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Why he felt different.
Yet outwardly nothing had changed. Heat sizzled off the parched earth and the sky was a dazzling blue as he stared at the huge, old, cloistered villa set in a magnificent piece of land where his family’s silver business was housed. Here, artisans who had been with the company for most of their working lives lovingly created silver heirlooms using traditional methods which had never been bettered.
And every spring students would flock from all ove
r the world to learn their craft at the hands of experts. From these students would be drawn fresh blood and talent which would keep the Calverri business running long into the next century.
Giovanni sighed as he made his way to his secretary’s office. His heart was heavy, and the burden of guilt weighed down on him like lead. Soon he was going to have to face Anna and he just didn’t know what he was going to say to her.
His secretary looked up as he came in, and her eyes widened with pleasure.
‘Giovanni, you’re late!’ she exclaimed, her smile of welcome dying on her lips as she saw the look on his face. ‘What has happened?’ she questioned. ‘Is something wrong?’
Was it that apparent, then? What had happened to his ability to hide his feelings—to present a cool, remote kind of demeanour—so that people never knew what he was thinking?
‘A long journey,’ he said, and shrugged, picking up a handful of documents in a gesture designed to guard against further intrusion. ‘What needs to be gone through? I had better catch up on whatever is urgent, and then I must go and see Anna.’
His secretary smiled. Once she had entertained romantic notions about Giovanni herself, but then reality had set in. He was her boss—an untouchable god of a man. And she adored Anna. Everyone did.
‘Did that order go off to Texas?’ he quizzed.
‘As scheduled.’ She nodded.
‘And what of the Scandinavian project?’
‘Better than expected.’ She smiled back.
His satisfied nod was more automatic than genuine, and he worked away with a quiet determination until all the backlog was cleared and he knew he could put off the moment of truth no longer. He rose to his feet.
‘I will see you tomorrow, Gabriella.’
His secretary narrowed her eyes in silent question, but said nothing other than, ‘Sí, Giovanni.’ And she sat watching as he left the office, disturbed only by the sudden intrusion of the telephone, which she picked up.
‘Pronto!’
On the other end of the line, Kate felt her nerve nearly fail her, but some dogged determination drove her on. ‘Do you…do you speak English?’ she enquired falteringly.
‘But of course!’ There was a slight pause. ‘Who do you wish to speak to?’
Kate drew a deep breath, and the name came out in a gush. ‘Giovanni Calverri! Is he there, please?’
‘Who is calling?’
Kate thought how frosty the voice had become. Should she leave her name? ‘Is he there, please?’ she asked again.
There was a loud, undisguised sigh, as if the person at the other end of the line had scant patience with unknown women who refused to say who they were.
‘No, he is not here!’
‘And are you expecting him back?’
‘Not today.’ There was a pause. ‘Signor Calverri has been in England.’
I know! Kate bit the words back.
‘And has only just arrived back.’ Another pause. ‘So obviously, the very first thing on his mind was to go and see his fiancée.’
His fiancée? ‘Oh, I see,’ said Kate faintly, as, with a slow, sinking pain in her heart, she put the receiver down without another word.
