Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,43

reminded himself.

Arriving at the residence, Sylvia greeted them warmly, except she flushed a little when she spoke. ‘It is good to see you, Signora Romano...’ Her voice trailed off and Mia knew she had seen the salacious articles. ‘How have you been?’

‘Very well, thank you.’

‘Should I take your case up to Suite al Limone? Or...?’ Her eyes flicked to Dante.

‘I’ll be staying in Suite al Limone,’ Mia responded quickly, feeling exquisitely uncomfortable. ‘I’ll take my own case up.’

‘Mia,’ Dante suggested, ‘why don’t you have a rest, then freshen up and get changed for lunch...?’

‘Get changed?’ Her laughter was slightly hysterical. ‘It’s this or a ballgown, Dante. I didn’t exactly come prepared to be hidden away in Luctano.’

But Luctano was a little more prepared than she was.

‘You left a few clothes in the laundry,’ Sylvia said as she followed Mia up the stairs to the suite. ‘When Dante called, I remembered them, and I have put them in the cupboards and drawers. You can give me any laundry you have.’

‘Thank you.’

‘What happened to your leg?’ Sylvia asked.

‘It’s nothing.’ Mia blushed and glanced down to the foyer where Dante was still standing, but then she caught Dante’s eye and he gave her that gorgeous slow smile that said he knew it was hard for the wife of Rafael Romano to be back, mired in scandal with his reprobate son, and he could be kind when he chose.

It helped.

And it helped, perhaps more than it should, to be back in the gorgeous, familiar suite that she hadn’t felt quite ready to leave.

‘It’s good to have you back,’ Sylvia admitted.

‘How have you been, Sylvia?’

‘It’s been very quiet since you left,’ she admitted. ‘Dante has rarely been here. It is a bit of a ghost house really.’

Mia swallowed, for she hated that kind of talk.

‘But we are still here, for now at least,’ Sylvia said. ‘It is good to have someone to cook for. I shall serve lunch at one, if that is okay?’

‘That would be lovely.’

Mia took out the little linen bag that contained the dress and things from when she had flown into Rome.

‘I’ll have these back to you soon.’

‘Thank you, Sylvia.’

After she had gone, Mia looked through the drawers and wardrobes. There wasn’t much.

Her black woollen funeral dress hung in the wardrobe. And black funeral knickers, which had been peeled off by Dante, sat lonely in the top drawer. There was also a pair of grey capri pants and a cream top, and some espadrilles, so at least, after the long drive, she could get into fresh clothes. And there were also some tatty jodhpurs and her very old, short riding boots, which she’d left, meaning for them to be thrown out. The thought of a ride to clear her head was tempting but a rest was even more so and Mia gratefully closed the drapes.

She stretched out, grateful for the reprieve from Dante’s accusations, while understanding his suspicions. After all, she had been married to Rafael for two years, and of course Dante would think it had been for money.

God, how did she tell him the truth without breaking Rafael’s confidence? It was an impossible question, and one that often kept her awake at night. Just as she was drifting off, the buzz of a helicopter approaching had her climbing from the bed.

Recalling what Dante had said about no one landing here, she peeled back one of the drapes just a touch. It wasn’t the press; it was Gian De Luca’s helicopter. Thanks to Sylvia’s observations, Mia recognised it and now watched it land, then swallowed when she saw who stepped out.

Yes, Ariana Romano was gorgeous—stunning, in fact.

And she was clearly furious!

Dante had come out, and was walking towards her as Ariana ran towards him.

‘Oh.’ Mia let out a slight cry as Ariana delivered a vicious slap to his left cheek and then raised her other hand to do the same to the other side, except Dante caught it and words were exchanged.

‘That’s from me,’ Ariana said as she delivered the slap and then raised her other hand. ‘And this is from—’

Dante caught her wrist and didn’t need Ariana to tell him that the second intended strike would have come from his mother.

‘How could you?’ Ariana spat, as Dante held her wrists. ‘With her!’

‘Stop this,’ Dante demanded.

‘After all she did to our family, to Mamma. I hate you for this, Dante.’

‘Come inside and sit down and we can speak properly.’

‘Is she here?’ Ariana’s voice contorted with disgust. ‘Did you bring that