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‘She is strong,’ Dante said, and they took the elevator down. ‘She’s a Romano.’
Still.
Despite the divorce, his mother had not reverted to her own familial name, but had been given permission by the judge to keep the Romano name. In the vast scheme of things, it had been a minor point, and Dante had not given it much consideration, and neither did he now.
In the car, Ariana sat quietly sobbing as the car threaded its way through chaotic streets; Stefano called Eloa, his fiancée, and told her the sad news.
‘Mamma should have been with him,’ Ariana said as they neared the luxurious Villa Borghese where Angela Romano had a penthouse apartment. ‘It is allherfault.’
‘No,’ Dante said, knowing his sister referred to Mia. ‘There is much we could blame her for, but not Pa’s death. When we get there we need to be...’ His voice trailed off as a couple approaching the apartment building caught his eye. They were holding hands and the woman was suddenly coquettish—hismotherwas suddenly coquettish—running a little forward as the man pulled her, laughing, back to his side. And the man was somewhat familiar, though Dante could not place him... ‘Drive around again,’ Dante ordered the driver, and Stefano looked over at his older brother.
‘Why?’ Stefano asked.
‘I need a moment to gather myself before we tell her.’
Stefano frowned as he ended his call to Eloa and Dante saw the question in his eyes, for usually Dante baulked at nothing. ‘She needs to be told,’ Stefano said. ‘It will soon get out.’
‘Of course she needs to be told,’ Dante agreed, and took out his own phone. ‘But we should alert her first, not just turn up unannounced. That would be too much of a shock...’
He was grasping excuses from thin air as he called his mother and it went straight to messages. He called her again and thankfully this time she picked up.
‘Dante?’ she said.‘Pronto?’
‘Stefano, Ariana and I are on our way to see you.’
‘Why?’
‘Mamma,’ Dante said, ‘we shall be there in a moment.’ He took a breath. ‘We have difficult news to share with you.’
As he ended the call Ariana looked at him accusingly. ‘You are too blunt, Dante. Why would you tell her over the phone?’
‘Because they were married for more than thirty years,’ Dante snapped, his mind whirring from all he had just seen. ‘She might need a private moment to gather herself.’
And to get rid of her lover!
Who was he? Dante could not place the face, but really that was the least of his concerns—he was simply stunned to see his mother with another man. And while, of course, his mother was right to move on with her life and deserved happiness...
He just didn’t want to have found out on this day of all days.
Dante wondered if his mother would have the same consideration as they took the ancient elevator up to the penthouse floor.
Thankfully she had, for there was no sign of her lover when she wrenched the door open.
‘Dante, what on earth are you—’ Then she saw the tear-streaked face of her daughter standing behind him, and the pale features of Stefano.
Angela Romano stood frozen and stunned as realisation hit.
‘Come on,’ Dante said, and led her through the entrance and to the lounge where she took a seat.
‘No, no, no,’ she said.
‘Mamma, it was quick and it was peaceful. He had his dignity right to the end. He was having a meeting with Roberto. I saw him just last night and we were talking and even laughed...’
‘I should have been there to say goodbye to him,’ Angela said, and started to cry.
Yes, Dante thought as he sat with his mother while she wept, she should have been.
‘What happens for the funeral?’ Angela gulped. ‘I haven’t been back to Luctano since...’
