Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,1

‘Would a diamond bracelet help dry those tears?’

Or a car, perhaps?

Earrings, maybe?

And, yes, they did sort of help, because the women had been told from the start it would never go anywhere, and had very willingly entered the glamorous—temporary—highs of Dante Romano’s life.

They just weren’t so willing to get out from between the silk sheets and the caress that smile gave.

Dante wasn’t smiling now, though, as he told the board how it would be. ‘I shall party on and I shall continue to enjoy the fruits of my work. I work damned hard, and you all know it. Were it not for me, we would be back in the shed. I didn’t save this company once,’ he reminded all present, ‘I saved it twice.’ When his father’s divorce had hit, Dante had taken the helm and completely restructured the company, hence the reason Luigi was no longer a major shareholder. But, as Dante had pointed out, thanks to his business acumen, Luigi was still doing very nicely.

Yes, there were tensions indeed.

Dante leant back in his seat, not quite finished tearing Luigi to shreds, but, glancing down, he saw on his silenced phone that the doctor at the hospital was calling.

It was no surprise as he was expecting to be contacted today.

Dante had visited his father in a renowned Florence hospital last night to discuss his transfer to a private hospice here in Rome.

It made sense because Dante himself was mainly based in Rome, Stefano hopped between Rome and New York, and, though Ariana spent a lot of time at their Paris office, she was often in Rome too.

Last night, though, Rafael had said he had changed his mind. Dante had listened to his father express his desire to return to the sprawling family home in Luctano, nestled in the Tuscan hills and surrounded by his beloved vines.

‘We can do that,’ Dante had said. ‘Of course we can.’

They were close, though they had not always got on so well.

Growing up, his relationship with his father had been distant at best, given the impossible hours Rafael had worked.

The same impossible hours that Dante now took on.

When he was seven Stefano and Ariana had been born and the family dynamics had changed. The fighting between his parents had stopped, perhaps because of the rapid growth of the family business meaning that there were fewer money concerns. Or perhaps, Dante had privately thought, because he had been shipped off to boarding school in Rome, and the family had bought an apartment there where his mother had spent a lot of time. Yet holidays had been wonderful, and his father would take time off in the summer and teach him, carefully, the intricacies of the lush land and its produce that had always been the foundation of their business.

But it had been in his midtwenties that Dante had stepped in and put his business mind to the grindstone when the company had been close to crashing. His father had put all his energy into the product, and had left the business side to Luigi, who was impulsive, made poor decisions, and spent too much time and profit in casinos. Dante had taken over the administration of the company, which had brought with it an unexpected bonus: the relationship with his father had changed, first to one of mutual respect, then that of confidants, and finally to friends.

Until Mia Hamilton had come along.

Dante could not bring himself to be nice towards her.

She had been plucked from the relative obscurity of trainee executive assistant in the London office and promoted to the esteemed role of Rafael Romano’s Personal Assistant, although Dante thought of her as his father’s Personal Assassin.

Still, following his father’s diagnosis, Dante had pushed animosity aside—at least towards his father—and had done—and continued to do—anything he could to make the time his father had left easier on him. Although Rafael being at home in Luctano would make things far from easy for Dante.

The logistics did not concern him for he had his own helicopter and used it with ease. And certainly they could afford a virtually hospital-calibre set-up in his father’s residence.

What concerned him was that she would be there.

At least at the hospital Mia had the decency to step out when his family came to visit. Dante rarely acknowledged her, referring to her as ‘Stepmother’ any time he did.

He loathed his father’s wife with a passion, and having to deal with her in the family home in his father’s final months did not appeal.

Still,