Chapter 41


Unfortunately the weekend drew to a close and because the rest of the world waited for no one, life at home beckoned. We flew into Rome right on sunset, managing to slip back to the house undetected by any paparazzi that may have still been hanging around. Alessandro had frowned at the news that Zingaro Luxury Escapes had taken a hit on the stock market but I guess he'd resigned himself to the fact that it was inevitable.

Now, we had a much bigger event on our agenda; namely Luca and Olivia's wedding and the dreaded meeting of the in-laws. Several days later and we once again took to the skies in one of Alessandro's smaller jets, this time heading to his birthplace and home in Puglia, Southern Italy.

"So how long have the Zingaros occupied Puglia?"

Alessandro glanced at me over whatever report or article he was reading on his tablet. I sat in the leather chair across from him, curled up with a hot chocolate in one hand and my own tablet in the other. I had spent the past half an hour or so trawling the internet for inspiration on how to decorate my island villa when the thought had occurred to me; I really had no idea on Alessandro's family history.

He sat back in his seat, an exaggerated hiss leaving his lips as he contemplated. God, he looked good – and Italian as ever - dressed in his jeans and open-topped white shirt. Sitting, as he did, in his leather seat on his private company jet, he played the part of powerful billionaire to perfection.

The grin formed at the edge of his mouth. "You think you have it bad with your family history, Lizzie. Do you know what Zingaro even means in Italian?"

I shook my head.

"It means gypsy. My family come from a line of gypsies and pirates who eventually settled in Puglia a couple of hundred years ago. Probably after pillaging a village and claiming it as their own."

I laughed at that, the image of Alessandro the swashbuckling pirate a little too much to take.

"But surely your family don't engage in active piracy these days." I grinned.

"No," he muttered. "They engage in other just as heinous crimes such as gossiping, busy-bodying and engaging in all manner of social and moral dramas."

"So I'm guessing family reunions are always a hoot."

"Believe it." He rubbed his brow as if to fight off the sudden headache. "This is why I've held off introducing you to them until now. They can be very... zealous. My aunt Vittoria won't accept our elopement as a valid marriage so we won't even be allowed to share a room, Lizzie."

I frowned. "Don't you own a house in Puglia?"

"A Masseria, . It is the traditional Zingaro family home and technically belongs to my father which will then be passed on to me. But as you will find, my Uncle Francesco and Aunt Vittoria have, in the meanwhile, claimed it. We will, in effect, be staying as guests in my own house."

"In separate bedrooms?" I reaffirmed with a chuckle though the thought of not having Alessandro by my side was a devastatingly lonely concept. "Is that where Giuseppe will be staying too?"

Alessandro nodded. "I must warn you, he has already broken news of our elopement to the rest of the family and this coupled with what they've seen in the media, I'm uncertain of their feelings on the matter. However, what I can assure you of is that their reception will be nothing short of hospitable."

"If they know what's good for them," I muttered. Alessandro was the one financing their lifestyles. If they didn't behave, he could just as easily withdraw that support. The thought was sobering. After all the news scandals, they probably already hated me. "What's worse? The fact that I eloped with you or the fact that I punched another woman in the face at a charity gala?"

Alessandro shrugged. "A catfight is forgivable. Even with the media blowing it so far out of proportion as it has, Lydia gets on everyone's nerves. You wouldn't be the first woman in my family who has locked horns with her. An elopement however, not so easy to forgive. Vittoria especially, is very set in her convictions. She'd feel we were living in sin until we married in a church. She likes to think of herself as the moral compass of the family."

"Was she a nun once?" I asked, my lips tugging into a smirk though it did little to alleviate the butterflies churning in my stomach.

The boyish smirk crept across his face. "You would think so."

Alessandro's signature car had been delivered to us at the airport near the ancient Mediterranean city of Brindisi. The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the jet was how much warmer it was here than Rome. Puglia: famous for its olives, wineries and of course, its Mediterranean beaches. A sea breeze was already ruffling through my hair, bringing with it the smell of sea and salt. I watched Alessandro take in a deep breath, a small smile breaking through his worried frown for the first time since we'd left Rome.

"My very traditional Italian family aside, this is home," he said, holding the car door open for me and I slipped into leather seats that smelled like new car.

Alessandro gave orders to the airline staff to have our luggage delivered to the house (mainly because it would not all fit into the trunk of a Lamborghini), then slipping into the driver's seat, he started the engine and I watched on in fascination as the roof detached and tucked away into a compartment behind us. It was a convertible. Oh god, yes!

Alessandro responded to my wide-eyed grin with a satisfied smirk. "I hope you're up for a breezy drive."

Unlike the rolling hills and picturesque mountainous landscapes the northern parts of Italy were famous for, the land here in Puglia was flat and the hills less... well… rolly. But that didn't matter because what this ancient landscape lacked in mountain terrain, it most certainly made up for with its pristine Mediterranean beaches (both sandy and rocky) and turquoise sea. We cruised along long narrow roads where to one side of us endless blue seas expanded as far as the horizon and the other, olive groves and fruit plantations stretched out for miles on end. The warm, springtime sun bore down on over our exposed shoulders but its heat was made redundant by the breeze of the drive. My hair spilled out in all directions, making me wish I had thought to tie it up, but even as the beautiful landscape passed us by, the growl of the powerful engine filling my ears, I was having too much fun to care. The road was so empty and flat that Alessandro couldn't resist the urge to press a little harder on the accelerator, the Lamborghini revving louder and throwing us backwards into our seats. I let out a loud 'Whoop!' while Alessandro beside me grinned like a kid with a new toy. Rows of olive trees zipped by impossibly fast, the scenery soon turning to one big blur.

Then all of a sudden without warning, Alessandro was applying the brakes and bringing us down several gears. He wrenched the steering wheel sideways and I found myself thrown against the passenger door with a yelp as we flew on through a huge iron gate. I shot Alessandro a glance once I'd managed to right myself and calm my racing heart. He was grinning like the total brat he was and I resisted the urge to hit him. We were driving at a more reasonable speed now, through a natural tree tunnel, long branches entwining overhead so tight that it was impossible to differentiate them. Then, after several seconds, we were exiting the tunnel into a huge plantation and I stifled a gasp.

"Welcome to our family estate, Lizzie," said Alessandro.

"Your family are olive growers?" I asked, taking in the endless rows of beautiful, silvery olive trees. This place was breathtaking!

"," replied Alessandro. "Among other things."

The soil here was fertile and coppery red, just like the farm at home.

"My family are orange growers," I said.

"I know. Your father mentioned when we spoke at Dani's wedding. He said many Italian farming methods have been applied in Australia by the local immigrant community. You'll notice in a minute that we have an orange orchid on this property too, grown in much the same manner as the oranges on your farm at home."

True to his word, olive trees very soon made way for oranges and I beamed. "Oh my god, this is just like home!" Then we rounded a bend and I saw the house sitting atop a small hill and my face dropped into a look of awe. "Well almost..."

The tiny, tin-roofed farm house I grew up in with my parents, two brothers and my grandparents was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a huge white washed Masseria greeted us. The complex itself was roughly the size of a small village and included not only the main house, but also farm storehouses and even homes for the workers who cared for the property and Alessandro's family. We reached a stone wall and drove on through an archway so thick that I felt my skin prickle from the cool it generated. The place was built like an ancient fortress!

"Was this to keep the pirates out?" I asked, noting how close to the ocean we still were.

"." Alessandro grinned. "Or in, I suppose."

I recalled what he'd said in the jet, how his family had descended from pirates and gypsies and chuckled. "So what, your ancestors just came ashore, pillaged this farm and claimed it as your own?"

"Possibly." He shrugged, drawing the car to a stop beside a bubbling fountain in a stone courtyard that much of the main house faced onto. A man was already waiting for us in the shade of a potted orange tree by the main entrance. Potted trees and pretty flowering plants decorated the courtyard, sweetening the gentle breeze with their floral aromas. "Buona sera, Signor Zingaro!" Then a nod to me. "Signora Zingaro."

Dressed in a suit you typically saw on a butler, it wasn't hard to guess his position in the household. He seemed genuinely happy to see Alessandro, even as he hurried to hold the car door open for me. He reeled off a spill of Italian which I translated to something along the lines of 'the family are waiting inside'. Alessandro replied with a polite but authoritative nod. Then coming to meet me, he gave me a moment to make an attempt at fixing my hair and dress before sliding his arm around my waist. He planted a quick kiss on my head and we stepped in through the double doors. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust from the brightness outside to the dark of the house. The first thing I noticed was how much cooler it was in here – a luxury offered by the thick stone walls. We stepped onto earthy-red tiles, our footsteps surprisingly muted given the open space of the entrance way, and faced a choice of heading in three directions; a sitting room to our right, up a flight of stairs, or through another set of double doors that I guessed lead into more living spaces behind the stairs. We picked option number one and moved for the sitting room. Alessandro's waiting family members were already rising from the couches to greet us. My stomach made a flip, my legs feeling like jelly as the impact suddenly hit me. I was about to meet my in-laws. I took a deep breath for courage and stepped over the threshold.