Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
Doctor Basu’s office had remained unchanged for all the years that Jasmine had been going there. As a child, she’d appreciated the doctor’s maternal warmth; as an adult, she respected her no-nonsense approach. Now Jasmine sat opposite her, the air thick with tension.
The doctor was the first to break the stilted silence. ‘From your silence, I take it this is a surprise.’
Pregnant .
Every thought in Jasmine’s head had been wiped clean by that one word.
‘We need to establish how far along you are.’
‘I know when it happened,’ Jasmine said, her throat dry.
She opened her app and showed the doctor the date.
While she had been taking a break from her usual self-control the night she’d slept with Emilio, she had been back to normal the next morning and had recorded the encounter, keeping track like she did with everything in her life.
It was proof that things only worked out when she had control.
There would be no letting her hair down again.
‘Based on that, we should be doing your ten-week ultrasound,’ Dr Basu said. ‘And you need to stop your birth control immediately.’
The thought of her birth control nearly had Jasmine in tears. ‘I don’t understand why it failed.’
The doctor frowned. ‘Were you on any medications leading up to that night?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘Any natural supplements—any at all?’
‘No. I didn’t— Wait…’ Jasmine paled, thinking back to the weeks before the wedding. How stressed she’d been. She had arranged everything. Richard hadn’t helped at all.
‘Relax,’ he’d said. ‘It’s not that important. We can get married in the court house, for all it matters.’
‘My mother gave me St John’s Wort tea to help with my anxiety about the wedding. Do you think that’s what caused it?’
‘That could explain it,’ Dr Basu said sympathetically. ‘I’m going to write you a prescription for some supplements you need to take and two referrals: one for your ultrasound and the other for a great OB/GYN.’
‘Can I get the ultrasound done today?’
‘Yes, I’ll call ahead for you.’ Dr Basu reached over the desk and took Jasmine’s hand. ‘It will be fine, Jasmine. If you need anything, you call me.’
Jasmine was about to say that she would, but then she remembered Zara—the best friend to whom she had been so much closer than Dr Basu. A person she had trusted implicitly. A person who had betrayed and humiliated her.
No matter how much Jasmine liked the good doctor, she was determined not to need anything at all.
‘Thank you.’
She left the doctor’s office and went to her car in the car park. Too quick for her driver to get to the door, she let herself into the back seat and pulled out her phone.
That night Emilio had asked if Jasmine knew him.
At the club, his seat hadn’t been touched, and even getting a suite had been no problem.
He had to be someone of importance. She opened up her browser and typed ‘Emilio’.
Her finger hovered over the search button.
How many Emilios must there be in the world?
Thinking, she added ‘New York’ and ‘Boulevard’ next to his name—all that she knew about him—and hit enter.
Hundreds of hits landed.
And yet, when she opened the images tab, she immediately saw him. Neat, curly brown hair. Sharply tailored suits. Paparazzi pictures of him dressed a little more casually. Those coffee-coloured eyes. There was no mistaking him.
Jasmine cursed under her breath. He wasn’t just a VIP. He was Emilio De Luca.
***
Emilio sat behind his desk. He’d just ended yet another virtual conference call, and had only a handful of minutes before the next one.
Some days were just like that. It was one meeting after another until late into the evening.
And to recover, he wouldn’t go home to rest; he would go to Boulevard.
A tired mind had the tendency to wander, and Emilio didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts at the best of times.
And yet, once he got there, he couldn’t bring himself to seek out company for the night.
He hadn’t for two months. Not since he had been with a tall, curly haired beauty.
Just as he was about to call for Rachel, his PA—and a strong espresso—the door swung open and in she walked, holding a large manilla envelope.
‘Sorry to disturb, Emilio,’ she said. ‘A messenger dropped this off you.’
‘Did they say what it was?’
His PA shook her head. ‘No. Just that it was urgent.’
‘Thank you, Rachel.’
He watched her close the door before he opened it. When he pulled out the document, he stopped breathing.
The last will and testament of Valentina Adriana De Luca.
Just like that, the pressure in his chest that had slowly been easing over the past four weeks was back, like boulder making it hard to breathe.
The will had been read months ago. Why was he receiving a copy now?
He was already in the process of receiving everything that had belonged to his mother—everything apart from the vineyards, that was, because his father had ensured that even in death his mother obeyed him and left those to Enzo.
His heir, the favoured son. But Emilio didn’t want to think about his father.
It would only leave him bitter and facing all that was wrong with him. All that wasn’t worthy.
He shook out the envelope in the hope there would be something to ease his confusion.
A handwritten note fell out. He picked it up, a lump forming in his throat.
He would recognise his mother’s handwriting anywhere.
He read the note written in Italian and had to force himself to remain calm.
To keep the grief that was back in full force from dragging him under.
‘I will always take care of you.’
Emilio remembered that last day when he’d sat by her bedside and tucked her in before she’d died.
He would never forget it. He still had nightmares about it.
The moment he’d lost the only person who had ever loved him.
He remembered her saying those same words.
She had wanted to say something else to him then, but he’d stopped her, and she’d never said another word again.
Was it about this? With a lump in his throat and his chest cracking open, Emilio turned the page and began reading the document. His eyes skimmed each line. So far, it was exactly the same…
Until it wasn’t. There was a difference—a monumental difference. All breath left Emilio and he slowly sank into his seat.
The vineyards had been left to him . Not just the ones in Perlano that had been passed down for centuries, but also the ones in the other family estate in Piemonte: Vozzano.
Vozzano had been started by his great grandfather at a time when Calabrians had been leaving the area in great numbers.
It hadn’t mattered that the people of Perlano had ultimately been happy and had chosen to remain; the acquisition of Vozzano had been an opportunity to expand the conte’s portfolio to the north, ensuring the family wealth would increase in a time of uncertainty.
And so another wine estate had been added, one which created some of the finest grappa in the world.
‘Mamma…’ he whispered in the dead quiet of his office.
He stared at the line, reading and re-reading it, as if by magic it would suddenly change.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been looking at the will, but the faraway sound of a phone ringing made him realise that he was short on time.
He had another meeting in minutes, but he would never be able to focus on it.
Not after the bombshell that had been dropped into his hands.
He picked up his office phone. ‘Rachel, move my meeting.’ He hung up without waiting for her to confirm the instruction. He must have sounded robotic, but right now his body was on autopilot. His mind was stuck on what his mother had left him.
He picked the envelope back up, looking for the return address.
He recognised the law firm. It wasn’t the one that handled all the business of the De Luca family but the firm that his mother had used for her own affairs.
He had to call them. Two wills, two different sets of lawyers…
Before he went any further, Emilio needed to know this wasn’t some sort of cruel joke.
It would be pretty late in the afternoon in Italy, but this was urgent, and he needed answers. Luckily for him, his mother’s lawyer had never turned away his call.
‘I wondered when I would hear from you, Emilio,’ he said by way of greeting.
‘Is this will real?’ Emilio asked, cutting to the chase.
‘Yes. Your mother instructed us to wait four months before sending it to you.’
‘Why?’ It surprised Emilio how steady he sounded when his throat had gone dry and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding in his chest. His mother was dead and buried but the arrival of this will made it feel as if, through some sort of miracle, his mother would appear.
As if she was suddenly back in the room with him.
‘She said she had her reasons,’ the lawyer answered. ‘Listen, Emilio, we have a little bit of time but not much. Probate must happen within the year, so we need to move quickly.’
‘I hear you. I will be in touch.’ Emilio ended the call, tossed his phone onto a stack of papers and ran his fingers through his hair.
The vineyards. They had meant everything to his mother.
As a young boy in Perlano, Emilio would beg his tutors for a break just so he could run down to the vineyards and help her tend to the grapes, despite the legions of workers they had.
Emilio was certain he’d been more of a hindrance than a help, but his mother would smile down at him and praise his hard work.