Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,19

and was her usual dignified, inscrutable self.

Of course, there was no doubt in Dante’s mind that she would contest the will and he didn’t care if she did.

He would simply set his lawyers onto her like hungry hounds for however long it took, and let her burn through her inheritance in fees.

Roberto continued to speak.

‘He hopes his family will continue to represent him at the annual Romano Foundation Ball.’ Dante glanced at his mother, whose lips pursed. Well, he could remember her tears at having to miss the glamorous ball, which had always been her night of nights and, as his father would say, Angela was not just the belle of the ball, but the belle of Roma in the lead-up to it.

He looked at Mia who, as his widow, would naturally be hostess each year until she married again, but he saw no reaction in her features. Or possibly there was, because her ears were a little pink. She shifted in her seat, so that she turned her back to him just a little, and he realised she must have felt him watching her.

Yet still he watched.

He looked at her lips, still a touch swollen, and those eyes still devoid of tears. He wanted to take her by the hand, leave the whole sorry mess behind, and carry her up to his suite and lose himself in her.

Instead Dante listened as Roberto spoke on.

‘He trusts his children to oversee it with diligence and care...’ Roberto put down the paperwork for a moment and took a drink of water before resuming the reading. ‘There is to be a personal donation of one million euros to his favourite charity...’ As Roberto named it, Dante suppressed a wry smile that retired racehorses would get more than Mia!

Yes, there was black humour in dark days.

When Roberto had concluded the reading of the last will and testament there were drinks for those who wanted them, but most did not.

Stefano and Eloa drove with Luigi and his wife back to their house, and a short while later Dante walked his mother and Ariana out. ‘I will be over to Luigi’s later,’ Dante said to her. ‘But first I want to speak with Roberto.’

‘Don’t come over on my behalf, Dante.’ Angela shook her head then addressed her daughter. ‘Ariana, tell Gian that I shall just be a moment.’

‘Gian?’ Dante checked, for his mother did not like Gian, especially since his father’s second wedding.

‘Ariana and I are heading back to Rome tonight; I asked Gian if he could take us.’

‘But my pilot is here. Why didn’t you ask me to organise him?’

‘I didn’t know if you were staying or going.’ Angela shrugged. ‘I just want to get away, it is too painful to be here. Ariana...’ She looked over again. ‘Go and let Gian know I shan’t be long.’

But first Dante gave his sister a kiss. ‘Are you okay?’ he checked, troubled, for since the funeral Ariana had been terribly withdrawn.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Are you staying with Mamma tonight?’

‘I think Mamma just wants to be alone,’ Ariana said. ‘I might go to Nicki’s.’

Nicki was a friend of Ariana’s who ran a little wild, and wouldn’t be the most calming influence. ‘Stay here,’ he suggested, but Ariana gave him a wide-eyed look. ‘I didn’t mean here in the house. I meant at Luigi’s, or at the hotel.’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I just want to go back to Rome.’

‘You’re sure?’ he checked.

‘Very.’

Dante decided he preferred Ariana feisty and argumentative and was worried as his dejected-looking sister headed off. ‘Keep an eye on her, Mamma.’

‘Of course.’ Angela nodded. ‘I am going to go.’

‘First hear this,’ Dante said. ‘As soon as Mia is out and everything has been settled, I shall transfer the house to your name. I am sure he left it to me rather than you so that if she contests the will, as I expect her to, there is less chance she will win. It is rightfully yours and—’

‘I don’t want the house, Dante,’ Angela cut in.

Dante was stunned.

She had wept over this house. Sobbed to Ariana how she missed being at home. Cried at the wake and said she had ached for two years to be back in Luctano.

‘Surely you want it. You said—’

Again she cut in. ‘Dante, I have done my time here. It is beautiful, yes, but I don’t want the headache of the endless staff it takes to run the residence, the grounds, the stables, the vines. This house is a labour of love,