Whisked Away by the Italian Tycoon

‘I hope you find Jodi and that she is OK.’ She took a deep breath. ‘If you need to use my name, use it. If you need me to do something to help you gain access to the royal family, then please let me know.’ The idea that she would make this offer flayed him and he knew that not even for Jodi would he ask Emily to do that. The knowledge was both ironic and surprising. ‘I will write up my ideas and a report for your marketing department to file away, should you ever decide to go ahead with the campaign.’ Her words were as jerky and stilted as his had been and he clenched his hands into fists. ‘There are plenty of photographers who will jump at the chance.’

He stood frozen to the spot as the door clicked shut and his heart cracked. Part of him wanted to run after her, to beg forgiveness, declare his love, but he knew there was no point. That way could only end in more hurt to Emily. And he’d hurt her enough. With his inadequacy, his sheer selfishness,. There was no defence for what he’d done. Yes, he had prioritised Jodi, because he had vowed he would never let his sister down as his father had done. But in so doing he had let Emily down instead—a knowledge that seared him even as his whole being yearned for her. But there was no point. People he loved left him. End of.

He didn’t know how long he remained there still and silent inhaling her elusive scent, the evocative floral tang that lingered in the air and filled him with an ache of regret and guilt. Fool. At some point he turned his head, caught a glimpse of her hairbrush on the bedside table and an image of her pulling it through the sheer satin of her hair caught his breath in bereft that he’d never see that again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Five days later, Turin

LUCA SAT BEHIND his office desk and looked at the email, read it again.

Dear Luca

I wanted to let you know that I have found out some information about Jodi. After our conversation I contacted the royal representative and used my name to gain access to the Queen, who is a huge fan of my father. Whilst I was there I also met with the younger members of the family. I asked about Jodi but they all claimed not to have met her.

However, the following day Princess Alisha contacted me to tell me that in fact she does know Jodi. She was going under a different name of Gemma Lewes. The Princess only knows her real name because she sneaked a look at her passport. She says she and Jodi became good friends, but she left Jalpura very abruptly and has only responded to messages to thank Alisha for her friendship, apologise for leaving without saying goodbye and to say she will be in touch.

I hope Jodi is OK. I have posted you a report outlining my ideas for the ad campaign, a storyboard and a selection of photographs.

Emily

As he gazed down at the screen instead of the text he could see Emily’s face, could picture her expression as she typed, the fierce stare as she weighed each word, the way she’d tuck her hair behind her ear. And now memories streamed: the sweetness of her smile, the way her eyes lit up with laughter, sparked with anger or desire. The way she crinkled her nose in question or doubt. And then the memory of her face on that final morning zinged into his mind, the hurt, the way she had wrapped her arms around herself for protection. From the hurt he’d caused.

Come on, Luca. Focus.

He forced his mind to Jodi, to his sister. To his meeting with the royal representative. Pradesh Patankar had said he’d never heard of Jodi Petrovelli. That would be explained by the alias that Jodi had for some reason assumed. But whatever his sister was doing it was clear she wanted to be left alo

ne by friends and family alike. Exactly as she had said all along. Because Jodi knew she could count on him, on their mother. If she needed them, they would be there.

Emily didn’t have that. Her parents were useless, prioritised others over her. She had Ava but she couldn’t turn to her because she’d promised not to tell Ava about them and instinctively Luca knew she would keep that promise.

Rising, he picked up his jacket and headed for the door, phone in hand as he called an airline to book a flight to London. A few hours later he approached Dolci headquarters, entered and was shown up to Ava’s office.

‘Luca?’ Ava rose from behind her desk and walked round, a smile on her face, but worry in her eyes. ‘Is everything OK? You said it was urgent.’

‘It is to me. Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.’

‘It’s not a problem. You’re family. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll grab us a coffee and you can tell me what is going on.’

Luca sat, knew that his own pride was a small price to pay. Ava was Emily’s best friend and Emily deserved to have support from her. ‘I messed up,’ he told his sister. ‘And I want to put it right. But now please go to Emily. I think she needs a friend.’

* * *

Emily sat at her desk in her London apartment and looked down at the photos spread out in front of her. The photos she’d taken in Jalpura. Taken after the last time with Luca, when she’d moved into a hostel for a few days, met with the royal representative, before she’d returned to London. In that time she’d taken refuge in photography, had taken photos to try and distract herself from the pain. To try to make her stop missing Luca.

Memories caused tears to sting her eyes and she tried for at least the millionth time to banish Luca from her mind. Didn’t understand how Luca seemed to have distilled into her whole being. Why images of him continued to pervade her mind, waking and sleeping, memories to cascade through her. Of his smile, his touch, the spikiness of his hair, the feel of him... Enough. No more thoughts of Luca. He was not for her; he had lied to her.

For his sister.

Jeez, Emily. Stop thinking about the man. She didn’t even understand why her deluded mind was making excuses for him.

Emily picked up her cup of tea and forced her attention to the photos. She focused on the simple picture of a Jalpuran woman teaching her child how to cook, and she felt a small curl of pride. The photograph conveyed so much—the love between mother and child, the simplicity of the earthenware pot, the youth of the child, the bright colour of the lentils being measured into the pan, the light and heat reflected off the stainless-steel plates.

A photo she would never have had the courage to take if it weren’t for Luca.

Her eyes scanned the remaining photos and her gut told her she’d done something good, captured an essence of Jalpura and the richness of its life, culture and people. But then doubt surfaced—how could she trust her gut when she’d been so wrong about Luca? His voice rang in her head. ‘Believe in yourself.’ Wasn’t that what they had both told each other?

The ring of her doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Who could that be? Stupid hope touched her that it would be Luca. Ridiculous. Luca would be on Jalpura now, talking to the Princess, tracking Jodi down.