Dreaming of Italy: A stunning and heartwarming holiday romance Read online

  ‘You must be Emma.’

  She nodded and smiled. ‘Dead right. What gave me away?’

  He managed a half-smile in return, not dissimilar to the attempts his father also made in that department. ‘Dexter told me you were tall, blonde and drop-dead gorgeous.’ Then he let his eyes fall once more to the water below.

  She did her best to control her blushes, still amazed at being described in such glowing terms by the pilot fish. She had never really thought of Dexter as possessing any kind of aesthetic sense. In fairness, she hadn’t really thought of him up to now as anything more than an appendage forever linked to the big boss. Her opinion of him rose as a result.

  ‘Well, you can see he was exaggerating, but surely that description could apply to any number of the women here tonight?’

  He looked up again and she noticed for the first time that he had the same piercing blue eyes as his father. The difference was that his were much bleaker, prematurely aged. ‘Maybe it’s because you look different from the others.’

  ‘Is that a polite way of saying I look a mess?’ She was determined to keep it light.

  He shook his head. ‘Not at all. You just look a bit more serious than the average Hollywood blonde.’ He gave that same dismissive gesture of the hand as his father did. ‘Anyway, my father said you were coming tonight and you’re about the first person to speak to me so it wasn’t that hard to join the dots.’

  ‘Mind if I sit down?’

  He shifted across the warm wood of the diving board to make room and she sat down beside him. As she did so, her ‘sensible’ shoes suddenly hove into view.

  ‘Cool shoes. Is this the new fashion?’

  She wasn’t sure if he was serious or if he was poking fun at her; she could feel herself blushing again. She thought about trying to hide the shoes, but the cat was out of the bag now so she did her best to bluff it out. ‘Maybe I’m setting the trend. Anyway, Richard, I thought I’d come and talk to you about Italy.’

  He nodded but made no reply. His eyes had dropped once more, maybe to the water or maybe to her sandals. She did her best to dismiss thoughts of her bloody shoes and concentrate on work.

  ‘Have you read Dreaming of Italy?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Then I think that’s the first thing you should do. Will you do that for me? I’ll ask Dexter to get you a copy of the screenplay.’

  ‘My father already gave me a copy, but I just haven’t got round to reading it.’ He glanced up. ‘But I will.’ His eyes made contact with hers once again. ‘Is it good?’

  ‘I’ll leave that for you to judge. For my money, I think it’s very good. Certainly your father’s hoping it’ll turn into a blockbuster.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘It’s a love story set immediately before the First World War, around the same period as A Room with a View. Seen that?’

  ‘No, but I’ve heard the name. That was set in Florence, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. Well, this is sort of similar but it strays all over Italy, or rather northern Italy, from the Alps to Tuscany and back up to Venice. It’s the story of a young Englishwoman who’s been packed off on a tour of Italy by her father, accompanied by her governess who’s a bit of an old battleaxe. The girl had got herself involved with the suffragette movement back in the UK and he didn’t approve.’

  ‘Didn’t one of them run out in front of a race horse and get killed?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Emma was impressed. Clearly he had paid attention in his history classes. ‘Anyway, in the course of the tour, she meets and falls in love with a young British army officer who’s on leave over there in Italy. What we’ve got to do is to find the most beautiful, emotive, atmospheric locations possible. Your father told me he wants people to fall in love with the scenery as much as with the characters.’ She paused. ‘Have you been to Italy?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, but the places I went to were anything but beautiful.’ He raised his head again. ‘It was a bad time for me. Did they tell you about my problems?’

  Emma took a deep breath. ‘They told me you’d been in rehab, but that you’re clear now. Is that right?’

  ‘That’s what they tell me.’

  ‘You’re not convinced?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m taking it one day at a time.’

  Emma decided to steer away from this topic but not before she had given him some encouragement. ‘Well, you’re looking good from where I’m sitting.’

  He didn’t acknowledge the remark so she stood up, smoothing down her dress and checking that her sandals were once more hidden from view.

  ‘Feel like coming in with me for a drink?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m staying off the booze, thanks. To be honest, I’m not that fond of crowds these days. Besides, nobody’ll talk to me. Nobody knows who I am.’

  Emma couldn’t let that one go.

  ‘What do you mean, nobody knows you? This is your house. You’re the son of the host and hostess.’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’ve pretty much been painted out of the picture over these past few years. They did it to protect me, but it also eliminated a source of embarrassment for them.’ He hesitated for a few seconds. ‘I don’t blame them, I really don’t. I’ve been an embarrassment to myself.’ He sounded genuine and Emma’s heart went out to him.

  ‘So you’re telling me most of the guests here tonight have no idea who you are?’ He nodded. ‘Well, that makes two of us. I’m almost completely unknown amongst all these big names as well. I’ve got an idea, let’s pretend you’re my little brother from England. Can you do an English accent? Come on, let’s go and have some fun.’

  He looked up again and this time she felt she could discern a spark in those lifeless eyes. ‘Did you say little brother?’ As he spoke, he stood up and Emma couldn’t miss the fact that he had definitely inherited the height gene from his father. She wasn’t small, but he towered over her.

  ‘I stand corrected. You can be my younger, but taller brother.’ As she took a better look at him, she reflected that if she were ten years younger, she could quite easily have been attracted to this handsome, troubled boy. No sooner had the thought occurred than she dismissed it, just as she dismissed the thought of any man. She determined to concentrate on thinking of him as her little brother, six foot six or not. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can both find something non-alcoholic to drink. Don’t forget, I’m in my boss’s house. The last thing I need is to get plastered.’

  This brought a real smile to his face and it took years off him. ‘Well, if you insist, my dear, I totally agree. Do let us go and have fun.’ He sounded like Lord Whatshisname out of Downton Abbey. She was impressed.

  ‘Wow, you do a good English accent.’

  ‘I had an English girlfriend for a while.’

  There was a strange note in his voice and she should have picked up on it. Instead, she chose to keep the conversation going and immediately regretted it.

  ‘And what happened to her? Why did you split up?’

  His answer suddenly changed the whole mood of the conversation.

  ‘She left me because I couldn’t quit the drugs.’ His voice was studiously level. ‘It was the right thing for her to do. I was a waste of space.’

  ‘Oh, Richard, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Call me Rich. My friends call me Rich.’

  Taking this as a positive sign, she caught hold of his forearm and set off towards the house.

  ‘All right, Rich, come and help your sister find a glass of water.’

  A few minutes later, as they mingled with the crowd back in JM’s huge lounge, she felt a tap on her bare shoulder. She looked round to see none other than Ethan Dukes, one of the most recognisable faces – and bodies – on the planet. She had known him ever since he was a young actor just after getting his first big break and they had become good friends. As he was under contract to JMGP, they often met and they got on very well together. Unlike a lot of superstars, he
had remained pretty grounded – insofar as you can be grounded when you do most of your travelling by private jet or helicopter.

  They often spoke on set, or over a coffee, and she felt she knew him as well as anybody in the business. She got the impression that he enjoyed talking to her and, in fact, she sometimes felt more like an agony aunt, or a big sister, to him as he often came to her with his problems. In fact, she knew him so well by now that she genuinely managed to forget he was a global megastar when they met up and he probably appreciated being treated as a normal human being.

  ‘Hi, English. How you doin’?’ Ethan knew her name, but had always called her that, and when he greeted her he always imitated Joey from Friends.

  She gave him a big smile and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Hi, Ethan, I’m fine. How’s life in your stratosphere?’ She pointed to Rich beside her. ‘Do you know Richard?’

  Ethan nodded and shook Rich warmly by the hand. ‘Hi, Richie, I haven’t seen you since you were a spotty teenager. All good with you?’

  Emma was pleased to see Rich respond with a real genuine smile. ‘I’m good, thanks, Ethan… now.’

  Emma caught a glimpse of comprehension in Ethan’s eyes. She knew that very little escaped him here on his home turf and he had probably been one of the very few to know of Rich’s struggle with drugs. He clapped Rich on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging wink. ‘That’s great, Richie. Keep it up.’ He turned back to Emma and she felt his eyes on her, checking her out. ‘You’re looking gorgeous tonight, English, you know that?’

  Emma had enough experience of Hollywood hype by now to be able to sidestep the compliment almost without blushing. Almost. Whether she thought of him as sort of her little brother or not, this was, after all, the man Cosmo readers had voted the sexiest man on the planet.

  ‘Why, thank you, Ethan, you say the nicest things. And you aren’t looking too shabby yourself.’

  He grinned. They both knew that was the understatement of the night. ‘Hey, they tell me you’re on your way to Italy to scout out some romantic places for me. Is that really true, English?’

  ‘That’s right. Have you read the script of Dreaming of Italy?’ She lowered her voice as this was still a closely-guarded secret.

  She saw him hesitate for a moment and it didn’t surprise her. He had probably received a one paragraph summary of the plot from JM or his agent and he wouldn’t start in on the whole thing until just a matter of weeks or even days before shooting began. Even so, she knew from past experience that he would be word perfect when he came on set.

  ‘Not quite all, but it sounds great.’

  ‘It will be great with you playing the lead.’ She smiled to herself. She was getting quite good at this Hollywood hype herself. ‘And I imagine you’ve heard who your co-star’s going to be?’

  A look of apprehension crossed his face. ‘I know. Laney Travers. That’s amazing… I think.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I just hope she isn’t going to act me out of the movie.’

  Emma slipped seamlessly into her agony aunt persona. ‘Don’t do yourself down, Ethan. You’ll knock ’em dead.’

  ‘Here’s hoping. Anyway listen, while you’re in Italy, I need you to find me somewhere sexy in the moonlight. I love those scenes.’ He grinned for a moment. ‘That way, nobody sees the wrinkles in the half-light.’ His eyes flicked over her shoulder and back again. ‘Sorry, sweetie, but that’s my agent over there beckoning. Looks like I need to press the flesh. No rest for the wicked…’ He waved at Rich, blew her a kiss, and carried on making a tour of the room. Needless to say, there wasn’t even a hint of a wrinkle on his face.

  Chapter 3

  Their flight landed at Turin airport in the early afternoon and Emma was glad to get out into the fresh air. They had flown from LA to Munich earlier in the day and had had to wait there for a couple of hours before getting their connecting flight. Although the transatlantic part of the journey had been in business class with a lie-flat bed, Emma hadn’t been able to sleep much and was looking forward to an early night.

  First things first, however, she pulled out her phone and called Elliot. He was the executive Dexter had found to take over her work at JMGP and she had spent twelve hours a day with him every day over the past week, doing her best to ensure he was going to be able to take her place – as much for her sake as for his. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him to do a good job, but it would be her reputation on the line if things went pear-shaped, and after the years of toil, sacrifice and burnt midnight oil it had taken for her to claw her way up to her current position in the company, she wasn’t going to see that thrown away by somebody else. Still, grudgingly, she had started to come round to thinking that he might be all right, but she was determined to keep a close eye on him, even from six thousand miles away.

  ‘Emma, hi. You’ve arrived?’

  ‘Hi, Elliot, what’s new?’

  He reeled off the latest developments and she felt reasonably reassured. For now, at least, things appeared to be running smoothly but with shooting starting on Monday, she knew the real acid test still awaited. She threw him a few queries about thoughts that had occurred to her in the plane and his answers were what she wanted to hear. As she wished him luck and ended the call, her fingers were firmly crossed.

  The hazy June sunshine was not dissimilar to Los Angeles and she was looking forward to the warmth after the air-conditioned interior of the aircraft. Unlike LAX, passport control here in Turin took barely a few minutes and they were soon reunited with their bags. Richard piled them onto a trolley and they made their way out into the terminal building where they found their guide waiting for them. To Emma’s surprise, this turned out to be a woman, and a fairly young one at that, certainly a few years younger than her. Emma hoped Dexter had got it right. They needed somebody really good.

  No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she gave herself a mental telling-off. Just because this woman was younger than she was didn’t make her any less likely to be good at her job than if she had been middle-aged.

  As she saw them, the young woman waved the sign marked JMGP and hurried towards them.

  ‘Good afternoon and welcome to Italy. I’m Marina and I’m going to be your guide. Can I give you a hand with your luggage?’ She had a noticeable Italian accent, but her English was very fluent and Emma gave a surreptitious sigh of relief.

  Seeing as Marina barely came up to Emma’s shoulder it was debatable how much help she would be able to provide when dealing with the two hefty suitcases, but it was nice of her to ask. Emma shook her head and went over to her while Richard pushed the trolley along behind her.

  ‘Hello, Marina, it’s good to meet you. I’m Emma and this is Richard.’

  They all shook hands and Emma was quick to find out what Marina had in store for them. The reply sounded reassuringly organised.

  ‘I was told you’re on the lookout for beautiful, romantic places that are a bit out of the ordinary and you want to start in the Alps somewhere. That’s right, isn’t it?’ Emma nodded. ‘Well, tonight we’re booked into a comfortable hotel right in the centre of Turin and there’s nothing planned. I’m assuming you’d both like a rest after your flight. But tomorrow we start work if that suits you.’

  Emma nodded again. ‘I’d certainly like an early night. What about you, Rich? A quiet night in or are you thinking of hitting the bright lights of the city?’

  ‘Something to eat and then I think I’ll head for my room.’ He gave her a little smile. ‘I’ve been reading the screenplay on the plane and I really want to finish it.’

  Emma was glad to see him smile and glad he was reading it, but slightly disappointed that it had taken him over two weeks to do so. After all, this was her job on the line here, not to mention the bottom line of his father’s company’s balance sheet. She was more than ready to show Rich the ropes as his father had instructed, but she had hoped he would show a bit more enthusiasm. Still, she told herself, they were both jet-lagged and, the main thing was that
he was reading it.

  ‘Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘Yes, I am, more than I thought I would. I haven’t really been in a romantic mood for a good long while, but I’ve really got into the story now and I want to find out how it ends.’ He glanced across at Marina. ‘Have you read it?’

  As she shook her head, Emma explained. ‘It’s for our eyes only for now. Sorry, Marina, but the precise details are very hush hush.’

  ‘That’s all right. My boss already explained that to me. I know it’s set just over a hundred years ago, but that’s about all. You just tell me what you feel I need to know. Now, if you’d like to follow me, I’ve got the car outside.’

  The car park was only a short distance from the terminal and the late afternoon air temperature was high, but not unpleasant. The sky was cloudless and they could clearly see the semicircle of the Alps curling away to the horizon on both sides of them. Although it was June, the tops of the mountains were still covered in snow that sparkled in the sunlight. She took a deep breath and felt a burst of excitement flood through her. Here she was, back in Italy after so many years and the memories came flooding back. The last time she had been over here, she had been right at the start of her career, filled with hopes for the future, but even she couldn’t have imagined back then that she would find herself here; now in charge of a team scouting for locations that could make or break a multi-million dollar project. There was a lot riding on this, but it gave her a terrific feeling of responsibility and she felt a shiver of pride. All those long hours at work after everybody else had gone home, all those missed parties, refused invitations and cancelled dates were paying off. Her eyes flicked up to the snowy peaks. Yes, the sky was the limit.

  The car turned out to be a very new-looking, large people carrier with three rows of seats which easily accommodated the cases in its cavernous boot. Before Emma could say anything, Rich climbed into the back and left the front passenger seat to her.

  They picked their way through the airport traffic and out onto the main road and were soon on a modern highway heading towards the centre of the city. Emma was relieved to find that Marina didn’t have the habit common to so many drivers she had come across during her time in Rome: a compulsion to drive as fast as possible at all times and with a near-Kamikaze death wish on occasions. Marina was doing just fine and Emma was able to relax and look around. The surroundings were part rural, part industrial, but certainly not by any stretch of the imagination romantic. As they went along, she and Marina talked.