by SJ
Emily stepped forward. ‘Parla inglese?’she asked, and the woman nodded hesitantly.
‘A leetle,’ she replied.
In the following few moments it was obvious that the receptionist was having a struggle with the language, and Emily made a mental note of the fact. It would be important for British visitors to feel comfortable at this early point, she thought, and for any queries they might have to be dealt with efficiently. Then Giovanni spoke quietly to the girl and for what seemed like ten minutes to Emily they conversed rapidly in Italian, the receptionist clearly relieved to be speaking her own language, laughing excitedly now and then—and also obviously enjoying talking to the handsome visitor. Then he glanced down at Emily.
‘This young lady is only standing in for the permanent receptionist,’ he explained, ‘owing to illness. She only started today and says it’s been the longest morning of her life. Another girl is coming in tomorrow, apparently. She is only seventeen,’ he added, and Emily was amazed. ‘Carla’—for that was the name on the identity tag the girl was wearing—looked at least in her mid-twenties. She was immaculately dressed, her black outfit pristine and enlivened with gold jewellery, her dark hair swept back elegantly. ‘I also asked if Signor Saracco was available, and she says that he is due back in one hour,’ Giovanni went on. ‘Do you want to hang on that long, or shall we find the other place first?’ He paused. ‘I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have any lunch. They do very good light meals, served all afternoon, so Carla tells me…’
Suddenly, the thought of sitting down to a gentle Italian repast sounded just what she needed and Emily smiled, realizing that her ‘lunch’ had been that glass of orange juice. ‘I’d love something to eat,’ she said, ‘and we might as well wait for the manager now that we’re here.’
‘Good,’ he said at once, cupping her elbow in his hand and leading her towards the other end of the entrance hall where late lunches were being served. Without looking back, Emily knew that Carla would be watching them. The young girl had been instantly flattered by Giovanni’s kindly attention to her, flashing her artificially long eyelashes at him as he’d looked across at her. And Emily could quite see how any female would be touched by his attitude. He’d been attentive, understanding…and deliciously sensuous, yet not creepy or overpowering. She’d give him full marks for the way in which he demonstrated his particular art-or was it craft?
He led her to a small round table in the corner, by a window which looked out across a beautifully green lawn. In a lazy circular movement, a hose was lightly playing water over the grass and Emily glanced up at Giovanni as he held out a chair for her to sit down.
‘They must employ a lot of staff to keep this place up to standard,’ she said. ‘It does seem a very well run establishment.’
For a few moments they studied a copy of the menu, then both decided on something called the House Special, which was ravioli accompanied by freshly cooked spinach.
‘I hope the service is good,’ Giovanni remarked as he clicked his fingers to attract the attention of the drinks waiter, ‘because I’m starving.’
Emily had to admit that she was beginning to feel the same way, and soon they were tucking into what turned out to be a really delicious version of the simple Italian dish. ‘When I do ravioli at home,’ she said, running her knife around her plate to scoop up the last of the sauce, ‘it doesn’t taste nearly as good as this.’
Giovanni smiled across at her, realizing how much he was enjoying the company of this Englishwoman whom he barely knew. His eyes narrowed briefly as he continued watching her. Although she was not cold towards him, he thought—no, not at all—he sensed a sort of protective film around her persona which seemed to exclude him. So why didn’t he stick with his own kind? he asked himself. It wouldn’t take long for that young receptionist to respond to his male ego!
Emily looked up at him now and he smiled, thinking that there was a little time to go before the manager turned up. Time to find things out.
‘So,’ he said smoothly, finishing the last of his beer, ‘are there any more like you at home, Emily? Or are you an only child?’
‘I have a brother,’ Emily replied, folding her napkin and sitting back contentedly. ‘He’s a lawyer, and slightly older than me.’ She paused. ‘Although we both live and work in London, we don’t see as much of each other as we’d like—there never seems enough time, somehow.’
‘One must always make time for relationships,’ Giovanni said, his expression darkening momentarily.
‘Are your parents alive?’ Emily wanted to know.
‘I still have my mother with me,’ he replied, ‘but my father died ten years ago.’
So, Emily thought, they were both semi-orphans. ‘Does your mother live in Rome with you?’ she asked.
‘No, we have a family home in the country, a few miles outside,’ he said. ‘She is happy there—though she sometimes comes into the city and stays at my flat when she feels like it.’ He paused. ‘And your father? You told me that he is alone now, but where does he live?’
‘In the same house in Hampshire where my parents lived all their married life,’ Emily replied, wishing that she hadn’t had that small glass of white wine.
There was silence for a few moments, then he said casually, ‘And what about your love life, Emily—you have a partner longing for your return?’
Emily was a bit taken aback at the way he’d put the question—she didn’t usually discuss her ‘love life’ with anyone! ‘No, I do not have a partner—at the moment,’ she said coolly, and he looked at her quizzically. There was a fleeting expression on her face which he couldn’t interpret, didn’t understand…Surely there must be a long queue of men lusting for her? he thought.
And Emily, looking out of the window thoughtfully, would not be telling him about Marcus—that was all in the past. And she was surviving life without specific male company too, she thought. Life was blissfully uncomplicated now. Life was OK, wasn’t it? She swallowed. It was time to talk of other things.
Just then a murmuring of voices coming from the reception area made them both glance up as three men, dressed formally, entered. Immediately, Giovanni stood up—he’d obviously seen someone he knew, Emily thought, and almost at once the taller one of the trio came over to them. He was about forty-five or so, Emily guessed, and extremely good-looking.
‘Giovanni,’ he began, his hand outstretched in greeting, and there followed a rapid exchange of Italian between the two of them. Then Giovanni looked down at Emily.
‘Um…allow me to introduce you, Emily,’ he said. ‘This is…Aldo.’ And to the man he added, ‘The young lady is Emily. She is here on business.’
Aldo took Emily’s hand in his and looked down at her, his searching Italian eyes seeming to unwrap every bit of her at a single glance. ‘I am charmed to meet you, Emily,’ he said smoothly, not letting her go, but turning his head to Giovanni. ‘Another delightful creature to add to your list, my friend?’ he said, and the remark seemed almost sinister to Emily. It held a definite touch of spite. She looked uncertainly at Giovanni—whose expression was non-committal, but there was suddenly a very cool atmosphere—and it seemed obvious that there was no love lost between these two.
After some more rather stilted discussion between them, Aldo made his gracious departure and joined his friends at a table at the opposite end of the room. Giovanni looked across at Emily as he sat down again.
‘Well, I did not expect that,’ he said, ‘and I must apologize that we did not speak in English.’
Emily shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘Is he—is Aldo—a friend? You’ve known him a long time?’
Giovanni grimaced briefly. ‘Too long,’ he said.
‘You don’t like him?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I neither like nor dislike him,’ he replied casually. He paused. ‘The more important point is that he resents me…He does not like me.’
No, Emily thought—she’d seen that straight away.
‘Well, sometimes certain…friends…just don’t fit somehow, do they?’ she said. ‘It’s impossible to get on with each and every one of them.’
Giovanni nodded. ‘Oh, I do OK with friends,’ he said. ‘They’re no problem. Families are different.’ He glanced over at the three men, who were giving the waiter their order for drinks. ‘Aldo is family, unfortunately,’ he said, a note of resignation in his voice. ‘He’s my uncle. My father’s younger brother.’
‘Oh,’ Emily said, wondering why Giovanni hadn’t mentioned that when they’d been introduced. Then she shrugged inwardly. She knew that Italians were known to be great family people, but even in the best of families there’d be bound to be friction now and then. She glanced at her watch. It must surely be time for the manager to return, she thought.
‘You speak wonderful English, Gio,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘You’ve obviously spent a lot of time in the UK.’
‘Explained by the fact that I was educated mostly there,’ he said briefly.
Now, why did it surprise her, Emily asked herself, that he’d gone to school in England? ‘Where did you go?’ she asked him.
‘Boarding school in Surrey, then Marlborough College in Wiltshire, followed by London University. And, before you ask, I gained a Masters in Business Law.’
Emily was almost bowled over by all this information! Despite being born in Italy, and in appearance and attitude being a perfect example of typical Latin charm, he was nearly as English as she was herself! She almost laughed out loud at the thought.
‘So,’ she said, ‘if you only help out at the shop, and at your friend’s bar when you’re in Rome, where else do you work?’ she asked. ‘Where has all that education led you?’
He waited a moment before reaching into his pocket and handing her a small business card. ‘Oh, I help my mother with a…um…family concern in Rome,’ he said. ‘Which means I have to come to the UK every now and again,’ he added briefly.
Emily looked down at the card he’d handed her. Giovanni Boselli, she read. Financial Consultant, followed by his qualifications and the telephone number and address of the London office he apparently used. An address which was just a few streets away from her own office in Mayfair!
CHAPTER THREE
‘WELL, I think that’s everything sorted—thanks to you, Gio,’ Emily said, glancing across at him as they travelled back into the city later. ‘It would have taken me a lot longer to find my own way around.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said easily. ‘And-you were satisfied with both hotels?’
‘Perfectly,’ she replied. ‘I shall be able to put ticks in all the right boxes.’ She leaned her head back, feeling satisfied with the day’s work. ‘It was lucky for me that you happened to be free this afternoon—and also that you saw me trying to hail a taxi,’ she added.
He looked across at her and grinned. ‘Lucky for me, too,’ he said. ‘I’ve certainly enjoyed seeing you in action, Emily. You knew exactly how to handle those two managers, leaving them in no doubt what you expected—what your clients expected—of holiday accommodation.’
Emily was genuinely pleased at what he’d just said. Although she’d never been particularly shy or retiring, she’d had to get used to meeting complete strangers in foreign places, and assess their establishments without causing offence. And it could be difficult sometimes, when she could see straight away that some were totally unsuitable and would not get her recommendation.
It was six-thirty before Giovanni drew up outside the hotel and, switching off the engine, he said casually, his eyes glinting mischievously, ‘As a small reward for having given you my undivided attention this afternoon, may I have the pleasure of taking you and Coral out for supper later?’ he asked.
‘Oh, but…I’ve already taken up far too much of your time, Giovanni,’ Emily began, and he interrupted.
‘Which I have very much enjoyed—as I’ve already said. So—why not make a day of it?’ He paused. ‘You’re going home tomorrow, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Emily said, realizing that, for the very first time since she’d been doing all this travelling, she felt regretful that the trip wasn’t going to be extended for a few more days. And she was honest enough to admit that meeting Giovanni had something to do with that!
‘Well, I must speak to Coral about it,’ she said. ‘But thank you for the offer,’ she added, knowing full well that her friend would be ecstatic at the thought of spending the evening with Giovanni.
He tilted his head to one side in acknowledgement of her words. ‘You’ve got my card,’ he reminded her, ‘and my mobile number is on that. Give me a ring after you’ve mulled things over, and if you decide to accept my invitation I could pick you up at, say, eight-thirty or nine and take you to a place you’d probably never come across on your own—but which I can guarantee you’d like. But—’ he touched her arm briefly ‘—don’t worry if you decide to have an early night instead.’ He paused. ‘There’ll be other occasions.’ His lips parted in a brief knowing smile.
As soon as Emily got back to the room, she was almost bowled over by Coral’s excited welcome. ‘Oh—hi, Ellie!’ the girl exclaimed. ‘Had a good day?’ And, without waiting for a reply, she went on, ‘You’ll never guess what—I’ve pulled! We’re going out tonight!’
Emily sat down on the edge of the bed for a second and looked up at Coral—who had obviously fully recovered, her eyes shining with girlish excitement. ‘Go on—enlighten me. What have you been up to?’ she asked, a faint note of resignation in her voice.
‘Honestly, I haven’t been up to anything!’ Coral exclaimed. ‘But this afternoon I was feeling so much better that I went down to Reception to order a tray of tea and that gorgeous guy—Nico—was on duty. You know, the one we’ve spoken to a couple of times?’
‘Yes, of course I know who you mean,’ Emily said. Yet another dashing and attentive Italian, she thought.
‘Well, we sort of got chatting,’ Coral went on, ‘and I said I didn’t know Rome very well and guess what—he wants to take us out to show us the sights. He’s off duty at eight o’clock! What do you think of that?’ She looked at Emily searchingly. ‘It might be fun, Emily—and it is our last night.’
Emily got up and went over to put her laptop in the wardrobe, then turned to Coral. ‘Strangely enough, I’ve had an invitation for us as well,’ she said lightly, before going on to explain how Giovanni had arrived and had escorted her to the hotels on her list. ‘And he’s asked if we’d like to have dinner with him tonight,’ she added.
Coral was speechless—but only for a second. ‘How weird—that he should have turned up at just the right moment,’ she said. ‘But—now we’ve got two invites! Choices, choices!’ She paused, thinking it over for a moment. ‘But—it’ll work perfectly, Ellie. I mean, I wouldn’t want to turn Nico down—not after he was so sweet to me this afternoon—and you can’t possibly disappoint Giovanni. That wouldn’t be fair, since he’s obviously been so wonderful to you today. So there you are—we’ll go our separate ways tonight…and compare notes later!’ she added darkly.
Emily smiled, shaking her head briefly at Coral’s excitement. Her friend was obviously going to make the most of this final bit of her holiday—and what better way to end it than to be escorted around town by the handsome Nico?
Presently, as she washed away the day’s dust under a cool shower, Emily couldn’t help feeling pleased for Coral. Having an unexpected date was just the sort of thing to add a little sparkle to a holiday, she thought, and her friend was quite old enough—and sensible enough—to treat it as the light-hearted, inconsequential thing it was. And Emily had to admit that the thought of spending her last evening with Giovanni—just the two of them—held a little sparkle of its own! And why not? The occasional fleeting evening spent with an attractive man was the sort of thing which pleased her these days…No expectations, nothing heavy, which might threaten to cloud the long-term plan for her life. Go with the flow, but keep things cool—that was th
e best way.
Later, dressed in her white slim-leg cotton trousers and ocean-green low-necked top, Emily tripped lightly down the steps of the hotel to find Giovanni standing at the bottom waiting for her. Looking up, he grinned slowly, taking in every detail of her appearance and making no secret of his admiration.
‘You are a very beautiful woman, Emily,’ he murmured, and although Emily knew very well that easy compliments flew from the lips of amorous Italians like flocks of migrating birds, coming from Giovanni it seemed different. It seemed genuine, and she accepted it graciously.
‘Thank you…Giovanni…’ she said, lingering over his name for a second. He was so obviously a ‘Giovanni’ rather than a ‘Joe’, she thought briefly. That rather blunt derivative of his name could only be thanks to one of his English friends and somehow, to her, it didn’t suit him. And tonight she could have added that he, too, was worth more than one glance. His black, well-fitting designer trousers were teamed with an ivory cotton shirt, casually open, showing off his golden chest. He obviously liked dressing well, Emily thought.
She glanced across at him as he drove them into town. ‘Coral asked me to thank you again, for including her in tonight,’ she said. ‘As I explained on the phone, she’d already accepted an invitation which she didn’t feel able to change.’
He looked back at her, his dark eyes glinting in the reflection from the brightly lit dials of the dashboard. ‘No worries,’ he said easily, thinking that, with another woman, he might have said that he was very happy to have her all to himself, so that he could treat her to the undivided attention that was his norm with alluring females. But he decided not to say that, happy to relax in the comfortable silence that seemed to exist between them. He frowned briefly. He had known so many women in his life—had always regarded the female sex as treasures to be valued. But would he ever meet a woman who didn’t have an ulterior motive in wanting to belong to his family? That was what haunted him.