The Innocent's Secret Baby(21)

'Is there a street entrance?' Lydia asked, and watched as he barely glanced up from his phone.

'Yep.'

Raul opened the box of pastries and selected one, took a bite as he got back to his phone.

Lydia could find it herself.

'You can see yourself out.'





CHAPTER TWELVE

ALL ROADS LED to Rome.

But today Raul hoped that Rome would lead him to Lydia.

Raul could not get her out of his mind.

Disquiet gnawed and unfinished business reared up and he simply could not let it go.

Summer was gone.

As he walked past the café where they had shared breakfast Raul looked  up to the dark clouds above and it looked as if the sky had been hung  too low.

It had felt like that since Lydia had gone.

Autumn had arrived, and usually it was Raul's favourite time of the year.

Not this one.

He missed her, and Raul had never missed anyone, and he just could not shake off the feeling.

It was something he could not define.

Even if the tourists never really thinned out in Venice, La Serenissima  had felt empty rather than serene. Here in Rome the locals were enjoying  the slight lull that came with the change. Back in Sicily the vines  that threaded the valley would be turning to russet...

Raul never went back.

Not even in his head.

Yet he was starting to now.

Lydia had been right-perhaps he should go back.

If this visit to the Grande Lucia did not work out as he hoped, then  Raul would be making his first trip back to Casta since the will had  been read.

The doorman nodded as Raul went through the brass revolving door, and he stood for a moment remembering their brief time there.

But that was not right. It didn't feel brief-if anything it was the most examined part of his life.

Lydia was the most contrary person he knew.

Cold and guarded...warm and intense.

And, although they had both agreed to a one-night stand, he still could not make sense of that morning.

That kiss before he had left to get breakfast had held promise, but Raul had returned to a stranger and he had to know why.

But he didn't even know her surname.

Raul knew some of the darkest most intimate parts of Lydia, and yet her full name he did not know.

Nor where she lived.

Usually those details did not matter to him.

Oh, but they did now.

He had searched, and so had Allegra.

There were a surprising number of castles in England, and there were many that were used for weddings.

They had got nowhere.

Allegra was working her way through them all and had flown over to England three times.

And now Raul was in Rome.

Back at the Grande Lucia, where it had all started.

Now that Raul was showing no interest in purchasing the hotel he was having trouble getting through to Sultan Alim.

And so he was here in person.

But trouble remained in the shape of the young receptionist.

'Sultan Alim is only available by appointment.'

'Call and tell him that Raul Di Savo is here.'

'As I said, he only sees people by appointment. We don't disturb him with phone calls.'

She was as snooty and as immutable as he demanded that Allegra should be if someone-anyone-tried to invade Raul's time.

'Is he even in the country?' Raul asked, but that information was off-limits.

'He would prefer that we do not discuss his movements. I shall let him know you were here.'

Now what?

Did he sit in the foyer and wait for a royal sultan who might already be  back in the Middle East? Or warn the poor receptionist that if she  valued her job she should let Alim know...

And then Raul saw someone who might be able to help.

She was walking through the foyer carrying a huge display of roses.

Gabi.

The indiscreet wedding planner!

'Hey,' Raul said.

'Hi.'

He had forgotten how to flirt-even for gain.

'Gabi?'

'Oh!' She stopped. 'You were in the ballroom when Alim...' Her voice trailed off.

There had been something going on that afternoon. Raul knew it. He hadn't given it much thought until now.

'I'm hoping to meet with him.'         

     



 

'Good luck!' Gabi rolled her eyes. 'He's back home.'

'Oh!'

'For his wedding.'

'I see.'

'I'm planning it, actually.'

She looked as if she were about to cry.

'Can you let him know I need to speak with him?'

'I'm a wedding planner,' Gabi said. 'I don't get access to the Royal Sultan.'

And neither would he, Raul thought as Gabi flounced off.

So that left Bastiano-and Raul already knew where he was.

Casta.

* * *

His jet landed at Cosimo airport, and though it was warmer the sky still  seemed to be hung too low. Raul put on his shades and transferred to  the helicopter he had arranged to take him to the old convent.

To afford the nuns seclusion it had been made accessible only by horse or helicopter.

Of course Raul chose the latter.

The convent was an ancient sprawling building that no one could get to,  set on the crest of the valley overlooking the wild Sicilian Strait.

Its inaccessibility made it the perfect retreat, and Raul had to hand it to Bastiano for his foresight.

Not that he would admit that.

Raul boarded the helicopter and saw his orders had been followed. There  was a bunch of lilies there, which, after meeting with Bastiano, he  would take to Maria's grave.

He would arrive unannounced.

Raul had sworn never to return.

Only for Lydia he did.

It would be kinder, perhaps, not to look out of the helicopter window  and at first he chose not to. The last time he had been home it had been  on a commercial flight and then a frantic taxi ride to the valley.

Raul had been eighteen then, and he recalled the taxi driver asking him to pay the fare in advance before agreeing to take him.

Different times.

Same place.

He looked, and the view was starting to become familiar. Even if he had  never seen it from this vantage point, the lie of this land was etched  on the dark side of his soul.

There were the fields that the Contis and Di Savos had fought over for  generations, and yet the wine had never made either family their  fortune-and Raul's palate now knew it never would.

His stomach turned in on itself, and it had nothing to do with the  sudden banking of the chopper, more the view of the schoolyard, and  beyond it to what had been his family home.

He could hear his childish lies to his father.

'Mamma has been here all day.'

Or...

'I think she went to breakfast with Loretta.'

And now perhaps he understood why Lydia did not take photos, for there were memories you did not want to see.

Raul hadn't lied just to save himself.

He had lied to cover for his mother.

Over and over and over.

And then he recalled her more cheerful dispositions. When she would sing  and start to go out more, and Raul's lies to his father would have to  begin again.

There was the church, and to the side the tombstones.

Raul's history stretched beneath him and there was nothing he wanted to see.

But he made himself look.

The ocean was wild and choppy, crashing onto jagged rocks, and then he saw it.

Far from falling into disrepair the old convent now stood proud, and he remembered his mother's tears when it had closed down.

Had it really been her dream?

The chopper landed and Raul climbed out.

He thought Security might halt him, but he walked across the lush lawn and towards the gateway without confrontation.

There was a sign for Reception and Raul headed towards it. He walked  past a fountain and then ignored the bell and pushed open a heavy arched  door.

There were downlights-a modern touch that softened the stone walls-and  at a desk sat a young woman wearing what looked like a dental nurse's  uniform.

'Posso aiutarla?'

With a smile she asked Raul if she could help him.

'Si.' Raul nodded. 'I am here to speak with Bastiano.'

No frown marred her Botoxed brow, but Raul could see the worry in her  eyes as she checked the computer, even though her smile stayed in place.

'May I have your name?'

'Raul Di Savo...'

She must be just about due to have her anti-wrinkle injections topped  up, for now a line formed between her brow and the smile faded.

Oh, that name-even now-was known in the valley.

'Do you have an appointment?'

'No,' Raul responded. 'He isn't expecting me...'

'On the contrary.'

Bastiano's voice arrived before he did, and Raul looked up as he emerged  from the shadows of the archway. A glint of sun captured the scar on  his cheek, and Raul thought he looked like the devil himself appearing.

'Bastiano.' Raul didn't even attempt to keep the ice from his voice. 'I would like to speak with you.'         

     



 

'I rather thought that you might,' Bastiano said, his response equally  cool. His indubitable charm would never be wasted on Raul. 'Come this  way.'

Raul followed him through the arch and they walked along a cloister that  looked down on a quadrangle where a small group were sitting in the  afternoon sun, talking. They glanced up at the two dark-suited men, for  there was a foreboding energy about them that drew attention.

Even the receptionist had followed, and stood watching as they disappeared into the old refectory.

The darkness was welcome, and the windows were like photo frames,  setting off a view of the Sicilian Strait that roared in the distance.

'Take a seat,' Bastiano offered.

It would be churlish to stand, Raul knew, when he was here for a favour,  so as Bastiano moved behind his desk Raul sat at the other side.

'There is something I need from you,' Raul said. 'I would have preferred  not to just land on you, but you refused to take my calls.'