,’ Arianna announced.

  ‘Why don’t you call one of your friends?’

  ‘They’re all still away. No one comes to Rome in August except tourists. If I was in San Tomo I could swim or climb a mountain or play with Flavia or have a sailing lesson or—’

  ‘I get the picture.’ Dante cut his daughter off before she listed every single activity in the mountain village.

  ‘Why did we have to come back anyway? You could work there just as easily. Why can’t we live there all year round? There’s a scuola primeria in San Tomo.’

  There was. Dante and Luciana had both attended it before moving to the International School in Milan. ‘Don’t you like living in Rome?’

  ‘Yes, but I’d rather live in San Tomo and ski in winter and be on the lake all summer. I was happy there—and so were you,’ Arianna said with the keen perceptiveness that sometimes surprised him.

  ‘We were on holiday...’

  ‘You were more relaxed. Not as tired.’

  ‘I...’ It didn’t seem right that his eight-year-old daughter thought him tired and overworked.

  ‘When does Maddie get to New York?’

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘I wish she wasn’t going,’ Arianna said in a small voice and Dante pulled her onto his knee.

  ‘You and me both, bambina,’ he said under his breath.

  Arianna turned and snuggled into him, her hair tickling his chin. Dante held her close, protectiveness and love consuming him. ‘Papa. Can I tell you something?’

  ‘Anything. Always.’

  ‘I made a wish. In the wishing well at the castello.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I wished for you and Maddie to fall in love. I wanted her to stay and marry you and for you not to be sad any more and for me to have a mamma,’ Arianna said in a rush.

  Dante couldn’t speak, holding Arianna tighter as her words sank in. He wasn’t just hurting himself, he was hurting Arianna. ‘Ari...’

  ‘I really liked Maddie, Papa. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Si. I did.’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘No,’ Dante admitted.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s not always easy to tell someone. You’ll learn that one day.’

  ‘That’s silly,’ Arianna said scornfully. ‘If I like someone I’ll always tell them, otherwise how will they know?’

  ‘How indeed?’

  ‘You should tell her.’

  ‘I...’ Dante stopped. Arianna was right. He should tell her. Tell her everything he couldn’t articulate even to himself. Find the romance and heart she deserved. ‘You’re right, Ari. I should tell her. How do you feel about getting away from Rome for a few days?’

  ‘Sure. Where are we going?’

  ‘New York. Let’s go and find Maddie and tell her we miss her, shall we?’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MADDIE PRACTICALLY LIMPED into the opulent hotel foyer. She wasn’t sure she had ever walked so much in her entire life. Sightseeing in Manhattan was, it turned out, excellent practice for walking the Inca Trail. According to her phone, she had been averaging twenty kilometres a day.

  She looked at the lifts, just twenty feet away, trying to work out if she had the energy to get to her room. Maybe she needed a little fortifier first. She sank into one of many comfortable loveseats on one side of the foyer, every muscle in her body sighing in relief as the cushions cradled her tired body. If she ever got a place of her own she was going to call this hotel and find out their furniture supplier and order this exact loveseat. And then she would never leave it.

  It would be handy if she could also take the service home with her. She had no sooner sat down than one of the neat, friendly waitresses was by her side, smile perfectly in place.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Fitzroy. Did you have a good day?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I walked down to Brooklyn.’

  The waitress’s eyes widened. ‘Walked?’

  ‘It doesn’t look quite so far on a map,’ Maddie explained. ‘I wanted to explore the Lower East Side and it seemed to make sense to do so on the way down and then walk back up the West Side. I leave tomorrow morning. There’s just not enough time to do everything.’

  She’d arrived in New York late afternoon two days ago, reasonably alert and refreshed thanks to a First Class upgrade she suspected Dante had paid for. A sweet gesture, but one she couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t made. She wanted to forget about him, forget about what a fool she had been, forget about the moment she had begged him to love her. Instead every comfortable, pampered moment of her flight she couldn’t help thinking how easy it had been for him to treat her. Had it been done as a surprise when he’d paid her bonus, or was it a guilty way of apologising for the way their friendship had come to an abrupt end?

  Not that it mattered either way. The only option she had was to carry on with her plans and hope that in time her new experiences would relegate the summer—and Dante—to the back of her mind.

  But right now she was still raw; she just refused to allow it to ruin her longed-for trip. She’d spent the first evening wandering around the genteel Upper East Side where her hotel was based before an early dinner in her room. Yesterday she had explored Central Park and the famed Metropolitan Museum before facing the hurly-burly of Times Square and the Theatre District. She’d intended to go and see a show and grab dinner out, but at the last minute she’d retreated to her room and another room service meal in front of the TV. She knew that the next few months would involve many meals alone in strange towns and cities, but she just didn’t have the heart to begin yet. There seemed to be happy couples and families everywhere she looked, rubbing in her own lonely state.

  Tomorrow she would be more adventurous. She was spending one night in Philadelphia and then a night in Washington and another in Richmond, Virginia, before two nights in Charleston and a further two in Savannah. Her last stop was Florida, where she had a four-night stay before flying down to San Jose. This first two weeks was a way of breaking herself in gently, scheduled trains in a country where she spoke the language. More of a holiday than real travelling.

  Once she hit Costa Rica it would all get real. A new language, a different culture. She’d really be on her own. No more five-star hotels like this; she would be bedding down in hostels instead. She might as well make the most of this while she could.

  The waitress’s soft voice recalled her to her surroundings. ‘Can I get you anything, ma’am? A coffee—or maybe a cocktail?’

  ‘A coffee would be lovely. Thank you.’

  Maddie sat back in her chair and looked around her. Everyone seemed so put together and confident, as if being surrounded by marble pillars and high, gilt-edged ceilings was commonplace. But they probably thought that about her as well. She always had had the ability to blend in.

  She smiled her thanks as the waitress put her coffee in front of her and, for the hundredt
h time that day, resisted the urge to look at her phone. She was only allowed to do so every two hours. But she could check it every minute and it wouldn’t change a thing. Dante wasn’t going to get in touch. He had said goodbye to her as coolly and casually as if she were nothing more than the employee she was meant to be. As if his body didn’t know every inch of hers. As if they had never confided their deepest fears to each other.

  No, she scolded herself. No more. Her time with Dante was done; it was dust. She was moving on into a whole other phase of her life. No longer the obedient Honourable Madeleine, no longer the Runaway Bride, no longer the amenable and helpful Maddie. She wasn’t sure who she would be when she finished this experience, but hopefully, like Great-Great-Great-Aunt Ophelia, she would be transformed.

  Suffragette, VAD nurse, challenger of primogeniture and all-round badass, Maddie’s aunt had lost her lover in World War One, had her bid to inherit Stilling Abbey and the title thrown out of court and, as a result, been ostracised from her outraged family. Undaunted, she had jumped on a boat and explored South America, returning home five years later to become an actress and writer. She was simultaneously the family black sheep and their biggest source of pride. Maddie had been raised on stories of her exploits. It was a photo of Ophelia holding a sloth which had first ignited Maddie’s desire to follow in her great-aunt’s footsteps. What would she think of her great-niece sitting around and feeling sorry for herself? Not very much. She’d be far more likely to poke her with her parasol and tell her to pull herself together than to offer sympathy.

  Tonight, Maddie decided, she wouldn’t hide herself away. She would go to a restaurant...she would go to a bar. She might even, feet allowing, go dancing. And she wouldn’t think about Dante Falcone once.

  Okay. Once, maybe. But no more.

  Decision made, she finished her coffee and, wincing at a particularly tender blister, got to her feet. As she did so the waitress came back over, an envelope in her hand. ‘Ma’am? This came for you earlier.’

  Maddie accepted the envelope in some surprise. Her name was typed on the front. No address. It must have been handed in personally. But she didn’t know anyone here, did she? And nobody apart from Dante knew she was here. Her family were aware of her plans to travel, but she hadn’t sent them the itinerary yet, meaning to do so from Florida. She knew her mother would consider her whole trip self-indulgent nonsense. She’d been against her leaving England in the first place.

  Maddie walked slowly to the lift and, once inside, opened the envelope, pulling out the card within, staring in some puzzlement at the contents. A VIP pass to the Empire State Building for that evening.

  ‘Odd.’ No name, no explanation. She had mentioned to the receptionist that morning that she was hoping to go up the iconic tower before her train left in the morning. Maybe they had purchased the ticket for her?

  She turned the ticket over. It was date stamped for eight p.m., two hours from now. And hadn’t she been intending to go out tonight, tempting as room service and another night curled up in her suite was? This was a sign. She was in the city that allegedly never slept; she really should experience it after dark.

  The lift doors opened and Maddie stepped onto the plushly decorated landing. Dante had booked and paid for the hotel, before the ball and the ending of their relationship. It was a far fancier hotel than Maddie, who when in London always stayed at her mother’s club with its single beds and boarding-school air, had ever experienced. Her stay was made even more luxurious when she discovered that she had been upgraded to a suite with a gorgeous sitting room with views over Central Park, a bathroom larger than her bedroom at home, complete with a bath big enough for two and a walk-in shower that would probably manage an entire rugby team.

  It was incredible, but a little big for one. She felt lost in the huge bed, lonely.

  Maddie opened the door and stepped into the suite. Fresh flowers had replaced the still blooming bouquet on the dining table. Fresh wine and chocolates sat on the sideboard and a jug of iced water was ready for her, as if they had timed her return exactly. She really should text Dante and thank him for both the suite and the flight upgrade but she couldn’t bring herself to make contact. If he’d booked them after the ball then it was almost as if he was buying her off. He probably wouldn’t see it that way, but she couldn’t help but think of it as a way to easily assuage his conscience.

  She would text him from Costa Rica, she decided. A breezy picture of a sloth with thanks thrown in. And that would be that.

  Maddie spent a good hour soaking in the bathtub, watching a TV show as she did so, letting her tired feet recover from their exertions. It didn’t take her very long to decide what to wear—carrying her clothes with her for the next four months meant she was travelling light. A couple of pairs of shorts, one pair of lightweight walking trousers, several vest tops and two light hoodies, her bikini, one cotton sundress and one silky dress in case of a more formal occasion. Everything crease-resistant and quick-dry. She wasn’t sure her Aunt Ophelia would have approved. She was always incredibly elegant, even when halfway down the Amazon.

  Maddie opted for her silky dress and a wrap in case of over-enthusiastic air-conditioning and slipped her feet into her flip-flops. Tonight was good practice for the rest of her trip. No fear, no regrets.

  To Maddie’s surprise a car was waiting for her. Not a yellow cab, but a sleek, black luxury affair with leather seats and darkened windows. She felt a little like a film star as the driver handed her into the back seat and the car purred quietly through the manic Manhattan traffic. When she got to the famous Art Deco building the driver handed her out and another uniformed man took over, ushering her through the security checks, past the queues of waiting people straight into a lift, then another and then, to her surprise, a third smaller lift.

  ‘Welcome to the one-hundred-and-second floor, ma’am,’ the man said as the doors opened and he gestured to her to step out.

  The lift opened out, not onto the iconic wraparound balcony she was expecting, but into a room with windows all around, each with a dizzying view of the city. The room was almost empty, just one figure standing at the far end, looking out at the view.

  Maddie turned. ‘I think there’s been...’ but the lift doors had already closed. How awkward! She was alone in the room with a stranger.

  Only he wasn’t a stranger.

  He didn’t need to turn round for her to recognise him. She knew that stance anywhere. It was Dante.

  * * *

  The lift doors had closed and Dante knew he had just ten minutes. It was highly irregular. The Empire State Building didn’t offer private viewings. However, Dante had contacts who had contacts and somehow a miracle had occurred. He had ten minutes.

  Which meant he really had to turn and speak.

  He just hoped he found the right words. Remembered the right words.

  Slowly he turned round. Maddie stood by the doors, staring at him as if he was the ghost of mistakes past. His heart stuttered as he drank in the sight of her, tall and elegant as ever in a long blue dress, her hair pinned up. Only the vulnerability and uncertainty in her eyes was new.

  ‘Ciao.’

  Not a great start, but not too terrible either. You couldn’t go too wrong with a simple greeting.

  ‘Dante? What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘We missed you,’ he said simply.

  ‘But why the elaborate set-up? You knew where I was staying. Or you could have called...’

  ‘Heart and romance. You wanted heart and romance.’

  Understanding flared in her eyes, followed by hope before she wiped all expression off her face. ‘Yes. I did.’

  Dante took a deep breath. Either he was about to make a colossal fool of himself or... ‘“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”’

&nbs
p; Maddie just stared. At least she hadn’t laughed. Emboldened, he took a step forward and then another until he was close enough to touch. ‘“Did my heart love till now?”’ Was that his voice, so husky? ‘“Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”’

  ‘Dante...’

  ‘Maddie.’ With relief he abandoned the carefully rehearsed lines from Romeo and Juliet. ‘I am a fool. I refused to listen to what my heart was saying. It was so wrong in the past I didn’t dare trust that this time it could be right. I told myself the best thing I could do was to let you go. To plan a life without you in it.’

  ‘Dante...’ she said again, but he ploughed on. If he didn’t speak now he never would. ‘When you left, I told myself that it was for the best. That you deserved more, that I didn’t deserve anything. But the truth is I was too afraid to try. Too afraid to get it wrong again. Too afraid that I might let you down.’

  Her mouth wobbled. ‘You could only let me down by not trying.’

  ‘Ti amo,’ he said huskily. ‘I love you and I want the whole world to know it. I know I might be too late. I know I probably have lost your respect. That evening by the lake you asked me to love you. You shouldn’t have needed to ask—I should have proclaimed it to the whole ball. I hadn’t dared admit my feelings to myself—although it seems that my sister and daughter both knew more about how I felt about you than I did. I would have been lying to you if I had spoken then. But I can tell you tonight, in absolute truth, that I love you and if one day you would consider marrying me then I will spend my life proving to you that you did the right thing.’

  * * *

  Was she hallucinating? Was she really standing in a glass room one hundred floors up listening to Dante Falcone proclaim his love for her? Maddie reached out and ran her hand down the dear remembered planes of his face, the warmth of his skin proof that he was really here, not a figment of her overtired imagination. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’