She turned back to Laura. ‘What wonderful news for you,’ she said warmly to the other Englishwoman.
Laura’s smile was warm in return. ‘Yes, it is. We’re thrilled!’
‘How many weeks are you?’ Lana asked.
‘Just gone twelve, so just into my second trimester now. Because I’m Junoesque—as my dear grandmother used to tell me!—I’ve got away with it so far.’ She glanced at Lana’s racehorse figure. ‘I hate to tell you this...’ she shook her head humorously ‘...but you won’t ever get away with hiding even the tiniest baby bump!’
‘Not a chance,’ Lana agreed with rueful good humour.
She didn’t mind the observation—becoming a mother was so far off in her future that it was unimaginable. She felt herself frown. Not even with Mal had she ever once contemplated having a baby...
Maybe that should have told me something about him and what he meant to me. Or, more to the point, what he didn’t mean to me...
It was something she knew she had to be grateful for. As she had blurted out to Salvatore that night he’d given her a lift home, all Malcolm had broken was her bank balance—not her heart.
And I don’t want my heart broken—not ever.
She must take care that it did not happen. That she did not fall for a man who did not return her feelings. Who did not want to make his life with her.
Unconsciously, her glance went to Salvatore—the man she had married yesterday morning. Married for reasons that had nothing to do with the true purpose of marriage, which was to unite two people, two lives, in love for the rest of their lives.
Yet again, that feeling of unease went through her, She had married not just under false pretences, but for a reason that marriage should not ever be for. For money.
She shook the thought from her, glad of Salvatore’s interjection now.
‘Lana, we’re taking our seats,’ he told her, indicating the table in the centre of the room.
She took her place beside him, opposite Vito and Laura, with Luc and Stephanie, as host and hostess, at either end. A pair of waiters sashayed in, one with wine and the other with their primos. Lana felt her appetite quicken at the herby aroma coming from the buttered scallops in front of her. They proved every bit as delicious as they looked, and she ate with unalloyed pleasure, the delicious dish complimented with a fruity white wine.
‘Are you one of those unbearable women who can eat anything she likes and it never shows?’ Stephanie asked with cheerful envy. ‘I only have to look at a plate of pasta and I get a kilo heavier!’
Lana shook her head. ‘Alas, no. I do have to watch every calorie—or rather I did while I was modelling. That’s why I’m so glad I don’t have to any longer, now that—’
She stopped abruptly. Horrified. Then, suddenly, she felt her hand being pressed, such that she released her fork. Salvatore, at her side, was raising his other hand.
‘I, too, have something to announce,’ he said.
Lana felt his long fingers slide into hers on the damask tablecloth. It was a strange feeling, but she had no time to pay attention to the sensation as he went on speaking—in English for her benefit, she knew.
‘For you who know me so well, this will come as a surprise—even a shock...’ His voice was dry. ‘But when I introduced Lana I failed to do so completely.’ He paused—for dramatic effect, Lana was pretty sure. ‘I now make good that omission. May I therefore ask you to raise your glasses—to Signora Luchesi?’
For a moment longer than the one that had greeted her entrance there was complete silence. Predictably, it was Stephanie who broke first. A squeal—just about a shriek, Lana thought—of over-the-top excitement burst from her. Then there was a cacophony of voluble Italian all around the table.
Lana felt Salvatore’s hands mesh more tightly with his.
‘We neither of us wanted a fuss made,’ he was saying, still in English. ‘It was a register office in London yesterday. I wanted you four to know first. Stephanie?’ Salvatore’s tone of voice was openly, if good-humouredly, pointed. ‘I rely on you to tell all of Rome!’ He glanced across at Laura and Vito, reverting to Italian. ‘I never intended to steal your thunder, you two, so I hope you will forgive me.’
Vito threw up his hands. ‘Of course! My God, I can’t believe it Salva! You’ve always been totally allergic to marriage! Understandably, I know. But—’
Then he was being ruthlessly interrupted by Stephanie, who was beside herself with excitement. ‘Salva, this is incredible! Just incredible! Tell us everything!’
Her eyes were alight, and it seemed to Lana she meant what she’d said. Fortunately, from the far end of the table, Luc spoke.
‘Steph, my treasure, believe me. Salva and Lana are not going to regale you with the tale of their romance, let alone the details that you would sell your soul for!’
He spoke humorously, but with resignation in his voice. Then he picked up his glass, looking at Lana and then Salvatore.
‘Every happiness in the world to you both!’ he said.