into the modern world.’
‘I’ll organise some more furniture and pictures for in here.’
Belle laughed. ‘Don’t waste your time. I’ll be gone soon enough. It’s not worth the upheaval it would cause. Anyway, you said you didn’t like making changes to the house.’
The slam of a door and a raised female voice attracted Dante’s attention to the entrance hall and he grimaced. ‘I think you’d better stay in here. That sounds like my mother is paying one of her uninvited visits.’
Belle, however, was too curious about Dante’s mother to take his advice and stay hidden. She moved into the doorway, listening to a female voice ranting in irate Italian and Dante’s short clipped responses. She took another step forward and saw a tall woman as thin as a toothpick with ice-blonde hair. She was elegantly garbed in an ivory dress, diamonds flashing at her throat and ears, and in her gesticulating hand she held a newspaper.
‘Is this she?’ the blonde demanded abruptly, switching to English as she stared at Belle standing at the back of the hall. ‘Don’t be shy. Shy women don’t latch on to men they meet in bars!’
Dante’s proud dark head turned, and he extended a hand. ‘Belle...’
Belle moved stiffly forward to grasp that lean brown hand and lifted her head high.
‘Allow me to introduce you to my mother, Sofia Lucarelli... Belle Forrester.’
Belle didn’t bother to offer her hand in greeting because the enraged distaste that made a mask of Sofia’s still-lovely face was self-explanatory. She would not be receiving a welcome to Italy from Dante’s mother.
‘Her Excellency, Princess Sofia,’ the blonde corrected her son thinly, and then in a dramatic gesture she flung the newspaper in her hand at Belle’s feet. ‘A waitress living in a campervan? Your uncle would turn in his grave if he knew the kind of woman you brought into this house.’
Dante’s hand spread in support across Belle’s rigid spine. ‘No, I rather think that Jacopo would have cheered. If that’s all you have to say, Mamma...I suggest you leave.’
‘When I think of the women I introduced you to and you have chosen this creature!’ she flung at him furiously before spinning on her heel and stalking back out again, heading for the red sports car parked at a slant outside.
‘And the woman who just insulted your morals has enjoyed a hair-raising number of extra-marital affairs,’ Dante told her as he walked them into an elegant drawing room. His lean, strong face was forbiddingly hard. ‘My father seems to turn a blind eye. Maybe he doesn’t care or maybe he plays away too. I don’t know and I haven’t sufficient interest in either of them to find out.’
Absorbing that admission of his mother’s infidelities without comment, because she could see by the darkness of his expression that it was a sensitive topic, Belle murmured, ‘You don’t mention your father much.’
‘My mother is the dominant partner and he supports her in everything she does. She once beat Cristiano so badly that he needed medical treatment,’ he said flatly. ‘My father stood by and made no attempt to intervene. That’s one of my earliest memories.’
‘I didn’t realise there was physical abuse as well,’ Belle whispered with a shudder. ‘Didn’t anyone ever report her? You said there were nannies.’
‘Never underestimate the ability of the very rich to hide their sins and keep their secrets,’ Dante said drily.
‘Were you beaten?’ she asked hesitantly.
He jerked his chin in silent confirmation.
She wanted to express sympathy, but he stood there so tall and tense that she regretted asking the question and she simply nodded and turned her head away. ‘I think I’ll go and have a look at some of my new books,’ she muttered ruefully.
The door opened while she was down on her knees doing exactly that and she spun round so suddenly that she lost her balance and tumbled sideways. As she righted herself with a flailing hand, Dante caught her other hand in his and pulled her upright. ‘It’s past time you told me something about you,’ he informed her levelly. ‘Or hasn’t it occurred to you that, for someone as interested as you are in my backstory, I still know virtually nothing about you? And that’s not likely to persuade anybody that we’re a couple.’
Belle reddened with discomfiture and linked her hands together. ‘I was brought up by my grandparents.’
‘I know that. What I don’t know is why,’ Dante pointed out. ‘What happened to your parents? Are they dead?’
‘No, both are still alive...as far as I know.’ Belle tensed even more and walked over towards the glass doors, half turning her back to him because she wasn’t prepared to tell him all the facts. ‘My mother was a model and she travelled a lot. That’s why my grandparents took over. My parents broke up before I was born and my father didn’t want the responsibility of a child,’ she admitted stiffly. ‘Perhaps because my mother and I spent so little time with each other, no attachment formed on her side and, once I grew up, she had no desire to stay in touch. I don’t even know where she is.’
As he’d listened, Dante’s lean dark features had lost their brooding tension. ‘Do you want to know?’
‘Not really,’ Belle confided tightly. ‘When I was a child I used to be full of anticipation if Tracy was coming to visit but her lack of interest in me hurt. You have this image, this dream, and the reality never even came close to the dream, so I suppose I learned to accept that that was just how she was.’
‘Did you ever live with her?’
‘She asked me to live with her when I was fourteen and I was so excited about it. She was living with this guy who had young kids.’ Belle grimaced. ‘Later I worked out that she only wanted me there to take care of the kids for her but I didn’t want to face that at the time. I’d only been there a fortnight when her boyfriend made a pass at me and she saw him doing it. She packed me up and drove me back to my grandparents the same day.’
‘And what happened to the boyfriend?’ Dante prompted.
‘She blamed me for it, not him, said I must’ve been flirting for him to behave like that...but they didn’t last anyway,’ Belle told him wryly. ‘I’m sure I got the blame for that too.’
‘Sounds like a charmer,’ Dante commented. ‘Much like my own. Not everyone is cut out to be a parent. I don’t think I am either.’
Belle paled, tucking away that unwelcome admission for more private consideration. At least he was being honest about his feelings, she told herself, and she didn’t want him to lie. Obviously, if she did conceive he would be an absent father, rather than a parent.
On his way back out through the door again, Dante paused. ‘I’m attending an international charity benefit tomorrow evening and I’ll be taking you with me. Steve and his wife, Sancha, are flying in for it. It’s formal, so you may want to visit one of those salon places.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘Not if you don’t want to... I like your hair fine as it is.’ He reached out and lifted one of her hands and then the other. ‘But you will have to have these done. They’re all chipped.’
Belle swallowed hard and contemplated lying before deciding that that was beneath her. ‘I peeled bits off to get at my nails but the extensions are glued on and not very palatable,’ she admitted grudgingly.
Dante grinned wickedly down at her, relaxed for the first time since his mother’s departure. ‘I’ll have someone come here to fix them for you. Good to know my solution is working. I haven’t seen you try to nibble for at least twenty-four hours.’
‘But what am I supposed to do when I’m nervous?’
‘Kiss me instead,’