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Oh, Veronica. You should have told him no straight away. You should have put an end to this once and for all. Tell him tonight. Be strong. Be firm. Now, ring the airline and make an earlier booking. You need to go home ASAP. Before it’s too late.
* * *
She didn’t ring the airline, of course. She procrastinated, spending the next couple of hours going through the drawers in her father’s desk, looking for Lord knew what. She didn’t find anything enlightening, only the typical stuff you found in household drawers. Papers of every kind, copies of old bills, receipts for things bought over the years, pamphlets and brochures. There wasn’t anything about her, or his will. After that, she tried to
open his computer but it had shut down again, and she needed his password, which she didn’t have. She hadn’t thought to ask Leonardo to write it down but she would tonight, if and when he rang.
She wasn’t so sure that he would ring. Out of sight was possibly out of mind where Leonardo was concerned. Not so in her own case. He was constantly in her mind, her thoughts troubling her. For they were no longer thoughts of lust but…dared she think it?…thoughts of love…?
Her memory recalled several times during the night when their love-making had taken on a highly emotional edge. At least for her it had, especially when she’d followed through with her idea to be the one in control. That was a laugh. She had never been in control. Not once, either of her body or her soul. It seemed it was impossible for her to be that intimate with this man and not have her heart join the proceedings.
Leonardo himself made it extremely difficult for her to remain the sexual sophisticate she’d vowed to be. His passion was her undoing, plus his tenderness, especially after she was recovering after yet another explosive climax. He would always hold her close and murmur sweet nothings in her ear. He didn’t tell her he loved her, instead using other euphemisms which any foolish female would swoon to. Sometimes he talked to her in Italian, possibly saying dirty things. She had no way of knowing. But the words didn’t sound dirty. They sounded…romantic. No matter how much Veronica tried to tell herself this was just lust between them, she no longer believed it. Not on her side, anyway.
Leonardo, of course, was a different story. He was an accomplished seducer. And lover. A playboy, let her never forget. He operated in the bedroom on autopilot, knowing exactly what to say and do. Yes, he wanted to see her again. Why not when the chemistry between them was so good? Clearly, he hadn’t had his fill yet.
Veronica knew that to spend another weekend with him, this time in Rome being wined, dined and romanced, would be very silly indeed. At the same time, how could she resist it?
Oh, Lord…
Sighing, Veronica rose from her father’s desk and went in search of further distraction. She found some in a pile of photo albums she discovered on the top shelf of the linen press. They were numbered from one to five, tracing Laurence’s life from when he’d been a baby. Veronica soon became engrossed in them, marvelling at how much they’d looked alike as infants before their different sexes had too much of an influence. It was also a shock to see a mirror image of herself in his mother. Clearly, the maternal genes had been the dominant ones, Laurence’s father being a very ordinary-looking man with pale eyes and hair.
Each album showed her father at a different stage in his life. She went through them slowly, enjoying the glimpses into Laurence’s life at various stages. His school years, then his days at university, where it seemed he must have been quite good at athletics. There were several photos of him running in races, a few of him crossing the line in first place. Veronica had been quite a good runner herself at school, though she preferred skiing.
Album number three was totally devoted to his wedding to Ruth and their honeymoon, which had obviously been spent in Italy. They’d toured most of the major cities, as well as visits to Sicily and Capri. Possibly this was where their love affair with the island had started. Album four covered the middle years of their marriage, with lots of pictures of Laurence at work and Ruth in her garden. Veronica gasped when she saw a group shot taken at a party, with her mother in the background serving drinks. What surprised her most was that she was smiling. It made Veronica wonder if this was after she’d fallen pregnant. Nora had always claimed that the day she’d found out she was expecting was the happiest day of her life. Laurence wasn’t in the same photograph, but Ruth was, smiling her usual warm smile at the camera.
Album five followed the later years of their marriage, including snaps of various holidays, plus lots of the renovations they’d made to this villa. It had been a bit of a wreck when they’d bought it, though the view had always been great. This last album wasn’t full, ending abruptly with a photo of Ruth looking very fragile, and Laurence hovering protectively behind her chair, his violet eyes worried.
Veronica suspected that Laurence’s will to live had died with his wife’s death. She wouldn’t mind betting that that was when he’d started drinking heavily. Sad, really. If only he’d reached out to her instead of killing himself slowly. They could have become friends. She could have given him a reason to live. Instead, he’d just withered on the vine, so to speak, not caring about his health or his long-lost daughter. Leonardo seemed to be the only person in the world he cared about. And that was possibly only surface caring.
Or was it?
Veronica’s anger at her father’s actions regarding herself was making her judge him harshly with others. Clearly, he’d been very fond of Leonardo. And very trusting of him as a man. You didn’t make a person executor of your will if you didn’t have good faith in their integrity and honesty.
Honesty and integrity were not words she normally associated with playboys. Yet, strangely, they did seem to apply to Leonardo. Just because he wasn’t in a hurry to marry and have children didn’t mean he wasn’t a good person. He had remarked more than once that she had no reason to think so badly of him. Veronica vowed to be fairer in her assessment of his character in future. Though fairer did not mean stupider. It was still risky to keep on seeing him. She really didn’t want to fall for him any more deeply than she already had. At the moment, her heart was still relatively safe. Leaving Leonardo would hurt, but she would survive.
As Veronica closed the last album and put it on top of the pile, something slipped out of the back pages and fluttered to the ground. It was a small photograph, she saw on picking it up. Of herself as a newborn baby. On the back was written her name, her date of birth and her birth weight. Nothing else.
Had her mother sent it? Or had her father hired another detective agency all those years ago?
Only one way to find out for sure, she supposed.
Veronica carried the photograph into the bedroom where she’d left her phone. She tried to work out what time it was in Australia but she had no idea; her brain seemed to have gone on holiday. She’d just have to take a chance that her mother wasn’t asleep, because she simply couldn’t wait.
Her mother answered fairly quickly, and without sounding fuzzy.
‘You’re still awake,’ Veronica said, guessing that it had to be close to midnight.
‘I never go to bed too early. You know that. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong. I just need to ask you something.’
‘What?’
‘Did you send my father a photograph of me after I was born?’
‘What? Oh, yes, actually, I did. It was one of his conditions. But I wasn’t to send it to his house. It went to his place of work back in London. He was worried that his wife might find it by mistake.’
‘So he did care about me, then?’
