What a Girl Wants. Lindsey Kelk

as young as he used to be and Mr Bennett the younger isn’t nearly as tolerant of his father’s whims as we might all like.’

      ‘Where is Al?’ I asked, trying not to trip over my feet as I tiptoed across the beautiful, intricately tiled floors, my shoulders unrolling as the air conditioning washed over me. ‘Is he here?’

      ‘We arrived yesterday,’ Kekipi confirmed. ‘He’s in his room, working, working, working. He’ll be at dinner later.’

      When I finally forced my eyes off the floor, I saw that there were flowers everywhere. Every surface held vases upon vases of beautiful, freshly cut blooms, all of them in shades of white and peach.

      ‘Are these for me?’ Amy asked, plucking a white rose from a vase and placing it behind her ear. Reaching out to grab the banister of an elaborate, twisting staircase, I fought off a flashback. Nick, a single flower, the waterfall … ‘You shouldn’t have.’

      ‘I didn’t,’ Kekipi said with unmistakable disdain. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I know the value of a good floral arrangement but this is all Domenico’s doing.’

      ‘Domenico?’ I asked.

      ‘Miss Brookes.’

      A tall, slender man descended the staircase in the requisite grey trousers, a matching jacket and added slim black tie. How he was wearing a suit and tie in this weather was beyond me – I was sweating so much I looked as though I had entered a wet T-shirt competition. But while he looked every inch the perfect butler, his stiff demeanour felt at odds with the make-yourself-at-home atmosphere of Al’s palazzo.

      ‘Domenico,’ Kekipi said with a flourish. ‘The estate manager here in Milan.’

      ‘He’s the Italian you?’ I asked, wiping my hand on the back of my jeans and achieving nothing more than making a sticky situation stickier.

      ‘Please,’ Kekipi sniffed. ‘I’ve never been so offended.’

      ‘Miss Brookes.’ The tall man greeted me with three air kisses, very carefully avoiding touching any part of my actual being. Not that I blamed him but it did make things feel ever so slightly awkward. ‘I am Domenico, Mr Bennett’s number two here at the Palazzo Della Stelline; we are so pleased that you have arrived.’

      He turned to Amy and gave her a small bow, no kisses.

      ‘And you are Miss Brooke’s assistant?’

      She looked at me, looked back at him and shrugged. ‘I suppose I am.’

      Uh-oh. Clearly not impressed.

      ‘Excellent. I have rooms prepared for both of you in Mr Bennett’s most beautiful guest apartments. I would be very happy to show them to you if you would be so kind as to follow me.’ Domenico gestured up the stairs with an elaborate flourish of his arm and a far-too-wide smile. I’d seen waxworks show more authenticity.

      ‘I’ll take the ladies to their rooms,’ Kekipi said, knocking Domenico’s hand to his side and sweeping his hair from his forehead. ‘What time is dinner?’

      ‘Mr Bennett has suggested the ladies dine with him in the grand salon at seven,’ he replied, bowing his head graciously. ‘If you require anything at all before that time, please do let me know. Pressing 1 on the phone in your room will connect you directly to housekeeping and they will be happy to help you with whatever you might need.’

      Kekipi stood on the first step of the staircase behind his Italian counterpart and clutched the wooden banister, eyes narrowed, knuckles white. He was seething.

      ‘And we will dine downstairs.’ Domenico turned to give Kekipi the full weight of his stare. Even though he was standing on the stairs, Kekipi was still the shorter of the two but height difference wasn’t going to be enough to win this battle. ‘Afterwards.’

      ‘OK, Mr Downton,’ he said, hand on hip. ‘Maybe Artie likes to keep things upstairs downstairs but I’ll be eating with Mr Bennett and the ladies in the dining room at seven. And I’m lactose intolerant, so keep that in mind while you’re preparing your feast. Ladies.’ He snapped his fingers and pointed up the stairs. ‘Follow me.’

      ‘Tess, he’s fabulous,’ Amy whispered. ‘He’s the most best gay man I’ve ever met. And I’ve met all the gay men, fabulous or otherwise.’

      ‘I think he might actually be the best man, gay or otherwise,’ I replied. ‘Just wait until you get him to do karaoke. He’s a God.’

      ‘Thank you so much, Domenico,’ I said, repeatedly dipping in mini bows as we scooted around him and up the stairs after Kekipi. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine. But thank you. And for dinner. Thanks.’

      ‘Stop thanking him,’ Kekipi yelled without looking back. ‘It’s his job.’

      ‘Thank you,’ I mouthed.

      ‘Prego,’ Domenico said with a small smile. ‘You’re welcome.’

      ‘So what was that all about?’ Amy asked as she and Kekipi bounced up a second staircase and along the hallway on the third floor. ‘You two don’t get on, I take it?’

      ‘I’ve been with Al for a very long time,’ Kekipi explained, linking arms with Amy as they trotted on in front of me. I dawdled behind, running my fingertips along the heavy patterned silk that lined the walls.

      ‘When the Bennetts purchased this palazzo in the late seventies, it was Jane, Mrs Bennett’s, passion project. She renovated the entire place, designed the gardens, the colour schemes. She spent years pulling together the furniture …’ His voice grew soft with recollection as we turned a corner into an identical hallway. It was like being lost in a beautiful hall of mirrors.