Книга - The Summer Villa

The Summer Villa
Melissa Hill


THE NUMBER ONE IRISH TIMES BESTSELLER Praise for Melissa Hill: ‘I was completely gripped’ Sarah Morgan ‘Addictive!’ Grazia ‘Blissfully escapist’ Marie Claire  ************************************************************* Three women. One summer reunion. Secrets will be revealed… Villa Dolce Vita, a rambling stone house on the Amalfi Coast, sits high above the Gulf of Naples amidst dappled lemon groves and the fragrant, tumbling bougainvillea. Kim, Colette and Annie all came to the villa in need of escape and in the process forged an unlikely friendship. Now, years later, Kim has transformed the crumbling house into a luxury retreat and has invited her friends back for the summer to celebrate. But as friendships are rekindled under the Italian sun, secrets buried in the past will come to light, and not everyone is happy that the three friends are reuniting… Each woman will have things to face up to if they are all to find true happiness and fully embrace the sweet life. An epic summer read about food, friendship and the magic of Italy, perfect for fans of Jill Mansell and Sheila O’Flanagan.  ************************************************************* Why readers love Melissa Hill: ‘This book lifted my spirits’ ‘Fun, engaging and a real page turner’ ‘You know Melissa Hill will draw you in with her stories’ ‘A romantic read that left me thinking “just how does Melissa Hill do it?”’









Praise for Melissa Hill (#ulink_d7c5e53b-b27a-5854-817f-7b5d2be2afb6)


‘I was completely gripped’

Sarah Morgan

‘Addictive!’

Grazia

‘Another great read from the best-selling Irish author’

Hello!

‘This emotive story will touch your heart’

My Weekly

‘A blissfully escapist romp’

Marie Claire

‘Will keep you turning the pages until the very end’

Woman

‘An absorbing tale … Hill doesn’t disappoint’

Irish Independent


MELISSA HILL lives in Wicklow with her husband and daughter. A USA Today, Irish Times and international bestseller, her novels are published worldwide and translated into 25 different languages, with multiple adaptations currently in development for movies and TV.

Visit her website at www.melissahill.ie (http://www.melissahill.ie) or contact her on Twitter @melissahillbks (https://twitter.com/melissahillbks), or melissahillbooks on Facebook and Instagram.




Also by Melissa Hill (#ulink_644f7945-4645-53b1-8540-cd49c26b92a9)




Something You Should Know

Not What You Think

Never Say Never

Wishful Thinking

All Because of You

The Last to Know

Before I Forget

Please Forgive Me

The Truth About You

Something From Tiffany’s

The Charm Bracelet

The Guest List

A Gift to Remember

The Hotel on Mulberry Bay

The Love of a Lifetime

A Diamond From Tiffany’s

Keep You Safe



The Summer Villa

Melissa Hill






ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES




Copyright (#ulink_f58b8609-7edc-53c7-89f6-6194d8a2cc5f)







An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019

Copyright © Melissa Hill 2019

Melissa Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © August 2019 ISBN: 9780008217204




Note to Readers (#ulink_d9480d33-85f5-5e62-8ae5-efe15c2c1c13)


This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:



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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008217198



To great friends, old and new.




Contents


Cover (#u8ab2a1de-021a-51ca-87f3-d807ac9f6efa)

Praise (#ulink_400e7cb6-4c08-534a-a0ed-09071ee5f7ac)

About the Author (#uac228894-93ce-5806-9218-00d9564a7226)

Booklist (#ulink_61db89e8-b55f-544c-8c11-b1bccb4c21f2)

Title Page (#ue37b8868-68b6-5137-adc5-a0d9e86096b0)

Copyright (#ulink_43254fb0-c7b7-5998-8637-28428b89a254)

Note to Readers (#ulink_31a9bb2c-7192-5eaf-8fd0-9283bb3eb9cb)

Dedication (#u25b9d378-0a28-5b99-b556-96d89fdb9449)

Prologue (#ulink_ac9ce95a-f7e8-5236-b18b-4f7d1a86bc66)

Chapter 1 (#ulink_0748a165-179a-5c8f-a0ac-0d9ab5c34902)

Chapter 2 (#ulink_6dd010cc-dc65-5130-8075-6129b348ea6c)

Chapter 3 (#ulink_c3081212-d7ed-5b7f-818c-fc71fe304d66)

Chapter 4 (#ulink_494a0322-b820-5458-b65f-759a7cdd4afb)

Chapter 5 (#ulink_142d8497-64ed-52d7-8bce-a587add3f19f)

Chapter 6 (#ulink_9f1135f8-ff51-53fc-9315-39ecdec2471d)

Chapter 7 (#ulink_b89b17ff-2586-592d-842f-7b8a2a92818b)

Chapter 8 (#ulink_e1cd5a0b-d66c-5520-bb25-e1b37087aa30)

Chapter 9 (#ulink_0553ee18-53db-517d-a3c4-a871822c7600)

Chapter 10 (#ulink_0f5daefe-9564-57f4-ac27-302ff183a3d1)

Chapter 11 (#ulink_eede3780-38b1-5e62-9653-82dacd11fd14)

Chapter 12 (#ulink_22fa0f51-edb1-5624-b64a-4c1aa2be30ba)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 51 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 52 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 53 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 54 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 55 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 56 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 57 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 58 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue (#ulink_60523be9-01eb-5afb-83d8-7d5f500e9ac4)


It was just a little white lie. A way to kickstart her freedom.

And Kim Weston was now officially a runaway.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea as she stared out the window of the aeroplane into the abyss around her. Thirty years old – an adult – and here she was, running away from home.

She’d boarded a flight from JFK earlier and watched as the sky turned from pale blue to black. They were already six hours into a nine-hour journey and she was tired but couldn’t sleep.

There wasn’t a star to be seen, no way to discriminate the ocean below from the sky above. Nothing but emptiness.

Ironic because it was exactly how Kim felt inside. She had no reason to, or so everyone told her.

She had everything – the luxurious Manhattan apartment, a personal driver to take her wherever she wanted to go, generous expense accounts at all the best Fifth Avenue stores, and a black Amex to service every last one of her spending needs.

She and her friends were the crème de la crème of New York’s Upper East Side society set and partied with celebrities and VIPs alike. By all accounts she had the quintessential dream life.

So why was she running away?

She could still hear her parents’ voices in her head and her own guilt in her heart as she sat quietly nursing a vodka and orange juice.

Most of the cabin’s passengers were asleep, and the crew was moving around less frequently, but Kim’s mind simply wouldn’t quit.

For once, she wasn’t playing the role she’d been allotted. If she was expected to assume her part in the Weston family script for the rest of her life, then she needed a chance to play the rebel, even if only briefly.

Everything was planned to ensure that her parents wouldn’t find her – at least not for a little while.

Her destination (and certainly choice of accommodation) wasn’t somewhere Peter or Gloria would ever think to look for her, since it was so far removed from the kind of places the Westons usually frequented.

No five-star luxury hotel suite awaiting Kim when she arrived. Instead she was staying at a tumbledown villa she’d found on the internet, where she’d be sharing living space and possibly even a room with other guests. She shuddered involuntarily.

Kim was roughing it, in as much as someone like her could. The house had no on-site staff, apparently there was someone who’d come by daily to tidy and meet and greet, but that was it. No concierge, butler, in-house chef – nothing.

For once, she was going to have to cater for herself – in more ways than one.

That gave her some sense of unease; she wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart, which was why she also planned to maybe enlist herself in an Italian cookery class, as suggested by the booking site she’d used. Failing that, she’d just survive on pizza and pasta. It was Italy, after all.

And she could afford that much, for a little while at least.






It was early afternoon when the flight landed at Naples airport and the transfer service she’d arranged (her final luxury – she wasn’t going to rough it entirely after a transatlantic economy flight) picked her up outside the terminal.

‘Signorina Weston?’ the driver holding the sign with her name on it queried as she approached.

‘That’s me.’

‘Buongiorno. Right this way,’ the young Italian man instructed as he directed Kim to a waiting black Mercedes.

She stepped outside of the terminal, her long slender legs clad in white jeans, which complemented her hot pink poncho. Sunglasses protected her eyes from the bright sun but she still held a hand to her forehead to shield them as she stared up at an almost cloudless Italian blue sky.

‘I am Alfeo,’ the driver introduced himself as they walked, taking her luggage along with him. ‘How was your flight?’

‘Long,’ she answered. She was bone-tired, a little cranky and not particularly in the mood for small talk.

Alfeo nodded and opened the car door for her. ‘The journey will take just over an hour and a half depending on traffic. But we can stop along the way if you need anything.’

‘That’s fine,’ Kim replied as she slid into the back seat and tipped her head against the leather headrest. She closed her eyes, suddenly spent and exhausted from worrying now that she was here.

She was really doing this …

It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed when she was woken by Alfeo’s voice announcing arrival at their destination.

Kim blinked several times as she tried to gather her bearings, then lowered the window to look out at her surroundings. They were parked down some kind of laneway, and up ahead she could make out a grubby wall of peach-coloured plaster, and a paint-chipped wooden door – the only interruption on an otherwise blank façade.

Unimpressed, she regarded the weather-worn door and its tarnished brass ring, and hid a frown as she dragged manicured nails through her tousled blonde mane, pulling her hair partially over her shoulder.

Her heart fell. This place looked like a complete dump. She sincerely hoped the inside was a helluva lot better.

‘This is Villa Dolce Vita, right?’ she asked, casting a fatigued gaze at Alfeo as she stepped out onto the dusty gravel pathway.

‘Si. Villa Dolce Vita.’

‘I’ll need your number,’ she stated as she walked towards him with her phone in hand. ‘Just in case.’

Alfeo complied, assuring her that he’d be available whenever she needed, the suggestive grin on his face indicating he meant for more than just transportation. Were Italian men really such unabashed flirts?

‘Can you maybe just help get my cases inside before you go?’

‘Of course.’ He duly took her suitcases out of the boot, while Kim wandered further along the perimeter wall to where a break in the trees gave way to a view of the sea.

Realising that they were on an elevated site, high above the glittering Gulf of Naples, she glanced to her left to see a group of impossibly beautiful pastel-coloured buildings and terracotta roofs, clinging and huddled together.

The set-up immediately put her in mind of a huge piñata cake: the centre of the green and grey mountain cut open to release a tumbling selection of irresistible pastel-coloured candy.

Now this is more like it …

Further along down the coast, rock promontories jutted out above diverging bays, beaches and terraces, all presiding over cerulean waters. Hills dotted with lush vineyards, olive trees and citrus groves looked down over the colourful shops, cafés, hotels and historic buildings scattered below.

Sailboats dotted the clear blue waters and, looking down from where she stood, Kim could see snaking wooden steps leading all the way to the rocky shore below.

The whole thing was dizzying in every sense of the word.

By the time she returned to the villa entrance, Alfeo was gone, but the old wooden door had been left ajar.

Kim slipped through into the courtyard area to discover a hidden garden of sorts.

The dark pea gravel of outside gave way to a lighter-coloured, more decorative kind, and she noticed heavy stone planters dotted throughout the small courtyard area, housing rows of mature lemon and olive trees.

Coupled with vibrant magenta bougainvillea tumbling down the edge of an old stone building – evidently the villa itself – the garden was a riot of colour, and against the azure sky and glittering water on the bay, made for a picture-perfect entrance.

Citrus scent from the lemon trees followed as Kim walked to the front of the property, her senses now well and truly awakened.

The villa was of the same blotchy peach plaster as the outside wall, a pretty two-storey house with a terracotta roof and rustic windows trimmed with dull cast iron railings that had long since seen better days.

Turning to check out the view from the front of the house, Kim noticed a terraced area beneath the gardens, accessible by four or five stone steps leading down to small pool bordering the edge of the entire site overlooking the panoramic bay.

Without the ornate bougainvillea-laden perimeter railings holding everything together, it was as if the entire site could easily slip right off the edge and plummet down to the rocky shore below.

OK, so this place was old, but surprisingly charming, and while Kim didn’t have high hopes for the quality of accommodation, given the crumbling exteriors, she already felt a weird sense of calm at just being here.

It was as if Villa Dolce Vita had already cast a spell on her.

A chipped wooden front door with a ringed black-painted knocker at its centre stood wide open, and Kim hesitated momentarily as she listened for noise from inside.

She wasn’t sure if there were other guests staying there already or if anyone was even expecting her, but there was no going back now.

She took a deep breath. She was really here. Doing her own thing, finding her own path.

Time to take the plunge.

Here goes nothing …




Chapter 1 (#ulink_10d79f78-f9de-5ea4-8e66-524070d5c590)


Now

The word ‘transformation’ was an understatement.

The once-crumbling Villa Dolce Vita was now one of the loveliest restorations on the Amalfi Coast area, in Kim’s opinion at least. It was the perfect location for a wellness centre and retreat, and was going to be the ultimate real-life showcase for her business, The Sweet Life.

In the two years since they’d bought it, Kim and her business partners had wholly achieved their intention to create a very subtle, yet contemporary architectural update that reinterpreted the character of the building, while staying faithful to its origins.

Outside, the cast iron perimeter and window railings had all been lovingly restored, external plasterwork and sash windows replaced with wholly sympathetic but weatherproof alternatives, and every last one of the terrace’s limestone tiles and steps had been completely relaid to ensure a sleeker, less rickety poolside surface.

The gardens had been well-maintained throughout the years, and while they’d had no choice but to cut back some of the more aggressive bougainvillea so as to retouch the exterior plasterwork, and earmarked a patch previously overrun with dying trees for a lawned area, little other work had been required.

The remaining good olive and lemon trees still bore heavy fruit, and the familiar citrus scent now filled the warm summer air as Kim wound her way through the courtyard.

At last, the Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat was due to open next month and Kim couldn’t wait.

‘Just here,’ she said, as she supervised the delivery guys. The patio furniture some of the locals were carrying had been hand-picked by Kim, each piece reflecting her own classic style as well as the influence of their Amalfi Coast surroundings.

‘Giving orders already, I see,’ an amused male voice called out from behind her.

Kim smiled. ‘Someone once told me that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.’

‘Yes, I think I have heard that one.’ Antonio Berger had been one of Kim’s business partners for the past five years. More than two decades her senior, the Italian was more of a father figure and mentor, and encouraged her in every venture she pursued.

When she’d first met him and his wife, Emilia, on her first visit to Italy almost six years before, they’d been a welcome presence in her life and much-needed guides as she tried to navigate away from her upbringing and figure out what to do with her life.

Antonio, as ever, was dressed in a light-coloured linen suit and square-front brown leather shoes. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed back regally, accentuating his long face and square jaw, and his lively brown eyes lit up as he smiled at her.

‘As always, you already seem to have everything covered,’ he commented, stepping back and casually slipping a hand into his trouser pocket as he regarded the villa’s freshly renovated grandeur. ‘You certainly don’t need me.’

‘I always need you,’ she answered with a grin. ‘So do you want the grand tour?’

The pair walked back towards the main house together. ‘You haven’t been here since we bought it, have you?’ she realised as she led him through the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the rear.

She smiled fondly as the memories of her arrival here all those years ago came rushing back.

How the kitchen had once been a cornucopia of blue, green and yellow with its grubby tiling, mismatched cheap units, and equally mismatched plates and cups on the open shelves. All the kitchen units were now bespoke in dark wood, complementing the ochres and light blue accents, and contrasting the wider openings and light tinted walls.

A brand-new staircase replaced the old heavy wooden steps and rails, completely redefining the formerly dark and dreary entryway. Constructed in white-coated metal, the stairs appeared as if suspended from a softly curved aperture above the main space, adding instant character and interest to the reception area.

The interiors felt lighter, brighter, and much more spacious, with blues and greys of the ocean incorporated primarily in the soft furnishings, bringing a restful classic feel that could be easily updated.

The colour ochre recurred throughout, contrasting with new glass openings overhead and lighter shades on the walls. Bright terrazzo flooring had been installed throughout in place of the dark terracotta mishmash that had welcomed Kim six years before.

‘Actually, no,’ he replied. ‘I meant to, but you know … with Emilia,’ he added gently, referring to his wife who had recently been diagnosed with dementia.

‘How is she?’

Kim noted the way Antonio’s chest rose and fell before he spoke. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to come to terms with the fact that the person you love will eventually lose all memory of you and the life you shared.

It was difficult enough for Kim to get her head around the decline of a sunny, vibrant woman into the confused and frightened soul she apparently was now.

Not that she’d seen Emilia recently, she thought guiltily, given how busy she’d been getting this place ready for the launch. The Bergers were based in Milan, while Kim lived in California, where her husband was from, and whenever she travelled to Italy to check on the renovation project, her short visits had been restricted to the Amalfi Coast.

‘It is hard to say. Sometimes she is perfectly lucid, the same Emilia, while others …’ he trailed off solemnly. ‘The doctors have been talking about residential care but I think that is premature,’ he added, almost to himself. Kim knew the very idea of it was killing him.

She stepped forward to give him another hug.

‘It’ll be lovely to see her at the party and once all of this is over, I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with you both.’

He patted her back paternally. ‘It’s OK, I’m coming to terms with it, and for the most part she is still my Emilia. We’ve had a good life and have been through a lot together. She gave me two beautiful children and almost forty years of true love,’ he said with a fond smile. ‘I would be nowhere else than by her side.’

‘Then I’m even more grateful that you carved out the time for me. I know it must’ve been a wrench to leave her.’

He shook his head lightly. ‘No, no, she is excited about this. You needed me also, and of course she and I are not just your partners, but your friends, too. In any case,’ he teased, ‘perhaps she will not even miss me.’

Though she knew he was joking, she could still hear the pain behind his words. Ever the optimist, she knew he was trying his utmost to not let his wife’s diagnosis blight their lives or dampen their spirits.

Now he took both of her hands in his. ‘So how are you, bella?’

Kim smiled gamely but knew it didn’t reach her eyes and Antonio would likely see through her own pretence just as easily. ‘Just OK,’ she answered, averting her gaze. ‘I’m a bit tired. There’s been a lot going on and still loads to get through. At least I’m here on the ground now, the invites are out and the guest list is finalised …’

‘Well, it’s a long list. Are your friends going to make it? The ladies who were with you that summer?’

Kim had almost forgotten she’d first met Antonio the same time as Annie and Colette. The three had come together as strangers six years ago at the villa but in the ensuing years had managed to maintain their friendship, albeit at long-distance with their contact now sporadic.

She and Colette had been guests at each other’s weddings, and she’d managed to meet up with Annie on a business trip to Dublin the year before last.

Of course, social media made it easy to keep track of each other’s lives, but Kim missed the closeness they’d shared that summer. It would be so lovely to get the gang back together in person for a reunion. Here at the villa, especially.

‘I hope so,’ Kim said, realising that she needed to check in on the RSVPs. She’d sent invites to both women, asking them and their respective plus ones to next month’s official Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat launch celebration, including flights and a hotel stay over a long weekend.

Once the party was done and the centre officially open for reservations, Kim would be temporarily free from work obligations. She relished the chance of catching up with them here and revisiting some of their old haunts.

She hooked her arm in Antonio’s. ‘Let’s keep going. I’ve still got lots to show you. The bedrooms have been transformed, too, and wait till you see where we managed to slot in the massage area.’

When he’d finished his tour of the accommodation area, and its new state-of-the-art wellness facilities, Antonio nodded with satisfaction. ‘You’ve done an amazing job, Kim. The investors will be more than happy.’

‘I just hope it’s enough to get those reservations flooding in.’ She smiled. ‘Now, how about lunch? We can head down to Il Buco, maybe? I’m feeling in the mood for pizzaiola beef.’

Antonio looked at her with a sad smile. ‘Bella, in all the time I’ve been here you have not once mentioned your husband. Gabe is coming next month, too, I hope?’

Kim’s heart stuttered guiltily. ‘Of course. He and Lily are flying in soon, actually.’ Her three-year-old, a beautiful little girl she barely saw these days.

Gabriel’s plan was to have some long overdue family time in Italy together before everything kicked off. Kim only hoped that things would run smoothly in the run-up to the launch so that she could carve out the necessary time.

Much like Antonio, her husband was an optimist at heart.

Now she could feel her mentor’s eyes following her as they meandered back out to the courtyard and down the steps to the pool terrace perched on the edge of the property. When she turned to look at him, the expression on his face said it all.

‘Don’t …’

He smiled weakly. ‘I’m sorry but thirty-odd years of marriage has taught me well. I know trouble when I see it.’ He stepped closer, taking Kim’s hand in his as he patted her knuckles. ‘Why don’t we go to lunch and you tell me everything? All right?’

But Kim didn’t want to talk about her personal life. She really didn’t. She had enough on her mind.

‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ he insisted gently and she knew there was no point in refusing.

While she’d never been able to talk to her father, to trust or confide in him, Antonio was so much more reliable. He understood her, sometimes even better than she did herself.

Minutes later, Kim leaned her head back against the plush leather seats of Antonio’s convertible Maserati as the car wound along the coast towards Sorrento. She gazed out over the water, catching sight of the magnificent island of Capri in the distance. She held her hand out, allowing the warm breeze to pass through her fingers as sunlight danced across the dazzling blue of the sea.

She would never, ever tire of this view and doubted there were many others in the world to compare.

This place had transformed her life six years ago.

Perhaps it could do the same again now.




Chapter 2 (#ulink_64607417-e833-56fc-a52b-1eac681e007f)


Then

She could hear them already. The authoritative voices of her folks filled the house as Peter and Gloria Weston returned from yet another trip abroad.

Kim turned her music up and rolled over on her bed.

It was Saturday, the weekend, and she was doing what she did best – nothing. Which seemed to be all her life was about.

A steady stream of nothing.

It was bad enough that they still ran her life from a distance; with them home she’d have no peace.

Kim was in no hurry to face that. She turned her back to her bedroom door and rolled over.

She was twenty-nine years old and was still living at home, despite spending four years at business school at Cornell. And for what? She wasn’t exactly sure, other than the fact that it was her parents’ will at the time, and their dime. She enjoyed her studies, but since then, hadn’t had much opportunity to put her knowledge to work.

After graduation, her venture capitalist father had given her a position in his company, though he never seemed to let her do anything except put in the hours. And, of course, wine and dine any clients he sent her way.

She learned very early on in life to go along with what her folks wanted, or forfeit the luxury of their purse strings.

Kim liked her life, her Gucci bags and jaunts to the Caribbean, summers in the Hamptons and never-ending nights out in Manhattan. Or at least she did when she was in her teens and early twenties.

As time went on, things had begun to seem samey and, well… boring. But as much as she disliked being a pawn in the games her parents played, she didn’t really have the inclination or the means to deny them.

Now a hand on her shoulder was shaking her awake, though it was unnecessary as Kim wasn’t sleeping. She groaned inwardly, feeling a bit like a teenager.

‘Fast asleep in the middle of the day? How typical,’ her mother’s voice chided as Kim grabbed her iPhone and paused Spotify.

‘Nice to see you, too, Mother.’ She gave Gloria a mirthless grin that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and her mother gave her a deeply condescending glance in return.

Kim was used to those glances. She’d been getting them her entire life.

‘Do you plan on staying in bed all day, Kimberley?’

‘If I can help it, yes,’ she answered as she attempted to turn over. Attempted was as far as she got. ‘Tough night last night.’

‘I hope you took time out of your … busy partying schedule to meet with the tech people your father requested? They were only in town for a couple of days so it was very important to him that you entertain them.’

There was always some up-and-coming entrepreneur or other business type she was expected to ‘entertain’ on her parents’ behalf – apparently because she was hot, blonde, and knew all the trendiest haunts in Manhattan.

Kim hated her ditzy socialite role; it all felt so fake and manipulative. She felt she was capable of so much more, but there was no arguing. She’d tried many times and it never worked out well.

‘I took them to Hirohisa yesterday,’ she answered, rolling her eyes. ‘They loved it. Mr Clarke had a lovely time and said he looked forward to seeing Daddy in San Francisco.’

‘Good,’ her mother replied. ‘Very good.’

Gloria was sitting on the edge of the bed, just by Kim’s hip. She always sat in the same place; it was the perfect vantage point – far enough from her daughter to avoid direct eye contact and close enough to corner her if she tried to move away.

Her mother took everything into consideration before she acted, which was probably the main reason for her parents’ success. She weighed the odds, tested the waters and then launched her attack. In her mother’s long history of battles (as Kim saw them), she had never failed in her conquests.

‘Where’s Dad?’ Kim asked casually as she listened for noise within the house. It was silent, almost as if her father wasn’t there.

‘Downstairs on the phone. Your uncle called.’

‘Did he?’ Kim said enthusiastically. Ted was the only good thing in their family as far as she was concerned. He wasn’t the raging success her parents were – far less acclaimed in his field as a lowly accountant – but he was fun and Kim liked him a lot. Much more than her folks.

‘I don’t know why you’re so happy about it; he’s probably just trying to get your father to loan him more money to invest in yet another harebrained financial scheme.’ She wrinkled her nose in disdain.

‘Why do you never have anything good to say about Uncle Ted? He’s your brother.’

‘I have no control over family – sadly. Ted made his choices and I’ve made mine. The results speak for themselves.’

Her mother was always so goddamn controlled. Not once in Kim’s entire life had she ever seen her overcome by emotion. Most of the time she wondered if Gloria actually had any for anyone or anything outside her work.

Not even her father seemed to move her. It was always the job. Kim wasn’t sure if even that made her happy. There was no way of telling.

‘Stop lazing around up here and come downstairs,’ her mother ordered with a solid pat on Kim’s shoulder. ‘Your father and I need to speak with you about something.’

Kim sighed heavily. ‘What is it? I was in the middle of something.’

‘Downstairs in two.’

She watched as her mother swept out of the room as if nothing had transpired and Kim’s protests meant diddly squat. Which was exactly the case. It was just expected that she’d do as her mother demanded. Her words and opinions were meaningless in this house, in this family.

She picked up her phone again and texted her best friend Natasha.

Meet at the club tonight? I know I’m seriously gonna need to blow off steam when this day is over. Ugh.

She slapped her phone down on the mattress and forced herself from her bed, realising there was no putting it off.

She might as well find out whatever latest scheme her parents wanted her involved in. Probably just another skinny nerd with a great idea her father wanted Kim to show a good time by pretending to be Paris Hilton.

It was embarrassing, not to mention demeaning.

She might have legs up to her armpits and green eyes that could charm George Clooney, but that didn’t mean she was dumb.

Minutes later, Kim sat, stunned.

Her parents had had a lot of shitty ideas about a lot of stuff, but this was by far the most outlandish scenario they’d ever come up with for her.

‘Are you guys serious?’ she asked for the second time, slightly dazed. ‘Or I am misunderstanding in some crazy way?’

‘Depends on what you understand,’ her mother answered coolly. ‘If you understand that you’ve had a very privileged life, with opportunities that you’ve repeatedly squandered, that you’re not getting any younger, and that we feel it’s time you got serious about your future – then yes, you understand us correctly.’

‘You actually want me not just to entertain but actually seduce some random stranger,’ Kim repeated hotly, her eyes wide.

‘He’s not a random stranger; you’ve already met Spencer Andrews. You just haven’t had a chance to spend a whole lot of time with him, that’s all. That’s what this is about. A summer in England, all expenses paid, to spend quality time with Spencer – and Lord and Lady Andrews, of course.’

‘Seriously?’ Kim’s horrified gaze shifted to her father. ‘Dad, do you understand what you guys are actually asking of me?’

‘It’s not much what we’re asking, and it’s a potentially advantageous move for you, too.’ Peter levelled his gaze on her. ‘We have paved a great path for you in life, Kimberley. We’ve always given you everything you could want – definitely more than most. Now it’s your turn to make a move that could affect your future and ours, too, of course.’ He spoke as if he were giving her a choice, whereas Kim knew better. ‘And, honey, you know like your mom pointed out, you’re really not getting any younger. That pretty face won’t last forever.’

Kim was floored, not to mention wounded to the core. In all her life she’d never been made to feel like nothing more than a piece of ass. And by her own father!

Whenever she did take his business prospects out on the town to show them a good time, she never just left it at that. Instead she talked to them about their hopes and intentions, teased out their strategies, and subtly influenced them to choose Weston Inc.

She’d thought her father knew this and quietly appreciated it. But he hadn’t even noticed.

‘You actually expect me to do this? You actually expect me to coldly pursue a guy I barely know? With marriage as the endgame? I’ve never even been in a proper relationship with someone I like, so why would I want to be involved with someone I don’t?’

She was trying her best to contain her anger and dismay. This was like something from a horror movie, playing out before her eyes. People didn’t do this in real life. They didn’t just pimp out their daughters as part of a freakin’ … business move!

But Kim realised, it was basically what her folks had always done. Except this time they wanted her to go a step further and actually try to land this English guy as a potential husband, taking her off their hands in the process.

‘Dad,’ she pleaded softly. ‘Please, don’t ask me to do this.’

‘Kim, don’t act like a child,’ Gloria tsked. ‘Do you think the life this family has comes free of cost? There’s a price and we all have to pay it. Your father paid it. I paid it. Now it’s your turn. You can’t expect us to bankroll you forever. It’s high time you had a plan for the rest of your life and we think this is the perfect start.’

Why had she thought her father would help her? He never had before. Whatever her mother wanted she got. It was clear that what Gloria wanted now was a familial connection with some kind of gentry and her father the backing of this English bigwig’s multi-billion company.

Capitalism at its finest. A merger of the purest kind and all it would cost was Kim’s sanity.

Her heart sank. They were asking her to offer herself up for their futures. It wasn’t about her. It was about them. It was always about them. She gritted her teeth.

‘I’m not doing it,’ she told them, her chin lifting. It was pointless, she knew, but she wasn’t going to just go along with something this crazy without a fight. ‘And you have no right to ask—’

‘It’s not a request, Kimberley.’ Gloria’s tone brooked no nonsense. ‘Everything’s already arranged.’

‘Well, you can just go and rearrange it then, because I’m not doing it. I’m not throwing away my life – my entire future – for one of your business deals. And it’s disgusting that you’d even consider—’

‘Maybe you might like to suggest an alternative career plan then?’ her mother interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Because lazing around in bed till midday doesn’t seem like much of a go-getter strategy to me.’

‘You seem to have forgotten that I was working late last night – with Dad’s clients. Seriously, is that all I am to you two? Some built-in entertainment manager for Weston Inc.? I’m your daughter, for chrissakes! What about some consideration for my needs?’

Gloria harrumphed. ‘Your father and I have always ensured that your needs are more than catered for – with your expense accounts, generous salary and pretty much everything you could ever want.’

‘Except love …’ Kim replied in a small voice. ‘And respect for what I might want or need.’

‘Honey, think about it,’ her father began, his tone softening, and she was hopeful that her words had finally got through and appealed to his better nature. ‘This is a solid plan. You’re always saying you’re bored of New York, so it’s an ideal opportunity, to get out and explore new horizons. London is a great city – a summer there could well be exactly what you need.’

‘A summer there sounds fine, Dad; it’s what I’m expected to do while there that makes me sick.’ She stood up. ‘You know what? I’m not doing this anymore. I’ve had enough of being a pawn in this family. I’ll move out, get my own place, find a job where someone appreciates my actual talent and skills …’

‘Find your own place – here in Manhattan? How on earth will you afford that?’ Gloria gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I think you seriously overestimate those skills and talents if you expect to just randomly waltz into a job that pays the same kind of salary your father does.’

The realisation stopped Kim in her tracks. Her mother was right. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. She couldn’t make it on her own. She didn’t even know where to start. She was just a puppet and her folks held the strings; they always had.

Check. Mate.

As always, Kim was outplayed.

‘When did you want me to leave for England?’ she asked, defeated.

‘Two weeks, when your father and I head to the Hamptons. I told you she’d make the right decision in the end,’ her mother commented snidely as she turned to her father. ‘Our daughter will always choose the easy life.’

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he got to his feet.

‘I need a coffee,’ he commented absently as he left the room. That was it. Kim’s dad had basically just whored out his only daughter, and all he could say was he needed coffee.

Tears filled her eyes as she stood up and headed for the door.

‘I’ll let the Andrews know to expect you,’ her mother said to her back as Kim left. ‘You’ve made a very wise choice this time, Kimberley. Very wise indeed.’




Chapter 3 (#ulink_0614eb28-3955-56ec-923f-8abfaca0c328)


That night, as Kim and her friend Natasha made their way from club to club in Manhattan, she drank herself into oblivion, trying to put the disgusting sordidness of her parents’ request – no, demand – out of her mind.

Part of her hoped that she’d just wander out on the street and have a cab driver end her misery for her. She was too cowardly to do it herself.

Had she really acquiesced to this? Agreed to barter herself for her family in order to secure a future for herself?

‘Hey, slow down – we’re not eighteen anymore,’ Natasha encouraged, but Kim was hearing none of it.

‘I’m fine,’ she slurred as she pushed her way again towards the bar.

‘I think you’ve had enough, actually,’ her friend interjected as she attempted to get in her way. But Kim could be persistent and with the level of alcohol that now coursed through her veins, she felt unstoppable.

‘Bartender!’ she yelled as she slapped the top of the electric green counter.

‘Seriously,’ Natasha insisted, grabbing her wrist, ‘you’ll break your hand the way you’re hitting that.’

‘So what,’ Kim snapped as she yanked it away. ‘What difference does it make? The Andrews will just get a slightly bruised whore for a daughter-in-law.’

Daughter-in-law … The word disgusted her and the notion of charming some guy into marriage made her want to throw up.

‘Hey! Vodka,’ she shouted as she raised her glass above her head and waved frantically at the bartender. The guy, who knew Kim well, hustled over and grabbed the empty glass from her hand.

‘Another one, princess?’ He smirked. Normally Kim wouldn’t have entertained his flirtations but today was different. ‘You sure?’

‘Hey, if you’re pouring then I’m drinking,’ she teased, leaning across the bar, practically falling over it, and kissing him.

‘OK, enough,’ Natasha stated as she grabbed Kim by the hem of her skirt and heaved her backwards. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘My thing,’ Kim spat. ‘What I do best. Make guys like me,’ she drawled drunkenly.

Kim could see the look of disgust and annoyance in her friend’s face but it was nothing compared to the feeling in her heart. Natasha would never know how she felt. She’d never know the betrayal, the hurt, and despair that Kim felt right then. Her life was over when it had never really begun. How could anyone call what she did living when every moment was for someone else, never herself?

And now she was about to cross a line over which she could never return.

Once she set foot on that plane and traversed the ocean, any hope of a normal life would be over. From what she remembered of them, the Andrews were stuffy and pretentious, and Spencer was the most anal guy she’d ever met. Seduce him? That bit would be easy. But marry him? That was a whole other prospect.

She grabbed the vodka bottle from the bartender, and downed the remaining contents in one go. Clear liquid burned every inch of its way down as she hissed her approval.

‘That’s what I’m talkin’ about.’

‘For crying out loud,’ Natasha sighed.

‘What?’ she snapped involuntarily.

Her friend cocked her head at her accusingly. Kim knew what that meant. She took a deep breath and sighed. She was acting out, behaving like a bratty teen. No wonder her parents wanted to marry her off.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised.

Natasha shook her head sympathetically. ‘It’s OK. I know you’ve got a lot going on right now. But this…’ she indicated the bottle and Kim’s ragged appearance, ‘this isn’t you.’

Her friend was right. This wasn’t her. She tried to refocus, get herself back in the game, but all she could think of was the upcoming trip to England and the horrific scenario it presented.

Natasha slapped her hand across the bar. ‘So what’re you going to do about it?’

Kim’s head snapped up, her wide green eyes piercing her friend’s dark gaze. ‘What can I do? It’s all decided and I agreed. Case closed.’ Feeling dizzy now from the effects of the vodka, she stumbled against the bar a little. ‘I’m outta here.’

She stumbled erratically through the crowds, her short skirt and skimpy top gaining the attention of most of the guys she passed, but she didn’t pay attention. Her eyes were solely focused on the exit. She could hear Natasha following her but she didn’t look back.

The moment they stepped outside, her friend grabbed Kim’s arm and turned her around. ‘Oh, come on, quit the “poor me” act. The Kim Weston I know doesn’t just give in. So what – now you’ve decided to just turn into a wet mop and do what they want?’

‘What does it matter?’ Kim spat. ‘Everything stays the same. They always get what they want. So why bother fighting?’

‘You’re always saying that one day you’ll finally stop letting them win and take a hold of your own life. This could be the day.’

‘Easy for you to say. Your folks are great. They don’t pressure you. They let you find your own way and just be there for you if you need them. They love you. My parents only bother with me when they need to whore me out.’

‘Seriously?’ Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘Kim, you’re nearly thirty years old. No one is stopping you from having the life you want. You’re just scared to actually go out and get it. You find excuse after excuse for why you can’t walk away from your parents, and this “woe is me” attitude, but the truth is you’re afraid to let go of the trappings that Mommy and Daddy’s cash can buy.’

The words were a fist to the gut. ‘So what if I am? You mean to tell me you wouldn’t be scared if having what you want meant giving up everything you already have, your entire way of life?’

‘Of course,’ Natasha answered. ‘I’d be terrified. We can’t pretend that we haven’t had an easy time. We’ve always had everything we’ve ever wanted. The best that money can buy. People kill for the types of lives we were born into.’

Her words weren’t helping Kim feel any better. ‘So what’s all this talk about me being scared?’

‘I’m saying it because there comes a time when you need to decide if what you want from life is more important than the trappings you’d forfeit for that freedom. Does having everything handed to you beat the ability to make your own choices? If it does, then go to England, Kim. Make Spencer what’s-his-name fall head over heels for you. Get married, have two point five children, smile for the Christmas card photos and make your parents happy, while you – Kim Weston – are dying inside.’

She could see the exact image in her mind as Natasha described it and it made her nauseous.

‘Or,’ her friend continued, ‘take a bold step. Do something crazy and different and unexpected, and see where it takes you.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Something no one would see coming, not even you. This may be your last chance, Kim. Take it. Before you commit your life to misery, take a chance that maybe there is something more out there for you. Maybe getting the life you want isn’t so scary. I’ll help you.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. It depends on what you want to do.’

‘I don’t know what that is either,’ Kim answered with exasperation. ‘I just want to escape from all this.’

Natasha’s eyes lit up. ‘They why the hell don’t you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, why don’t you escape? Here in New York your folks’ shadow is always looming over you. Why don’t you go somewhere they can’t influence you?’

The prospect was intriguing. ‘Like where?’

A smile spread across her friend’s tanned features and Kim’s stomach began to knot. Was she really considering this? Yes, she was.

‘Come on, let’s head back to my place and sober you up a little first,’ she stated as she took Kim by the hand and went to hail a taxi. ‘Party Girl Kim is done.’




Chapter 4 (#ulink_cadd31b7-e3eb-5b33-b2b3-b2400d6208a0)


Natasha had her own Midtown apartment in the heart of everything. She was lucky, she got to live on her own but her parents still paid for it, so she had all of the freedom without the worry of bills and rent.

Kim often envied Natasha’s situation, and she told her that. They’d been friends since middle school and had few secrets between them, but the distance in their lives was widening the older they got.

Tash couldn’t understand what Kim went through, no matter how much she tried. She always had ideas to save her and simple solutions to whatever problem Kim faced, but it was easy to find an out when your feelings weren’t in the mix, and your heart wasn’t being torn by the choices you faced.

It was easy to rip a bandage off when you didn’t have to feel the pain of the removal or bleed once it was done.

Now, the pair settled onto the couch as Natasha turned on her Dell and typed in her password. Kim nipped to the bathroom, pulled her blonde curls back in a scrunchie she had in her bag, and went to splash her face with water.

She wasn’t that drunk; the act back at the bar was mostly borne out of despair, and more than that, Natasha’s suggestion had sobered her up and got her thinking.

‘So what are we doing?’ she asked, coming back into the living room.

‘We,’ her friend answered as she pulled up a search engine, ‘are going to find you the perfect escape, Kim Weston. So what are you feeling? Someplace down south maybe? I hear Miami is fun.’

‘Too humid in summer,’ Kim answered.

‘California?’

‘We go there all the time.’

‘Hawaii then?’ Natasha suggested as she turned to her. ‘You could surf or climb a volcano.’

Kim didn’t share her enthusiasm. ‘How about someplace I haven’t been? Somewhere new?’

‘OK, so why don’t we let Google decide?’ Natasha suggested with a laugh.

Kim frowned.

‘Trust me,’ her friend assured, as the ‘I Feel Lucky’ prompt appeared and Tash duly pressed ‘enter’. ‘There. What do you think?’

‘Italy?’

‘Yes. On the other side of the world, a whole ocean away from your folks’ reach,’ she added with a satisfied smile. She pushed the laptop in Kim’s direction and a flood of stunningly picturesque images filled her vision.

She knew Italy was beautiful. Her family had visited Venice once when she was six or seven and Kim had always wanted to go back. She remembered Gloria being annoyed with her because all she wanted to do was chase around after the pigeons in St Mark’s Square.

She flicked through the on-screen images of picture-postcard scenery: blue skies, historical sights, twinkling water and impossibly pretty villages, each one more appealing than the last.

The idea of running away to such a place was unbelievably alluring. Not to mention romantic.

‘Looks incredible …’ she muttered, as she continued her search.

‘Good place to hide away for a while and maybe get your bearings?’

‘Yes, but there’s no way I can go.’

‘Why not?’ Natasha challenged. ‘No one has to know and I certainly won’t tell. What’s stopping you?’

‘How am I going to pay for it? If I use the Amex, Mom and Dad will know and they’d be on the next flight to drag me back before I even arrive,’ Kim pointed out.

Or more likely, have someone else do it. Her driver, probably.

‘Not if you pay with mine.’ Natasha grabbed her purse and pulled out the little magic black rectangle.

Kim took the credit card from her friend and turned it over in her hands. She bit her lip. Could this tiny piece of plastic be the key to her escape? She grinned.

‘How much can I spend?’

‘Whatever you need,’ Natasha answered airily, as a satisfied grin spread across her face. ‘No one’s going to check. I can cover your flight, hotel – everything. You’ll need some cash for spending, though, or else your parents will be able to track you.’

Clearly Natasha had been watching too much true crime on TV again, but Kim was thankful. If she did go ahead with this then she couldn’t take the chance that her parents would find out.

‘OK, but just coach flights, and nowhere expensive, OK? And I’ll pay you back.’ She knew the money wouldn’t matter to her friend but it did to Kim.

If this was going to be about finding her own way, then she needed to get her priorities straight from the get-go.

‘Great! So let’s find you someplace to stay,’ Natasha practically sang as she pulled the laptop closer. ‘Italy’s a big country. Where would you like to go?’

‘I don’t know. Does it matter? Isn’t the point of an escape to just go and see what happens?’ Kim pointed out.

‘Pin the tail on the donkey then,’ Natasha laughed.

‘What?’

‘On the map. Just close your eyes and pick a spot,’ she insisted.

Kim looked at her sceptically. ‘Seriously?’

‘Just do it.’

Kim did as she was bid and they both stared at the part of Italy she’d picked, a spot at the shin area of the boot-shaped map.

The Amalfi Coast looked and sounded amazing.

And the further along the plan progressed, the more hopeful Kim felt. A chance to take some time out, if only for a little while, was something she hadn’t even realised she needed.

Either one last summer hurrah before life as she knew it ended, or the opportunity to find out what the alternatives could be. And perhaps, most importantly, a chance to outmanoeuvre her parents, have some fun and take charge of her life in the most spectacular way.

‘All we need now is your flight. You’re supposed to leave for England next month, right?’

‘Yes,’ Kim confirmed.

‘So find out the date and we book your flight to Italy for the same day, so your parents won’t be suspicious.’

Kim had to laugh. ‘You really think of everything, don’t you? Espionage would suit you.’

‘Don’t think I haven’t considered it,’ her friend mused. She continued in her best James Bond voice. ‘Slater. Natasha Slater. Agent Nine-Inch Heels.’

‘Thanks, Tash,’ Kim said as her emotions took over. ‘For this … for everything.’

‘Of course.’ Her friend pulled her in for a hug. ‘You’re my best friend and I want the best for you. Whatever that may be.’ She turned back to her computer. ‘Now, let’s find a place for you to stay,’ she continued. ‘Somewhere fitting for Kim Weston’s Italian Great Escape.’




Chapter 5 (#ulink_b7191432-adb4-5ccd-8e4d-54dc5d408366)


Now

‘So are you going to share what’s on your mind?’ Antonio asked as his Maserati made its way along the coast and deftly around the hairpin bends that used to so terrify Kim, but were as familiar to her now as Fifth Avenue used to be.

She turned to look at him, brushing back strands of her hair as it blew in the breeze.

In spite of his advancing years, he was still very handsome. There was something about him that reminded her a lot of her husband.

Both men had angular jaws and arresting eyes, but while Antonio’s were brown, Gabriel’s were piercing blue. Both also had Roman-shaped noses, reflecting their Italian roots. Gabe was American but his family was originally from Sicily, and the semblance of his ancestry still shone through.

Now, she visualised her husband’s handsome face before her – his gentle eyes and brilliant smile. She hadn’t seen that smile in weeks and she missed it.

‘Nothing,’ she lied automatically, before adding, ‘nothing important.’

‘No trouble in paradise, I hope?’

‘No trouble,’ she answered a little too quickly. ‘It’s just … Lily is young and life has been … challenging lately.’

‘And of course that would have nothing at all to do with your frequent absences and workload …’

Kim loved Antonio’s honesty, but sometimes she hated his candour.

‘I need to work hard, you know that,’ she answered. ‘Lots of people relying on me – there are publicity engagements, photoshoots, interviews, you know the drill. Especially over the last eighteen months,’ Kim continued, referring to Villa Dolce Vita. ‘This new venture is the culmination of everything we’ve worked for, Antonio, the showcase for the brand. Obviously it’s taken a huge amount of my time and effort. If we want Villa Dolce Vita to be all it can be, then I need to put in the necessary care and attention.’

‘But what about your family? Doesn’t it also deserve your care and attention?’

His words were a jolt to her system and she didn’t know how to answer. Kim supposed she’d never thought of it in those terms. She scoffed internally. The Sweet Life was all about mindfulness and finding balance in all things, yet she knew that, ironically, her own life once again was heavily off-kilter.

‘Bella? Where did you go?’

Kim snapped back to reality as they pulled up close to the trattoria. ‘Sorry, what?’

Antonio laughed. ‘I said that I think there is a lot more going on than what you are telling me. Let’s talk about it properly over lunch.’

But where to even begin? Kim wasn’t sure she had the words to express the turmoil in her brain as she took a seat across from her mentor and friend inside the charming cliffside restaurant.

How could she confide in Antonio everything that was going on in her life just now, let alone the sense of dread she felt deep down?

To say nothing of the ugly truth that Kim was turning out to be a terrible mother. Just like her own.

Gloria had never cared about Kim. Never considered her daughter or what she wanted. The only thing her mother ever desired was her own ends. It didn’t matter how they came, as long as she got them.

Kim realised a long time ago that she had been just another one of her mother’s devices. Her father had wanted a child to carry on the Weston legacy. They’d hoped for a son but Kim was it, and her mother had lived with that as best she could. She made sure she had nannies and the housekeeper to tend to Kim’s every scrape and need, while she jetsetted across the world. Success was all she cared about.

Kim never experienced what it was like to have a mother’s love. And now it seemed she lacked the skills and knowledge to give it to her own flesh and blood. While she, too, relentlessly pursued success.

‘Bella?’ Antonio pressed when the waiter had poured the wine.

‘It’s just … most of the time I don’t know what I’m doing,’ she admitted to Antonio, as tears filled her eyes. ‘With Lily, I mean.’

His comforting gaze lingered on her momentarily before he focused on the glittering water. ‘Emilia and I were married for about five years when I began to question it – the marriage, I mean.’

The confession came as a huge surprise. Kim could never have imagined that Antonio, the man whose love for his wife she thought unmatched, could ever have thought he’d made a mistake.

She didn’t for one second regret marrying Gabriel; she adored him and almost from the moment they met knew he was her soulmate. But she was just as certain she was never cut out to be a mother, and when Lily arrived, her worst fears were realised.

Every day of her daughter’s three-year-old life, she’d felt like a failure at it. And the worse she felt, the more she threw herself into her work, leaving her husband to care for their daughter pretty much alone while she built The Sweet Life into an international brand.

He never complained, never even seemed to notice that Kim was spending less and less time at home as the business grew. He’d been there from the start, so knew that this was her passion, and the reason she was pushing so hard to make this new venture a success.

But neither her husband or Antonio knew that The Sweet Life had actually been built on lie.

And Kim was terrified of being uncovered as a fraud.




Chapter 6 (#ulink_e5c0297e-10af-5c78-b06a-71ba2777ab3c)


Now

Colette Hargreaves yawned as she rolled over in bed.

The blinds were open and it was gone 7 a.m. She turned over, her copper hair falling across her shoulders as she looked around the bedroom.

Outwardly, everything was in its place, but she sensed something was missing.

‘Ed?’

Silence answered her call and Colette swung her feet from beneath the sheets and onto the lush new carpeting they’d had laid during the most recent renovation of their London townhouse. Her husband was fond of hardwood, whereas she preferred carpet, so they’d made a compromise. Carpet in the bedroom and hardwood everywhere else.

She pulled a robe over her silk nightgown and tied a loose knot at her waist as she slipped her feet into her slippers and headed for the door.

Their house was such a far cry from the tiny cottage she’d lived in growing up. Colette had left Brighton behind five years ago when she’d been offered a translator position at the Home Office.

A little while before that, Ed had asked her to marry him, and suddenly Colette was a Londoner with a comfortable house near Hyde Park.

Three bedrooms, living/dining area, a kitchen and outdoor terrace, and yet the house felt so empty. She walked into the living room and turned on the television before going into the kitchen to start breakfast.

She had just plated some eggs and bacon when Ed walked in, dripping with sweat, his sandy hair now dark against his forehead.

‘Good morning, darling,’ he greeted, walking over and kissing her cheek. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of his post-run shake.

Her husband was very concerned with his health, jogged seven days a week, and drank pre- and post-workout elixirs comprised of things Colette didn’t want to think too much about.

‘How was your run?’ she asked as she set his plate on the white granite worktop. Her sister Noelle often joked that the brightest thing in the entire house was Colette’s hair.

Ed’s mother Laura had ‘helped’ with the decorating (an understatement) and had declared bright colours gaudy and unsophisticated.

Colette hadn’t wanted to argue. She was in a different world here, where the rules were set but often not shared, and one small misstep could have negative social or professional consequences.

The older woman also cautioned that people would look to topple Colette because of Ed’s profile within the London business world and that there would be several who would love nothing more than to see their relationship ruined.

Laura’s intentions weren’t malicious, Colette knew, but a heartfelt warning. Ed’s mother was much like her, in a way. She’d come from a simpler life and had been propelled into this world by her own marriage. It had ended badly for many of the same reasons she now cautioned Colette about.

She’d left Ed’s dad a few years later and made a place for herself on her own terms. She wanted Colette to do the same, without the broken marriage.

‘It was good. I ran into Carter and Freddy in the park,’ Ed informed her as he continued to drink the contents of his bottle. ‘They said they had some news about that IPO I’ve been tracking.’

When they first met, her husband was a lowly portfolio manager’s assistant for a small investment firm in London. Now, he was the personal fund manager for seven- and eight-figure families, who paid him more than handsomely to manage their investments.

He’d gone from a tiny fish in a small pond to a great white in a lake of other investment managers just like him.

‘And speaking of news – according to Mother there’s another grandchild on the way.’ Ed’s tone was casual but Colette noticed he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

She was glad of it, because she knew there was no way she would have been able to hide her reaction. ‘Oh. Sarah’s pregnant again?’ She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d even got the words out, the lump of disappointment in her throat was so huge. Or was it envy?

Colette wasn’t sure how to describe the visceral, almost primal disappointment you experienced when someone else managed to achieve the very thing you wanted.

Five years of marriage and countless attempts, and still she and Ed had yet to conceive. There had been occasions when she thought she might be pregnant, but each time proved to be dodgy hormones or a faulty pregnancy test.

Ed was great about it, always encouraging, but she knew he was as disappointed as she was.

His brothers already had five (now soon to be six) offspring between them, and had been married years after them. Her own sister, Noelle, also had family; she lived in Germany with her husband and twin girls.

Sometimes it felt like Colette and Ed were the only ones with all these rooms and nothing to fill them.

‘Could you put that in the microwave for me?’ Ed said now, referring to breakfast. ‘Just the eggs, actually. I’m going to take a shower before I eat.’ He duly washed his bottle and set it out to drain, before coming over and kissing her on the cheek. It was his way of letting her know that he understood her disappointment, knowing she wouldn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

Colette was grateful for it, but she sometimes wished they would talk more about the void in their lives, instead of pretending it didn’t exist, the way Ed tended to sometimes.

‘Of course,’ she answered. She’d just taken a seat at the kitchen island, hoping for a cosy breakfast together, but it seemed it was going to be another morning of eating on her own.

‘Thanks.’ Ed kissed her forehead and jogged back out to the hallway. ‘It smells amazing.’

‘No problem,’ she said to his back, then turned to her own food and sighed.

He was so busy these days. Up early and to bed late so many nights. His clients could be demanding, and a call from someone meant he – or sometimes both of them, depending on the effort required – could be called away to the country for a weekend retreat, or invited to a party of rich elites.

It was something that both amazed Colette and made her uncomfortable. She’d adjusted, though: five years of marriage had done that, but in that other world the glaring differences between her and Ed’s peers was more than evident.

He never complained or made her feel unworthy in any way. In fact, it was just the opposite. He was supremely proud of her and loved to talk about her accomplishments.

The translator position, which had started her career, had moved Colette along the path to her present job as Project Manager in the Department of International Development. It was a fantastic opportunity, which sometimes even allowed her to work for the United Nations. She was so lucky to be living her dream, at least in part.

Colette had the wonderful home, fantastic husband and an amazing job making a difference in the world, just as she’d always wanted.

There was just one thing missing.

An hour later, she was dressed in a stylish pencil skirt and heels. A string of pearls draped from her neck and a matching pair of earrings dangled from her ears.

Ed was on the couch going through the newspaper when she emerged downstairs again. This was often the way. Two ships passing in the night.

‘Where are you off to?’ he asked as he looked up.

‘I told you on Wednesday that I was going shopping with your mum, then we’re going to have lunch in Mayfair,’ she stated.

‘You did, but I thought you said Saturday?’

‘Ed, it is Saturday,’ she replied.

He looked perplexed. ‘It can’t be.’ He closed the paper quickly, checking the date on front, then promptly jumped to his feet. ‘Damn! I was supposed to meet the boys at the tennis club for brunch. I can’t believe it.’

Colette watched as he picked up his phone and swiped quickly through his contact list.

She sighed. Her husband was wonderful, just too busy sometimes. If he wasn’t dashing around the city for business, he was travelling around the world on business.

Sometimes his clients demanded he personally check out the companies in which they were interested in investing. It came with the trappings of the life they had. But still she wished that the pace of that life could just slow down a little now and again.

Leaving Ed to call his friends, she made her way out to the hallway, then stopped as the post on the bureau got her attention. Ed must have picked it up earlier when coming in from his run.

She stood, absently flipping through the envelopes to see if there was anything important. A crisp white envelope addressed to Colette and Ed Hargreaves caught her eye.

It wasn’t so much the letter, but the fact that it wasn’t address to ‘Mr and Mrs Ed’ – her name was actually included this time. Turning the envelope over, she pried the flap open and unfolded a piece of paper emblazoned with a familiar logo.

Enjoy La Dolce Vita!

Kim Weston and The Sweet Life family cordially invite you to join us for the launch celebration of Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat on the glorious Amalfi Coast.

A smile spread wide across Colette’s face as she skimmed over the invite, pushing her cheeks almost up as far as the lower rim of her reading glasses.

The timing of this almost made up for the disappointment of earlier. As if her old friend had somehow known she needed a boost.

Still smiling, she glanced back at the envelope and saw that there was something else inside. Two aeroplane tickets to Naples and a weekend reservation at a five-star Sorrento hotel, as well as a handwritten note.

Can’t wait for you guys to see what I’ve done with the place!

Perfect excuse for a long overdue reunion?

K xx

Her heart well and truly lifted, Colette walked back into the living room and held the invite out for her husband to read.

It had been a few years since Kim had announced her intentions to buy and restore the old villa, and the process had been less than easy.

From their (admittedly far too infrequent) phone catch-ups, she knew Kim had encountered obstacle after obstacle, from the Italian authorities to some of the locals, almost from the moment she let her grand plans be known.

However, as always, she hadn’t wavered in her intentions, and now the invite was proof of her success.

‘Isn’t it wonderful? She really did it. I can’t wait to see how it looks now,’ Colette prattled excitedly, as she waited for her husband’s reaction. ‘And Kim, too, of course. And I wonder if Annie will come? Oh, I hope so. I haven’t seen her in so long.’

Colette and Kim had always made a conscious effort to stay in touch after their time in Italy, Annie less so. But the trio’s was the kind of friendship that bucked time and place, and Colette knew that once they were together again, the preceding years would simply melt away and it would be as if they were never apart.

‘Seriously?’ Ed replied flatly. He looked up at her. ‘This is only a month away. I know you were looking forward to going back to Italy again, and it’s great Kim seems to have finally got it all up and running, but do we really have time for this just now? You have that new project coming up, for starters.’

Colette looked at him, puzzled. ‘We’d make time, of course,’ she answered. ‘I don’t understand … We knew for ages that Kim’s launch would likely be happening this summer. Why would I want to miss a trip like this?’

‘It’s just with everything we have going on, isn’t the timing a bit off for a last-minute jaunt to Italy? And it’s not as though you two are that close anymore.’

‘What? Of course the timing’s not off,’ she replied, confused by his reaction. She’d thought Ed would be as excited as she was to return to the Amalfi Coast, where, in truth, their own love story began. And perhaps while there, the location might just work its magic again? And yes, while their lives had diverged considerably since their time in Italy, Colette considered Kim and Annie friends for life.

‘OK. I’ll see about making the necessary reservations,’ Ed answered. His mood still seemed off, though, and Colette was completely baffled by it.

‘No need. Kim’s already arranged everything,’ she announced as she handed the envelope to him. ‘We fly out a couple of days before the party and stay in Sorrento over the weekend. All we have to do is show up. It’s really quite generous of her, actually.’

Ed inspected the tickets carefully. ‘Well, that timing definitely doesn’t work for me,’ he declared. ‘The IPO is that very week. I need to be here.’

Disappointment filled her lungs as Colette inhaled deeply. She levelled her gaze at her husband. How could he do this? He knew how important this was to her – and indeed to Kim.

‘Ed, an old friend I care for and respect has offered to fly us both out to Italy for the grand launch of her latest business venture, and to reunite with old friends. Not only that, it happens to be the place where you and I met and fell in love. How could you possibly refuse? I don’t usually say anything when it comes to your work but this time I have to dig my heels in.’

‘But we can always go again afterwards, when it’s not so busy …’

She put her hand on her hips. ‘Kim’s put a huge amount of work into renovating a place that will always hold a special place in my heart. I really want to see how it looks now, and I so want the opportunity to catch up with her and Annie, too. She’s pulled out all the stops, flying us over and putting us up in one of the nicest hotels in the area, and you’re just going to refuse?’

‘I’m not refusing – I just don’t think we can sacrifice so much time to it, that’s all,’ Ed replied, getting to his feet. He reached out to take her by the arm and sighed. ‘Yes, of course I know how much this means to you and I want to be there, too. It’s just work is so hectic at the moment, darling.’ He kissed her forehead lightly.

‘I know work is difficult; that’s another reason why I think we need this trip. This isn’t just for Kim’s sake, Ed, it’s for ours, too. We’ve hardly spent any time together lately.’ She stepped towards him and he pulled her close. ‘I miss you.’

Colette didn’t often let her insecurities show. She didn’t like being a burden on others, especially her husband, who she knew needed her to be strong. How could she put her concerns on him when he had so many of his own?

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised again. ‘I promise, after things settle with this IPO thing, I will make a conscientious effort to devote more time for us.’ He turned back to the invite. ‘Why don’t we just fly over there on the day of the launch, instead of before? I’m sure Kim wouldn’t mind; the important thing is we’re there at all, isn’t it?’

Colette nodded. ‘OK, sounds fair. But I meant what I said, Ed. This is important – an opportunity to spend time together in a more relaxing way.’

And with luck, she added silently, maybe the necessary break we need in order to conceive.

‘That’s settled then, but first things first, OK? Once the IPO is over, everything will change, my love, I promise.’

She didn’t doubt his words and knew he had nothing but the best intentions. The problem was that things never got easier or settled when it came to his work. He just couldn’t help himself. Being the best was both a blessing and a curse. He didn’t know how to lose or to slow down.

She supposed it was why he was so successful, though. Ed always got what he wanted.

He always had to win.




Chapter 7 (#ulink_a0960d42-5e19-5dd4-a52e-f058409d022e)


Then

‘Mum, what are you doing?’ Colette asked, coming in the back door of her family’s small terraced home in Brighton.

‘What does it look like?’ Miriam Turner replied in a voice raspy from chemotherapy.

It had been four years since her mum’s diagnosis, though for Colette, it had felt like a lifetime.

She could only watch helplessly as cancer ravaged her mother’s body, reducing her from a somewhat plump, pink-cheeked woman into the pale wraith she was now. Still, by some grace, Miriam maintained her smile despite it all.

‘You’re cooking? Why? Let me do it.’ Colette rushed to take over.

Before her illness, Miriam had worked tirelessly at the bakery she set up in the town with her husband, Emmett, and occupied what little free time she had volunteering at the church or hospital near their home.

She’d done her utmost to maintain her way of life for as long as she could, but eventually the chemotherapy and radiation treatment took its toll, her red hair turned light and thin, and eventually began to disappear.

It was then that Miriam had been forced to admit to herself that life wasn’t going to be the same. The whole family had to. Eventually, she let Colette, her eldest, shave her head and handed over the responsibility for the house and business to a girl in her mid-twenties. It was a brave move for them both – until then Colette had spent most her life in books, and was suddenly forced out into the real world.

The adjustment had been uncomfortable and had taken quite a bit of time, but at least her father was there to help her through it.

Until that changed, too.

A few months after Miriam was diagnosed, Emmett began to falter. He spent more and more time away from home, unable to watch his wife deteriorate. Everyone could see it, but no one ever thought he’d just up and leave. Less than a year after his wife’s diagnosis and well into her treatment, he moved out.

And by the time another year had gone by, he’d initiated official separation proceedings.

Now, Miriam shooed her daughter away gently and smiled.

‘Didn’t you hear what the doctor said today?’ she insisted as she continued stirring the contents of the pot she was standing over.

‘Mum,’ Colette challenged, but her mother ignored her entirely.

‘Set your stuff down. How was your walk?’ she asked as she carried on about her business while Colette stood there, dumbfounded as always at her mother’s determination.

When Emmett left, Miriam had wished her former husband well and then refocused her energy on the rest of her family. Colette’s younger sister, Noelle, was about to leave for university and had almost deferred her entry, but Miriam wouldn’t hear of it.

By then, Colette had completed her own time at University of Essex. She missed her sister and she missed college life and her old friends.

Instead, she’d stepped into the kind of responsibility she’d never imagined, especially after her father relinquished his share in the bakery, leaving the running of the business entirely up to her.

Miriam had arranged someone to take over the bookkeeping and day-to-day administration, while Colette baked and worked on recipes with her mother’s guidance, keeping things going when her mother no longer had the strength to stay involved.

Yesterday Miriam wouldn’t have dared challenge her about housework, but today was different. Earlier, incredible news had been delivered by the oncologist. Her cancer was in remission.

Colette could hardly believe it. After four long years of relentless treatment, her mother had finally overcome the disease.

Even though they both could see Miriam looked much better than she had in years, Colette felt running the household was still her responsibility and one she took pride in.

But since today’s news, her mother was apparently ready to dive right back into her life, starting with making dinner.

She slipped out of her jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. ‘It was good,’ she answered with a smile as she inspected the ends of her hair. ‘I went to the beach.’

She twirled the large waves that had wound into curls at the end around her finger distractedly as she took a seat at the heavy wooden kitchen table. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just sat there and did nothing. It was weird.

‘Why don’t you go get changed into your PJs?’ Miriam suggested as she glanced over her shoulder at her.

‘PJs? Mum, it’s only dinnertime,’ she answered incredulously.

‘Tonight you will do what I say,’ her mother insisted with a smile. ‘Go get changed, have a shower or a long bath, even, eat the lovely dinner I’ve prepared, then settle yourself on the couch to watch a movie and eat popcorn with me.’

Miriam was often tired and went to bed early, while Colette stayed up and read or sometimes wrote in her diary. This would be the first time in years that the pair of them would do something so mundane or simple together, and the idea appealed enormously.

The water heater was working again, allowing Colette to enjoy a warm bath for a change. It had taken her several weeks to get the money together to pay for its repair, but now it was fine.

She lay in the warm water, thinking about the latest turn in events.

Remission. It was a word with a lot of power.

For years her whole life had become a routine centred entirely around Miriam’s illness. Now it seemed that centre was no more, and while of course she was thrilled by her mother’s news, Colette couldn’t deny she felt a bit lost, too.

Tears started in her eyes as she released the emotions she’d withheld for so long. Worry about her mother’s illness, the pain of her father’s abandonment and her sister’s departure. Having no social life or companionship amid the pressure of running a business that was the sole means of her family’s survival.

She’d buried those feelings deep inside and now as she lay in the warm water, they were spilling out uncontrollably.

At that moment, she needed to cry, needed to release herself, so that for the first time in what felt like forever, she could just be Colette Turner, a young woman with no clue about anything and afraid of everything.

Still, a burning question loomed in her mind.

Now what?

When Colette emerged, she towelled the damp from her hair and dressed in her favourite pair of Snoopy pyjamas. She’d had them since she was a teenager and though old and tatty, they were still a comfort – a reminder of a much simpler life.

When she returned to the kitchen a plate of beef stew with boiled potatoes and broccoli was waiting for her. There was even garlic bread.

‘Mum, you outdid yourself,’ she exclaimed.

Oh, she couldn’t wait. While she was a competent enough cook, her efforts weren’t a patch on Miriam’s, and she’d so missed her mother’s cooking. Especially stew – her favourite. Her heart softened, knowing that her mother was going all out on purpose.

‘It’s long overdue, love,’ Miriam replied gently, taking a seat at the table across from her. ‘Besides, you deserve it. You’ve done so much for me over the last few years. This is just a small thing to start making it up to you.’

‘Oh, Mum, of course there’s nothing to make up,’ she answered. ‘I just did what any daughter would do.’

‘And I’m so grateful, Colette,’ her mother responded. ‘I truly am. I don’t know how I would have made it through this if it weren’t for you.’

She could feel her cheeks growing hot. She wasn’t used to being the centre of attention, and even a compliment from her mother made her feel bashful. Miriam must’ve sensed this as she then changed the subject.

As expected, the food was delicious and Colette enjoyed every last morsel as she and her mother chatted about everything and nothing. It was incredible to see her so strong and bright, and she was hopeful that it would continue. She’d really missed being the daughter and her mother being her mum. It was nice to see the order put right again.

‘Movie time, then?’ she asked as she went to clear the table, but again Miriam shushed her away, insisting she’d do it.

‘Movie time.’




Chapter 8 (#ulink_13b00378-2a25-588f-a643-6b8d71019cea)


That weekend, Noelle came home from uni to join in the celebrations, and there was a jovial feel in the house for the first time in years.

Again, Miriam fussed around the kitchen, this time insisting on baking fresh scones for her girls. And once more Colette floundered a little with this sudden reversal of roles, but since it made her mother happy, she was too. She sat at the kitchen table with Noelle as the three caught up.

‘Here you go.’ Her mum dropped a plate of warm currant scones on the table with a flourish. ‘Who’s for a fresh cuppa?’

‘Mum, there’s really no need to run around after us like this.’ Noelle caught Colette’s eye and smiled.

‘Only the best for my girls.’ She grinned, looking at them both. ‘And it’s about time.’

‘Mum, stop,’ Colette answered. ‘You’re the one who deserves the best.’

‘And I got it,’ her mother replied fondly.

‘The very best,’ Noelle agreed, nodding at Colette. ‘We’d all be lost without you, big sis.’

She really didn’t expect or want all this gratitude. And she wasn’t sure how to react to it.

Then her sister and mother exchanged a conspiratorial glance. ‘But now we think the same effort should be spent on you.’

Colette was confused. She eyed her family members suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Should we tell her now?’ Noelle asked with a grin and Colette’s brow furrowed, feeling left out all of a sudden. What was going on?

‘What have you two been keeping from me?’

‘What I faced was no more than others have faced before me. It was nothing special,’ her mother continued. ‘You, though, love, you were special. You stepped up when there was no one else.’

‘Don’t …’ Colette stopped her, unwilling to bring the mood down with a discussion about her father. ‘Anyway, I’ve told you loads of times, I don’t want any thanks. I don’t need any.’

Miriam got to her feet and went to her eldest daughter. She crouched down and took Colette’s hand in her own, rubbing the back of her knuckles with the pad of her thumb. ‘Love, the past four years have been difficult for us all, of course, but for you most of all.’

‘That’s not true,’ Colette corrected. ‘You had to deal with chemo and radiation and all the worry that came with that …’ She could never bring herself to say the horrible ‘C’ word out loud.

Miriam looked at her tenderly. ‘I wish you’d stop interrupting me. I’m trying to tell you something but you refuse to let me.’

‘Sorry,’ she apologised as she resettled herself in her seat and gave her mother her full attention.

‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile. ‘Now, where was I?’

‘Difficult for everyone,’ Noelle insisted, her eyes watering.

‘That’s it. Colette, love, don’t think for a second I don’t appreciate the sacrifices you had to make. Like it or not, you had to move out of your comfort zone and take up the mantle in my place. You did what you had to in order for this family to be all right, and you never complained, never faltered in your determination to be there for me and do the best you could. Not once. In all the time I was going through treatment, or when I had to give the reins of the business over to you, you never failed me. You always did all you could. I’m more grateful for that than you’ll ever know.’

Her mother touched her cheek and Colette felt a rush of emotion. She didn’t need the praise, or at least she didn’t think so, but receiving it was nice all the same.

‘Thanks.’ Her smile faltered a little when she realised Noelle in the meantime had left the room. She hoped all this hadn’t made her sister uncomfortable, or worse, feel guilty for not being around for the worst of it.

But then she returned with an easy grin.

‘Do you have it?’ her mother asked, turning back to Noelle.

‘Sorry, it was in my bag,’ her sister said, producing an A4 envelope. She was smiling when she handed it to their mother.

‘Here you go.’ Miriam took the envelope and in turn handed it to Colette.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, confused.

‘Open it and see, silly,’ Noelle insisted.

Colette turned the envelope over in her hand, then proceeded to glide her finger under the seal to pry it open. Then she pulled the contents out and stared.

The brochures were a magnificent blaze of colour and light, and the scenery they presented was simply stunning. Azure oceans and groups of pastel houses tumbling down mountainside forests filled the pages, interspersed with images of sailboats on the water and delicious-looking cuisine.

‘Italy?’ Colette questioned, turning to the front of the brochure.

‘Yes, Italy,’ Noelle cheered. ‘You’ve always wanted to go there, haven’t you? You studied the language, after all.’

‘Well, yes,’ she replied hesitantly. ‘But I don’t understand …’

‘Open the white packet now,’ her mother chuckled.

Colette did as instructed, and pulled out a colourful green-and-red folder. Inside was an airline ticket with her name on it and the destination read ‘Naples’. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped in shock. It couldn’t be.

Her gaze flew upwards to her sister and mother, and her words came out as a whisper, so fragile that if spoken too loudly the dream she was obviously in would shatter and she’d be sent right back to reality.

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ her mother replied tearfully, as she took both of Colette’s hands in hers.

‘We’ve made all the arrangements,’ Noelle added, excitement raising the tone of her voice to almost a squeal. ‘You leave at the end of the month. Three weeks on the Amalfi Coast in sunny Italy.’

Colette couldn’t speak. She shook her head. ‘I can’t. I can’t go.’

‘Why not?’ Noelle asked, confused.

‘Who will take care of Mum and the bakery? The summer season is our busiest, you know that. Who will take care of things around here?’ It seemed as if her entire life had been her mother, the house and the business for so long that she couldn’t imagine a day without having to attend to them. Not even a day without responsibilities.

‘Love, I can take care of myself now.’

‘And I’ll be home for the summer.’

‘But—’

‘No buts,’ her sister interrupted. ‘You’re going on this trip and that’s that. I knew you’d try to find some reason not to. Didn’t I tell you, Mum?’

‘Yes, you did,’ their mother answered, a small smile on her face as she looked at each of them in turn. ‘Though we have to remember that for the past few years Colette’s been the lady of the house here,’ she explained. ‘She’s done it so much she’s forgotten that she has a life of her own. And now the world is out there for her to discover.’

‘Mum,’ Colette said, realising she was being well and truly cornered. Yes, the doctor said all was well with her illness, but it would take more than a couple of weeks until her mother was ready to take on the responsibilities of the life she’d been forced to relinquish. Was she really up to it? ‘Why do I have to go so soon?’

‘Because Noelle will be home from university by then. And to be honest, it was quite difficult to find a place for you to stay – that part of Italy is very busy over the summer months, apparently. The travel agent said that this was basically all we could get.’

Colette looked at her. So it seemed it was now or never. ‘Are you absolutely sure you’d be OK with this? With my leaving you on your own?’

‘I’ll be perfectly fine,’ her mother insisted. ‘Really.’

‘Hey, like I said, I’ll be here, too,’ Noelle added with some annoyance. ‘Stop being such a worrier, Colette. I can take care of Mum just as well as you. Things are different now. We’ll be fine, honestly. It’s time you got out there and lived some of those dreams you’re always banging on about.’

‘An escape,’ their mother said. ‘High time you had some fun back in your life and came out of your shell.’

‘And live it up a little, too,’ Noelle added with a grin. ‘Go and meet a nice Italian who’ll show you a good time.’

‘Well, maybe not too much of that,’ her mother cautioned automatically, though unlike Noelle she knew well that her eldest wasn’t much of party person. ‘But, love, it is definitely time to see what’s out there for you, don’t you think?’

It sounded all too good to be true, and rather frightening, to be fair, Colette thought. She supposed she’d become quite dependent on her routine, so the idea of going somewhere outside of Brighton, let alone to a foreign country on her own, was a little overwhelming.

Oh, come on, a voice inside chided her. You took care of your mum, a business, and a household. What’s so scary about the Amalfi Coast?

She looked again at the brochures and the ticket with her name on it. Italy had always been such a dream, and like Noelle said, she’d studied Language and International Relations in college, so she did already speak quite a bit of the language. She could view this as a chance for some practical application of her skills. A chance to try new things, meet new people and the opportunity to push herself out of her comfort zone and widen her worldview.

You need this.

Colette had worn the badge of responsibility like a true soldier, never faltering or complaining, but she was tired. She was weary of the routine, of having to always say no to social invitations or a chance to just be flighty or careless. For feeling as if her life was on hold with a terrible end awaiting her. The thought that her mother might die had been a shadow that always loomed in the back of her mind, clouding her decisions. Now that cloud was lifted. She could breathe again.

An escape …

‘All right,’ she decided, smiling. ‘I’ll do it.’




Chapter 9 (#ulink_e06ec597-182e-58bf-bfe1-a0547110f303)


Then

There was an incessant drilling sound that was driving Annie O’Doherty insane. It was Saturday morning. What the hell … ?

‘Oh, feck off!’ She attempted to toss an errant pillow in the direction of the noise but when she turned over in the bed to grab one, she was met with an unexpected obstruction.

There, sleeping soundly beside her, was someone – a man – she didn’t recognise.

Annie felt familiar discomfort rise up in her stomach as she tried to remember the previous night’s events.

Damn. She’d done it again, the thing she’d sworn time and time again not to: come home with some random stranger.

She raised her head slightly, trying to avoid any sudden movements that would alert Prince Charming to her presence, or indeed make her blinding headache even worse.

Now she had to figure out the best way to get this fella out of her flat without complication. This was her flat, yes?

She squinted around suspiciously at the messy room, discarded clothes scattered everywhere – Annie was more a floor-drobe than a wardrobe person – make-up littered all over the dressing table, and a hairdryer and straightening tongs hanging precariously from the radiator.

She’d remembered to turn the tongs off, which was good; it meant that she must have been sober before she went out.

And yep, this was definitely her room. Thank God for small mercies.

Annie raised the sheets a little to see she was wearing her pyjamas, which was another good sign – she hoped. Gingerly, she shimmied her way off the bed, grabbed her dressing gown and threw it on.

She always did this to herself. She’d have a bad week at work, or a fight with her mam, and then she’d go on a binge.

Eileen called her a slut, floozy or whatever else her angry, inebriated self felt like. Theirs was a hugely dysfunctional relationship, she knew, but it was the only consistent one Annie had ever had. She could just imagine what her mam would have to say about this.

‘Nothing else for it,’ she murmured, deciding to bite the bullet and wake up Prince Charming. ‘Hey, sunshine, time to get up!’

The words sent her bedfellow scrambling to his feet and it seemed to take him a while to realise he wasn’t under attack.

‘What the hell?’

‘Time for you to get going,’ Annie muttered, unable to meet his eyes. She really had no idea who he was but she figured she must have hooked up with him in the late bar last night. ‘I’ve things to get on with and I need you to leave.’

It was her day off, Annie recalled (hence the night out in the Dublin hotspots), so she didn’t have anything pressing to do really, she just wanted him out.

The guy scratched his jaw and took a deep breath before flopping back down onto her bed.

‘Another half hour, maybe? I’m wrecked,’ he protested, as he puffed up her pillow and stuffed it under his head, closing his eyes once more.

‘Hey! I said I need you to leave, so off you go.’ Annie poked at his exposed leg. He was wearing boxers, another cause for relief in her books. He didn’t seem her type at all, either; he was bone-skinny with a bit of a culchie accent, so she had no idea how or why he’d ended up here.

But did she even have a type these days?

Still, if this gobshite thought he could grab a lie-in at her expense, he was sadly mistaken. She’d throw him out on his arse herself if he didn’t skedaddle on his own, pronto.

Her persistence got his attention and he forced his eyes open once more.

‘Hey, why don’t you get back in and we can finish what we started last night?’ he said suggestively, and Annie’s hackles rose even more.

‘Are you deaf? Get the feck out!’ She grabbed the end of the duvet and yanked it off him. ‘I mean it.’ Then, grabbing his clothes, she marched across to the door of her flat (which didn’t take long as it was a tiny studio) and flung it open, launching his stuff through. ‘Don’t let it hit you on the way out.’

Her unexpected guest looked completely bewildered. ‘What the hell? Why are you being so weird? You asked me back, remember? You were all over me.’

Annie didn’t remember – that was the problem – but she wasn’t about to tell him that. ‘Look, I’m sorry but I told you already that I’ve got stuff to do and you’re getting in the way. So please just go,’ she insisted.

She watched as her guest jumped up again and stepped out into the hallway, scrambling for his clothes. He pulled his shirt over his head, sticking his arms into the sleeves in one smooth movement, then eyed her angrily from the doorway.

‘You’re something else, you know. Pure psycho.’

‘I know,’ she murmured airily, as she closed the door behind him, her heart racing a thousand beats a minute. She’d done a pretty good job convincing him of her bravado, but all the while she’d been terrified. A strange man in her bed and in her flat. It wouldn’t be the first time things had gone awry.

‘That’s it. No more getting pissed out your head, Annie … No more.’

She walked to her bed and looked at the sheets with scorn, before yanking them off. She’d be doing a wash today for sure. Once all the bedding was off, she returned to the bare mattress and flopped down on the edge of it.

Annie O’Doherty was never supposed to live, but she had. Abandoned in the toilets at Connolly train station in the centre of Dublin almost thirty years ago, she’d barely been breathing when she was found by a curious Irish Rail cleaner, who heard a noise from inside the ladies. There he found an infant, scarcely a few hours old, and had called for an ambulance.

Even before she had a name, Annie was making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

Placed into the Irish foster system from the start, she eventually found herself part of a family. Robert O’Doherty, her foster father, had doted on her. He was the reason she’d been chosen by them – a real-life orphan Annie.

He always said he saw something in her eyes, a spark, which told him she was the right child for him and his wife Eileen. They’d formally adopted her when she was five, and over the following twelve years she had the most amazing life she could imagine. They didn’t have much money, just enough to get by, but after Robert suffered a heart attack and died, life was upended.

That’s when Eileen started drinking and Annie had no choice but to rely on herself. Life had steadily declined after that. The tongue-lashings, accusations of theft, and even the added bonus of being accused of trying to seduce Eileen’s boyfriends. As if she would stoop so low.

Now she sat on her bed thinking about just how badly her life sucked. She was thirty-two years old, working at a low-budget hairdressing salon for a woman who didn’t know a perm from a curl, paying an exorbitant rent for her tiny Dublin shoebox, and nothing or no one stable in her life whatsoever.

Most of the friends she had during her teens were by now settled with families of their own, while Annie embarked on a string of disastrous hook-ups with lads who were only after the craic. That had suited her down to the ground all throughout her twenties, but now it was getting old – as was Annie.

These days she mostly went out on the town with some of her hot young co-workers from the salon, and was already starting to feel (and no doubt look) like the desperate ’oul wan.

Feeling a fresh wave of hangover-inspired exhaustion, Annie fell back on the bed and lay atop the exposed mattress. She stared at the cracks in the yellowed ceiling as she tried not to cry. She was frustrated and disillusioned.

Life was supposed to improve the older you got, wasn’t it? Life was supposed to be a series of ups and downs. So when was her up coming? When was it her turn to have something good finally come her way?

Tears stung her eyes and she didn’t try to stop them. It wasn’t every day that Annie allowed herself to feel her emotions. Pretending she didn’t have any seemed to work best for her over the years, at least for a while, until the flood rose too high, smashed the dam and, like now, she had to release it.

She hated her life. She hated this dingy kip of a flat. She hated her job, her mother, this stupid city.

She hated everything.

‘No more,’ she said firmly as she balled her fists at her sides. ‘No more. After today, you’re making a change. Things are going to be better. You’re going to make them better.’

But even as she said the words, Annie knew she was kidding herself. She’d tried that mantra before.

And still, nothing ever changed.




Chapter 10 (#ulink_e346a98f-e99c-5d68-863f-768a7122005b)


‘Good morning, Betty,’ Annie sang, as her first salon client of the day took a seat in the chair in front of her. ‘What’ll it be today?’ she asked as she danced about, getting the woman ready for her treatment.

She wrapped and secured an apron around her neck and draped a towel over that, clipping it in place.

‘You’re in great form today. Is it a fella who’s responsible?’ the older woman teased as her eyes followed Annie’s every move.

Betty was one of her regulars. She always came for the same thing – a wash and set – despite Annie’s angling to get her to try something new. She never did. Most of the women who came here were the same.

‘No,’ she replied, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. ‘Why must it be a fella? Why can’t we just be happy all on our own?’

Betty guffawed. ‘Sure, isn’t that the only reason God created Adam?’

Annie rolled her eyes as she chuckled. ‘Maybe you can’t be happy without a man, Betty Corcoran, but I certainly can.’ She looked at her client in the mirror as she began to run her fingers through her hair. ‘I make myself happy.’

Betty sniggered.

‘Don’t mind that one,’ her boss Rose put in. ‘She’s Not-So-Little Miss Sunshine these days,’ she said, taking a blatant aim at Annie’s muffin-top – another thing she’d been meaning to fix by taking long walks in the evening after work. But she was always too tired.

The salon owner teased the hair of the blonde in front of her. Rose was lost in a time warp, still back in the Eighties, where people liked their hair puffed up to the size of a football helmet. And the explanation for why all of the salon’s clients were in their forties or older, Annie knew; no one else would be interested in getting their hair done by her.

‘At least sun is better than rain,’ she quipped back at her boss. ‘So what colour do you want?’ she asked, turning her attention to Betty. ‘Same as last time?’

‘I’m thinking something spicy for a change,’ she answered with a wicked grin.

Annie raised an eyebrow. ‘Spicy?’

Betty smirked. ‘I’m meeting my fancy man tonight,’ she boasted. ‘I want to look my best.’

‘In that case,’ she answered, ‘I think you’d look amazing with a richer burgundy shade. I can darken your eyebrows a little too,’ Annie added as she turned towards her mixing station and began pulling colours from the cupboard.

People thought just a tube of solid hair dye could give you the right look, but that wasn’t true. You needed the right mix to give the highlights and low tones. She grabbed a fire-engine red, a dark blonde, and a chestnut, with the addition of a drop of dark brown to make a tone that would be uniquely Betty. That was what Annie did.

She didn’t ‘do’ cookie-cutter clients. She made sure everyone who stepped away from her station was spectacular in their own right. She picked up the dyes, mixing them quickly in a fluorescent pink bowl with her medium brush.

‘So where did you find this fancy man then?’ she asked as she began applying dye to Betty’s roots, starting at the back.

‘At Tesco,’ she replied. ‘He was trying to pick the right peppers and I helped him find the best one.’

Rose laughed. ‘Passion over peppers. Spicy indeed.’

‘I think we could all use a little of that,’ Annie said dreamily.

‘Even you with your Ridey Rabbit?’ Betty joked as she gave Annie a look in the mirror.

‘Hey, that’s not what I meant by making myself happy! And I never said I didn’t want a fella either. I’m just tired of the eejits you get around here. I want someone real. Someone who gets me,’ Annie explained.

‘Hear, hear,’ Felicity Finch piped up. She was one of Rose’s oldest regulars (and Annie’s favourite clients) and was sitting in the corner waiting area reading a magazine. She folded the periodical and rested it on her knee. ‘Good for you, Annie. It’s about time your generation realised there’s more to life than mindless craic. Eventually, you need to get serious.’

‘Listen to yer wan,’ Rose joked. ‘You sound like a school teacher, Felicity.’

‘No, I sound like wisdom,’ she replied. ‘I lived the wild life myself, Annie, but it gets boring after a while. I know what it’s like. And I know the repercussions.’

Annie’s gaze shifted towards her. While her personality was typically light-hearted, the older woman’s expression was now deadly serious. There was a look in her eyes that Annie could only describe as regret.

‘I ran around like there was no tomorrow,’ Felicity continued, and Annie was discomfited by the fact that she seemed to be looking her right in the eye. ‘I loved men, and boy did they love me. I was practically the town bike—’

‘Really, now …’ Rose interrupted, but Felicity smiled, continuing her story as if she hadn’t been interrupted.

‘I don’t mind. I had loads of men running after me, and I thought it was great. Mad craic altogether. Then I stopped being twenty and became thirty, and still I thought I could live the same life. Then thirty became forty,’ she explained. ‘And I started waking up with lads I didn’t remember, in places that weren’t my own. Then one day I was on the far side of forty-five and there was no one. All the men were settled and married. My friends had moved on and had families, whereas I had just me.’

A hollow feeling began to fill Annie’s stomach as she listened to a story that sounded way too familiar. It was as if the older woman could see right into her soul. She didn’t want to be Felicity. She wanted a family, preferably while she was young enough to enjoy it. But there was no sign of that anywhere on the horizon just now.

It took her a moment to realise that her hand had stopped its work and was hovering just above Betty’s head.

Everyone was looking at Felicity, surprised. No one had expected that story. She was a frequent customer but not one who routinely chit-chatted about personal stuff like some of the others. Today she’d revealed more than any of them ever had.

Now Felicity’s gaze met Annie’s full on and there was no mistaking the warning in them.

‘Decide what you want and go for it, Annie. Don’t think that tomorrow will always be there. You won’t always be thirty, or even forty. One day, the way you lived in your younger years will catch up with you.’

Annie got it. She understood. She already felt as if she’d lived as long as some of the women who came to the salon. She was tired.

Tired of meaninglessness, empty encounters, having no one she could call on to be there. She looked at Felicity, with her sad eyes, grey hair and wrinkled brow. Would she look like that in thirty years’ time? Would she be telling someone else a similar cautionary tale in years to come?

Not if she could help it.

‘Well, it just got very serious in here,’ Rose joked, breaking the stillness. Everyone laughed. Everyone but Annie.

Felicity’s story had hit home.

That night, as she walked home, Annie’s mind was racing while her body was weary. She’d seen a record number of clients that day, including several last-minute emergencies that she simply couldn’t refuse. Why did people try to do their own hair when they’d never done it before?

She flopped onto her bed and once again stared up at the ceiling as she kicked her shoes off. Annie worked hard; she always did. She had to.

She was seventeen when she moved out and got her own place. Life with her mother had become unbearable, and after one of Eileen’s boyfriends made a pass at her, she knew that it was time to get out of there.

Her mother hadn’t protested and Annie believed she was happy to see her go. In fact, she was sure of it. She’d walked out the door and moved into a friend’s place for a while, then bounced from one couch to another until she finished secondary school, by which time she was already helping out Rose. Fifteen years later she was now her longest-serving (and oldest) staff member.

Annie rolled onto her side. Fifteen years. In one respect it was such a short time; in another, it was forever.

She was still young, but in those years she’d felt like she’d lived a thousand lives. She’d been wilder than most. Lack of parental supervision and the misguided belief that she was living the high life had seen her make mistake after mistake. She gave a hollow laugh at her silliness. Did she really think that being parentless had served her well? At the time she had. Now she knew better.

Sleep crept up on her. Annie didn’t even realise when she’d started to drift off, but the sound of her mobile phone ringing had awakened her.

‘What now …’ se whined as she forced herself off the bed. She shuffled towards her coat pocket and took the phone out, answering grumpily. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Annie.’ The voice on the other end was the last she’d expected to hear.

‘Felicity? How did you get my number?’

Her mind was whirring like an out-of-control mechanism as she listened to the older woman speak.

‘Annie, I’ve been keeping an eye on you over the years and you have a wonderful heart. I see a lot of myself in you – the younger me, I mean – and like I said in the salon, it’s all too easy to stray off-path when you’re young and foolish.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But I suspect you’ve already realised that yourself.’

Annie was confused. ‘I’m not sure what you mean …’

‘I can’t say too much at the moment, and it’s hard to explain, but, love, I’d like to do something for you. Something small as a thank you for being so good to me over the years.’

‘For me?’ Annie asked sceptically when the other woman finished her spiel. This was weird. ‘You don’t have to do anything for me, Felicity. Really, I’m doing grand.’ She wasn’t about to let on about her struggles.

‘Please. Don’t argue. Just … keep an eye out for something in the post from me soon. Can you let me know your address?’

Annie’s brow furrowed afresh. ‘Felicity, no, I appreciate you thinking of me, but really, I don’t need anything …’

Felicity was having none of it, insisting she pass on her address or she’d just get it from Rose at the salon anyway. Indeed, she seemed just as stubborn as Annie was.

‘OK,’ she finally conceded, ‘but you really don’t have to do this.’

‘I know that. But promise me this: just accept it, OK? For me.’

Reluctantly agreeing, Annie said goodbye to Felicity, put down the phone and once again curled up in her bed. What was the woman on about?

Just accept it?

Accept what?

Annie rolled onto her back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling, now wide awake, her thoughts whirring.

‘What are you up to, Felicity?’




Chapter 11 (#ulink_65f7bbd4-8425-55a1-96bc-2e61a94c691d)


Now

The drive back from the restaurant in Sorrento had been a silent one. Kim knew Antonio wanted her to confide more in him but she couldn’t.

She and Gabriel weren’t him and Emilia. There were some major differences in their relationship. Kim idolised the older woman, who might soon no longer even remember her.

Right from the start, Emilia had inspired and encouraged her. She had facilitated everything that Kim had achieved with The Sweet Life, had pushed her out of her comfort zone, and encouraged her to break away from the hold her parents had on her.

After all these years, Kim wished she could thank whatever god was smiling on her the day she’d met her and Antonio. His wife was someone Kim admired and adored, but definitely not one she could compare with.

Emilia was the best of women.

‘Are you going to be grumpy for the rest of the day? If so, I might as well fix us both a drink.’ Antonio’s voice again interrupted her musings.

They were back at the villa now, sitting at a patio table outside on the terrace, next to the adjoining lawn that was to be the centre’s yoga area.

‘I don’t think my being grumpy is the reason you want a drink,’ Kim drawled, briefly checking her phone.

‘Perhaps, but it is the reason I’m going to use.’

Still his words brought a smile to her face. The Italian knew the right things to say at just the right time. He had for as long as she’d known him.

Having checked her email, she scrolled idly through her social media, noting with some satisfaction that her latest post – a pretty and artistic shot she’d taken earlier of the villa’s lemon groves and the azure waters of the bay as a backdrop – had already racked up lots of activity.

She read a little way through some of the comments, before one in particular stopped her in her tracks.

The Sweet Life? That’s a joke, considering. Don’t you mean The FAKE Life?

Kim frowned.

Since the villa project had ramped up, lately she seemed to be getting some negative and downright nasty comments from people (although possibly even the same person using different identities, as online trolls often did).

Par for the course with social media, she knew, especially for an account with a following in the hundreds of thousands, and while Kim didn’t usually pay too much attention, she didn’t like the sound of this one.

The Fake Life …

It was unsettling, as it suggested something more sinister – personal, even – and because in truth, it tapped into Kim’s own deeply held insecurities.

‘Are you OK, bella?’ Antonio asked, frowning as he came back out with a decanter of rich amber that he’d stolen from the villa’s freshly stocked kitchen.

‘I’m … fine.’

He studied her face and then his brows furrowed slightly as he noticed her faraway expression. He set the whiskey down on the patio table.

‘OK, maybe this is something that should be spirit-free,’ he decided. He lowered himself onto the seat beside her, his knees pointed towards her. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’

Kim exhaled and looked out over the water. She wasn’t going to tell Antonio about the comments; not until she could get a proper handle on it all herself.

Not to mention that he didn’t really get social media, routinely joking that it was ‘not of his generation’.

‘You asked me earlier about Gabriel …’ she began, though the strain to get the words out was considerable.

Antonio didn’t interrupt. He sat quietly, his expression still, as he allowed her the time and comfort to say what she needed to.

‘When I met Gabe, I really thought I’d hit the jackpot, that everything I’d ever dreamed about was actually happening. A kind, accomplished, wonderful man wanted me by his side and it had nothing to do with my parents. It was a bit surreal. He was so good to me, genuinely kind and caring. He understood my passion for what you, Emilia, and I had started. Eventually, he became my best friend.’ Kim could feel sadness start to rise up as she spoke and her eyes began to sting.

‘You are speaking in the past tense, bella. Did that change? Did he stop being good to you?’ Antonio queried hesitantly, as he placed a comforting hand on top of hers.

‘No,’ Kim answered. ‘The very opposite, actually. Once we were married, he remained all those things and more. My biggest champion and supporter. I was so happy and felt I could take on the world with him at my side. We had everything, the rest of our lives to look forward to. Then I got pregnant.’

She noted how her words affected Antonio. He shifted slightly, a disapproving expression passing over his face. She knew his view on children. He adored them, believed them a gift from God, something to cherish. Kim didn’t get that line of thinking. Her parents obviously hadn’t, either.

‘When I found out I was going to have a baby, I was scared out of my wits. I didn’t know how to be a parent. I didn’t even know where to start. Having a child had never been a consideration for me. Everything with the business was going so well and I was happier than I’d ever been in my life. Then there was this baby in the mix and I was supposed to be over the moon about it. Everyone else was. Gabriel was beside himself with joy.’ She shook her head as her eyes glassed over at the memory.

‘Kim—’ Antonio began but she stopped him.

‘I know what you’re going to say, but please hear me out,’ she pleaded. ‘I didn’t really want the baby.’

The words were horrible to say out loud, but nonetheless true. Kim hadn’t wanted her own child. She felt terrible for it, but it didn’t change what was. She might not have wanted Lily, but not having her wasn’t an option either. Gabriel would never have forgiven her (nor could she have forgiven herself), and he assured her every day that she would be a great mother. Her fears would pass and she would see that she could do it.

But it hadn’t happened.

‘I carried Lily for all those months and every day I hoped to feel the excitement and happiness everyone said I would, but I didn’t. The closer I got to her birth, the more scared I became. When she finally arrived, it was almost a confirmation that I shouldn’t be a mother. She refused to nurse and cried whenever I picked her up. It was almost as if she didn’t want me either.’ Kim took a deep breath as emotion began to overwhelm her. ‘It’s like she knew.’

‘It is all right. Let it out.’ Antonio spoke gently, like a father to his child.

‘She had colic. She’d cry and cry but nothing I did helped. Only Gabriel could get her to stop. He’d hold her in a special way and she’d just go quiet and fall asleep. It never worked for me, no matter how many times I tried. Eventually, I stopped trying and just left him to it.’

‘You let him take over caring for her because you felt you couldn’t, and he would be better?’

Kim nodded solemnly.

‘Babies sometimes reject breastfeeding. It is nothing strange and it certainly isn’t personal,’ Antonio assured her.

‘It felt like it.’

‘I can’t imagine. I can, however, imagine a colicky child. I had one myself. Nothing worked. Nothing Emilia or I did worked, but we got past that. It wasn’t us, it wasn’t the baby. It was just a simple condition that Giuseppe got over, and I am sure Lily got over, too.’

‘After a while,’ Kim said with a sniffle.

‘Did you try with her after that?’ he asked gently.

‘Not really,’ she replied with a shake of her head. ‘Things started getting even better with work, the collaboration offers were flying in, and Gabriel seemed happy to do it all, so I let him. I let him be mother and father to her. She doesn’t need me, even now.’

The soothing strokes on her back stopped as firm hands gripped her shoulders and Antonio turned her to face him. ‘Now that is nonsense. I have never heard a more foolish remark. Your daughter needs you, Kim. Your husband needs you. You can’t just run away again and turn to work to escape what doesn’t go according to plan in your life.’

‘But …’

He raised a finger to silence her. ‘No. Maybe I can understand that you didn’t have an example to follow, and you felt lost and incapable because of it, but the Kim I know is not a quitter. Six years ago she did whatever she could to free herself of her parents’ hold and established a thriving business all on her own.’

‘Not exactly. I had a lot of help,’ she interjected.

‘I did very little,’ Antonio responded. ‘And Emilia simply opened your eyes to the potential of what you already had inside you. Yes, she might have got you some introductions in the beginning, but it was you who had your wonderful ideas and brought them to life in the first place. We had no part in that.’

‘I wouldn’t say that …’

‘I would. I would also say that you can’t let your fears keep you from your happiness. Follow your own advice: take a chance. If you win, you will be happy; if you lose, you will be wise.’

‘Well, something like that,’ Kim replied with a smile, as he lobbed one of her very own quotes at her.

‘You get my meaning,’ he continued. ‘You need to be that person now. It can’t only be for some time but all of the time, or else you will never have the happiness you want to help others achieve. You’ll forever be the person who came here to Italy as a runaway. Yes, the business is a great success and will continue to be so, but it will be hollow. I assure you. Don’t fall into the trap of letting work achievements distract you from the truth. It’s just somewhere to bury your head in the sand and hide from what frightens or challenges you.’

‘But I truly don’t know how to be the mother Lily needs. I’m not sure I even know how to be the wife Gabe needs. I’m never there.’

‘Hush,’ Antonio silenced her. ‘Have you not been listening to a word I said? You can do this, Kim. But first you must be honest, not only with Gabriel, but yourself. Maybe start by admitting to him how you feel. I’m sure he’ll understand.’

Panic stabbed her heart the moment the words left her mentor’s lips. ‘I can’t tell Gabriel what I just told you – about Lily. He’d hate me. I hate me.’

Antonio scoffed. ‘Gabriel loves you. Very much. He won’t leave you, if that’s what’s bothering you. He’s one of the most honest and honourable men that I have ever known. He is also no fool. I expect he knows a lot about what you’ve been keeping hidden from him, and is waiting for you to come to him when you’re ready.’

‘Do you think?’ Kim replied as a small glimmer of hope ignited in her chest. The fear of Gabriel leaving was one she hadn’t had the courage to admit, but Antonio, as ever, had got to the bottom of her fears anyway.

‘I think you won’t know for sure until you talk to your husband. I can say all the right things in this situation, but it isn’t my assurance you need.’

‘You’re so perceptive it’s annoying,’ Kim said with a smile as she rubbed the errant tears from her cheeks. Despite her efforts, they’d defied her.

‘When Gabriel arrives, do you have plans to talk to him about this?’

‘Not particularly,’ she admitted. ‘There’s so much else going on right now …’

‘I think it would be the perfect opportunity for you to talk. The publicity is in place and the renovations are complete – all’s that left now is the party to celebrate Villa Dolce Vita’s introduction to the world. Everything is ready, Kim. And I can keep any last-minute things covered while you have some important time together with your family.’

Everything he was saying sounded good, but there was still so much for her to consider before her husband and daughter joined her here.

What if Antonio was right? But what if he was wrong? Gabriel was the best thing she’d ever had in her life and Kim was terrified of losing him.

Then Antonio patted his knees and sighed. ‘I’d better go. I have another meeting before I fly back to Milan this evening. We will talk again?’

‘Sure. Please give Emilia my best. And tell her I can’t wait to see her at the party.’

She stood and walked Antonio out as far as the door of the courtyard. He hugged her one last time before heading back to his car.

‘As you Americans say, you got this. And of course, honesty has always been your finest trait.’

Kim looked up at the glorious blue sky and closed her eyes.

If only he knew.




Chapter 12 (#ulink_eafce417-5f44-5132-8966-8e8e9bafa664)


Then

Annie still couldn’t believe it. It was so surreal that anything like this should ever happen to her.

She looked down over the crystal-clear water and rocky promontories as they flew overhead.

It was the first time she’d been on an aeroplane and though excited, she found herself equally nervous. She tried to keep her eyes from looking down but there was a certain morbid curiosity to it. Besides, she had a window seat, so looking down was practically inevitable.





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