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kitchen . Vialli flipped a switch and Anna gasped in delight for t he kitchen could have been from one of her Italian cookery books . It was rustic, with wooden beams in the ceiling, sporting a couple of different sized hanging baskets. The floor was like the entrance hall, laid with big, textured terracotta tiles. The stove was modern, set amidst wooden cupboards with granite tops which doubled as work surfaces. There were even strands of hanging garlic and drying herbs.
    “Have a seat.” Vialli motioned to a table positioned beside a huge wooden framed window . “I don’t know about you, but I need a cup of coffee.”
    Without waiting for a reply h e put the kettle on and grabbed two mugs from an overhead cupboard.
    Anna sat at the sturdy table and looked out of the window. The kitchen overlooked a little courtyard decorated with an assortment of pots and urns . Outside the sky was brightening. It w ould soon be morning.
    “This is a lovely kitchen,” re marked Anna trying to make conversation as he spooned filter coffee into a glass plunger . No such thing as instant for this guy. She wondered briefly if there was a Mrs. Vialli around. The kitchen was so neat and tidy and the hanging garlic and herbs definitely reflected a woman’s touch.
    Vialli grunted , clearly not in the mood for small talk , so Anna lapsed into silence. She watched as he plunged and poured the steaming dark liquid into two mugs , one of which he set in front of her. 
    “ Thanks. ” She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, letting the heat fortify her.
    Vialli leant against the counter , sipping his coffee and surveying her. Anna waited for him to speak. Her eyes fluttered to his chest. Why didn’t he go and put on a shirt? His naked torso was distracting. Perfectly formed pectorals merged with bulging deltoids and an impressive trapezius. Okay, she was a maternity nurse, but her training still meant she was well placed to admire such superior muscular definition. Basically , the man was build like a god. Lucky Mrs. V, if there was one.
    “I think you’d better start from the beginning,” he said eventually. “And please tell me who this Lara is and what baring she has on this case?”
    “Lara?” Anna laughed in surprise . “Lara is my house mate. We live together in London . She has nothing to do with this, except she tried to convince me not to come.”
    “I see...” said Vialli, still looking confused. “ So w hy did you come to Italy against your friend’s advice ?”
    Anna rolled her eyes. They’d been through all this before. He probably hadn’t paid any attention yesterday. Come to think of it, he had been rather distracted. “I told you yesterday. I was going through my mother’s things when I found a letter.” She looked at him pointedly. “T he one I showed you. ”
    “The one addressed to my office?”
    “Yes. And once I’d read it, I realised Giovanni could be my biological father. So I came to Italy to check it out.”
    “That’s it? You came because of the letter. You had no other proof that Giovanni was your father?”
    Anna shook her head . If only she did . But then as she’d said before, nothing in life was ever easy.
    “No, in fact up until I found the letter, I thought my father was killed in the Middle East. That’s what my mother told me anyway. I had no idea he could still be alive and living in Italy.”
    Vialli placed his empty cup on the counter top. Anna hadn’t touched hers yet . “So you have no other information about Giovanni Albertosi?”
    “Nothing. I don’t know where he lives, or what he does. I don’t even know what he looks like. ” Anna gazed up at him , well aware that he was her only hope. Please let him be compassionate enough t o help her? At the moment those dark eyes were giving away nothing.
    “How can he be your birth father if you have no other information about him? Surely your mother would have said something to you over the years. There must be papers... ”