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It helped.
And it helped, perhaps more than it should, to be back in the gorgeous, familiar suite that she hadn’t felt quite ready to leave.
‘It’s good to have you back,’ Sylvia admitted.
‘How have you been, Sylvia?’
‘It’s been very quiet since you left,’ she admitted. ‘Dante has rarely been here. It is a bit of a ghost house really.’
Mia swallowed, for she hated that kind of talk.
‘But we are still here, for now at least,’ Sylvia said. ‘It is good to have someone to cook for. I shall serve lunch at one, if that is okay?’
‘That would be lovely.’
Mia took out the little linen bag that contained the dress and things from when she had flown into Rome.
‘I’ll have these back to you soon.’
‘Thank you, Sylvia.’
After she had gone, Mia looked through the drawers and wardrobes. There wasn’t much.
Her black woollen funeral dress hung in the wardrobe. And black funeral knickers, which had been peeled off by Dante, sat lonely in the top drawer. There was also a pair of grey capri pants and a cream top, and some espadrilles, so at least, after the long drive, she could get into fresh clothes. And there were also some tatty jodhpurs and her very old, short riding boots, which she’d left, meaning for them to be thrown out. The thought of a ride to clear her head was tempting but a rest was even more so and Mia gratefully closed the drapes.
She stretched out, grateful for the reprieve from Dante’s accusations, while understanding his suspicions. After all, she had been married to Rafael for two years, and of course Dante would think it had been for money.
God, how did she tell him the truth without breaking Rafael’s confidence? It was an impossible question, and one that often kept her awake at night. Just as she was drifting off, the buzz of a helicopter approaching had her climbing from the bed.
Recalling what Dante had said about no one landing here, she peeled back one of the drapes just a touch. It wasn’t the press; it was Gian De Luca’s helicopter. Thanks to Sylvia’s observations, Mia recognised it and now watched it land, then swallowed when she saw who stepped out.
Yes, Ariana Romano was gorgeous—stunning, in fact.
And she was clearly furious!
Dante had come out, and was walking towards her as Ariana ran towards him.
‘Oh.’ Mia let out a slight cry as Ariana delivered a vicious slap to his left cheek and then raised her other hand to do the same to the other side, except Dante caught it and words were exchanged.
‘That’s from me,’ Ariana said as she delivered the slap and then raised her other hand. ‘And this is from—’
Dante caught her wrist and didn’t need Ariana to tell him that the second intended strike would have come from his mother.
‘How could you?’ Ariana spat, as Dante held her wrists. ‘Withher!’
‘Stop this,’ Dante demanded.
‘After all she did to our family, to Mamma. I hate you for this, Dante.’
‘Come inside and sit down and we can speak properly.’
‘Is she here?’ Ariana’s voice contorted with disgust. ‘Did you bring that bitch here?’
‘God help him!’ Dante said by way of response, and his sister’s angry tirade was briefly halted.
‘Who?’
‘Whoever ends up with you!’ Dante responded, and then watched as Ariana shook her hands free and with a sob ran back towards the helicopter.
