‘Of course I do. Charming fellow—got married shortly after Charlotte.’
‘But his wife left him pretty quickly, stupid woman,’ said Grace, eyeing her daughter. ‘You got on with him very well at the wedding, I seem to remember.’
Rose nodded. ‘He was great fun.’
Tom shook his head in disapproval. ‘I shall have words with my daughter next time she rings. Now, tell me why she was so determined to get you to Florence. Lord knows she’s asked you often enough before, so what made this occasion so different?’
‘Tom,’ said Grace gently, ‘perhaps Rose thinks Charlotte should tell you that.’
Rose sighed. ‘I do, but on the other hand, Tom, if it’s going to worry you it’s pointless to keep you in the dark.’ She recounted Charlotte’s suspicions about Fabio, followed by her remorse afterwards when she discovered the truth. ‘Fabio insisted I should stay at the hotel anyway, all expenses paid.’
Grace shook her head in wonder. ‘How on earth could Charlotte suspect Fabio of straying? The man adores her!’
‘And spoils her far more than I ever did,’ said Tom and raised an eyebrow at Rose. ‘So where does Fortinari come into this?’
‘He volunteered to show me round Florence.’ Rose smiled brightly. ‘Which was kind. I would have been a bit lost on my own.’
‘I should damn well think you would.’ Tom got up to hold out his hand to Grace. ‘Come on, love, we must let this girl get to bed. She looks done in.’
‘I could stay, if you like, Rose, and get up with Bea if she’s wakeful tonight?’ her mother offered.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Rose, laughing. ‘You’ve done more than enough, both of you. Though I’m afraid I’ll need you tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours, Mum, if you can? A client got in touch while I was away so I’m driving to see her.’
‘Of course.’ Grace kissed her daughter good-night, and thanked her again for the presents. ‘You shouldn’t have been so extravagant.’
Rose smiled. ‘Dante got a far better price for them than I would have done, and in any case it was Fabio’s money.’
‘Then we’ll both enjoy our booty free of guilt,’ said Tom, eyes twinkling.
* * *
Later Rose checked on her sleeping child, longing to kiss the rosy cheek but too tired to risk waking her up. Yawning, she went next door to her own room, glad to crawl into bed. It had been an odd sort of holiday. The stay in Florence had been too short, the air travel too tiring and her taste of the dolce vita with Dante too unsettling. It would take effort to knuckle down to routine again. Not that she had a choice. And though most people, like Dante, thought her job boring, her travels to meet with clients made it far less so than being confined to an office all day. As she reached to turn out the light her phone rang.
‘Rose?’ said a husky, unmistakable voice.
She sat bolt upright. ‘Dante!’
‘Did all go well on your journey?’
‘It did, and now I’m back where I belong.’
‘I do not agree with that,’ he said, surprising her. ‘In Firenze you belonged there. I shall be in London soon and will drive to see you.’