From Florence With Love: Valtieri's Bride / Lorenzo's Reward / The Secret That Changed Everything

‘But Massimo said …’

‘Never mind what he said. I can cook and be there at the same time. Don’t worry about me. We can make it easy. Just tell me what you’re cooking, and Roberto can help me find things. We’ll manage, and nobody need ever know.’

Her eyes filled with tears, and Lydia pulled a tissue out of a box and shoved it in her hand. ‘Come on, stop that, it’s all right. We’ve got cooking to do.’

Well, it wasn’t her greatest meal ever, she thought as she sat with the others and Roberto waited on them, but it certainly didn’t let Carlotta down, and from the compliments going back to the kitchen via Roberto, she knew Carlotta would be feeling much less worried.

As for her, in her borrowed top and trousers, she felt underdressed and overawed—not so much by the company as by the amazing dining room itself. Like her room and the kitchen, it opened to the terrace, but in the centre, with two pairs of double doors flung wide so they could hear the tweeting and twittering of the swallows swooping past the windows.

But it was the walls which stunned her. Murals again, like the ones in the cloistered walkway around the courtyard, but this time all over the ornate vaulted ceiling as well.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Gio said quietly. ‘I never get tired of looking at this ceiling. And it’s a good way to avoid my mother’s attention.’

She nearly laughed at that. He was funny—very funny, very quick, very witty, very dry. A typical lawyer, she thought, used to brandishing his tongue in court like a rapier, slashing through the opposition. He would be formidable, she realised, and she didn’t envy the woman who was so clearly still in love with him.

Anita was lovely, though. Strikingly beautiful, but warm and funny and kind, and Lydia wondered if she realised just how often Gio glanced at her when she’d looked away.

Elisa did, she was sure of it.

And then she met Massimo’s eyes, and realised he was studying her thoughtfully.

‘Excuse me, I have to go and do something in the kitchen,’ she murmured. ‘Carlotta very kindly let me experiment with the dessert, and I need to put the finishing touches to it.’

She bolted, running along the corridor and arriving in the kitchen just as Carlotta had put out the bowls.

‘Roberto say you tell them I cook everything!’ she said, wringing her hands and hugging her.

Lydia hugged her back. ‘You did, really. I just helped you. You told me exactly what to do.’

‘You know what to do. You such good cuoca—good cook. Look at this! So easy—so beautiful. Bellisima!’

She spread her hands wide, and Lydia looked. Five to a tray, there were ten individual gleaming white bowls, each containing glorious red and black frozen berries fogged with icy dew, and in the pan on the stove Roberto was gently heating the white chocolate sauce. Sickly sweet, immensely sticky and a perfect complement to the sharp berries, it was her favourite no-frills emergency pud, and she took the pan from Roberto, poured a swirl around the edge of each plate and then they grabbed a tray each and went back to the dining room.

‘I hope you like it,’ she said brightly. ‘If not, please don’t blame Carlotta, I made her let me try it!’

Elisa frowned slightly, but Massimo just gave her a level look, and as she set the plate down in front of him, he murmured, ‘Liar,’ softly, so only she could hear.

She flashed him a smile and went back to her place, between Gio and Anita’s father, and opposite Isabelle. ‘So, tell me, what’s it like living in Tuscany full-time?’ she asked Isabelle, although she could see that she was blissfully contented and the answer was going to be biased.

‘Wonderful,’ Isabelle said, leaning her head against Luca’s shoulder and smiling up at him. ‘The family couldn’t have been kinder.’

‘That’s not true. I tried to warn you off,’ Gio said, and Luca laughed.

‘You try and warn everybody off,’ he said frankly, ‘but luckily for me she didn’t listen to you. Lydia, this dessert is amazing. Try it, cara.’

He held a spoonful up to Isabelle’s lips, and Lydia felt a lump rise in her throat. Their love was so open and uncomplicated and genuine, so unlike the relationship she’d had with Russell. Isabelle and Luca were like Jen and Andy, unashamedly devoted to each other, and she wondered with a little ache what it must feel like to be the centre of someone’s world, to be so clearly and deeply loved. That would be amazing.

She glanced across the table, and found Massimo watching her, his eyes thoughtful. He lifted his spoon to her in salute.

‘Amazing, indeed.’

She blinked. He was talking about the dessert, not about love. Nothing to do with love, or with her, or him, or the two of them, or that kiss last night.

‘Thank you,’ she said, a little breathlessly, and turned her attention to the sickly, sticky white chocolate sauce. If she glued her tongue up enough with that, maybe it would keep it out of trouble.

‘So how much of that was you, and how much was Carlotta?’

It was midnight, and everyone else had left or gone to bed. They were alone in the kitchen, putting away the last of the serving dishes that she’d just washed by hand, and Massimo was making her a cup of camomile tea.

‘Honestly? I gave her a hand.’

‘And the dessert?’

‘Massimo, she was tired. She had all the ingredients for my quick fix, so I just improvised.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, but he left it at that, to her relief. She sensed he didn’t believe her, but he had no proof, and Carlotta had been so distraught.

‘Right, we’re done here,’ he said briskly. ‘Let’s go outside and sit and drink this.’

They went on her bench, outside her room, and sat in companionable silence drinking their tea. At least, it started out companionable, and then last night’s kiss intruded, and she felt the tension creep in, making the air seem to fizz with the sparks that passed between them.

‘You don’t have to go tomorrow, you know,’ he said, breaking the silence after it had stretched out into the hereafter.

‘I do. I’ve bought a ticket.’

‘I’ll buy you another one. Wait a few more days.’

‘Why? So I can finish falling for you? That’s not a good idea, Massimo.’

He laughed softly, and she thought it was the saddest sound she’d ever heard. ‘No. Probably not. I have nothing to offer you, Lydia. I wish I did.’

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘That’s not quite true. We both want something. It’s just not wise.’

‘Is it ever?’

‘I don’t know. Not for us, I don’t think. We’ve both been hurt enough by the things that have happened, and I don’t know about you but I’m not ready to try again. I have so many demands on me, so many calls on my time, so much duty.’

She put her cup down very carefully and turned to face him. ‘We could just take tonight as it comes,’ she said quietly, her heart in her mouth. ‘No strings, just one night. No duty, no demands. Just a little time out from reality, for both of us.’

The silence was broken only by the beating of her heart, the roaring in her ears so loud that she could scarcely hear herself think. For an age he sat motionless, then he lifted a hand and touched her cheek.

‘Why, cara? Why tonight?’

‘Because it’s our last chance?’

‘Why me?’