Destitute Until the Italian's Diamond

It was—and, again, the combination of the strong-tasting meat and the distinctive truffle worked superbly, and the wine that was served alongside it was strong enough to withstand the robust flavours.

‘Sangiovese grapes,’ Salvatore informed her, lifting his glass to her. ‘Saluti!’

She murmured in reply. She was feeling easier now, she knew, and was glad of it.

We’re just enjoying the moment, the delicious food, this beautiful place...just enjoying each other’s company. Knowing—and accepting, both of us—that there can be nothing more between us.

Did a quiver of regret go through her? Her eyes lingered on him for a moment as the dusk gathered, as it had last night in that ridiculously romantic rooftop restaurant in Florence, drinking in the way it accentuated the planes of his face.

She suppressed a sigh, returning to her meal. Wanting no more complications.

Across the table, Salvatore watched her eat with lidded eyes. He had caught the half-suppressed sigh...caught the covert glance she’d given him. But he let them be. He was doing what he knew he must do now—focussing only on undoing the damage he’d inadvertently done last night, rushing her as he had.

His eyes moved over her. She was casually dressed in black leggings, with a loose, thigh-length charcoal-grey top. Elegant, but figure-concealing. Deliberately so, he surmised. Wariness had radiated from her on all frequencies as she’d emerged onto the terrace, and he’d known immediately that he must disarm it. The fact that he had succeeded was evident. Over the course of the meal she had visibly relaxed, and he was glad of it.

But there was a way to go yet before she yielded to what he longed for and forgot all about the artifice of their marriage.

Made the reason that they were together simply...personal.

‘Ready for the off?’ Salvatore’s tone was genial as Lana came down the grand staircase, attired for another day’s sightseeing.

It had become the norm over the last week or more for Salvatore to intersperse the days he spent incarcerated in his high-tech office, commanding his business affairs, with expeditions designed to show Lana the glories of Tuscany. As well as Florence, she could now add Pisa, Lucca and Sienna to her collection. Today’s expedition was to be further afield, so Salvatore had told her. They’d be heading up into the higher hills, a more remote part of Tuscany, off the standard tourist trail.

He’d made no attempt to be anything other than good, easy-going company, and Lana found she was being the same in return. What they talked about she was never quite sure, in retrospect. About the places he was showing her, yes, and ordinary chit-chat, but precisely about what was vague. Maybe that was a good sign, though, she thought. A sign of how comfortable they had become with each other. Almost unconsciously so, now she thought about it.

It’s done us good, she thought, greeting him airily as they made their way outside on to the palazzo’s gravelled carriage sweep.

Only as she felt the morning’s heat envelop her did she feel a flickering thought fleeting across her mind.

Us? Is that what there is now? An ‘us’?

But then it had gone.

Her eyes went to the rugged-looking SUV parked up for them—a far cry from either Salvatore’s low-slung supercar or the sleek saloon they used when they were being chauffeured.

‘Better for the steeper terrain,’ he said, helping her up into the front passenger seat before vaulting in on his side and gunning the engine.

And so it proved as they reached what she thought was their destination—a walled hilltop town with vertiginous drops to the steep-sided valley below. But she discovered they were only stopping there for an early lunch, which they had at a quaint old trattoria in the small central piazza, while Salvatore told them of his plans for the afternoon.

‘There’s a lake nearby—higher up—that was formed by damming the river, with forest all around. It’s very beautiful and I thought it would make a change for us,’ he told her. ‘A touch of “wild Italy”, so to speak.’ He smiled.

The lakeside was reached by a winding, unmetalled roadway which ended beneath a canopy of trees. They got out, and Lana was glad that Salvatore had advised sturdy shoes as well as comfortable leggings and a light sweatshirt. After a short walk through the thick trees, they emerged beside the water. A few metres back from the shore was a small chalet in log cabin style, with a shaded veranda at the front.

‘Oh, how picturesque!’ she exclaimed when she saw it.

Salvatore turned to her, a half smile on his face. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked.

‘Perfect for the spot!’ Lana confirmed with an answering smile.

He nodded. ‘Good. It’s where we’re staying.’