Page 27 of Pregnant in the Italian's Palazzo

‘Seriously?’ She frowned. ‘That’s like buying cupcakes only to display them for a hundred years on your mantelpiece. That’s torturous. Surely a good wine exists in order to be consumed?’

‘I don’t disagree. However, this particular collection is more of a museum and about preservation than simply owning something expensive in order to possess it.’

‘Ah.’ She nodded. ‘Books, chess sets, wine...you do like collecting things, don’t you?’

‘Wine has long been a passion of mine.’

‘Really, I’d never have guessed, what with the seventy million barrels of it lining the bowels of your palace.’ She laughed, stopping when she saw he hadn’t joined her. Was she imagining it or was he just a little sheepish at his own passionate admission?

‘Clearly you have a favourite brand.’ She gestured to the opposite wall.

‘Viti Di Cora is certainly my favourite, but mostly for vanity reasons.’ He pulled a bottle from the top shelf. ‘I’m probably biased, considering it’s mine.’

‘When you say yours, you mean...’

‘I make it. Well, it’s a collaborative effort, of course. But the grapes are grown on our vineyard in Sardinia where my parents reside. The land there has belonged to my mother’s family for more than a hundred years. The grapes are a very specific variety, one that produces quite a unique...’ He paused. ‘Ah... I apologise. I’m probably oversharing.’

‘No, I’m fascinated, to be honest. I know absolutely nothing about wine other than which colour to order for fish or meat. Even then, I always forget.’

‘I know far too much about it, as evidenced by our present surroundings.’ He looked uncertain for a moment, running a hand through his hair, his eyes suddenly very focused on the stone-patterned ceiling above them.

‘Nysio, is something wrong?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’ He exhaled. ‘Well, no. I simply came down here to speak to you...about yesterday. To apologise. I know how closed I am about the topic of my birth...the truth is, I’m still processing it. I only found out that Zeus Mytikas was my biological father after his death, when I received a copy of his will.’

He needed to walk as he spoke, a feeling she knew all too well and so she took his hand and allowed him to lead the way back through the cellar and out onto the terrace at the rear of the kitchen. The evening light was dim, so it was hard to make out his expression as he told her the full story from start to finish. How he’d been raised to carry on his father’s name, how he’d always suspected he was a bit different but had never questioned it. He’d known his parents had married because of an accidental pregnancy, but he hadn’t known that his mother had been carrying another man’s child.

‘My mother knows that I received the will...she will likely descend upon thepalazzoif I don’t go to Sardinia to address the matter. But...I’d already been avoiding visiting too often, as seeing my father grow more and more ill with every visit is devastating. Now, how am I supposed to interact with him...knowing he was never truly my father?’

‘Sounds to me like he was your father in every way that matters,’ she offered helpfully. ‘I’m pretty sure that I’m both of my parents’ biological child and I’ve never felt like I belonged amongst my siblings. It seems like maybe you were smothered with belonging...a little bit. But it was done with love.’

He nodded, his jaw tight as he stared out at the setting sun.

‘You can’t hide from your parents for ever,’ she said softly.

‘I don’t want to waste any of the time you have left here.’

‘I could come with you. Your parents will need to know the news of the baby eventually. It’s their grandchild, after all. Why not now, while I’m here?’ She shrugged. ‘It could help me to understand this family better...or worse. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to let you go through something so difficult alone.’

‘I’d like for you to see the vineyard,’ he mused, still lost in his thoughts. ‘And we still have a lot to discuss.’

When he walked her back to her room, it was to lay a single kiss upon her cheek and wish her a goodnight before disappearing into his own room. She stood frozen in the hallway, feeling foolish that she had expected him to come inside. That she had hoped he would. The thought of spending another night alone with him nearby was torturous to her overheated libido.

Was he trying a new tactic to get her to agree to what he wanted? Using their chemistry as a bargaining chip? Of course, she hadn’t expected him to do something so ridiculous as fall in love. Men like him were probably used to using and discarding women at will. Having one of those women fall pregnant was probably his worst nightmare. She should be grateful for his honesty. But as she walked back into her room alone, she felt the urge to give in to his demands pulling at her stronger than ever. Would it truly be so terrible to become his wife?

The Bacchetti family’s Sardiniancastellowas an expansive property built into the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea surrounded by acres upon acres of farmland and vineyards. Cora and Arturo Bacchetti greeted them at the bottom of the steps, hand in hand. The beautiful brunette was much younger than her husband but seemed very much in love as she ensured he was strong enough to walk the few steps across the courtyard to greet them.

Aria stood awkwardly to one side, unable to understand the flurry of Italian that flowed as Nysio leaned in to offer his mother a stiff hug. The tension was palpable and Cora made a visible attempt at holding in her emotional reaction to her son’s arrival but the small woman eventually crumbled when Nysio hesitated, then carefully leaned in to place the customary kisses upon his elderly father’s cheeks.

Nysio seemed frozen for a moment, he and Arturo standing side by side, as loud sobs filled the courtyard. Aria cleared her throat, urging him with her eyes to do something, to offer his mother comfort. He took the hint, swooping in to embrace the tiny woman with his broad frame. Hushed words in Italian followed between the three and Aria realised that there was to be no preamble, no polite British cup of tea or beating around the bush. These Italians were just diving into their family trauma right here in the driveway. After a long while, the crying stopped and Aria felt the spotlight turn back to her.

The stranger in their midst.

But instead of introducing her politely, Nysio murmured something in Italian, gesturing towards her and making an unmistakeable motion towards her stomach.

‘DiventiPapa?’ Cora cried, moving to swing her arms around Aria’s shoulders before switching into broken English. ‘I am so happy I cry again. Welcome to the family,bellissima.’

Aria barely had a moment to processthatcomment as they were bustled inside and immediately presented with a table full of food and cold drinks, including a strong red wine.

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