Strangely enough, as she watched her mother’s reaction, Veronica no longer felt panic. Just dismay. And the fiercest disappointment. Because now she knew the answer to the mystery, didn’t she?
‘He was my father, wasn’t he?’ she said bleakly, before her mother admitted to anything.
Nora groaned, then nodded. Sadly. Apologetically.
Veronica groaned as well, her face screwing up with distress, her hands balling into fists in defence of the flood of emotion which threatened to overwhelm her. Not since she’d discovered the awful truth about Jerome had she experienced such shock and anger. Funny how you could suspect something, but when you were actually faced with some awful truth your first reaction was still pained disbelief, quickly followed by outrage and anger.
‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth?’ she threw at her mother in anguished tones. ‘Why give me that cock-and-bull story about my father being some impoverished sperm donor from Latvia? Why not just tell me you had an affair with a married man?’
‘But I didn’t have an affair with Laurence!’ her mother denied, her face flushing wildly. ‘It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand,’ she wailed, gripping her cheeks with both hands as tears filled her eyes.
For the first time in her life, Veronica felt no pity for her mother’s tears.
‘Then how was it, Mum?’ she asked coldly. ‘Make me understand, especially why you didn’t tell me the truth about my father’s identity.’
‘I… I couldn’t tell you. I gave Laurence my word.’
Veronica could not believe she was hearing this. She’d given her word to some adulterer? The mind boggled.
‘Well, your precious Laurence is dead and gone now,’ Veronica snapped. ‘So I don’t think your giving him your word matters any more. I dare say you’ll also be surprised to hear that my errant father has left me something in his will,’ she finished up caustically. ‘I’ve just received a call from the executor. I’m now the owner of a villa on the Isle of Capri. Lucky me!’
Nora just stared at her daughter, grey eyes blinking madly.
‘But…but what about his wife?’
‘She’s dead too,’ Veronica said bluntly. ‘Quite a few years ago, apparently.’
‘Oh…’
‘Yes. Oh.’
Her mother just sat there, stunned and speechless.
‘I think, Mum,’ Veronica bit out, her arms crossing angrily as she tried to contain her emotions, ‘That it’s time you told me the truth.’
CHAPTER TWO
LEONARDO EMAILED OFF a copy of the will then settled back down at his desk, trying to put his mind to studying the designs for next year’s winter range. But his mind wouldn’t cooperate. It remained firmly on the call he’d just made to Sydney, Australia.
Who in hell was Veronica Hanson? And why had Laurence never mentioned her?
A great-niece, perhaps? Leonardo speculated. Most people did like to leave their estates to relatives.
Though, if that were the case, why not leave her some money as well? Why just leave her the villa, then leave the rest of his considerable portfolio of cash, bonds and shares to cancer research?
It was a mystery all right.
Hopefully, Miss Hanson’s mother would provide some pertinent information.
Glancing at his watch, Leonardo saw that less than ten minutes had passed since he’d hung up. He could hardly expect a call back this soon.
Unfortunately.
Leonardo’s sigh was one of exasperation. He had no hope of concentrating on anything until he heard back from Miss Hanson. Patience had never been one of his virtues. But he had no alternative on this occasion but to wait.
Still, he didn’t have to wait in here, at his desk, pretending to work. Jumping up, he decided to get himself some coffee, bypassing his PA’s offer to get it for him with the excuse that he needed some air.
Leonardo needed some air a lot. He’d described himself as a businessman to Miss Hanson. But whilst Leonardo had quite enjoyed setting up his top-of-the-range sportswear company—and making a huge success of it—being just a businessman was not the way Leonardo ever saw himself. He was a sportsman, a man of action. A doer, not a pencil pusher. He actually hated offices and desks. Loathed meetings of any kind. And despised sitting for too long.