Reunited with Her Italian Ex

She imagined his face when he’d returned to the table and found her gone.

Vanished into thin air, she thought. As far as he’s concerned I no longer exist, and he no longer exists to me.

In fact, the man she’d believed him to be had never existed. That was what she had to face.

Bitterly, she replayed the scene. She’d been so sure that he was about to declare his feelings, but when he’d said, ‘There’s something I’ve been trying to tell you for days,’ he’d actually been planning to dump her.

He’d probably spent the afternoon with Tania, perhaps in her bed.

She thought he was being unfaithful to her with me. In fact he was being unfaithful to both of us. That’s the kind of man he is.

After fleeing from Venice, Natasha had done everything she could to disappear for ever, changing her email address and phone number.

But one email from him had just managed to get through before the old address was cut off:

Where did you vanish to? What happened? Are you all right?

Yes, she thought defiantly. I’m all right. I got rid of the only person who could hurt me. And nobody is ever going to do that to me again.

She’d never replied to Mario, merely instructing the server to block his emails. Then she’d moved in with Helen. If he came to her old flat he would find the door locked against him as firmly as her heart was locked against him.

At night she would lie awake, dismayed by the violence of her response. He had touched her emotions with an intensity that warned her to escape while there was still time. That way lay the only safety.

Oh, Mario, she thought. Traitor.Traditore.

Since then she’d devoted herself to work, making such an impression that she came to the attention of Elroy Jenson. The media magnate had propositioned her, certain that a mere freelance journalist would never refuse him. When she did refuse he couldn’t believe it, persisting until she was forced to slap his face and bring her successful career to a sudden end.

After that, her life had been on a downward spiral. Her income had collapsed. Now she could barely afford the small rent she paid on the room she rented from Helen.

The time had come for firm action. And if that meant leaping into the unknown, she would do it. The unknown had its attractions, and suddenly she was ready for anything.

She exchanged brisk emails with Giorgio, the publicity manager. He informed her that she would be staying at the Dimitri Hotel and a driver would meet her at the airport. Two days later she embarked on the journey that might lead to a triumphant new life, or a disaster. Either way, she was venturing into the unknown.

During the flight to Verona she kept her mind firmly concentrated on work. Romeo and Juliet was a story that had long touched the world: two young people who fell in love despite the enmity of their families. In the end, they chose to die rather than live without each other.

Legend said that Shakespeare’s play was based on real events. The lovers had really lived and died. It would be her job to immerse herself in the story and entice the world to join her.

The driver was at the airport, holding up a placard bearing the words ‘Dimitri Hotel’. He greeted her with relief, and ushered her into the car for the three-mile journey to Verona.

‘The hotel is in the centre of town,’ he said. ‘Right next to the river.’

Verona was an ancient, beautiful city. Delighted, she gazed out of the window, enchanted by the hints of another, mysterious age. At last they drew up outside a large elaborate building.

‘Here we are. Dimitri Hotel,’ the driver said.

As she entered the elegant lobby, a man came forward. He was in his sixties, heavily built, with a plump, smiling face. He greeted her in English.

‘The agency told me there had been a change of plan,’ he said. ‘Apparently the original candidate couldn’t make it, but they say you have excellent credentials.’

‘Thank you. I’m an experienced journalist. I hope I can live up to your expectations.’

‘I’m sure you will. I’m very glad you’re here. I promised the President the lady would be here for him tonight and it’s never good to disappoint him.’

He gave a comical shudder which made Natasha ask, ‘Is he a difficult man? Scary?’

‘Sometimes. Mostly he’s very determined. People don’t cross him if they can help it. He only bought this hotel just under two years ago and set about changing everything practically the first day. There’s been a massive redecoration, and the staff has been reorganised to suit him. Everything has to be done his way. Nobody argues.’

‘You called him the President.’

‘President of the Comunità. It was his idea that a group of hotel owners of Verona, the Comunità, should all work together. They thought it would be an easy-going organisation but he said it needed leadership. The others just did as he suggested and named him President.

‘A while back one of the other owners thought of challenging him for the top job, but he was “persuaded” not to. Nobody knows how, but neither was anyone surprised.

‘When he gives his orders we jump to attention, especially me, because he could fire me any time he likes. I’m only telling you so that you’ll take care not to offend him.

‘We’ll dine with him tonight and tomorrow you will meet all the Comunità members. They’re looking forward to having you spread the word about our lovely city.’

‘But isn’t the word already out? Surely Romeo and Juliet is the most famous love story in the world?’

‘True, but we need to make people realise how they can become involved. Now, I’ll show you to your room.’

On their way up they passed two men having a noisy argument. One was clearly in command, yelling, ‘Capisci? Capisci?’ so fiercely that the other backed off.

‘What does that word mean?’ Natasha asked curiously. ‘It really scared the other guy.’

‘It means “Do you understand?”’ Giorgio laughed. ‘It’s really just a way of saying “You’ll do as I say. Get it?”’

‘It sounds useful.’

‘It can be, if you’re trying to make it clear who’s in charge.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve had it said to me a few times. Here’s your room.’

Like the rest of the place, her room was elegant and luxurious. A huge window looked out over the river, where the sun shone on the water. The atmosphere seemed peaceful and she took a deep contented breath.

When she’d unpacked she took a shower and began work on her appearance. For this meeting she was going to look her best.

She was attractive so not too much effort was required. Her blue eyes were large and expressive. Her blonde hair had just a touch of red that showed in some lights but not in others.

Natasha pinned her hair high on her head, suggesting businesslike severity. Usually, she preferred to let it flow, curved and luscious about her shoulders in a more relaxed way.

But not tonight, she mused, studying herself in the mirror. Tonight I’m a businesswoman, here to earn a living.

She fixed her hair firmly away from her face until she felt it conveyed the serious message she intended. Giorgio had warned her that the owner was a man to be reckoned with, but she could deal with that. She’d meet him on his own ground, a woman to be reckoned with.

‘I did the right thing in coming here,’ she whispered. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’

* * *

In Venice, a city where most of the roads were water, motor cars could only come as far as Piazzale Roma, the car park on the edge of town. In the glowing heat of a sunny day, Mario Ferrone went to collect his car, accompanied by his brother Damiano.