The Italian's Ruthless Seduction

‘Signor Morelli died last year,’ Luigi told her in sombre tones as he pointed a remote controller at the gate.

‘Yes, I know. I went to his funeral.’

Luigi frowned at her in the rear-vision mirror. ‘You are not a relative.’

‘No. Just a friend.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded sadly. ‘I miss him. I was his driver for the last year of his life. He was a good man.’

‘Yes,’ Bella choked out. ‘He was.’

‘His son is a good man too.’

‘He certainly is,’ Bella agreed, glad to get off the subject of Alberto’s death.

She was almost relieved when the gates were finally open and Luigi’s attention was occupied with negotiating the Mercedes slowly round the crunchy gravel driveway that encircled a huge stone-edged fountain. As a child Bella had been shocked by the flagrant nudity of the three statues at the centre of the fountain. She still found the male statue slightly confronting. His sexual equipment was decidedly larger than normal, which possibly explained the looks of awe on his two female companions. Sergio’s grandfather—who’d been alive and well when Bella had first holidayed at the villa—had claimed that the model for the male statue was a distant ancestor of his who’d built the villa in the sixteenth century. A myth, Sergio had told her later that same day, explaining that the villa had been a monastery back then, the Morelli family not buying it till late in the nineteenth century. The fountain—despite looking centuries old—was a later addition, built just after the First World War.

‘You will learn, dear Izzie,’ Sergio had confessed quietly with a rueful smile, ‘that Italian men are given to boasting and bragging.’

Bella smiled at the memory. Not that she agreed with Sergio entirely. Yes, some Italian men liked to boast and brag. Sergio’s grandfather had been of that ilk and his father to a lesser degree. Alberto had certainly liked showing off his attractive new wife and his pretty little stepdaughter. Sergio, however, didn’t seem to have the need to impress others. Some people would have shouted to the rooftops that they were having the darling of Broadway as a guest in their home. But not Sergio. He’d insisted she tell no one where she was going, not even her mother.

Which suited Bella admirably, peace and privacy her priorities at the moment. She did wonder, however, if he’d told Maria that she was coming to stay.

Bella was still mulling over this question when the car came to a halt at the back entrance to the villa, the woman herself emerging through one of the heavy iron doors, her wide welcoming smile instantly answering that question.

Bella’s somewhat world-weary heart lifted anew at the sight of her. Why, she’d hardly changed at all! A little plumper perhaps but still with that wonderfully happy face, glossy black hair and dancing dark eyes. When Maria hurried down the stairs and held her arms out wide, Bella climbed from the car straight into the warmest, most welcoming hug she’d had in years.

When Maria exclaimed, ‘Oh, it is so good to see you again, Dolores!’ Bella pulled back and almost burst out laughing. Just in time she kept a poker face, understanding that this was all for Luigi’s benefit. Clearly, Maria knew full well who she was, despite the red wig and dark glasses she wore as a disguise.

Bella waited patiently whilst Luigi collected her luggage and carried it inside, after which she thanked him profusely and gave him a generous tip—she’d changed some money in Rome whilst waiting for the next leg of her flight. When he handed her his business card—in case she needed to be driven somewhere whilst she was here—she popped it in her jeans pocket then waved him off. Once he was safely gone, she whipped off the glasses and red wig and shook her fair hair free.

‘Can I be called Bella now?’ she asked Maria, who giggled in that delightfully girlish way Bella remembered.

‘Sì. But is it allowed, now you are rich and famous?’

Bella gave her a look of mock reproach. ‘If you start that nonsense I will have to speak to your employer. Which reminds me, where is Sergio? Is he here yet?’

‘Sì. He is helping Carlo with the garden and the pool. We did not know Sergio was to come here till later in July, so things have been a bit...what you say...neglectful? He said to tell you to go find him after you arrive.’

Bella smiled. She loved the way Maria spoke. Loved her Italian accent. Loved her little mistakes with English words. It was charming. She was charming. This whole place was charming.

‘Oh, Maria!’ she said with a deeply contented sigh. ‘You’ve no idea how happy I am to be here.’