Page 29 of Sunrise over Strawberry Hill Farm

But he surprised her by shaking his head, a shadow crossing his dark eyes. ‘You’re so very wrong.’ He dragged a hand through his dark hair, messing it up even more. ‘You’re the one with the loving family and friends, not me. I have nothing.’

Flora was shocked to realise that he was entirely serious. ‘I don’t understand,’ she told him, confused. ‘You own a vineyard and drive a Ferrari. I wouldn’t exactly call that nothing.’

But the eyes that stared up at her were haunted and her smile quickly dropped as she saw the pain in his face.

‘The vineyard was sold last week by my father and I stole the Ferrari. Everything is lost.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Don’t worry about it, Flora. I already know how low your opinion is of me. The good news is that it can’t possibly be lower than what I think of myself. So laugh away. It’s all my fault anyway.’

But Flora had never felt less like laughing than at that moment. She felt nothing but sympathy for him as she realised that he was telling the truth. She suddenly found herself wanting to get closer to him, to find out the real Nico underneath the smooth charm and help ease his pain, as he had tried to do with her own.

17

Nico was feeling extremely cross with himself as he sank down onto the bed. Why on earth had he told Flora the truth? This wasn’t a confessional. He never normally blurted out stuff about himself. Everything should be kept light and easy. He really should have kept his mouth shut.

He shivered. The bedroom really was freezing and his warm Italian blood wasn’t used to it, he told himself. But that wasn’t it. Why had he confessed to Flora that everything was lost? Yes, he was weary but he was mainly tired of pretending. Tired of being something that he wasn’t.

He waited for her usual sarcastic comment, but it never came. Instead, she came to sit next to him, the ancient bed springs creaking and squeaking as she did so.

‘So you lied to Grams when you said things were good over in Italy?’ she asked.

Nico shook his head. ‘No. I just omitted a few truths.’

‘About the vineyard?’

He nodded mutely. His shoulders sagged at the thought of it and he pressed his eyes shut to try to blot out the pain. It didn’t help. All he could see with his eyes closed was that heavy front door, the view from the balcony of the lake. The creak of the staircase and the feel of the wooden banister under his fingers.

He gulped away his emotions and tried to steady himself.

When he reopened his eyes, Flora was still watching him.

‘Why couldn’t you keep it?’ she asked gently.

He turned to look into her deep green eyes. ‘Because my father sold it without my permission.’

Flora’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything. Nico was grateful. Now that he had begun to speak, he just needed to get it all out there once and for all.

‘That vineyard was my family home,’ he carried on. ‘My legacy. My grandmother and grandfather wanted it passed down to me, but, as usual, it’s all about my father and nobody else. He didn’t care about the history, about any of it. About the years and years of hard work that had gone into every vine.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, trying to steady his emotions once more. ‘Nonno is –was– a great man. Steady as a rock, loyal to his family and friends. My father inherited none of this. He was always wild, always seeking something better, something grander. The trouble was that each time he failed, the family fortune dwindled. In the end, there was no money left.’

‘How?’ asked Flora. ‘What happened?’

‘One rotten business deal after another,’ said Nico in a bitter tone. ‘My father didn’t care how much pressure or pain he was causing my grandparents. It was all about him. He is a lousy father and a lousy businessman. Pretty much the worst combination you can find.’ He hung his head.

‘What about your mother?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘Didn’t want a baby so left me with my dad after a couple of weeks. Anyway, after Nonno passed away last summer, Dad inherited everything. I contested the will. In the end, the judge found in his favour and not in mine, despite it being my grandfather’s wishes. Turned out the judge was a great fan of my father’s football career!’ He could hear the bitterness in his voice, and the emotions that were causing his words to be shaky as well.

Flora must have heard it too, because she reached out and covered his hand with hers. He drew strength from the reassuring warmth and softness of her skin.

‘There was nothing I could do,’ he carried on, staring down at her pale skin against his own hand. ‘Once my father owned it outright, it was put up for auction there and then. A week ago, the vineyard was sold to the highest bidder.’

‘And the car?’

He allowed himself a small smile. ‘It was in the garage. My dad’s favourite possession. And I was so mad at him that I took the keys and stole the car. I had nowhere else to go except Nonno’s wish to hand over the shawl to Grams, so I spent the next couple of days driving to your farm and I ended up sleeping in my car on the way.’

Flora looked shocked. ‘Seriously?’

‘Absolutely, and I can’t complain about the view of the lake when I woke up that first morning in Cranfield.’

She blushed and rolled her eyes. ‘Can we focus on the serious bit for now?’