Chapter 21
21
KATE
My flight to Verona dragged, even though it was only two hours long – anticipation, I suppose. I’m now in a cab, zipping through the winding streets, both looking forward to seeing Willem and anxious about the purpose of this trip.
Poor Lucia has no idea we’re about to deliver devastating news.
The cab turns onto a narrow street, then stops outside an arched doorway. While the cabbie retrieves my case from the boot, I get out, looking up at the hotel’s facade. Like many of the buildings in Verona, it’s beautiful. I pay in cash – with a generous tip – then wheel my case into the hotel.
As soon as I enter the lobby, I spy Willem at reception. He’s leaning on the counter and seems to be having an intense conversation with the receptionist.
I sidle up right as he says, ‘I don’t understand how this happened. The reservation was for two rooms.’
That doesn’t bode well, but surely it’s fixable.
‘Hi,’ I say, drawing his attention.
He looks down at me as if he’s surprised I’ve appeared by his side.
‘Hi,’ he says, clearly frustrated. ‘There’s an issue with the reservation.’
‘I heard. What’s the problem?’
The receptionist, who seems just as baffled as Willem, explains that the second room from the confirmation email has disappeared from the system. ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ she says.
‘And you can’t just add the room back to the reservation?’ I ask.
‘No, I’m sorry. Unfortunately, all our rooms are booked for the weekend.’ She shrugs sheepishly.
I look to Willem. ‘What do you think?’ I ask. ‘Try another hotel?’
Please say we should just stay here. Together. In the one room they do have.
‘I don’t know,’ he replies, glowering at the reception desk.
In all our interactions, this is the most uncertain I’ve seen him, and there’s something endearing about someone as capable Willem being this rattled.
‘Are you sure there are no other rooms available?’ I ask the receptionist, even though I’d be happy with the one. ‘Or what about a suite? Do you have any suites available?’
Her chocolate-brown eyes meet mine for a moment, then she steps in front of the desktop computer and starts typing quickly. She frowns at the screen, shaking her head and breathing noisily out of her nose. She jerks the mouse across the mousepad and types again. Eventually, she sighs and looks up.
‘I am sorry – I even checked our sister hotel near Ponte Nuovo. But I can call around and find you a second room somewhere nearby.’
Willem scrubs his hand over his face, then turns to me. ‘We really need to get to Lucia’s gallery. What if we leave our luggage here, go see Lucia, then figure out the rooms later?’ he asks.
It occurs to me that by then it might be too late to organise another room – perfect!
‘Sounds good.’
We turn towards the receptionist, who hands over luggage tags with a smile. She seems pleased to be able to help us with something . We tag our cases and she takes them from us, securing them in a locked room behind the reception desk.
‘Ready?’ Willem asks.
‘Yep,’ I reply.
As we step out into the cool evening air, my heart rate increases – and it has nothing to do with the handsome Dutchman by my side. This is it. We’re going to break the news to Lucia.
* * *
We arrive at the gallery to discover it is open, alleviating concerns about tracking Lucia down, but she seems to be hosting some sort of event. It’s brimming with people drinking wine and chatting animatedly, with some spilling out onto the footpath.
‘Not ideal,’ I say to Willem. ‘What do you think we should do?’
His eyes scan the small crowd, then land on me and he does that thing where he’s obviously thinking things through, but his eyes are locked onto mine the entire time. It’s incredibly sexy and far less unnerving than it was at first. But even so, I look away, refocusing on how I plan to break the news to Lucia.
‘We could get dinner and come back later,’ Willem says eventually.
‘But we have no idea how long this will go on,’ I say, looking back at him. ‘What if by the time we return, she’s locked up and gone somewhere else?’
‘Good point,’ he says, twin lines forming between his brows. ‘And you definitely want to be the one to tell her?’
‘Yes, it should come from me.’
‘Okay, let’s go in.’
He lets me go first, uttering an apology in Italian as we slip past the people blocking the doorway.
As we weave through the jovial party guests, I take in the long, narrow, beautifully appointed gallery. The pieces on the righthand wall appear to be by the same artist and when I peer at one more closely, Lucia’s signature is scrawled across the bottom-right corner.
The artwork on the opposite wall must be by other artists – they’re hung in small groups, each with a distinctive style. And along the middle of the room are narrow wooden tables showcasing pottery, wood carvings, and blown-glass sculptures.
A trill of boisterous laughter fills the space, and when I look up from an intricate glass paperweight, I spot Lucia at the back of the gallery, perched on the edge of a desk and laughing heartily at something an older, stylishly dressed woman just said.
Photos do not do her justice. She is absolutely stunning: a petite but curvy figure, jet-black hair worn pin-straight past her shoulders, a heart-shaped face with full lips and high cheekbones, and enormous dark-brown eyes, framed by expertly shaped, full brows.
I turn and make an ‘eek’ face at Willem. ‘I’m nervous,’ I say.
He stares at me intently, then gives my arm a squeeze. ‘It will be okay,’ he says reassuringly. It helps – a little.
‘But how do we… you know… approach her?’
‘We wait for their conversation to end,’ he says, nodding towards Lucia, ‘then introduce ourselves.’ He’s replied as if this is a normal, everyday situation. It isn’t.
‘Right, okay.’
I draw in a deep, fortifying breath, then expel it slowly. And before I can overthink it or hedge a moment longer, I beeline for Lucia.
‘Hello, Lucia,’ I say, interrupting. So much for waiting for a natural break in the conversation, but nerves took over and now it’s done.
‘Hello,’ she says, eyeing me curiously.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ I say to them both.
The other woman smiles at me tautly, then says something to Lucia in Italian. Lucia accepts a kiss on each cheek and when the other woman leaves, she looks at me with a smile. She must think I’m an admirer of her art or even a prospective client.
I look behind me and signal for Willem to step closer, then turn back to Lucia. ‘I’m Kate Whitaker and this is Willem de Vries.’
‘Hello,’ she says again, reaching out to shake our hands in turn. Then her head tilts expectedly. This is the part where I’m supposed to tell her who we are and why we’re here.
‘Uh…’
It’s a poor start and I mentally chastise myself. Come on, Kate . Margot would just blurt it out, like ripping off a plaster, but I’ve practised what I want to say, so I start there.
‘We’d like to speak to you privately about something important.’ I glance to my left, where a narrow glass-paned door leads to a compact office. ‘Perhaps we could go in there?’
Lucia seems confused – and why wouldn’t she? We’re random people who have shown up uninvited.
‘It’s about Jon Dunn,’ Willem says.
‘Oh,’ she says, breaking into a wide smile, ‘you know Jonny . Are you also art lovers, or have you just stopped by to say hello?’
God, this is going to be harder than I thought. And Jonny ? Jon is anything but a ‘Jonny’. But perhaps Lucia sees a vastly different side to him.
‘Ah, well, we are art lovers,’ I say, smiling up at Willem, who nods along, ‘and you have a beautiful gallery. Your work is incredible.’
She beams at me, but I’m about to wipe that smile from her face.
‘I’m afraid this isn’t about art, however. We have something to tell you and it’s probably best done in private.’
Her face falls instantly. ‘Is everything all right? Is Jonny okay?’
It’s not lost on me that Lucia’s first thought is of Jon’s wellbeing; whereas, when Willem broke the news to me, it took me much longer to consider that he might be unwell or injured. And considering how her face lit up at the mention of his name, Lucia may have a far closer connection with Jon than I ever had. Even closer than how Adriana described her relationship with Jon.
This really is much more difficult than I imagined.
‘It’s nothing like that. As far as we know, he’s fine,’ I say, and she sighs with relief. ‘But we do have information about Jon, and it concerns you.’
‘Okay,’ she says, finally seeming to grasp the gravity of the situation. She pushes off the edge of the desk and goes into the office, beckoning for us to follow, which we do.
* * *
‘ You’re engaged to Jonny? ’ she asks, every word imbued with incredulity. ‘I don’t understand,’ she adds with a please-tell-me-you’re-joking laugh.
‘I am, yes,’ I reply, steadily meeting her gaze. ‘He proposed nearly four months ago – in London.’
‘No – no, it isn’t possible. He’s in love with me.’
She states this as an unassailable fact, and having anticipated her reluctance to believe me, I take out my phone and unlock the screen. As planned, it opens on the photo of me and Jon from the night he proposed – the one I showed Adriana in Amsterdam.
I look away because I hate seeing myself with him, blissfully unaware. I could have deleted it from my phone when I first found out, along with the other photos of us. But now I’m glad I didn’t.
Lucia takes the phone from me and stares at the screen, her brow furrowed and her jaw tight.
‘But, Lucia, there’s more…’ I say, gently taking back my phone.
As I tell her about Adriana, myriad emotions cross her face and eventually, her features settle into an open-mouthed grimace.
I gesture towards Willem. ‘Willem is Adriana’s brother. He’s the one who discovered what Jon was doing and came to tell me – like we’ve come to tell you.’
She regards me closely, then looks up at Willem.
‘We’ve brought additional proof if you nee?—’
She holds up a hand, and he stops talking. The silence that follows is thick with tension as Lucia’s gaze fixes on the wall between us, thoughts tumbling behind her eyes. I wonder if she’s conducting a mental audit of their time together – like I did.
Her eyes snap back into focus and she looks at me. ‘ Bastardo ,’ she says, her voice laden with vitriol.
Instinctually, I recoil, thinking she’s referring to me. But when Willem steps in with, ‘He is a bastard,’ I realise my error.
Though if Lucia did direct some of her anger at me, I would understand. This is a tricky situation no matter which way it’s spun, and it’s forgivable if she wants to shoot the messenger.
It also occurs to me how little it has taken to convince her, especially compared to Adriana – or even me. Lucia must have had her suspicions, or perhaps she had niggling doubts but dismissed them – also like I did.
‘That’s why we wanted to tell you,’ Willem continues, ‘to prevent him from doing any more damage than he already has.’
‘But you don’t even know me,’ she says. ‘Why do you want to help me? Either of you.’ Her eyes land back on me, and from the way she’s asking, she’s not lobbing an accusation; she’s genuinely curious.
‘Because Jon is a snake and we don’t deserve his lies,’ I reply evenly.
Her expression softens slightly. ‘So, you were the first?’ she asks, and I only now notice her mild Italian accent.
I recall from Marie’s research that although Lucia was born and raised in England, she’s lived in Italy for the past decade.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘But it was fast – the courtship – so there’s a lot of overlap between us. And I have no idea if Jon has done anything like this in the past – strung several women along at once – but as far as we can tell, there are only three of us. For now, anyway.’
She nods. ‘And does he know you’ve caught him in the lie?’
‘No. As far as Jon’s concerned, Adriana and I are both in the dark.’
Her eyes narrow again and there’s a flash of intrigue. ‘You have a plan, don’t you?’
‘We do. And if you’re willing, we’d like you to be part of it.’
‘Will it make Jon pay for what he’s done?’
‘In more ways than one,’ I reply.
She nods, then puffs out her cheeks and exhales slowly. ‘I think I’ve always known,’ she says, her mouth bunching to the side. ‘Too good to be true – this handsome, worldly wine merchant enters my life, out of the blue… tells me how beautiful I am, how talented… how he wants to introduce me to his art-dealer friends… That’s why I thought he’d sent you.’ Her gaze lifts to the ceiling and she shakes her head at herself. ‘ So gullible.’
‘I felt exactly the same way when I found out – I still do, sometimes.’
‘Adriana too,’ says Willem.
‘But Jon’s lies are layered and textured and calculated,’ I continue. ‘For one, he’s not a wine merchant. Or a pilot,’ I say, pointing to myself, ‘or a diamond dealer, like he told Adriana.’
‘What is he then – besides a bastard ?’ she asks sarcastically.
There’s an explosion of laughter from the gallery and we all look towards the door.
‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘I should probably get back to my party.’
‘Before you do,’ I say, flicking a glance towards Willem, ‘there’s one more thing.’
‘Don’t tell me – he’s really an alien. No, no, a time traveller.’ She laughs at her own joke but soon realises we’re not laughing along and stops. ‘Just tell me,’ she says with resignation.
‘You’re seeing him tomorrow night, right?’ Willem asks.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because Willem and a woman called Marie Maillot have been investigating Jon. That’s how we’ve pieced this together, and there’s every indication that he’s going to propose tomorrow night. To you .’
I probably didn’t need to clarify that last part, but I’m not exactly my most switched-on self at the moment. Though I’m not sure who would be in this situation.
There’s a beat of silence before Lucia erupts. ‘He’s going to propose ? Well, he can fuck off. I’m not marrying that… that… stronzo .’
I have no idea what stronzo means, but I can guess.
‘Of course – no one would expect you to,’ I say. ‘But…’ I hesitate, because what I’m about to ask is big – enormous .
‘But?’ she prods.
‘But it’s better if Jon doesn’t get to propose in the first place.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s like I said earlier – he’s still of the belief that Adriana and I are none the wiser. We’ve been in contact with Jon, but when he’s asked to meet up in person, we’ve made excuses.’
‘So, you’re stringing him along?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, but why? Why not simply confront him?’
‘Because of the plan,’ I say. ‘And this may sound completely bizarre, but Adriana and I are working with a matchmaker called Poppy. She’s currently posing as Jon’s fourth potential love interest, and she’s working on getting him to donate a huge sum of money to a charity he would never donate to if he weren’t trying to win her over. All going well, he signs the cheque, then the four of us confront him together.’
Lucia regards me thoughtfully. ‘That’s good. I like it. But I have so many questions.’
‘We’ll answer every question we can,’ I say.
‘Definitely,’ Willem concurs.
‘Well, we can start with how I avoid seeing Jon tomorrow night.’