TB B

by SJ

  ‘Well, sadly he is not any more.’ Maria’s expression was grim. ‘Paulina died last year—after a very short illness.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m glad to say that Giovanni himself is so much better now. He was instructed by his doctors to have some time off to recover from his ordeal…and I insisted that he should have a complete rest from all his responsibilities here in Italy.’ She shook her head. ‘But these sad things take their own time,’ she added. ‘And I have hated to see him so unhappy…so down. Not like him at all, to be that way.’

  Emily was totally mystified—and baffled—at why Giovanni had never thought to mention such a dramatic event in his life, or that he’d been married. How could anyone be so secretive? And if the woman in the garden hadn’t been his wife—which, clearly, she couldn’t have been—who was she? Obviously another enchanting female who took his fancy! But, now that Emily had started, she couldn’t stop. She cleared her throat. ‘Giovanni’s loss must have been terrible,’ she said, thinking how strange her own voice sounded. ‘I’m sure they were very much in love…’

  Maria’s lips tightened again, in the way that Emily was beginning to recognize. ‘We had known Paulina—and her family—for many years,’ she said, ‘and I thought she was perfect for Giovanni…In fact, I told him so on many occasions and perhaps I should not have done.’ She paused before going on. ‘They had been married for only two years before Paulina was taken ill…but I’m afraid things had not been going well with them for some time before that.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘Life is a melting pot of good things and bad things, Emily…but that is what it is. Life. And one must always hope.’ She tucked her arm more firmly into Emily’s, not surprised that Giovanni wanted her so badly. The girl was different from any of the others her son had known…For one thing, she was obviously a ‘family’ person, clearly caring and loyal, but there was also an indefinable quality about her that was very seductive—to both sexes. Maria had sensed it at once. Not to mention the fact that Emily was beautiful…But, of course, Giovanni deserved a beautiful woman! Of that his mother was in no doubt! It was his right! But the thing troubling Maria so deeply was that Giovanni had said he’d known from the very first that Emily was the one woman he was sure could give him back some happiness, and that if he couldn’t have her, then he’d settle for no one else. That never again would he look for another woman, trust another woman to share his life. What a state of affairs! No second marriage, no second chance, no babies! Aldo was no longer in the equation, and there were no other men in the family to see that the firm continued to develop and prosper as it had done for generations! Her son’s flatly stated announcement during their long chats this weekend had been Maria’s worst possible birthday present! And it left her in no doubt that he meant it. Once he made up his mind—about anything—nothing would change it. But it seemed that the one thing he had to do was to change Emily’s mind—for hadn’t he said that she did not return his feelings? How could she not? How could she not see what a wonderful man Giovanni was…? Surely everything any woman could desire!

  Later, as Emily, Giovanni and Maria sat outside in a sheltered corner of the patio enjoying their mid-morning coffee, Giovanni glanced across at Emily. She looked pale this morning, he thought, almost waif-like…though he loved the red dress she was wearing. It hugged her slender neck and arms and emphasized her neat waistline. But appearances were not everything, he acknowledged, and it was impossible not to be aware of her mood. She seemed more distant than ever this morning, and it had to be all about the wretched dynasty, of course—and not being told about it before. He cursed inwardly. Why hadn’t he plucked up the courage to tell her about his background earlier? Whatever had made him think that bringing her here and then telling her was a good idea? Well, her feisty reaction to the news had put him right on that point! She felt she’d been put at a disadvantage—and she hadn’t liked it.

  Giovanni sighed briefly as he finished his coffee. He’d always prided himself that he understood women, but he was beginning to feel that he didn’t know them as well as he thought he did. And he also knew that, somehow, he was going to have to bring her round, make her forgive him for keeping her in the dark.

  Giovanni had been looking forward to bringing Emily here to his home—the home he’d hoped would be hers one day—but, as he saw her staring implacably in front of her with that non-committal expression he’d often seen before, his doubts were growing by the minute. Yet, in spite of everything, he knew that she liked him—a lot—and also that—did he dare to even think it—she fancied him. His whole body tensed as he recalled the erotic feel of her body almost wrapped in his when they had been on the river, the soft roundness of her breast in his hand, her undoubted willingness to have travelled further. It all gave him a blood-rush as he lived it again.

  But that was then, this was now. If he was going to win this woman over, he’d have to think of something—fast.

  It was in a rather subdued mood that they made the journey back to the UK, with Emily staring rather listlessly out of the aircraft window while Giovanni tried, unsuccessfully, to concentrate on the first page of his newspaper.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I’m really sorry that I didn’t tell you, you know, about all the stuff regarding my family,’ he began, and Emily interrupted quickly.

  ‘There’s no need to apologize,’ she said flatly. ‘It doesn’t matter—not one bit. I was very happy to meet Maria again,’ she added, ‘and it was a pleasant and very…informative…time for me.’ Emily looked across at Giovanni, holding his gaze, but now her tone was soft. ‘I was sorry to hear of your wife’s untimely death, Giovanni,’ she said, thinking that he must still find it hard to talk about—to anyone.

  Emily turned back to look out of the window again, and Giovanni felt his blood rising in anger. Why had his mother complicated things by talking about that to Emily? he thought. She should have left it to him, to deal with in his own way at the right time. He touched her arm. ‘The past is the past,’ he said, ‘and nothing can change that now. It’s over. Gone. The only important thing remaining is the future, and what we make of it.’

  ‘But the past is important,’ Emily began, and he interrupted her.

  ‘Only if we learn from it,’ he said soberly. ‘And try not to make the same mistakes again.’

  It was quite late as they hailed a cab outside the airport, and Giovanni looked down at Emily. ‘Thank you again, for coming with me this weekend, Emily,’ he said quietly. ‘I know my mother appreciated everything…and especially the painting you gave her. She hasn’t stopped going on about it.’

  Emily smiled briefly. ‘I’m glad she liked it.’

  They got into the taxi and gave the driver instructions. Then, ‘I must see you tomorrow, Emily—I want to talk to you,’ he added, almost desperately. He was not going to let Emily slip through his fingers, and he knew, he just knew, he could win her…that she would understand everything…understand him, eventually.

  Emily looked up at him. ‘Sorry, Giovanni, I can’t possibly see you tomorrow,’ she said. ‘The firm are sending me to Estonia in the morning—didn’t I say? I shall be away until next week.’ Her voice faltered at this deliberate lie, but she was not going to see Giovanni again—this weekend had been just too much to take in. And her excuse was as good as any. She had to have some space to get her thoughts in order. She wasn’t going to risk her life in this man’s hands, and the first step in the procedure was to distance herself from him, forget how much she’d started to love being with him, being close to him, breathing in that subtle, evasive masculine scent that sent all her nerves twitching. Giovanni Boselli was dangerous. She wanted out!

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT WAS four whole days since they’d returned to the UK and Giovanni’s current commitment at the branch office was complete—there was simply no excuse for him to remain in London and he was needed in Rome, now and for the foreseeable future. So it was time to go home. But not before he’d had a chance to see Emily again and try t
o restore something of the position he’d thought they’d been in before. He knew she was upset with him—perhaps understandably, he accepted—but he’d never dreamed that his background, his rather exceptional status, would be such a big deal for her…that he was who he was.

  Now, he looked at his watch. It was nearly lunchtime—time to decide on some action! Because they’d not exchanged a word since Monday night and he knew he couldn’t bear this silence a day longer. Emily’s mobile obviously had a fault, he reasoned, or else she was not answering—which he thought was unlikely, because wouldn’t her firm need to contact her while she was away? He bit his lip. He didn’t really want to embarrass her by ringing her office, but there was nothing else for it. He’d think of some plausible excuse…

  He dialled the number, and almost at once a voice answered.

  ‘Justin Taylor. Can I help?’

  Giovanni cleared his throat. ‘Oh, hi. Sorry to trouble you…Justin…It’s Giovanni Boselli here. I think we met some time ago. I was wondering if you could tell me how I can get in touch with Emily. Her mobile seems constantly on the blink.’ He paused. ‘Could you give me the name of the hotel she’s staying at? I believe she’s in Tallinn at the moment.’

  ‘No, she isn’t,’ Justin replied at once. ‘She’s not due in Estonia for another ten days.’

  This unexpected piece of news nearly floored Giovanni.

  ‘She…she isn’t?’ he said incredulously. ‘But she told me she was going—on Tuesday—for a week.’ Giovanni quickly recovered his composure. ‘Oh, well, anyway…is she there?’ he asked. ‘Can I have a word?’

  ‘No, you can’t, I’m afraid. She’s not in the office, hasn’t been all week,’ Justin said. ‘She phoned in sick on Tuesday morning.’

  Giovanni put down the phone and stared into space for a few moments, his throat constricting at the thought that Emily might be really ill. Then he shook his head briefly. But…she’d lied to him, about going to Estonia! But why? It was a horrible thought. She didn’t need to do that. But clearly she didn’t want to see him, or even speak to him, which was why she wasn’t answering his calls.

  He went over to the drinks cooler and poured himself a generous cup of water. He was utterly confused emotionally, and hurt beyond belief that he’d been lied to, humiliated that he’d been taken in, had believed her. But, much, much worse, Giovanni couldn’t bear to think that she may be really ill. He finished the drink and poured himself some more. At least she had Coral there to look after her for part of each day…unless Coral, too, had succumbed! Giovanni cursed to think that he didn’t have Coral’s number, to check.

  Presently, his normal clear-headed thinking took over. When he left work he’d go straight over to their flat, he decided. Whatever explanation Emily had for her deviousness, he thought, he must hear it from her. He couldn’t stand unresolved, unsettled matters. In his book, it was always best to get things sorted—then move on. Even if the outcome was not always the happy one you’d hoped for.

  He left the office and took a cab straight to the familiar address. He glanced up at the first floor—he knew which was Emily’s bedroom—and, through a tiny chink in the closed curtains, he could see a dim light. He paused outside the front door for a few moments before trying, yet again, to get Emily to answer her mobile, but with the same result.

  It was almost dark by now, and Giovanni was conscious of one or two strange looks from passers-by as he stood hesitantly on the front doorstep. Looking up and down the street, he was praying that he’d suddenly see Coral coming home, but there was no sign of her and, eventually, reluctantly, he pressed lightly on the doorbell. Emily would not want to be disturbed, he appreciated that, but how else could he be sure that she was OK, or whether she needed anything? And if she was annoyed at the intrusion on her privacy, he couldn’t help it. He had to know.

  There was no response to his ring…If only she’d open her window and just talk to him, he thought desperately, just for a moment, tell him she was all right. That would be enough. But, apart from that small bedroom light, the place might have been deserted.

  Standing there, Giovanni really didn’t know what to do next…If theirs had been a ground-floor flat, he thought, he might even have tried breaking in! And then, quietly emerging out of the gathering gloom, someone came up the path towards him.

  ‘Can I help you—are you looking for someone?’ the man said, in a none-too-friendly voice.

  Giovanni spoke quickly. ‘Oh…yes.’ He stood well back so as not to appear intimidating to the rather slight middle-aged man. ‘My name is Giovanni Boselli, and I’m a friend of Emily’s…Emily Sinclair?’

  The man smiled now, inserting his key into the door. ‘Ah, yes, Emily. I think they’re both away,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen either of the girls for a few days, but then, I’m often not here myself.’ He turned to look at Giovanni, who had come up behind him. ‘I’m Andy Baker—I own this property.’

  ‘Of course—I remember you called once, while I was having dinner with Emily,’ Giovanni said, almost wanting to throw his arms around the man’s neck in relief. He paused. ‘The thing is…I believe Emily is ill in bed…I haven’t been able to contact her all week, and I’m worried about her.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you have a spare key so that I can let myself in to check everything’s OK?’

  Andy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, but felt bound to express some doubt about doing what Giovanni had asked. ‘Well, I don’t know really…I’m only legally allowed to gain access in an emergency…’ he began, and Giovanni interrupted.

  ‘But I have a real feeling that this is an emergency,’ he said. ‘Look, if we could just open her door and call out—ask her if she’s OK—there can’t be any harm in that, surely?’

  ‘Well, I suppose not,’ Andy said rather reluctantly, and together the two of them went up the stairs. When they got to Emily’s door, they paused for a second and Giovanni tapped lightly.

  ‘Emily…it’s Giovanni. Is everything all right?’ he called.

  There was no reply but, as Giovanni looked down at Andy, they both heard a low moan, followed by a crash and the unmistakable tinkle of breaking glass.

  ‘Look, we must go in,’ Giovanni said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. ‘Please—open her door.’

  As if making a world-shattering decision, Andy stepped forward and selected a key from the bunch in his hand, opening the door.

  They went inside and, with Andy hovering anxiously behind him, Giovanni went straight into Emily’s bedroom.

  She was lying on her side on the bed, the covers thrown off and with one arm dangling towards the floor, and she half-opened her eyes as she became aware that she was not alone. Then she tried to struggle up into a sitting position and Giovanni moved forward to support her, stepping over the glass from the broken tumbler on the floor. Her appearance sent shock waves through him. She was deathly pale, with her hair tousled around her face, and her eyes looked huge and almost opaque as she stared up at him.

  ‘Emilee-a…’ he breathed, gathering her up into his arms, and she automatically leaned into him, flopping her head against his shoulder.

  ‘What time is it?’ she whispered through dry lips. ‘I must get up…’

  Andy cleared his throat as he stood awkwardly by the door. ‘Well…I’ll be going on upstairs,’ he said, turning to leave. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do…You know where I am…’ he added. He paused. ‘Just as well we came in, wasn’t it? Poor Emily. Doesn’t look too good, does she…?’

  When he’d gone, Giovanni laid Emily back down and drew the covers over her gently. She looked up at him, and now she was beginning to focus more clearly.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she croaked, her voice hoarse. Then, ‘I can’t remember coming to bed…What’s going on?’

  Giovanni sat beside her, taking her hand in his. ‘How long have you been lying here by yourself?’ he asked. ‘Do you know what day it is?’

  ‘It’s Tuesday—isn’t it
?’ Emily replied. ‘Yes, it’s Tuesday…’

  ‘No, it’s Friday, Emily. And you’ve obviously gone down with something.’ He paused. ‘Where’s Coral—shouldn’t she be home soon?’

  Emily was wide awake and aware now, and she struggled to sit up again. ‘Coral’s away on a course,’ she said weakly.

  ‘So you’ve been here all alone for four days,’ Giovanni said. ‘I was getting frantic with worry because I hadn’t heard from you, Emily, so I rang the office…’ He didn’t go on because now was not the time for explanations. What was needed was to make Emily more comfortable. Seeing her so helpless and vulnerable made him want to hold her close. He suddenly had no feelings of resentment about her lying to him, he realized. What did that matter now? All he felt was intense compassion and an overwhelming longing to bring her back to normal, to make her feel good again.

  For the next ten minutes, Giovanni busied himself with practical matters. He cleared the small bedside table of several empty tumblers and crumpled tissues, and screwed the top back onto the half-empty bottle of tablets Emily had obviously been taking. Then he went into the kitchen and found a dustpan and brush to clear up the broken glass, before putting the kettle on to make Emily a hot drink.

  When he came back, she was sitting weakly on the edge of the bed, struggling into her dressing gown, and Giovanni went across to help her.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she said faintly. ‘I’m beginning to remember everything now.’ She paused. ‘I woke early on Tuesday morning—and knew straight away that I couldn’t go to work…I felt terrible. But I thought if I had a day in bed, I’d soon recover.’ She swallowed. ‘And that’s really the last thing I remember. Except…I do remember going into the bathroom and getting myself water to drink…and I think I took some tablets…but that’s all, really.’ She looked away, not wanting to gaze into the dark eyes that she knew were staring down at her.