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‘All we need now is your flight. You’re supposed to leave for England next month, right?’
‘Yes,’ Kim confirmed.
‘So find out the date and we book your flight to Italy for the same day, so your parents won’t be suspicious.’
Kim had to laugh. ‘You really think of everything, don’t you? Espionage would suit you.’
‘Don’t think I haven’t considered it,’ her friend mused. She continued in her best James Bond voice. ‘Slater. Natasha Slater. Agent Nine-Inch Heels.’
‘Thanks, Tash,’ Kim said as her emotions took over. ‘For this … for everything.’
‘Of course.’ Her friend pulled her in for a hug. ‘You’re my best friend and I want the best for you. Whatever that may be.’ She turned back to her computer. ‘Now, let’s find a place for you to stay,’ she continued. ‘Somewhere fitting for Kim Weston’s Italian Great Escape.’
Now
‘So are you going to share what’s on your mind?’ Antonio asked as his Maserati made its way along the coast and deftly around the hairpin bends that used to so terrify Kim, but were as familiar to her now as Fifth Avenue used to be.
She turned to look at him, brushing back strands of her hair as it blew in the breeze.
In spite of his advancing years, he was still very handsome. There was something about him that reminded her a lot of her husband.
Both men had angular jaws and arresting eyes, but while Antonio’s were brown, Gabriel’s were piercing blue. Both also had Roman-shaped noses, reflecting their Italian roots. Gabe was American but his family was originally from Sicily, and the semblance of his ancestry still shone through.
Now, she visualised her husband’s handsome face before her – his gentle eyes and brilliant smile. She hadn’t seen that smile in weeks and she missed it.
‘Nothing,’ she lied automatically, before adding, ‘nothing important.’
‘No trouble in paradise, I hope?’
‘No trouble,’ she answered a little too quickly. ‘It’s just … Lily is young and life has been … challenging lately.’
‘And of course that would have nothing at all to do with your frequent absences and workload …’
Kim loved Antonio’s honesty, but sometimes she hated his candour.
‘I need to work hard, you know that,’ she answered. ‘Lots of people relying on me – there are publicity engagements, photoshoots, interviews, you know the drill. Especially over the last eighteen months,’ Kim continued, referring to Villa Dolce Vita. ‘This new venture is the culmination of everything we’ve worked for, Antonio, the showcase for the brand. Obviously it’s taken a huge amount of my time and effort. If we want Villa Dolce Vita to be all it can be, then I need to put in the necessary care and attention.’
‘But what about your family? Doesn’t it also deserve your care and attention?’
His words were a jolt to her system and she didn’t know how to answer. Kim supposed she’d never thought of it in those terms. She scoffed internally. The Sweet Life was all about mindfulness and finding balance in all things, yet she knew that, ironically, her own life once again was heavily off-kilter.
‘Bella? Where did you go?’
Kim snapped back to reality as they pulled up close to the trattoria. ‘Sorry, what?’
Antonio laughed. ‘I said that I think there is a lot more going on than what you are telling me. Let’s talk about it properly over lunch.’
But where to even begin? Kim wasn’t sure she had the words to express the turmoil in her brain as she took a seat across from her mentor and friend inside the charming cliffside restaurant.
How could she confide in Antonio everything that was going on in her life just now, let alone the sense of dread she felt deep down?
To say nothing of the ugly truth that Kim was turning out to be a terrible mother. Just like her own.
Gloria had never cared about Kim. Never considered her daughter or what she wanted. The only thing her mother ever desired was her own ends. It didn’t matter how they came, as long as she got them.
Kim realised a long time ago that she had been just another one of her mother’s devices. Her father had wanted a child to carry on the Weston legacy. They’d hoped for a son but Kim was it, and her mother had lived with that as best she could. She made sure she had nannies and the housekeeper to tend to Kim’s every scrape and need, while she jetsetted across the world. Success was all she cared about.
Kim never experienced what it was like to have a mother’s love. And now it seemed she lacked the skills and knowledge to give it to her own flesh and blood. While she, too, relentlessly pursued success.
‘Bella?’ Antonio pressed when the waiter had poured the wine.
‘It’s just … most of the time I don’t know what I’m doing,’ she admitted to Antonio, as tears filled her eyes. ‘With Lily, I mean.’
His comforting gaze lingered on her momentarily before he focused on the glittering water. ‘Emilia and I were married for about five years when I began to question it – the marriage, I mean.’
The confession came as a huge surprise. Kim could never have imagined that Antonio, the man whose love for his wife she thought unmatched, could ever have thought he’d made a mistake.
She didn’t for one second regret marrying Gabriel; she adored him and almost from the moment they met knew he was her soulmate. But she was just as certain she was never cut out to be a mother, and when Lily arrived, her worst fears were realised.
Every day of her daughter’s three-year-old life, she’d felt like a failure at it. And the worse she felt, the more she threw herself into her work, leaving her husband to care for their daughter pretty much alone while she built The Sweet Life into an international brand.
He never complained, never even seemed to notice that Kim was spending less and less time at home as the business grew. He’d been there from the start, so knew that this was her passion, and the reason she was pushing so hard to make this new venture a success.
But neither her husband or Antonio knew that The Sweet Life had actually been built on lie.
And Kim was terrified of being uncovered as a fraud.
Now
Colette Hargreaves yawned as she rolled over in bed.
The blinds were open and it was gone 7 a.m. She turned over, her copper hair falling across her shoulders as she looked around the bedroom.
Outwardly, everything was in its place, but she sensed something was missing.
‘Ed?’
Silence answered her call and Colette swung her feet from beneath the sheets and onto the lush new carpeting they’d had laid during the most recent renovation of their London townhouse. Her husband was fond of hardwood, whereas she preferred carpet, so they’d made a compromise. Carpet in the bedroom and hardwood everywhere else.
She pulled a robe over her silk nightgown and tied a loose knot at her waist as she slipped her feet into her slippers and headed for the door.
Their