With Love From Florence

CHAPTER FOUR

THE HEAT IN Venice was stifling. It seemed the whole world had descended on it to hear one of the world’s biggest rock bands play in a concert. Piazza San Marco was positively heaving, the streets crowded beyond measure and tourists juggling to pay the inflated prices in the surrounding cafés and bars.

Venice was always hot in the summer and Lucia was used to it. Living in the middle of permanent tourist attractions meant it was rarely quiet but today was the busiest she’d ever seen it. The queue of people to get inside St Mark’s Basilica snaked around the centre of the piazza twice.

Lucia glanced at her clock again. She’d expected Logan to call her over an hour ago. When they’d made the arrangement for him to come and help complete the paperwork she’d had no idea about the rock concert. It hadn’t even been on her radar. She didn’t want to think about what Venice Marco Polo Airport was like right now. She knew that the wait for the water buses was over an hour and that everything was going much slower than expected.

But the heat in her office was becoming claustrophobic. Even with her windows opened wide over the Grand Canal there was no breeze. She glanced at the clock again and pulled her fitted blouse away from her back. The air conditioning rarely worked at the Italian Heritage Board. Today was no exception.

She gathered up the papers she might need, closed her windows and headed for the door. Her mobile sounded just as she walked down the stairs. Logan. She answered quickly, but could barely make out his voice for the background noise. ‘Logan, where are you?’

She walked out into the bustling crowds, her feet turning automatically in the direction of San Marco, the waterbus drop-off on the Grand Canal. His voice was lost as she struggled to hear, so she continued through the thronging crowds towards the drop-off point. There, in the distance, she could see Logan and a smile flickered to her face.

His bag was clutched in one hand, alongside a pale beige jacket and his mobile phone. His white shirt was wrinkled, his hair rumpled and his face red. It was the first time in her life she’d ever seen Logan looking hot and bothered. It was kind of nice to know that could actually happen to him too.

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around him, scanning the crowds. The rock concert had obviously caught him equally unawares.

She lifted her hand and waved at him, snaking her way through the people. A flash of relief was all over his face and gave her an unexpected glow. He moved towards her. ‘Lucia, thank goodness.’ He held up his hands. ‘This place is even madder than usual. It wasn’t until I hit the airport that I heard about the concert. I guess I should have got an earlier flight. The queue for the water taxis and buses was a mile long.’

She gave a nod and glanced at his bag. ‘You look hot. How about we find somewhere to sit down and get something cool to drink?’

Logan let out a long breath, his brow furrowed. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to find anywhere?’

Lucia gave a little nod of her head. ‘You forget, Logan. I’ve been here more than ten years. I know all Venice’s best kept secrets.’ She nodded her head for him to follow and weaved through the crowds. She was glad she’d opted out of wearing her normal business attire today. In these conditions she would have sweltered in her fitted suit dress. Instead, the lighter short-sleeved white blouse and knee-length navy skirt helped to keep her cooler. She pulled her sunglasses down from her head and snaked her way through the cobbled side streets of Venice. These were instantly cooler out of the sun’s blistering rays and after a few minutes’ walk they were away from the madding crowds.

She pointed towards a café with tables and parasols set on the street. Logan gave a sigh of relief and sank down into a chair. ‘Perfect,’ he said.

The waitress appeared instantly and they both ordered two drinks, one cool and one coffee for later.

She was still amused by how flustered he looked. ‘I’m sorry about being so late, Lucia. I hope I haven’t ruined your schedule for the day.’

She shook her head. ‘No problem. I’d just decided to leave a little earlier because it was so hot. I’m happy to meet you outside rather than in the office.’ She pulled out her files. ‘I brought the paperwork with me. We can do it now, if you like.’

The waiter appeared and put their drinks on the table. Logan finished his cool drink within a few seconds, then sat back in his chair and sighed. He gave her a quirky smile and held up his hands. ‘I don’t remember Venice ever being this hot. What on earth is happening?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘A cross between a heat wave and an extra twenty thousand people descending on the city at once?’ She pushed the papers over towards him. ‘These are the ones I need you to complete. Then we can file the fresco as a “new find” with the Heritage Board. They are the ones that can authorise any restoration that might need to take place.’

Logan was scouring the papers. He lifted his eyes towards her. ‘And who would do that?’

She paused for a second, wondering if it was an answer he really wanted to hear. ‘It would probably be me. I’ve done most of the work on all of the last frescoes that needed to be restored. It used to be my boss, Alessio Orsini, who handled fresco restoration, but once he’d trained me and overseen my work a few times he was happy to hand over the reins. I think he’s looking to retire soon.’

Logan nodded slowly. He sat down his pen. ‘How would you feel about working in Tuscany? There is a good chance that I’ll still be there for the next few months.’

Logan was being cautious, but for some reason she felt as if a little man with icy feet was marching down her spine. It was almost as if he didn’t want her there. She felt insulted.

She looked at him steadily. ‘I’ll go wherever I’m needed. My job is very important to me. The other personalities involved aren’t important.’ She picked up her cappuccino and took a sip, breaking the little caramelised biscuit at the side into pieces.

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He reached over and grabbed her hand.

It was unexpected. A little part of the biscuit dropped from her hand onto the cobbled street.

Her eyes fixed on it lying amongst the cobbles, rather than looking at his hands or his face. She didn’t pull her hand back. ‘I get it, Logan. You’d rather not have to work with me. But I won’t compromise on my job. We’re just going to have to both be professional about it.’ She lifted her gaze to meet his.

His eyes widened. ‘No, Lucia. You’re reading this all wrong.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I know we had a difficult past. And seeing you after all these years...it’s been...’ He seemed to struggle to find the right word. ‘It’s been hard.’

She felt her heart squeeze.

He moved the position of his hand. This time his thumb was inside her palm, moving in tiny circular motions, while the rest of his hand rested over hers.

He lowered his voice. ‘But it’s been good to see you, Lucia. Really good. It’s left me wondering why we didn’t do this earlier.’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Because it would have been too hard.’ Her gaze was steady on his. ‘And you’re right, it is still hard.’

‘But it doesn’t have to be?’ There was an edge of optimism in his voice. A little glimmer of hopefulness.

Tears prickled in her eyes. A lump rose instantly in her throat. This was dangerous territory. Business was business, but this was something else entirely. She swallowed. ‘I think it always will be. There’s too many memories. Too many associations.’

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Logan had always been like this. His thumb kept moving in little circles, the way it always had when he was trying to soothe her. And for the most part it worked. Logan had always been cool, almost like the eye of a storm. Few things made him ever raise his voice. Few things made him rattled.

She looked at him again. He was still her Logan. Still so handsome. Still so protective. Grief had made his love feel suffocating. But the truth was Logan had never been suffocating. He’d encouraged her to blossom and grow while they’d been in Florence together. He’d be the very person to tell her never to hide her light under a bushel.

Why on earth hadn’t he met someone over the last twelve years? Why wasn’t he married with children? It had always been what he wanted. And he’d seemed to cope so much better with the death of Ariella Rose than she had.

He’d been grief-stricken for sure. The plans they’d made for baby furniture and paraphernalia had silently disappeared. He’d spoken to the doctors regarding a proper burial. Things were difficult when a baby was so young. But Logan’s calm and assuring manner had persuaded them to go along with his wishes and they’d got to lay Ariella Rose to rest in a cemetery just outside the city walls.

The short ceremony by the priest had been beautiful, the flowers and funeral arrangements all carried out by Logan—she’d been too numb to help with any of it.

It was only now, in hindsight, that she could appreciate just how hard that must have been for him. She hadn’t been the only one to cry over the death of their daughter. And after he’d spent days trying to get her talk and she hadn’t responded he’d finally stopped and mirrored her behaviour. Closing in on himself and shutting out the world around him.

He finally replied. ‘Let’s just see how things are. I’m glad we’ve met again, Lucia. I’m glad that you’re settled in an amazing city and doing a job that you love.’

There it was. The unspoken words.

I’m glad you’ve finally moved on.

But had she?

All he wanted to do was reach across the table and hold her. Lucia was at her most fragile right now. He could see the hidden pain in her eyes and he hated it that he was the person who had done that to her. Hated that her association with him was her most painful memory.

He had painful memories too. But he was still able to remember the good times in Florence—running through one of the fountains during a rainstorm, watching her face when he’d come home with every flower that the street vendor had been selling, sneaking out in the morning to buy her favourite pastry and watching her nose twitch as she’d woken up to the smell. For a long time Lucia had been his joy—and the feeling had been mutual. He only wished he was still hers.

She’d haunted his dreams on and off for years. Dreams about them meeting again in some random place, having dinner together, or catching each other’s eye across a crowded room.

He’d always dreaded hearing the news that she was happily married or settled with a family of her own, but somehow seeing her like this was equally hard. More than anything he wanted Lucia to be happy.

Seeing her again was sparking a whole host of emotions that he’d long forgotten. He’d never imagined that the spark between them would still feel so electric. He’d never imagined that once he’d stared into those brown eyes again he’d feel rooted to the spot and never want to break away.

Lucia brushed her chocolate hair from her shoulder. It was a little shorter than he remembered and it suited her. She pulled her hand back steadily, keeping her gaze on his. He could almost see her retreating back into herself and putting a carefully drawn line between them.

She picked up her coffee cup. ‘How soon do you think you’ll get the paperwork completed?’

Business. That was all she wanted to discuss with him. Even after all this time.

He nodded, picking up the biscuit from the side of his cappuccino and placing it on her saucer. He didn’t miss the little hint of a smile from her.

‘How soon can you tell me I can finish my renovations?’

She blinked. ‘Well...’ She paused. ‘Actually, I’m not sure. We have to file your paperwork, then I need to do some investigating. I’ve made a private appointment tomorrow to view another fresco by the artist we think is involved.’

He sat back in his chair. ‘Well, that’s fine. I’ll come with you.’

She looked surprised. ‘Why would you want to come with me?’

He shrugged. ‘There’s not much point in me going back if I can’t give Louisa good news. She needs to know that the renovations and wedding plans can continue. At the moment most of the work in the chapel has ground to a halt. There’s still work ongoing in the palazzo but it doesn’t require my supervision every day. The chapel will be the difference between this wedding going ahead or not.’

Lucia looked thoughtful. Her fingers started twiddling with a strand of her hair and she crossed her legs, giving him a flash of her tanned skin. ‘What do you know about the royal couple?’

He shook his head. ‘Virtually nothing. I’ve mostly dealt with Lindsay, the wedding planner.’ He laughed. ‘Now, there’s a woman I don’t want to call to say there’s an issue with the chapel.’

Lucia smiled. ‘Will she chew you up and spit you out?’ There was a little spark of amusement in her eyes. It suited her. It made her more like the Lucia he remembered. The Lucia he wanted to remember.

‘In a heartbeat,’ he said quickly. ‘There’s no point in going back until I know I’m safe.’

Lucia frowned. ‘Where have you made arrangements to stay?’

This time he frowned too. Oh, no. ‘Well, I haven’t. Not yet anyway.’ His brain started spinning. ‘There’s a small boutique hotel I stay in if I ever come to Venice. I can give them a call.’ He pulled his mobile from his pocket and started dialling.

Lucia shook her head and held out her hands. ‘Have you seen this place? I’ve never seen Venice this busy. I think everywhere will be packed out.’

So do I. He was cringing inside. He’d known as soon as he’d arrived that he would never make his flight back. It was leaving right around now. And he hadn’t even made any attempt to book another. With this number of tourists he imagined that every flight and train journey, in and out of Venice, was booked for the next few days.

He pressed the phone to his ear. ‘Hi, there, it’s Logan Cascini. I wondered if there was any chance of reserving a room for the night.’

He listened to the reply and tried to stop the sinking feeling settling over him. ‘No problem. Can you recommend anywhere else?’

The crease across Lucia’s brow was deepening.

He listened to the receptionist telling him what he already knew. Venice was packed. Every hotel was fully booked for the next two days. He cut the call and gave his best attempt at a shrug. ‘I’ll try somewhere else.’

Lucia sucked in a breath. ‘Why do you want to stay, Logan? There isn’t anything that you can actually do. Did you book a flight back to Tuscany?’

Her tone was almost accusatory. He pressed a button on his phone and spun it around, showing her his online boarding card for the flight that was due to take off any minute.

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh.’

She bit her lip again. ‘Why do you even want to stay?’

The same question again. This time with a different emphasis on the words. It was obviously preying on her mind, just like it was preying on his. When he’d booked his flight he’d planned to be in Venice for four hours and leave again later today and go straight back to Tuscany. It had all seemed straightforward. Except in his mind, where a little voice kept niggling at him.

This was the contact he’d always imagined making. The renovations were a perfect excuse to be around Lucia. He hadn’t planned it. It had surprised him just as much as it had surprised her. But sometimes fate had a mysterious hand in things.

After the first few awkward moments curiosity had been killing him about Lucia. He wanted to know everything about the last twelve years. He wanted to know her plans for the future. If she was happy. If she was settled.

And absolutely none of it was his business. But that didn’t stop the little craving that had always been there growing into something a whole lot bigger.

There would always be something between them. Right now, it still felt as if there was a big black cloud hanging over them. But for him, he could see little remnants of sunlight struggling to get through. And he wanted them to get through. So badly.

But still something was holding him back. Holding him back from saying their daughter’s name and asking Lucia if she was ready to talk about her.

So he took the easy way out. The safest way out, if he wanted to still have contact with Lucia.

‘I want to stay because I want to help move this project along. I would love to see Burano’s fresco. I would love to see how it compares to the Madonna and Child and to the nymph sculpture. You know I love this stuff just as much as you do.’

Part of him felt guilty. These were careful words, designed to push the little buttons inside her and help things spark along.

There was a glimmer in her eyes. He was talking her language. A language she related to and understood.

He pulled something from his bag. ‘Look at this. You told me to try and find any evidence that Burano had been around the village. I’ve photocopied something from the local museum. One of the guest houses had an ancient register. People used to stay for months at a time.’ He pointed to a blurred entry from 1530. ‘I thought that might be Alberto Burano.’

She screwed up her nose and squinted at the blurred entry. It was difficult to judge but he could see the glimmer of excitement behind her eyes.

‘I’m sure we’ll have a sample of his writing somewhere at the heritage board.’ She met his gaze. ‘This could be really important, Logan. You did well to find this.’

It was the first note of approval he’d had from her and it made his heart swell in his chest. He wasn’t going to tell how he’d had to bribe the local museum curator to let him riffle through all the old paperwork. He wasn’t going to let her know he’d spent all of last night checking through mountains of ancient chests in order to find anything that might help.

‘Can I take this?’ she asked, holding up the photocopy.

He nodded as he zipped up his bag again.

‘This can definitely help.’ She looked around them. The number of people in the quiet street was starting to pick up. ‘But where will you stay?’

The million-dollar question. He shrugged as he desperately tried to think of someone, anyone he still knew in Venice.

His fingers flicked through the numbers on his phone. He had a multitude of contacts in Florence, Rome and Pisa. Venice? Not so much.

‘You can stay with me.’

The words came out of the blue. It was absolutely the last thing he was expecting to hear.

‘What? No, I couldn’t possibly put you to any trouble.’ His stomach clenched.

He couldn’t miss the expression on her face. She was saying the words, but it was reluctantly—this wasn’t a warm invitation.

And he hated that. He hated that she felt obliged to offer him somewhere to stay—when it was obvious she didn’t really want to.

That hurt.

But the reality was that he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Chances were he could spend the next two hours phoning every hotel and just get the same answer—fully booked. There was a strong likelihood he wouldn’t find a bed for the night.

Part of him wanted to refuse graciously and just walk away.

But something else was burning inside...a persistence.

Lucia used to be his. She used to fill his whole world. And he knew that the feelings had been mutual.

They were both adults. They were twelve years away from their shared past. Determination was overcoming him.

He didn’t want to walk away from Lucia—no matter how awkward she felt.

In another world she would love him just as much as she always had, and would be delighted to offer him somewhere to stay and he would be delighted to accept.

But in another world they wouldn’t have lost Ariella Rose.

His fingers itched to reach over and touch her soft hand.

Her own hands were knotted together, turning over and over in her lap.

The rational part of his brain kicked in. He needed to get this job back on track. He needed to finish the renovations at the palazzo and the chapel.

And the history-loving part of him would love to see the other fresco. This wasn’t such an unreasonable offer to accept. Another night in Venice might give him a little time to get to know Lucia again.

And it seemed as though the rest of Venice might be attending a concert somewhere, leaving the beauties of Venice still to be explored...

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. ‘Thank you, Lucia. You’re right. I probably won’t be able to find anywhere else to stay. As long as you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, I’d be delighted to stay.’

CHAPTER FIVE

WHAT HAD SHE just done?

Was her apartment even reasonably tidy? She didn’t have any food. Well, not the kind of food to entertain with and make dinner for a guest. Chilli-flavoured crisps and orange-flavoured chocolate might be her favourite dinner but she couldn’t offer it to a guest. What on earth had she been thinking?

She was desperately hoping that she appeared outwardly calm. But her heartbeat was thudding against her chest at a rate of knots. Logan gestured to the waiter and settled their bill, picking up his bag and giving her a casual smile. ‘Shall we finish this paperwork back at your place?’

It was a reasonable, rational question. He couldn’t possibly imagine the way the blood was racing around her system and the breath was sticking in her lungs.