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She disappeared into the kitchen, smiling shyly at the staff who’d obviously witnessed some sort of romantic moment, though not the details. She assembled leftovers from the dinner into several takeaway containers, placed them in a plastic bag then rejoined Gabe.
“What’s this?”
“Your dinner. You did pay fifty thousand dollars for it, after all.”
“I paid for the opportunity to see you,” he said with a lopsided smile, opening the door for Isabella.
“You don’t want the food?”
“On the contrary, it smells amazing, but it’s not why I’m here.”
She laughed again. “I gathered.”
On the sidewalk outside the restaurant, he kissed the tip of her nose then lifted a hand in a silent gesture to his driver.
“Where are we going?” He asked, as Isabella slid in.
“Anywhere.” She blinked up at him, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.
He stared down at her, nodding once. “As long as it’s together.”
It was exactly as Isabella felt. In the depths of her soul, beyond any shadows that might allow doubt, she knew her life would be spent with this man, and more than that, just as she’d hoped when she’d set off on this trip, on a quest to discover her roots and heritage, she’d found her way to her home, and to family – and to everlasting happiness too.
“I told you it was for
you.” Paula Montebello held out the recipe book, a knowing smile on her beautiful, lined face.
Isabella’s expression matched Yaya’s as she swept across the entranceway of Villa Fortune, Gabe at her side.
“And I knew you would be back,” she said with a wink at Gabe.
Gabe grimaced. “I wish I had shared your confidence. Until New York, I had no idea if Isabella would ever be able to forgive me for my stupidity.”
“We are all stupid when we are in love,” Yaya said with a grin.
“Even you?”
“Oh, the stupidest of them all,” she put a frail hand on Isabella’s forearm and leaned closer. “Come, let us have some lunch and I will tell you all about it.”
“I’d like that, Paula.”
“Please, you must call me Yaya. You’re family now.”
Family. The word buzzed in Isabella’s mind as the three of them made their way to the pool, where a table had been set for lunch. It was a clear day, and despite the season, the sun lent some warmth to the space.
She’d come to Italy looking for the truth about her own family and instead she’d found her way home – and she’d never been happier.
Six months later
Samir stared at the email with a flash of impatience.
From: Fiero Montebello
To: HRH Samir al Husseini
Subject: Our grandmother
Samir,
