Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,47

the doctor say?’

‘The usual.’

‘Which is?’ Dante pushed, troubled by his appearance.

‘I am to take up a hobby.’ Roberto gave a wry laugh. ‘Start walking, stop smoking, cut down on whisky.’

‘And are you going to take his advice?’

‘I am pondering it,’ Roberto sighed. ‘He says it is common for a man to become depressed when he retires. Now, what can I do for you, Dante?’ Roberto asked as he took a seat at his desk.

‘I’m not sure,’ Dante admitted. ‘It’s regarding Mia.’

‘She’s not contesting the will, is she?’ Roberto frowned.

‘No,’ Dante said, ‘There are bigger issues than that to be faced. I found out last night that Mia is pregnant.’

‘No.’ Roberto immediately shook his head. ‘That is not possible.’

‘Well, she’s told me that she is.’

‘Then she is a fool to play that game.’ Roberto angrily thumped the desk. The usually reasonable lawyer was suddenly angry. ‘Why will she not let Rafael rest? Tell her from me there will be no quick settlement. A simple DNA test—’

‘No, no,’ Dante interrupted, ‘Roberto, you misunderstand. She is not saying the baby is my father’s. The fact is...I slept with Mia.’

‘You?’

‘Yes.’ Dante knew how it sounded, but he never played coy and certainly not with the family lawyer. ‘On the night of the funeral.’

‘But you used protection?’ Roberto checked, confident he had, for Dante was no fool.

‘No.’

‘Dante!’ Roberto let out a long weary breath, but then rallied.

‘Then I give to you the same advice that I gave a moment ago. Until there is a report from a doctor stating that she is pregnant, we do nothing. And the same until we get the DNA result. She probably isn’t pregnant and just trying for a quick settlement...’

‘Mia is pregnant.’ Dante was adamant in his defence of her.

‘Well, it might not be yours. I had a client once where the woman—’

‘Roberto,’ Dante interrupted angrily, already sick of the inferences and hearing Roberto doubt the baby was his. ‘How many times do I have to say it? Mia is pregnant and the baby is mine.’

‘Calm down.’ Roberto frowned, no doubt unused to seeing Dante like this.

Except Dante was not calm.

‘We’ll sort it.’ Roberto attempted to soothe him.

But his talks of settlements and alimony did nothing to soothe Dante.

‘Just back off,’ Dante said, even though he had been the one to seek out Roberto’s counsel. ‘I will deal with Mia.’ And he would, but for now he had other questions he had come here to ask. ‘Roberto, I need to ask you something. Did my mother have an affair?’

‘What’s this got to do with Mia being pregnant?’

‘You tell me,’ Dante returned. ‘I don’t get how the divorce was so quick and so clean when they’d had thirty-three years together.’

‘Because both sides wanted a clean break and both sets of lawyers worked hard to facilitate that.’

‘But was my mother the one having the affair? Is that why it was all rushed through, in a misplaced effort to save my father’s pride?’

‘Leave it, Dante.’

‘Why? You must have helped arrange this marriage of convenience between my father and Mia. Was it to save face because my mother was the one who was about to leave?’

‘Just leave things, Dante. Please. Let your father rest.’

‘No.’ Dante was as belligerent as he was frustrated and he pushed back the chair and stood. ‘I want answers, and if you refuse to give them to me then I’ll go elsewhere.’

‘Come back here,’ Roberto said, but as Dante stormed off he followed him. ‘Just let things be,’ he called from his door as Dante climbed into his car.

But Dante wasn’t listening. He refused to let things be.

Mia wouldn’t tell him, and neither would Roberto.

That only left one person.

His mother was due back from her cruise today.

Indeed, all roads led to Rome.

He would not be driving, though. Dante called Sarah, asking her to send his helicopter, right now, this minute, to return him to Rome.

‘There are storms forecast,’ Sarah said, though Dante didn’t want to hear it. But then Dante, who had never known fear, felt its sudden arrival at speed, for as he drove, he caught a glimpse of a rider in his fields, and slowing down he saw that it was Mia, riding Massimo. Through the poppy fields she cantered and the pair of them looked stunning, the black horse gleaming against the red poppies and a thundery navy sky. But though Mia appeared to be handling him with ease, the fact was she was pregnant.

He halted the car in the middle of the road and climbed