Nothing Lasts Forever (The Montebellos Book 4) Read online

  “She likes to listen to jazz,” Lauren said with an indulgent smile. “And every now and again Christmas carols. She told me she’s not sure she’ll make it to another Christmas and doesn’t see the sense in denying herself the indulgence of something that brings her so much pleasure.”

  He straightened his spine. “She thinks she won’t make it to Christmas?”

  Lauren nodded carefully. “She’s a pragmatist, Rafaello.”

  “And you agree with her?”

  Lauren’s expression didn’t change but there was something in the depths of her eyes that showed a shift in mood, a jolt, a shock.

  “I –,” she turned away from him, tidying once more, but her movements were no longer like a ballet. Instead, her hands were heavy and stiff.

  He waited, watching.

  “I think it’s wise to be prepared for any eventuality.”

  “But surely she has to believe in her recovery if she stands any chance –,”

  “Your grandmother has an outlook of which I approve wholeheartedly.”

  “And that is?”

  “To take each day as it comes.” Lauren moved towards the door, but before leaving, turned to face him once more. “None of us knows we’re going to wake up in the morning, but we all proceed on the basis we will.”

  “A cheery thought,” he couldn’t help drawling, but inside a small part of him was grappling with her words and the impending reality he was being forced to face.

  “I’m not here to bring cheer.”

  “No?”

  “I’m here to bring comfort.”

  “To Yaya?”

  “To Yaya, to you, her family.” She swallowed, so the fine column of her throat shifted delicately. “This is a difficult time, but the priority is making it easier for Yaya.”

  “And you do that?”

  “I hope so.”

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and then he was walking towards her, gesturing for her to precede him through the door.

  “Why?”

  “Why? You don’t think she deserves –,”

  He shook his head. “Why do you do this, as a vocation?”

  “Oh.” She stepped into the corridor and began to move towards the sweeping stairs. “Someone has to.”

  “But why you?”

  He could see the hesitation on her face; she didn’t want to answer. Rafaello Montebello though was not a man to be ignored. “I lost someone important to me.” The words were brittle, and her eyes showed surprise – surprise that she’d said as much? “I learned a lot about how we deal with that. I found I have a – gift – for supporting people at this time. It’s not something I chose, Rafaello, but it’s something I feel I need to do.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “And it takes a toll on you?”

  She was withdrawing from him, though, looking cool and stiff all over again. “I’m grateful to be able to help at times like this.”

  “You think she’s going to die?”

  “We’re all going to die.”

  “Imminently?”

  Lauren’s eyes were, briefly, awash with something like pain. “I can’t say for sure. I hope not.”

  He knew she was about to turn and walk away and he wasn’t ready for that.

  “What do you do when you aren’t helping people come to terms with their mortality?”

  Her hands were very fine, he observed, as she placed one on the railing of the staircase and began to walk downstairs. Her nails weren’t painted, and they were cut low, forming neat ovals that spoke of a life of practicality rather than glamour.

  “Do?” She frowned, like the idea had never occurred to her.

  “For pleasure. Fun.” Her quizzical look drew a smile from him. “You know, what people do to blow off steam?”

  Her cupid’s bow lips tipped downwards. They reached the foyer of Villa Fortune and he waited to see which way she went. “I work a lot.”

  “All the time?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And you were telling me my lifestyle isn’t healthy?”

  Her eyes, when they met his, were so full of emotions his breath momentarily stilled. She was beautiful, confident, cold and…lost somehow.

  “I –,”

  He waited, surprised by his instinct to comfort her.

  But she shook her head, lifting a hand to her hair and pushing it back from her brow. “I don’t know.”

  Outside, birds sang their morning song, and the sky was a bright, deep blue, the colour of spilled paint. He looked towards the door, onto the terrace and beyond it to the pool. “Do you swim?”

  She shook her head. “Not often.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  She laughed but stopped herself almost immediately, as though laughing were a sign of weakness. “On a hot day, it’s quite nice, but I grew up in England...It wasn’t exactly part of my daily routine.”

  “Ah.” His grin was designed to relax. He saw though that it had the opposite effect on her. “But here it could be.”

  She shook her head and looked away, as though physically distancing herself from him. “I’m not here to socialise.”

  “You can’t do both?”

  Uncertainty was in her enormous blue eyes as she looked up at him.

  “You can’t work and play?”

  He saw recognition in her features and then a look of perturbation. “No. I’m just here to work.”

  The words lay between them as both a warning and a challenge. Whether it was hiking in Argentina, surfing in Mexico or free diving in the Black Sea, Raf had never met a challenge and not been determined to conquer it. Success was part of his DNA and as he watched Lauren walk away, he knew this would be no different.

  Chapter Three

  GOD, HE WAS WAY too handsome. She stalked off with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that spread to her fingertips and toes, a feeling that made her blood rush too fast and her cheeks feel too hot. She turned a corner, not looking where she was going, and bumped into Vittoria, the housekeeper.

  “I’m so sorry.” She muttered, continuing on her way. She paused in the kitchen only long enough to grab a glass of orange juice and then kept walking, through the ancient villa perched on the edge of Tuscany with its rolling hills and hues of summer green.

  Too handsome, too sexy, too sure of himself, too charming, too interested. She thought the word with a grimace, shaking her head and taking a large gulp of orange juice, reaching for her wedding ring and spinning it absentmindedly. She’d moved it to her right hand some years ago, after an argument with her mother. You have to put Thom behind you, Lauren. Do you think he’d want you to live your life like this - as some kind of living shrine to his death?

  It had felt wrong at first, like a betrayal of their wedding vows, but she was used to it now. Besides it was still the same ring, a modest strip of gold with a single, tiny diamond pressed into the centre of the band. The same ring he’d surprised her with the day before their wedding, the same ring he’d slipped onto her finger, the same ring she’d looked at as they’d said their vows, promising to love each other for as long as they both shall live. They knew even as they made that promise that their time together wouldn’t be long. She’d hoped for a year and had been blessed with three, though the last was taxing and difficult, as Thom’s disease progressed and he went through long periods of unconsciousness.

  She’d been single ever since. Single by choice, and happy with that decision, even when her family tried to convince her to open up to love again. Lauren was determined that would never happen. How could she ever love someone after what she’d been through with Thom? It was too hard to imagine opening herself to that risk, and not only that, it would feel like the ultimate betrayal to what they’d shared.

  She wouldn’t do it.

  Besides, her job didn’t exactly allow for relationships. She moved around a lot, and when she was contracted to be with a patient, they became her world for a time.

  Yaya was no differen
t.

  The fact she had a very handsome grandson who seemed to find fun in flirting with Lauren was beside the point. She’d rebuff him as she had any sign of interest in the last few years. Lauren Monroe wasn’t interested in men.

  “They’ll all be here soon.” Yaya couldn’t keep the excitement in her voice. Lauren lifted her eyes to the nurse across the room – Matilda – and smiled fondly.

  “I think you’ve mentioned that.” It was a droll response as she styled Yaya’s hair into a silvery bun at the nape of her neck. “And you look beautiful.”

  Yaya’s laugh was hoarse. “I look old and tired.” She lifted a hand to Lauren’s, her fingers papery and timid. “But that is what I am, so it’s okay.”

  “You don’t seem tired today.”

  There was a twinkle in Yaya’s eyes. “I’m excited.”

  “Oh?”

  “They used to come all the time – every week, just as things were when their grandfather was alive. But it’s been a long time since they were all here together. Since before.” She removed her hand, placing it in her lap. Only Lauren’s trained eye understood it was to hide a small tremor. Slight muscle weakness continued to plague Yaya, as a result of her stroke event

  “They didn’t want to ‘tax’ me,” she said on a croaky laugh that spoke of disbelief. “As if seeing my family could be taxing.”

  “Resting is very important for people who’ve had a stroke. I imagine they were just trying to help with your recovery.”

  “Mmmm,” she made a harrumphing sound. “They’re my family. My boys. I can rest even while they are here.”

  “Yes,” Lauren agreed with a short nod. Yaya’s eyes met hers in the mirror.

  “You don’t think having them here is bad for me?”

  “On the contrary,” she leaned down a little, her tone conspiratorial. “I think it will be very, very good for you.” Lauren took the handles of the wheelchair and began to guide it towards the door. Matilda moved to intercept but Lauren shook her head gently. Yaya had expressed a clear preference for Lauren’s company often enough that she knew it was easier to do as much of the simple tasks as possible, even when the nursing staff might have felt the jobs were within their remit.

  “You’ll like my boys. I’ve had a place set for you between Luca and Gabe.”

  Lauren’s hands stiffened a little on the wheelchair. “I won’t be joining you for lunch,” she said, careful to keep her voice warm and gentle.

  “Oh, you must. I’ve told the kitchen to prepare for eleven of us – and the children.”

  “Then they’ll have leftovers,” Lauren said with firm politeness. “I wouldn’t dream of intruding on a family event.” She pressed the call button on the elevator that had been installed shortly after Yaya’s stroke. The doors opened immediately. Once they were inside, she moved to face Yaya. “But,” she offered with a placating smile. “If it makes you happy, I will sit on the terrace with my book, so that you may call for me whenever you need.”

  “I’m not worried about needing you, Lauren,” Yaya laughed. “I want you to be there.”

  Lauren frowned. “But why?”

  Yaya’s eyes narrowed and for a second, she reminded Lauren distinctly of Raf. There was something assessing and analytical in the depths of her gaze, something that sent a burst of warning and adrenaline through Lauren’s body.

  “Because you should relax a little, have fun. Sit, eat, drink, talk, laugh. Enjoy. Take the afternoon and have a little fun with it.”

  Lauren’s heart skipped a beat, first as Yaya’s perceptiveness but secondly with a sense of heaviness. It was a familiar response – one she felt whenever she reflected on what she’d lost when Thom died.

  “They’re your family,” Lauren reminded Yaya with a soft smile. “Not mine.”

  “Do you have a family?”

  The doors pinged open. Lauren took the opportunity to move behind Yaya, putting her hands on the wheelchair and manoeuvring her out. “Yes, I have family.”

  “A husband?”

  Lauren laughed to cover the swift ache in her chest. “I –,” she struggled to deny it. “I have – my parents.”

  Yaya made a noise that was like a grumble. “I don’t understand people of your generation. It’s like falling in love and having a family is something to be avoided at all costs. Why is this?”

  Lauren was tempted to tell the older woman that, on the contrary, she’d fallen in love and been married at only eighteen, that she’d adored her husband – he’d been her best friend for many, many years. She ached to tell Yaya that if illness hadn’t taken Thom away, they’d have had children by now – several, if Lauren had had her way. As an only child, she’d craved the kind of family and noise she’d seen other people enjoy. Lots of brothers and sisters and the sense of security and friendship that came from that.

  “I can’t really say,” she murmured instead, her hands tightening momentarily on the handles of the wheelchair.

  Villa Fortune was a beautiful old Tuscan country house, the kind of place Lauren had only ever seen in movies – it reminded her of the place Liv Tyler’s character had gone to stay in Stealing Beauty, with all the glorious outdoor spaces that the very idea of Tuscany conjured.

  It retained much of its rustic charm with wide corridors, terracotta floors and enormous timber windows that framed postcard-worthy views in all directions, but hints of modernity and luxury were everywhere too. It was a home that spoke of luxury and comfort at the same time – a large house that was empty, new and old – a house of contradictions. Up until today, it had been quiet, quiet in a way that perturbed Lauren because it didn’t seem like its natural state.

  And now, she understood why. As she wheeled Yaya’s chair towards the salon, a large room with enormous windows that showcased a particularly striking view of La montagna di Apollo, a dim noise grew to a cacophony of sounds – speech, laughter, glasses clinking, children squealing, toys being played with, doors being open and shut. Her heart was heavy with all that she’d lost and simultaneously full – because she instinctively understood what this would mean to Yaya. Sure enough, when she paused and leaned forward to see the older woman’s face, it was crinkled into a beautiful smile, her eyes misty.

  “They’re here.”

  It was a small sentence but spoke volumes. They’re here. Her family. Those for whom she’d lived her life.

  “Yes.” Lauren crouched down, putting a hand on Yaya’s knee. “And I’m glad. Try your hardest to have fun without overdoing it.”

  Yaya slid her gaze towards Lauren. “At my age, darling, there’s no sense playing it safe. Now help me out of this darned chair.”

  Lauren hesitated for only a moment. She’d known this was coming. Yaya liked to walk as much as possible, and for short distances she was more than capable, but for longer journeys around the house, the chair made sense.

  She pressed the brakes onto the chair then put an arm around Yaya’s reed-thin waist, supporting Yaya beneath her arm as she moved her feet into position, then half-lifting the older woman to standing. Paula’s breath was wheezy as she adjusted to her newly-vertical position and Lauren waited patiently, knowing this had to be at Yaya’s pace. A few moments later, Yaya nodded a little and tentatively moved a foot forward, then another, surprising Lauren with her confidence as she moved. At the door, she paused, breathing deeply again before taking a step into the room.

  The greeting was overwhelming. At least, Lauren found it that way. She froze, forgetting for a moment that she was supporting a woman who was determined to move deeper into the space. But Yaya was astute and perceptive and she sensed Lauren’s hesitation, lifting her face towards Lauren and grinning. “It’s a lot the first time, I know.” Her eyes were moist again, as she turned back to observe the brood of Montebellos now descending on Yaya with breakneck pace. “My boys.”

  Lauren’s heart was hammering her ribs and she didn’t know why, only she picked the lack of accuracy in Yaya’s description. After all, this wasn’t
just ‘her boys’, but the wives of three of them and various small people too. The boys though were something that drew Lauren’s attention. How could they not? Each pressed from a similar – but not the same – mould for tall, dark and handsome. Her eyes glanced across each, noting similarities in their features, their strength, dark hair, swarthy skin, if it weren’t for the obviously bespoke suits and tailoring, the hints of luxury that adorned their frames – tailor-made shoes, gold watches – she’d have cast them as a band of pirates, or sea Lords, sexy and conjured from the depths of the ocean to wreak havoc on land-lubbers. The thought brought a smile to her lips but it froze when her gaze glanced across – and was trapped by – Rafaello. Of all of them, he was the most – the most – mentally she stumbled, trying to find a word. Not handsome, because each was, in their own way, physically fascinating. But there was something about him that had her insides quivering, something about him that sent her pulse into overdrive and made her whole body zing with an awareness she resented and loathed.

  She tried to look away but his eyes were speaking to her, reaching inside of her and asking questions, making promises, holding her captive as surely as if she’d been restrained physically. Her mouth felt dry, her lungs hurt with the effort of breathing.

  A second more and Yaya was out of Lauren’s hands, a tall man she guessed to be Gabe coming forward and putting an arm around her, dragging Lauren’s attention from Rafaello finally as the man said in a deep voice, “I’ve got her.”

  Lauren hovered nearby, but it became increasingly difficult as more and more members of the Montebello family crowded to Yaya. Alessia broke away from the group, joining Lauren on the outskirts.

  Her smile was friendly, despite the fact they’d met only twice. “It’s overwhelming, I know.”

  “I’m not used to large families,” Lauren explained, reading between the lines that her face must have shown she was stricken.

  “No, nor was I.” Alessia grinned, gesturing to the bar. “Would you like something to drink? Chinotto? Limonata?”