Whisked Away by the Italian Tycoon

Now Rajiv took his wife’s other hand in his and they exchanged a smile. ‘And now?’ he asked.

‘Now I know you love me.’ The look the couple exchanged was so full of love and understanding that Luca blinked, wondered if Emily’s belief that this marriage was based on affection alone could be wrong. Neela smiled at her husband. ‘But the pattern had been set and we were so caught up in our family that Emily must have felt excluded.’

Neela turned back to Luca. ‘Please continue.’

‘I think Emily would like to feel she is important to you, that she comes first, that she isn’t on the sidelines of your lives. She has had a hard time lately and she could do with some support.’

Rajiv nodded his head. ‘Thank you for this intervention. I will speak with Emily.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I will do better than that. I will go and see my daughter and try to make things right.’

Luca smiled, tried to imagine Emily’s face when she saw her father, hoped with all his heart that they would work out a way to forge a new relationship. Hoped that when he met with Marigold, Emily’s mother would react positively as well.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

Neela shook her head. ‘It is we who thank you. For doing this for Emily.’

A week later

Emily tried to salvage as much of her courage as she could, even as nerves coiled inside her like a mass of writhing snakes. As her high heels clicked across the London street her heart pounded her ribs so hard she feared it would burst through.

Her mind still spun over the events of the past days. A few days after Ava’s visit her doorbell had rung again and this time as she’d opened the door she’d nearly fainted. Had found it difficult to believe the evidence of her eyes, as she took in the identity of her visitors. Her parents, both of them together on the doorstep. The next hours had been both emotional and rewarding and had left her filled with hope that perhaps she and her parents could forge new bonds.

When they had left Emily had emailed Luca to thank him and he’d replied. The words were embossed on her mind.

Dear Emily,

I am glad that it worked out. I was wondering if you would be able to meet with me, though I will fully understand if that is not something you want to do. I would

like to talk.

If you feel you can do this perhaps we could meet for a cocktail in London at your convenience?

Best wishes,

Luca

So here she was.

She slowed down as she reached her destination, knew that she would regret it to her dying day if she turned tail and ran now. A deep breath, and she pushed the door open, blinked as she entered the dimly lit interior and realised the place was empty.

No, not empty. As she approached the bar she saw Luca and her head whirled. She halted in her tracks, soaked in his sheer masculine beauty, every familiar angle and plane, the dark hair a little overlong now, his stance alert and almost primal as his eyes scanned the door.

‘Luca.’

‘Emily.’

Unbidden happiness fizzed inside her and she wanted to hurl herself into his arms, wanted to hold and be held, inhale his scent... Instead she stepped forward, approached the bar, half relieved, half disappointed at the barrier between them.

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come.’ His voice was low, deep and so wonderfully familiar.

‘Neither was I. But...’ she looked round ‘...where is everyone?’

Now he smiled and she was transported back to Jalpura, to Turin, to all the times his face had lit up her world. ‘I’ve bought the bar.’

‘You’ve bought it?’

‘Yup. I am going to open a cocktail bar in London. Palazzo di Cioccolato is branching out. I listened to what you said, and I’ve done some serious thinking. I do want to launch in London and I will, but not yet. Perhaps when it is possible to come to a decision about Dolci, perhaps then. But in the meantime I realised I was so focused on rivalling Dolci that maybe I missed out on doing the other things I wanted to do. I like mixing cocktails, I enjoyed working at Silvio’s. So here we are. Welcome to Teepee.’

Emily thought and smiled as she got it. ‘Teepee—or TP as in Therese Petrovelli.’