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‘Because I believe the chance to be a parent is worth any risk. And because I believe, even if you were a part-time father, you’d make it work somehow. If you wanted to.’ This man would make anything work. If he wanted to.
There was a silence and then he shook his head. ‘I don’t want to and the best way to ensure that is not to start that sort of relationship. I think I’ll steer clear of love of any kind.’
‘I am not advocating love. Love is a chimera and an illusion, the holy grail that people chase, a word they bandy about when really it’s all about attraction, or money, or fame... I’ve always known that. But when I met Howard I forgot the rules, forgot what I know deep in my bones. I got conned by the illusion. Never again.’ She gave a sudden laugh. ‘Listen to me. In the most romantic place in the world, denouncing love.’
He raised his glass. ‘To non-romance.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’
Once they’d clinked she said, ‘Now how about we talk about something completely different? What’s the detailed itinerary for tomorrow? Cocoa-bean farm in the afternoon? And I was thinking about visiting the royal palace gardens in the morning.’
Luca’s reaction was palpable; his forehead creased into a frown and his lips thin
ned.
‘Unless that doesn’t work for you? There’s no need for you to come to the gardens.’
‘It’s not that. You simply reminded me of something.’ Something important, clearly. ‘Samar, the owner of the farm suggested I get royal endorsement for the chocolate.’
‘That’s a great idea.’ But it did not explain the reason for the grim set to his lips or the fierceness of his scowl.
‘I just need to work out the best person to approach.’ His frown intensified as he glanced at his watch. ‘If it’s OK with you I think I’ll call it a night. I’d better get on with some research and putting a proposal together for this endorsement.’
‘Sure.’ She tried not to feel hurt at the abruptness. ‘I’ve got work to do too.’
Ten minutes later she said goodbye to Luca and entered the cottage, looked round the clean, cool, uncluttered interior. Wicker furniture and white cushions, a sleek wooden desk and a sumptuous double bed.
But she wasn’t tired—a mix of jet lag and a reaction to the conversation she’d just had. Perhaps work would help; she could research tourist spots or finish putting together her Turin photos. As she booted up her computer and pulled up the images she paused, she hovered over a rare shot she had got of Luca. He’d been in the shot accidentally and in fact that made it way better than a posed one. He had been explaining something in the factory, the art of roasting a cocoa bean, and you could see passion and integrity and pride in his stance and features. It would be perfect for his website. Whatever he thought.
Emily frowned and quickly pulled up the website of Palazzo di Cioccolato to study it again, as an idea gathered in her mind.
* * *
Luca awoke the following morning, aware of a strange sense of anticipation. As he swung his legs out of bed he assured himself his mood had nothing to do with Emily Khatri and everything to do with having done something constructive about Jodi.
The previous night he had researched the royal family and the recent film festival. Nowhere had he found any mention of his sister, but he now understood two royal family trees. The Jalpuran one and that of the Mediterranean island of Talonos. The Royal Film Festival was held on each island biannually and covered both Bollywood and European films. The royals from Talonos fronted the European side.
So in terms of friendships, assuming Jodi had been befriended by the younger royals, this narrowed it down on the Jalpuran side to Prince Rohan, Princess Alisha and Princess Riya and on the Talonosian side to Prince Carlos and Prince Juan.
Obviously contacting royalty wasn’t straightforward but he had emailed the royal representative to ask for a meeting about an endorsement. At the meeting, what could be more natural than to mention Jodi? And the beauty of it was there would be no need to involve Emily at all, no need to use her name.
So now he could go and enjoy his time with Emily with a clear conscience. The words replayed in his head. Enjoy his time? No. What he meant was he could focus on the ad campaign. This was business, not a date. He and Emily wanted diametrically different things from a relationship and he would not forget that. Would never risk hurting someone else, especially Emily, who had clearly been hurt badly before. The memory of the sadness in her stance and face brought a frown to his face. If it had been Howard who had caused such hurt, he would take great pleasure in kicking the man round Jalpura, globally renowned photographer or not.
Once dressed in chinos and a T-shirt he left the cottage and headed to the outdoor restaurant area, which had been transformed from its night-time ambience. Now the sun shone on the grass-thatched canopy that trailed flowers down the stilted sides that propped it up. The air was replete with the smell of coffee and an aroma of spice emanated from the heaving buffet table set up to one side.
He waved as he saw Emily emerge from her cottage and soon they were seated. He glanced at her, sensed a certain lightness in her mood and he smiled. Her return smile was so sweet he blinked, felt warmth touch his chest. ‘This looks sumptuous,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I can even eat after last night, but I can.’
They headed for the buffet and returned with heaped plates. ‘It’s strange to eat spicy food at breakfast but somehow here it works.’ Emily spooned tomato chutney onto a piece of her dosa.
‘Last time I came here I vowed I’d learn how to cook some of these recipes.’
‘Have you?’
‘Unfortunately not.’ He’d got home and soon after that his world had imploded with the death of his father.
‘Do you cook a lot?’
‘A fair bit; I like coming up with new recipes, but nothing on this scale.’ He looked down at his plate with the idlis—rice flour cakes served with a spicy dal sambar.
