Miranda Lee - The Italian's Unexpected Love-Child

‘I’m sorry, I cannot answer those questions, Miss Hanson. I am as baffled as you are. But at least he left you his villa.’

‘Yes. I’ve been thinking about that too. Why leave me anything at all? And why this villa? On the island of Capri, of all places. He must have had a reason. He was a highly intelligent man, from the sounds of things.’

Something teased at the back of Leonardo’s mind. Something about the last day he’d talked to Laurence. But the thought didn’t stick. He would think about it some more later, when he was calmer.

‘Maybe he just wanted to give you something of value,’ he suggested.

‘Then why not just give me money? From reading his will, I gather he had plenty.’

‘I must admit that thought had occurred to me too, Miss Hanson.’

‘Oh, please stop calling me that. My name is Veronica.’

‘Very well. Veronica,’ he said, and found himself smiling for some reason. ‘And you must call me Leonardo. Or Leo, if you prefer. I know Australians like to shorten names.’

‘I prefer Leonardo,’ she said. ‘It sounds more... Italian.’

Leonardo laughed. ‘I am Italian.’

‘You speak beautiful English.’

‘Grazie.’

‘And grazie to you too. Now... I have made a decision about the villa. I appreciate your offer to buy it, Leonardo. And I will sell you the villa. Eventually . But, first, I want to come and stay there for a while. Not too long. Just long enough to find out all I can about my father...’

CHAPTER FIVE

EXCITEMENT FIZZED IN Veronica’s stomach as the ferry left Sorrento on its twenty-minute ride to Capri. The day was glorious, not a cloud in the sky, the water a sparkling and very inviting blue.

It had taken two weeks for her to organise this trip. She hadn’t wanted to leave her patients in the lurch by departing abruptly so she’d seen them all one more time—or contacted them by phone—telling them that she was taking a much-needed holiday.

Naturally, she hadn’t been about to blurt out the truth behind her trip to Italy. That would have set a cat among the pigeons, sparking far too many questions. They’d all been sweetly understanding, bringing her to tears on a couple of occasions, because they mistakenly thought she was still grieving Jerome’s death.

Which she had been, in a way. For far too long.

But not any more.

Finding out about her real father had been a big shock. But it had also given her the impetus to stop living her life like some mourning widow. Hence her new and rather colourful wardrobe, which had put a serious dent in her savings. But how could she come to this gorgeous and glamorous island looking drab and dreary?

Veronica refused to concede that the effort she’d made with her appearance had anything to do with Leonardo Fabrizzi. As nice as he’d been to her on the phone, he still was what he’d always been. A player.

Curiosity had sent Veronica looking him up on various social media sites and there’d been plenty to look at. Since his retirement from competitive downhill racing, Leonardo had made a name for himself in the world of fashion, Fabrizzi being considered the name in active wear. His company had boutiques in all the main cities in Europe, as well as one in New York. Veronica noted that the press articles didn’t call them shops or stores. No. Boutiques they were called, the kind where only the rich and famous could afford to shop.

Aside from news about his business acumen, it showed Leonardo had also led a very active social life, his name connected with many beautiful women of the type wealthy playboys invariably attracted. Models. Actresses. Heiresses. He’d had countless gorgeous creatures on his arm over the years—and undoubtedly in his bed. Leopards didn’t change their spots. And neither had Leo the Lion.

It was feminine pride, Veronica told herself, which had made her put her best foot forward today. And her best face. All women liked to feel attractive, especially when in the company of a man as handsome and as charismatic as Leonardo Fabrizzi.

And she would be in his company within the next half an hour. Leonardo had made all the arrangements with Veronica over the phone. He was going to meet her at the dock then take her straight to the villa which, she’d learned, was perched above the Hotel Fabrizzi, a small establishment which Leonardo’s parents had been running for over a decade.

This news had surprised Veronica as she’d learned via the Internet that the Fabrizzis were from Milan, Leonardo’s grandfather having set up a textile manufacturing company after the war, becoming extremely wealthy over the years. He’d had two sons and heirs, Stephano and Alberto. What she hadn’t learned—though admittedly she hadn’t looked very hard—was what had happened after the grandfather had died. After all, she was coming to Capri to find out about her own father’s history, not Leonardo’s.

Thinking once more of the reason behind this trip made her heart beat faster. Soon, hopefully, she’d have answers to all the questions this unexpected inheritance had raised. Soon, she’d find out everything she wanted to know about her biological father. What he’d looked like. What he’d liked. What he’d been like !

Veronica no longer harboured any lingering anger over her mother’s lies. What was done was done. No point in going on and on about it. The blame—if there was any blame—lay at her father’s feet. Okay, so she was still upset at his not having contacted her earlier. After all, if he had wanted to keep his identity a secret, why leave her his home in his will?

This was the question which bothered her the most. His leaving her this villa.

Why, Dad? Why ?

Her heart caught at finding herself calling him Dad like that. Caught, then turned over. She’d never called the student from Latvia Dad , not even in her thoughts. He’d just been the sperm donor. Not a real person. Just some tadpoles in a test tube. She’d never tried to picture what he looked like. She’d blanked her mind to him. Not so Laurence Hargraves. He was real in her head. Very real. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Tears pricked at her eyes, filling them quickly then threatening to spill over. When the girl seated across from her on the ferry started staring at her, Veronica found a smile from somewhere, blinking the tears away before pulling her phone from her straw bag. She’d promised her mum she would take photos of everything and send them to her.

So she did, starting with the ferry, the sea and the approaching island.

* * *

Leonardo wasn’t on the pier waiting for her. Instead there was a middle-aged man holding a sign with her name on it. He looked very Italian, with curly black hair and dark eyes. Clearly, he didn’t know what Veronica looked like, as he was scouring the crowd of tourists with a worried look on his face.

When she walked right up to him and introduced herself, his face broke into a radiant smile.

‘Signora Hanson,’ he said with a thick Italian accent, dark eyes dancing. ‘Why, you are molto bella ! Leonardo should have told me.’

Veronica smiled. She didn’t speak Italian but she could recognise a compliment when she heard one.

‘Where is Leonardo?’ she asked, disappointed at his no-show.

‘He said to tell you he is sorry. He was held up. Business. He is flying in soon.’

‘ Flying in? But there is no airport on Capri.’

‘There is a helipad. At Anacapri. I am to give you a sightseeing tour then take you there to meet him. Here. Let me take your luggage.’ He tossed the sign with her name on it in a nearby bin.

Veronica didn’t have the heart to tell him she didn’t really want a sightseeing tour, so she just smiled and said, ‘How lovely,’ then climbed into the back of a long yellow convertible that looked like a relic from an early Elvis Presley film.