Free The Italian Girl by Lucinda Riley

some day I will. All I know is that I’ve paid the price for my stupidity and will continue to do so for the rest of my life,’ Carlotta replied sadly.
    ‘And now, on top of everything, you’ll have to stay here and care for Papa!’ said Rosanna, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. ‘If I wasn’t going to Milan, then—’
    Carlotta put a finger to her sister’s lips. ‘Don’t think like that. For now, Ella and I need Papa as much as he needs us. Things have worked out well, really.’
    ‘You really don’t mind us going to Milan and leaving you here?’
    ‘No. I’m very happy for you, truly. Just promise to take care of Luca for me.’
    ‘Of course,’ Rosanna agreed.
    ‘We’re so lucky to have a brother like him. And it’s good that he’s going with you. You’ve given him his freedom too and that’s a wonderful thing. He deserves it.’ Carlotta stood up, kissed the top of her sister’s head affectionately and left the bedroom.
    Rosanna took off her T-shirt and put on her white choir blouse. She was confused by Carlotta’s reaction. She’d expected tears, tantrums and jealousy from her fiery sister, not an almost saintly acceptance of her lot, and she felt unsettled by Carlotta’s uncharacteristic resignation to her situation. And she couldn’t help feeling terrible that, through winning freedom for herself and Luca, the two of them seemed to have sentenced their beautiful sister to a life of unhappiness.
    Roberto Rossini waited until he was fully awake before he opened his eyes to the blinding light of a hot August morning in Milan.
    Roberto turned over and saw Tamara’s pretty face, still in peaceful repose. Tamara was accommodating and they’d had an enjoyable three weeks. But now it must end, as she was becoming far too possessive and had started talking of their future together. The moment women did this, he knew it was time to move on.
    He put his hands behind his head and lay watching the clear blue sky beyond the window, thinking of the day ahead. He had a singing lesson this afternoon, then tonight there was a benefit performance at La Scala for a children’s charity – he couldn’t remember which, but everyone who was anyone in Milan would be there.
    Roberto sighed. He’d been singing professionally for the past five years, and, although he was now a soloist with La Scala, he always sang minor roles. There were other opera companies in Europe he had appeared with who had offered him larger parts in their forthcoming seasons, but he wanted more than anything to succeed at La Scala. Caruso, his hero, from his home town of Naples, had made his name there. And it was also in Milan’s magnificent opera house that Callas and di Stephano had given some of their finest performances.
    Roberto was becoming impatient for the glory he knew his voice and his charisma deserved. Although thirty-four was hardly old for an opera singer, he had only a few more years before his still handsome young features and taut body moved into middle age, and the moment for true greatness at the height of all his powers had passed.
    But how could he achieve his goal in time? Roberto knew he had the qualities that, once he’d been given the opportunity, would separate him from the rest. His voice was strong, distinctive and growing richer as he matured. He’d been told often that he possessed great stage presence and knew how to pour emotion into the characters he portrayed. So why hadn’t he yet been given the chance to shine in a leading role at La Scala?
    When he’d joined the company five years ago, he’d presumed that it would be only a matter of time before he was promoted and given all the great tenor parts he so yearned to make his own. But, since then, roles he was right for in every way had gone to others. Singers who Roberto hardly rated were rising above and beyond him.
    Roberto turned away from the sun and groaned. He had to accept that, for all his talent, he had something of a public relations