A Twist of Fate (42 page)

‘Look at her,’ Roberto said, his voice soft with love, looking across the garden at Maria, who was playing hide-and-seek with the children. ‘She is old now, but just as
beautiful as the day I met her. We need to cherish these years whilst we can.’

‘Yes.’ Is that what she’d done? Romy wondered. Had she made every single second with Alfonso count?

‘Which is why I’m thinking of spending more time at home,’ Roberto said.

‘You mean retiring?’ Romy asked, stopping now, surprised. Roberto had always been such an embodiment of his company that it seemed impossible to imagine it existing without him, or
indeed he without it.

He nodded slowly. A look of sadness crossed his face. ‘Like Maria, I am not as young as I was,’ he said.

‘So what will you do? Sell up?’ The thought seemed abhorrent, for a reason Romy couldn’t immediately identify. Maybe because she’d always imagined Alfonso one day giving
up his driving and taking over his father’s reins. Or perhaps because, deep down inside, it struck her that just selling off something Roberto had worked so hard to build was wrong.

‘Sell? Never.’ Roberto’s voice was fierce and Romy smiled, relieved to see the old fire still burning brightly in his eyes.

He plucked a sprig of mint and put it into the basket she had over her arm, along with the sage, dill and bay. He began walking slowly along the curved brick pathway again.

‘This business has been in my family for six generations,’ he said. ‘I could never sell it. No, I shall do what all the Scolaris have done before me. I shall leave it to the
next Scolari in line whom I think most suited.’

And it was only then, as she followed Roberto’s steady gaze towards Alfie – who’d cut through the gardens and was waiting for them just up ahead, absently trailing his
fingertips through a bed of deep-pink peonies – that Romy realized what Roberto was really talking to her about. In bringing her son here, Romy had made him a Scolari. She’d delivered
Roberto his heir.

‘But, Roberto . . . you can’t mean Alfie? He’s only a child.’

‘That’s why I’m going to teach my business to you,’ Roberto told her, gripping her arms firmly now as they walked.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you, Romy. Because I’ll be too old to ever teach Alfie myself. Meaning that I want you to be in charge after I’ve gone. Then you can give the business to Alfie when he
comes of age.’

Romy panicked. ‘What about your daughters? Flavia could run it, surely?’

‘I’ve thought about it, but Flavia has her own life, her own commitments. And Anna is too busy. They have both told me separately that they have no intention of becoming the one in
charge. The only one, I think, who ever had enough balls, and business brains to go with them, was Gloria. But she’s made her own choices.’

Romy heard the pain in his voice and remembered how Gloria had a boyfriend, supposedly a drug-dealer, of whom Roberto had disapproved, and how she had sided with this man over Roberto in an
argument, how she’d crossed her father, and after that there’d been no way back.

Romy remembered now the whole complexity of the Scolari family, its rules and traditions. But most of all she remembered how black and white Roberto was. Any hope she’d had of finally
confessing to him about why Alfonso had died – the fleeting fantasy she’d entertained of telling him the truth – vanished.

‘And what about Alfie’s cousins?’ Romy said. ‘What if one of the girls . . . ’

Roberto sighed. ‘Perhaps they will. And, if so, then that is fine. I know it is not fashionable, Romy, perhaps not even legal these days, but I am the sixth male heir to inherit the
responsibility of running this business, and I want Alfie to be the seventh. With your help and guidance.’ His grip renewed the pressure on her arm. ‘I’ll need to start training
you up straight away.’

Romy’s panic only intensified. ‘But I’m not a businesswoman, Roberto. I wouldn’t know the first thing—’

‘You have good instincts, and it’s all up here,’ he interrupted. The way he tapped his head reminded Romy of Herr Mulcher in the clothing factory in Berlin all those years ago.
Was that what this was? Had Roberto too seen something raw in her? Something he felt he could sculpt?

The implications of it all rushed through Romy’s mind. What if he was wrong? Helping to run a business like Scolari was a million miles from suggesting cost-cutting measures for a clothing
factory. What if she let him down? And not just him, but Maria and Flavia and Anna, and the other sisters, not to mention all the thousands of employees who relied on Scolari for their
livelihoods?

But the biggest question of all she asked out loud. ‘But what about Alfie? If I’m working with you, then who’s going to be looking after him?’

‘You can live with us. Maria can look after him whilst we’re at the office. It won’t be long before he has to go to school.’

Romy’s mind was still reeling. He’d clearly thought all of this through already. Between the time he’d heard he had a grandson and their arrival here, he’d planned their
whole future.

‘We need Scolari to move forward into the future,’ he said. ‘We need to expand into future technologies. The Americans and Chinese are taking over. Our competitors are getting
stronger and stronger. We need someone at the helm who can be an ambassador for us, who can be the new face of Scolari. Who can get us noticed.’

‘And you really think
I
could do that?’

‘Just a hunch.’ Roberto grinned at her, and that’s when the realization really hit her – not only was he looking forward to this, but he genuinely thought it would work.
But most of all, he trusted her. Still. After all this time. He saw in her not only the successful international model who’d married his son, but the new face for his company. He hadn’t
ever thought of her, as she did of herself, as a single mother living in obscurity. Guiltily. Secretly.

‘I think Alfonso would have wanted you and Alfie to be with us,’ he said, nodding to where Alfie had now got back to the others and was giggling with delight, as his cousins chased
him through the jet of a sprinkler. ‘I know it is a lot to think about, but look . . .’ Roberto pointed to Maria, clapping her hands with delight. With the sunlight streaming through
the vines, it couldn’t have looked more idyllic.

Romy had made her decision then. She’d do what Roberto asked. She would honour Alfonso’s memory by submitting to his family’s wishes. She would work harder than ever. She would
do whatever it took to make Roberto and Alfonso and, most of all, Alfie proud.

And, for the last two years, she’d done just that. She’d worked every day and every night, when Alfie had been asleep. She’d learnt everything there was to
know about Scolari. In the last three months she’d spearheaded a massive publicity drive, which had brought her even more attention than when she’d been at the height of her modelling
career.

It had only been recently, however, that she’d stopped having to answer questions about Alfonso’s death. Slowly and surely Romy had managed to switch the media’s attention from
the past to the future. Which was why this interview on women in business was important, and why she’d juggled her schedule to get here.

And now, here she was. The red light switched to green. They were finally on air.

Romy focused as she listened to Antonella Medici read from her notes about the economic climate and how healthy Scolari was looking, and Romy nodded and smiled. Then Antonella turned her
attention to Romy. She had blonde hair, swept high away from her smooth forehead, her deep eyes made up with glittering brown eyeshadow. Her full lips were outlined in dark pencil.

‘But there have been many reports,’ Antonella continued, ‘that the need to raise capital will mean that many Italian private companies will be forced to decide between going
public or being acquired by a major international group, which would then of course be diverting many of whatever profits they made out of the domestic Italian market. Would you agree with that? I
was reading a piece only last week in the
New York Times
, in which Thea Maddox from the Maddox Corporation was quoted as saying yet again that a company like Scolari would be the icing on
the cake for their European expansion plans. Are you a company that would ever – how shall I put this? – sell out?’

Romy let out a sardonic laugh. ‘Believe me,’ she told Medici. ‘The Maddox corporation can only
dream
. Scolari is Italian and will always stay that way. Sure, I can
imagine why the Americans would look at us with envy. Our publishing arm goes from strength to strength,’ Romy said. ‘In the media division too, we have extended our cable and digital
channels threefold in the last year, but it is our online development that has been the big success story.’

She went on to recite her carefully rehearsed statistics. She would leave the listeners in no doubt: Scolari was not vulnerable in any way and was able to raise sufficient capital for expansion
from private sources.

What she didn’t say, for reasons of confidentiality – even though it would have stamped on any speculation over Scolari’s future ownership like a bug – was that
Scolari’s shareholders were so few and so loyal that they’d never be tempted to sell out to any outside aggressor. Roberto had already signed over 5 per cent of his shareholding to
Romy, leaving him with 45 per cent. Maria had always had 10 per cent for tax purposes. And the remaining 40 per cent was owned by Roberto’s trusted business partner, Franco Moretti.

But even so, she was annoyed. Idle speculation could be damaging, in terms of employee confidence as well as reputation.

She made a mental note to find out everything she could about Thea Maddox. How dare she continue making comments like that about Scolari? Romy knew that Roberto had already pushed her overtures
firmly away.

‘Yet, despite all this expansion, Scolari has been voted one of the most employee-friendly companies in a recent survey,’ Antonella continued, keen to keep the focus on women in
business.

Romy smiled, glad that this particular achievement had been picked up.

‘I’m doing what I can to create a community-style ethic in our company.’

‘It hasn’t always been like that at Scolari, though?’

Romy chose her words carefully, knowing that Roberto himself could well be listening in. ‘We have moved with the times. In our new main headquarters, here in Milan, we now have a full-time
crèche and have actively encouraged successful job-shares. As a working mother myself, I know how important it is to have children nearby.’

But as she continued to talk about the importance of women in the Scolari workforce, Romy knew that she was putting a positive spin on it all. The truth was that she was still operating in a
very male world. She didn’t understand half of the behind-the-scenes deals that went on at the various functions Roberto attended. The last time he’d been to the Grand Prix, he’d
come back having secured a controlling shareholding in a football club. She was beginning to wonder whether Alfonso’s rise in the Formula One scene had been entirely to do with his talent, or
whether his father had arranged it all for him.

But she would never say a word against Roberto. She would be loyal. No matter what. No matter what the sacrifice. Roberto trusted her. Why else would he have signed those shares over to her? She
was family. She would never let him down.

Outside in the corridor Romy’s press officer, James, smiled and put his hands up in applause.

‘That was great,’ he said. He was a young guy – the youngest Romy had interviewed – but he worked hard and was just the kind of dynamic, fresh blood that was making
Scolari thrive. She liked his slim-line brown suit and trendy rectangular black-framed glasses. Nico would have adored him, she thought.

‘Hey, you know that piece you wanted me to do the other day, for that American magazine?’

‘Sure,’ James said.

‘Call them up,’ Romy said. ‘We’ll do the family piece. You’ll have to manage it. Make sure they make us look untouchable.’ She knew Roberto and Maria resented
intrusion into their lives, but Romy knew that the only way for Scolari to bury these takeover rumours was through a PR offensive – and where better place to launch it than in the country
from which the offensive was rumoured to be coming?

Already on the move, James started rattling off a series of new appointments and summaries of phone messages, all the things that needed dealing with just in the short time she’d been in
the studio.

‘The children’s charity have been in touch again,’ he added. ‘Did you decide whether you’d be their patron?’

Romy sighed. ‘I haven’t got time, but tell them I’m still thinking about it,’ she said, looking at her watch. She was already late to pick up Alfie.

She made five calls and answered three urgent emails as she took the short ride back to the Scolari headquarters to drop off James, and then went on to where Sara, Alfie’s teacher, was
waiting with him. As usual Romy was the last parent to pick him up and she smiled at Sara and ruffled Alfie’s hair, gesturing her apology that she was still on the phone.

‘Where were you?’ Alfie said as she took his hand. But just as she finished one call, her phone rang again. She growled in frustration. Sometimes she didn’t have a second to
catch her breath.

It was Franco, Roberto’s finance director, and she braced herself. Despite his show of benevolence towards Romy, she’d never forgotten the time she’d first met him and how
dismissive he’d been of her modelling career. He’d been jealous, she remembered, that Alfonso had jilted his daughter and had fallen for Romy instead. Roberto had assured her that it
was all in the past and that Franco adored her, but Romy wasn’t so sure. She knew how men like Franco could hold a grudge, and Roberto appointing her to the board had done nothing to quell
Franco’s privately held suspicion of her.
How can you be sure
, Franco had once demanded of Roberto – in front of Romy –
that our new director isn’t planning on
running away again?

‘I’ve got to take this, darling,’ she told Alfie, answering the call and imagining Franco on the company yacht in Sardinia – a perk that Romy had yet to have time to take
advantage of.