Dante's Unexpected Legacy(53)

                ‘This wasn’t a childish tantrum, Mum!’

                ‘I know that. I also heard the pain in Dante’s voice, love. When he does ring again, promise me you’ll speak to him.’

                ‘I’ll think about it.’

                This was a promise all too easy to keep. It was impossible for Rose to think about anything else. The nights were the worst part, just as they’d been years before, after her first encounter with Dante Fortinari. Even though she immersed herself in her work and spent the rest of the time with Bea, she existed in a constant state of tension, waiting for a phone call from Dante. A phone call which never came.





                                      CHAPTER SEVEN

                IT WAS A relief to spend most of the following Sunday at Tom’s house. Bea enjoyed her day so much she protested loudly when it was time to go home. She even refused to wave bye-bye to Gramma and Tom and sobbed when she was secured into her car seat for the drive home, but, much to Rose’s relief, fell asleep once the car was in motion.

                ‘Wake up, Bea. We’re home now,’ said Rose as she turned into the drive, then swallowed, her heart thumping, as she saw a familiar male figure standing on her front porch.

                Dante strode forward to help, arms outstretched, as Rose unstrapped Bea. ‘I will take her.’

                Exhausted after a day spent trying to fool her mother and Tom that she was perfectly happy, Rose yielded his daughter to him without protest.

                ‘This is a surprise,’ she said coldly.

                ‘We need to talk; you will not take my telephone calls, so I came,’ he informed her, then looked down tenderly as Bea woke up with a smile of delight when she realised who was holding her.

                ‘Dante! Read stories?’

                He chuckled. ‘Of course, piccola.’

                Rose unlocked the door and switched on lights. Now Dante was here, he might as well make himself useful. ‘Would you take her straight upstairs, please?’

                Once Bea was in bed later, flanked by Pinocchio and Bear, Rose handed Dante a selection of books for Bea to choose from, kissed her daughter good-night and, after a moment’s indecision, left them to it.

                The sitting room seemed small and chilly after the space and comfort of Tom’s house. Shivering with nerves as much as cold, Rose switched on the electric fire and drew the curtains, then went to the kitchen to make coffee and took a tray into the sitting room.

                Dante joined her soon afterwards. ‘Bea is fast asleep,’ he said and crossed to the fire to hold out his hands. ‘It is cold tonight.’

                ‘Would you care for some coffee?’

                His lips curved wryly. ‘Yes, Rose. Grazie.’

                ‘Why the smile?’ she asked as she poured.

                ‘You are so polite.’

                She set the pot down with a clatter. ‘Only to hide how worried I feel about the reason for your sudden appearance.’

                He lifted a shoulder. ‘It is nothing to cause distress, Rose. Because my first proposal did not meet with your approval, I came to make a different proposition.’