The Sicilian's Secret Son

On the wall, black cast-iron letters spelt out ‘Tenuta Cavallari.’ Cavallari Estate.

The driver reached his arm out and punched a code into a keypad affixed to a freestanding stone column.

And then they were moving again, the vehicle picking up speed as they travelled along a sealed road through a lush landscape of meadows, orchards, and olive groves.

Annah tried not to let her eyes pop.

Or her mouth gape.

She eyed the long, perfectly straight rows of grapevines on the hills out to the east. ‘Do you make wine to sell commercially?’ she asked, swivelling her gaze to meet Luca’s over the top of Ethan’s head.

‘Yes. We export mainly within the EU, plus a small amount to North America. Our chief winemaker has worked for the family for over thirty years.’ He indicated the extensive olive groves on the other side of the valley. ‘We export our olive oils, too.’

Although Annah preferred not to think about her visit to the Cavallari Enterprises offices in London, she cast her mind back and tried to recall what the company specialised in. ‘Isn’t the company’s main business transportation?’

‘Yes. And warehousing.’

‘So the olive oil and winemaking are just side businesses?’

‘They have been up until now. But I intend to expand both operations so they’re competitive with the largest producers on the island.’

She wondered if that was Luca’s way of stamping his mark on the family business. A deliberate move to take things in a different direction than his father had. She looked out across the valley. ‘Where’s the winery?’

‘On another part of the estate. It has its own access so people can buy direct from the cellar door at certain times of the year.’

She turned back to Luca. ‘I can imagine people falling over themselves to hold their wedding receptions or private functions in a setting like this,’ she said, enthusiasm creeping into her voice despite herself. ‘If you offered a venue as stunning as the surroundings, I’m sure you’d have a flood of interest.’

Luca raised his eyebrows. ‘My winery manager said something remarkably similar when he presented his expansion plan recently.’

Annah turned her gaze out the window again, picturing a romantic wedding with the vines and the green hills and olive groves as a backdrop.

Ironically, given she often worked with brides, she didn’t think of herself as romantic. Who had time for romance with a business to run and a child to raise single-handedly? That wasn’t to say she didn’t feel happy for her clients. She did. But a small, cynical part of her always wondered how long each marriage would last. If the couple’s love would be strong enough to weather the inevitable storms of life. Her mother seemed to fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat, although Annah suspected it wasn’t so much the man but the illusion of security and the thrill of being wanted that Rachel Sinclair fell in love with.

Annah’s cynical outlook on relationships horrified Chloe, but Chloe was lucky. She had amazing parents who still adored each other after thirty years of marriage. An older brother blissfully married to his high school sweetheart, their third child on the way.

It was easy to believe in happily-ever-after when you grew up surrounded by it.

Not so easy when your mother was an incurable relationship junkie.

The SUV crested another rise and a stone wall similar to the one at the estate’s perimeter came into view. Annah craned her neck and saw another wrought-iron gate ahead, this one more decorative than the last. It slid open as they approached, and she glimpsed a man on the other side. She peered at him through the window, tension creeping down her spine. Was he wearing a shoulder holster with a gun?

The SUV stopped and the man braced his hands on its roof and ducked his head to speak with Mario. Annah’s chest tightened. She hadn’t imagined it; tucked against the man’s side under his left arm, secured in a leather holster, was a handgun.

A chill swept through her body.

The estate is perfectly safe. Wasn’t that what Luca had told her? Or, if not those exact words, something to that effect?

If it was safe, why was it guarded by armed men?

A gut-churning mix of anxiety and anger turned her body hot and then cold again. She clenched her hands and jammed them under her arms to hide their trembling. She dared not look at Luca in case fury showed on her face and Ethan witnessed it.

The SUV moved again, climbing a long driveway lined with tall cypress trees before stopping in a gravelled courtyard in front of a huge villa.

Annah threw off her seat belt and unbuckled Ethan. She sensed Luca trying to catch her eye but ignored him. Mario opened her door. She climbed out and turned to reach for Ethan, but he was already scrambling out unaided. And then Luca was beside her, his hand brushing the small of her back to guide her forward. Anger and a sizzling awareness of his touch had her spine stiffening. Avoiding his probing gaze, she took hold of Ethan’s hand, anchoring herself with the familiar feel of her son’s little fingers tucked within hers.

At the villa’s entrance stood an older man in a smart suit and two women in domestic uniforms.

‘Annah, this is Victor,’ Luca said smoothly. ‘Our butler and the head of the household staff.’