The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni. Kate Hardy

into if he planned to start seeing more of her. Even if it was supposed to be acquaintances with benefits and no emotional entanglement. ‘He was already married to someone else. Mum didn’t have a clue that he wasn’t single until she fell pregnant with me. Then, when she told him she was expecting me, he told her that she’d have to deal with it.’ She lifted her chin. ‘In other words, get rid of me. Which she refused to do. So he dumped her.’

      ‘That’s appalling.’ Rico winced. ‘I’m beginning to see why you have a thing about lies.’

      ‘It wasn’t just Mum he lied to. It was his wife, too. And I’d bet Mum wasn’t the first to fall for him—or the last.’ She sighed. ‘My grandparents didn’t react very well to the news that she was expecting me and the baby’s father didn’t want to know. She was an only child—a very late baby—and they were more like her grandparents than her parents, with an older generation’s views on morality.’

      Rico sucked in a breath. ‘Please tell me they got over it and supported her.’

      ‘Far from it. They said they were ashamed of her. They, too, wanted her to get rid of me. When she refused, they threw her out,’ Ella said grimly. ‘But Mum managed to find a flat, and when I was growing up she worked three jobs to make sure she could put food on the table for both of us.’

      ‘Which is why you wanted a safe job when you grew up.’

      ‘Financial security.’ She nodded. ‘And it was fine. I could do my cakes in my spare time. I’ve just been incredibly lucky and now I have a chance to do what I really love and make a living from it.’ She blinked away the threatening tears. ‘I just wish I’d won that money when Mum was still here, so I could’ve treated her and made some of her dreams come true, too. And I would’ve bought her a flat, given her the security she always wanted and never really had.’

      He frowned. ‘Didn’t your father have to pay her maintenance?’

      ‘Mum wouldn’t have taken it, even if he’d offered. It wasn’t about the money, for her. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t offer in any case. What I found when I was going through her things last year, after she died …’ She grimaced. ‘When I was a kid, I used to feel it that I didn’t have a dad—I really envied my friends who had two parents to go home to, and who talked about their dads teaching them to swim or ride a bike. I didn’t even have an uncle. But now I’m glad he’s never been part of my life. I don’t think he’s the kind of man I’d want to know.’

      ‘What did you find?’ Rico asked softly.

      ‘Thirty-six envelopes. Each one contained a photograph of me on my birthday or at Christmas, for every single year since I was born. And every one was marked “return to sender”.’ Ella tried not to grind her teeth. ‘Her letters never asked him for a thing. She was only writing to let him know how I was getting on. She told him about me, and she really tried to build some kind of connection between us—but he threw it back in her face every single time. She even sent the letters to his office rather than to his home, so it wouldn’t be like rubbing his wife’s face in it. But he just didn’t want to know.’

      ‘Thirty-six envelopes. And you’re twenty-eight?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘So he must’ve kept some?’

      Ella shook her head. ‘Mum gave up sending them when I turned eighteen. So now you know why I don’t have a family. I probably have half-siblings somewhere out there—who knows how many other women fell for the same lies that my mum did?—but they’ve never tried to find me, and I don’t need them. I have good friends, and that makes me luckier than a lot of people.’

      ‘Did your grandparents soften once they met you?’

      ‘No. Mum tried to stay in touch with them, but they refused to see us. And it’s too late for any reconciliation now—they both passed away, some years back.’

      ‘It was their loss, not yours.’ Rico pulled her onto his lap and held her close.

      For a moment Ella thought that she saw something in his expression—something that told her he understood how she felt because he’d been badly let down himself—but he masked it so quickly that she couldn’t be sure.

      Sitting so close with him like this made her feel so warm, so secure. And the question slipped out before she realised what she was going to say. ‘So do I get to see you tomorrow?’

      ‘Maybe. What time do you finish?’

      ‘I’m not sure. Late afternoon, I guess.’ She thought about it. ‘I have two celebration cakes to make and flat-ice, and then I need to do some of the sugar work for them, as well as make the cupcakes for the two local cafés who’ve agreed to stock my cakes. And there’s the business admin stuff. If I keep on top of it, then it won’t take long. If I leave it to pile up, it’ll be a chore.’

      ‘So the cupcakes have to be ready before the cafés open. Does this mean a really early start?’

      She smiled. ‘That rather depends on whether you call six a.m. early.’

      ‘I’d better get you home, then. It’s not fair to make you burn the candle at both ends. If you want to get dressed in my bedroom, I’ll call a taxi.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      The phone rang as she walked back into the living room. Rico answered it. ‘That’s great. Thank you very much.’ He turned to Ella. ‘That was Reception. They’re very efficient—the taxi’s here already.’

      ‘Thank you. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

      ‘I’ll see you home. I would’ve driven you myself, but I haven’t sorted out a car yet.’

      Outside her flat, he kissed her lingeringly in her doorway.

      ‘What time do you finish tomorrow?’ she asked.

      ‘That depends on how my meetings go.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Plus I have a pile of paperwork to get through and a few phone calls to make to Rome.’

      ‘Call me when you’re free,’ she said.

      ‘I’ll do that.’ He kissed her again. ‘Goodnight, Ella bellezza. Sweet dreams.’