The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2) by Carol Marinelli (little red riding hood read aloud .txt) 📕

To him.

For life.

EPILOGUE

‘YOU HAVE ANOTHER phone call.’ Gian gently shook a sleeping Ariana’s shoulder. ‘Stefano,’ Gian added, watching her eyes force themselves open, knowing she could never not take a call from her twin.

And certainly not on an important day such as this.

‘Stai bene?’ Stefano urgently asked if she was okay.

‘Of course.’ Ariana smiled sleepily as she sat herself up in bed. ‘We are doing wonderfully.’

‘Have you decided on a name for her?’ Stefano asked.

‘We are waiting until you arrive to announce the name,’ Ariana said. ‘I want us all to be together when we do.’

Eloa and Stefano and little George were in Brazil and soon to board a flight to Florence. Dante, Mia and the twins would fly in with their mother and Thomas tomorrow, and all would meet the newest member of the family. But, tired from an exhausting day, Ariana was grateful that for now it was just the three of them.

‘How is Stefano?’ Gian asked when she ended the call.

‘Excited to meet her,’ Ariana said, gazing over to the little crib that held their sleeping daughter.

She was so beautiful, with dark hair and a little red face, and tiny hands with long delicate fingers.

They were both aching for her to wake up just to look into those gorgeous blue eyes again and hear her tiny cry.

‘I wish Papà had got to see her,’ Ariana said. Her father was the only part of her heart that was missing. ‘I wish he had known about us.’ She would get used to it, of course, but she couldn’t help but think how happy he would be today. ‘I am glad we had her in Florence,’ Ariana said. ‘I feel closer to him here.’

‘I know you do.’

La Fiordelise Rome was no longer where Gian resided. For the first time he had a home—a real one—a luxurious villa just a little way out of Florence, with a gorgeous view of the river.

This morning, as labour had started, Ariana had stood on the terrace, taking in the morning, the pink sky, and the lights starting to go off in the city they both loved and thinking what a beautiful day this was for their baby to be born.

And now she was here and it was right to have a little cry and to miss her papà.

‘I have something for you,’ Gian said, and he went into his pocket and pulled out a long, slim box. But instead of handing it to her, he opened it and took the slender chain out and held up the pendant for her to see.

She smiled as he brought it closer, but she didn’t immediately recognise what it was.

‘Gian?’ she questioned as she examined the swirl of rose gold and saw that instead of an F for Fiordelise, there was an A, sparkling in diamonds. ‘It’s beautiful, but...’

‘Take a look,’ Gian said, and he pulled back the heavy drapes that blocked out the world and the city skyline. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the sight of La Fiordelise Florence, for it was lit up in the softest pink.

And there was something else different.

The elegant signage had been changed. Oh, there was still the familiar rose gold swirl, but like her pendant the letter in the centre was now an A.

‘The hotel has had a name change,’ Gian said. ‘It is now Duchessa Ariana.’

‘But...’ She was overwhelmed, stunned actually, that this private man would share their love with the world.

‘I’ve been planning it for months,’ Gian said. ‘Even the letterhead has all changed. The last time I saw your father, like you, he told me I could do better with the hotel names and, like me, he thought your name should be in lights. I think he knew the way the wind was blowing, perhaps even before we did.’

She liked that thought so very much, and then, better than any insignia, came the sweetest sight of all: their daughter stretching her little arms out of the swaddle of linen. They both smiled at the little squeaking noise she made.

Gian clearly wasn’t going to wait for her to cry.

‘Hey, Violetta,’ he said, and gently lifted her from the crib.

They had named her after her great-great-grandmother, the forgotten Duchess, somehow lost in all the tales of Fiordelise.

Well, she was forgotten no more.

Violetta’s restored picture was mounted on the gallery wall of their home in Rome, and soon it would be joined by her namesake’s first photo.

Ariana buried her face in her daughter’s and breathed in that sweet baby scent, and then lifted her head and gazed down at her.

‘I cannot believe how much I know her already,’ Ariana said, playing with her tiny fingers, ‘and at the very same time I cannot wait to get to know her more...’

That was, Gian thought as he looked at his wife, a rather perfect description of his love.

Coming next month

CINDERELLA’S NIGHT IN VENICE

Clare Connelly

As the car slowed to go over a speed hump, his fingers briefly fell to her shoulder. An accident of transit, nothing intentional about it. The reason didn’t matter though; the spark of electricity was the same regardless. She gasped and quickly turned her face away, looking beyond the window.

It was then that she realized they had driven through the gates of City Airport.

Bea turned back to face Ares, a question in her eyes.

‘There’s a ball at the airport?’

‘No.’

‘Then why…?’ Comprehension was a blinding light. ‘We’re flying somewhere.’

‘To the ball.’

‘But…you didn’t say…’

‘I thought you were good at reading between the lines?’

She pouted her lips. ‘Yes, you’re right.’ She clicked her fingers in the air. ‘I should have miraculously intuited that when you invited me to a ball you meant for us to fly there. Where, exactly?’

‘Venice.’

‘Venice?’ She stared at him, aghast. ‘I don’t have a passport.’

‘I had your assistant arrange it.’

‘You—what? When?’

‘When I left this morning.’

‘My assistant just handed over my passport?’

‘You have a problem with that?’

‘Well, gee, let