Secret Prince's Christmas Seduction. Carol Marinelli
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time to live a little,’ Aurora pushed now.
‘I agree.’ Antonietta nodded, even if she didn’t quite believe it herself. ‘But first I have to give my parents this chance to forgive me.’
‘For what, Antonietta?’ Aurora was blunt. ‘Sylvester was your second cousin; the fact is they just wanted to keep their money in the family and keep the Ricci name strong—’
‘Even so...’ It was Antonietta who interrupted now. ‘I shamed my parents in front of their entire family. I left Sylvester standing at the altar! You saw the fallout, Aurora...’
‘Yes...’
Apparently a huge fight had broken out in the church. Antonietta hadn’t hung around to witness it, though; she had timed it so she had been on the train out of Silibri by then.
‘I miss having a family.’ It was the simple truth. ‘They are not perfect—I know that—but I miss having them in my life. And even if we cannot reconcile I feel there is unfinished business between us. Even if it is a final goodbye then I want it to be said face to face.’
‘Well, the offer’s there if you change your mind,’ Aurora said. ‘Nico and I want Gabe to celebrate his first Christmas in Silibri...’ Her voice trailed off as she pulled a swathe of scarlet fabric from Antonietta’s case. ‘This is beautiful—where did you get it?’
‘Paris.’ Antonietta smiled and ran her hands fondly over the fabric. ‘I bought it just after I arrived there.’ It had been a late summer’s day and, having just written to her parents, she had been buoyed by the prospect of reconciliation. ‘I was walking through Place Saint-Pierre and I wandered into a fabric store.’
She had decided to celebrate her happy mood and there amongst the brocades and velvets she had found a bolt of stunning crimson silk and bought a length.
‘You have had it all this time and done nothing with it?’ Aurora checked as Antonietta wrapped it back in its tissue paper and placed it in the bottom drawer of a heavy wooden chest. ‘You cannot leave this hiding in a drawer.’
‘I might make some cushions with it.’
‘Cushions?’ Aurora was aghast. ‘That fabric deserves to be made into a dress and taken out!’
‘Oh? And when will I ever wear it?’
‘As a last resort you can wear it in your coffin,’ Aurora said with typical Sicilian dark humour. ‘You can lie there dead and people can say Look how beautiful she almost was! Give it to me and let me make something with it.’
Aurora was a brilliant seamstress, and would certainly make something beautiful, but it was almost reluctantly that Antonietta handed over the fabric.
‘Let me get your measurements,’ Aurora said.
‘I don’t have a tape measure.’
But of course Aurora did. And so, instead of unpacking, Antonietta stood, feeling awkward and shy in her underwear, holding her long, straight black hair up as Aurora took her measurements down to the last detail.
‘You are so slim,’ Aurora said as she wrote them all down. ‘One of my legs is the size of your waist.’
‘Rubbish!’
They were lifelong best friends and complete opposites. Aurora was all rippling curls and curves, and she exuded confidence, whereas Antonietta was as reserved and as slender as her shadow that now fell on the stone wall. The evening was cool, rather than cold, but the year was certainly moving into winter, and she shivered as Aurora took her time, writing down the measurements.
Antonietta tried to hurry her along. ‘Nico will be here for you soon,’ she warned.
He was checking on the hotel while Aurora helped her settle in, but soon his helicopter would come to return both him and Aurora to their residence in Rome.
‘Aren’t you going to drop in and visit your parents before you head back?’
‘I am avoiding them.’ Aurora rolled her eyes. ‘Can you believe they want Nico to employ my lazy, good-for-nothing brother as chief groundskeeper for the Old Monastery?’
Antonietta laughed. Aurora’s brother was lazy indeed.
‘It’s no joke,’ Aurora said. ‘You would need a scythe to get to work if Nico relented. My brother is as bone idle as yours, but of course now me and Nico are married he seems to think that Nico owes him a job!’
‘I hope Nico didn’t feel obliged to employ me...’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Aurora cut her off. ‘You are a hard worker and the Old Monastery is lucky to have you.’
Even so, it was a huge favour for them to give her this cottage as she worked on making amends for the past.
The sound of Nico’s chopper starting up made Aurora look out of the window. ‘There he is...’ She kissed her friend on both cheeks and gave her a hug. ‘Good luck starting work and I’ll see you on Christmas Eve—if not before. And I mean it, Antonietta. If things don’t work out with your family, the offer to join us is there.’
‘Thank you,’ Antonietta said. ‘But Christmas is still a couple of months away; there is plenty of time for things to sort themselves out.’
‘You’ll be okay?’ Aurora checked. ‘You really are a bit cut off here.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Antonietta assured her. ‘Thanks so much for this.’
Nico did not come into the cottage; instead he headed straight to the chopper and Antonietta watched as Aurora joined him. They were clearly both happy to be heading back to Rome and little Gabe, who would soon be turning one. She was glad that Nico hadn’t dropped in. She was starting work soon, and didn’t want her co-workers thinking that she had a direct line to the boss through her friend.
It felt odd, though, after Aurora had gone and she was truly alone.
The cottage was beautifully furnished, with a modern kitchen and a cosy living area, and she wandered through it, taking in not just the furnishings but the stunning view of the ocean from her bedroom. No beach was visible, just choppy waves and crashing foam. Despite the cool evening she opened the window, just to drown out the crippling silence that had descended since Aurora had left.
She was home, Antonietta told herself.
Not that it felt like it.
In truth, Silibri never had.
Antonietta had never quite felt she belonged.
Six weeks later
ANTONIETTA WAS UP long before the Sicilian winter sun. For a while she lay in the dark bedroom of her little stone cottage, listening to the sound of the waves rolling in and crashing on the rocks below. It might have worked in the meditation of monks of old, and it might be a tranquil backdrop for the guests, but it brought little peace to Antonietta.
It was two weeks until Christmas and since her return there had been little progress with her family. If anything the situation had worsened, with rude stares and muttered insults whenever she ventured into the village, and when she had gone to her parents’ home the door had been closed in her face by her father.
Yet she had glimpsed a pained look in her mother’s eyes from the hallway—as if her mamma had something she wanted to say.
It was for that reason Antonietta persisted.
Sylvester had married and moved away from the village, so there was little chance of bumping into him. And it was good to walk on the beach or in the hillsides she knew. Work was going incredibly well too; her colleagues were