Destitute Until the Italian's Diamond

‘He certainly got lucky!’ Giavanna was saying, holding up her phone for Lana to see.

Her eyes went to the photo, clearly from some celebrity’s website. It was of one of Hollywood’s top female movie stars, and at her side was Malcolm. Looking more handsome than ever. Bleached blond, and with a blinding smile of newly capped and whitened teeth. Looking incredibly pleased with himself.

The text below leapt out at her. The dominating phrase was: Marriage plans with latest hunky leading man...

A white fury filled Lana. So that was what he’d done with her money! Taken it to Hollywood with him to splurge on his career.

She forced her fury down. What did it matter what Malcolm had blown her money on?

Giavanna was looking at her expectantly, and now Lana could not mistake the gleam of malice in her eyes. She would not rise to it, though.

‘Mal moved on a long time ago,’ she said dismissively.

‘As did you,’ came the reply.

‘Indeed,’ Lana replied evenly. ‘As did I.’

She made some polite remark, wishing Giavanna all the best for her wedding, and then made her escape, getting into the car she had summoned from the boutique when she’d finished shopping.

That encounter with Giavanna had disturbed her tranquility, reminding her of a time in her life she didn’t want to think about any longer, even though the ramifications of it—the crushing debt Mal’s perfidy had dumped on her—still cast a long shadow.

But Mal himself was out of her life. Nothing left of him but a photo.

One day all I’ll have of Salvatore will be photos. Photos and memories. Nothing more.

She felt a hollow inside her as she heard the words inside her head, and she gazed out of the car window at the streets of Rome going by, wanting only to forget them. Not wanting to ask herself why that was.

‘I have to fly to Milan next week. Will you come with me? You could refresh your wardrobe,’ Salvatore remarked.

They were back at the palazzo, and he was glad. It was cooler here, and he and Lana made good use of the pool. How long ago it seemed since he had first seen her spread-eagled on that lounger, showing him nearly all of her fabulous body for his delectation...

It hadn’t been his to enjoy then. But now... His eyes went to her across the dinner table where they sat out on the terrace. Now she was most definitely his to enjoy. Her beauty was richer, and riper than ever. Her Italian diet was enhancing her beauty every day. There even seemed to be a glow about her...

‘My wardrobe is bulging at the seams!’ Lana answered him with a laugh. ‘How long do you need to spend in Milan?’

‘A few days, no more.’ An idea struck him. ‘We could head for the Lakes—before the rains arrive in the autumn. How does that sound?’

‘Better than Milan, I must say. To be honest,’ she said, ‘Milan doesn’t really appeal—I’ve been there so often.’

‘Join me on the last day, and then we can take off for the Lakes,’ Salvatore said promptly. ‘All we have to choose is which one. Como is the closest to Milan.’

‘Como it is, then,’ she smiled.

He smiled back warmly. It would be good to show Lana the Lakes. Have her at his side.

It’s always good to be with her—to have her with me.

The thought in his head brought him the usual nod of satisfaction. But it was followed by another in its wake.

Will it always be good? And how long is ‘always’? If you can get shot of Roberto in less time than you thought it would take, now that he’s co-operating, what happens about Lana? You won’t need her...

The question hung in his consciousness as his gaze rested on her. He set it aside. Reached for the wine bottle instead, refilling their glasses. Starting to tell her about Lake Como.

A much better subject to think about.

Lana walked into the pool house, pulling off her top as she did so. The heat was such that the only relief other than going indoors—which seemed a shame on such a lovely day—was the pool. She dropped her top on to the slatted wooden bench, peeled off her shorts and panties, reaching for her one-piece. She did not need to tan, she was quite brown enough—even her tummy.

She glanced down, frowning slightly. She had definitely become rounder and softer, since abandoning her low-calorie modelling diet. Salvatore was a big fan of her curvier figure, and she smiled reminiscently. He’d set off for Milan that morning, and she missed him already.