by SJ
Giovanni put his hand on her forehead gently. ‘Well, you’re cool enough now, so obviously your temperature’s back to normal,’ he said. ‘But you must be ready for something to eat. What do you fancy? What can I get you?’
By now, Emily was right back on track and she knew she had to explain about not being in Estonia. But…she’d put it off for as long as possible, she thought, so she replied quickly, ‘I feel like a slice of toast with some marmalade on it. The jar is in the cupboard above the sink.’ She sighed weakly. ‘And I think there’s bread in the fridge.’
Giovanni grinned down at her, relieved to see that Emily was obviously coming back to the real world. ‘Toast and marmalade coming up,’ he said, going into the kitchen.
Getting up, and feeling as if she were floating a foot off the floor, Emily tottered into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Whatever did she look like? But by now she was past caring. She filled the basin with warm water and began to wash her hands and face, drawing the sponge up around her neck and arms before smoothing some of her moisturizer onto her skin. Then she reached for her toothbrush, squeezing some paste onto it, the strong peppermint making her tongue tingle pleasantly. That made her feel a lot better. Then she took her brush and eased some of the tangles from her hair, making a face at herself in the mirror…She still looked a mess, she thought, but it would have to do for now.
It was so good to have Giovanni here, Emily thought suddenly, pausing for a second. In spite of the doubts she had about him, he could be so utterly kind and thoughtful…everything any woman could want in a man, especially in her hour of need. And at every other time too! But—and it was a big but—could they last a lifetime together, as he apparently thought they could…and would she ever be enough for Giovanni Boselli? There was so much he hadn’t told her. So much she needed to know.
Presently, she went to sit down on the sofa, just as he came in with the toast and two mugs of tea on a tray and, as Emily started to nibble at the first food she’d had for some time, he sat on a chair opposite and watched her. Some colour had come back into her cheeks, he noticed, and her beautiful eyes, as she glanced across at him, looked clearer now and as discerning as ever.
Then she said, ‘I expect you were surprised to find that I wasn’t in Estonia this week.’
Giovanni shrugged, as if he’d hardly thought about it. ‘Obviously some last-minute change of plan?’ he suggested, trying to make it easy for her.
She stared at him for a long moment before answering him truthfully. ‘No, it wasn’t that,’ she said slowly. ‘I wanted you to think I’d be away because…because—’ she swallowed ‘—I didn’t want to see you, Giovanni.’ She sipped from her mug. ‘I thought it best if…you see…I’m afraid, Giovanni,’ she whispered.
‘Afraid—of me, Emilee-a?’ he said quietly.
‘A bit,’ she admitted, not looking at him.
Giovanni’s face was expressionless. Then, ‘You won’t mind if I ask for an explanation?’ he asked mildly. ‘Are you still mad at me for not admitting sooner who my family was—is? And what my future is likely to entail?’ He paused. ‘Or, indeed, that I’d been married once?’ he added as an afterthought.
Emily nodded slowly. ‘I do still find it hard to think how anyone could avoid mentioning all that before,’ she conceded, ‘but it’s not just that, Giovanni.’
Now he was really puzzled. ‘So—what is it?’ he asked.
There was a long pause before Emily spoke again. Then, ‘I don’t want to love you…I don’t want to fall in love with someone who I’m afraid would find it hard to be faithful,’ she said earnestly. ‘Loyalty is the essential element which is needed to bind a relationship, to make it last for a lifetime.’
‘I agree with that,’ Giovanni responded at once. ‘So—what are you trying to say?’
‘Must I spell it out?’ Emily said.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to,’ he said quietly.
‘Well—what about that girl at the party…the one I saw you with from my window, much later on that night?’ Emily said, suddenly feeling energized. ‘I saw you two together, how you were holding her, kissing her…she must be someone very special to you, Giovanni.’
The slight frown which had started to form on Giovanni’s features cleared briefly and he leaned forward and let out a deep sigh. ‘Oh—what must you have thought, Emilee-a?’ he said slowly. He shook his head. ‘That very special woman is my sister, Francesca,’ he said. He took a deep breath, realizing that there was even more for Emily to find out about his family. ‘We see Francesca very infrequently, thanks to her working life,’ he said. ‘She did a politics degree at university and now has a high-octane job with the government…all top secret stuff which we never ask her about—and she wouldn’t tell us, in any case. But of course she is constantly flying all over the world, and actually only got back from the States very late on Sunday night—you had already gone to bed—just in time to wish my mother a happy birthday. But she was collected again almost before dawn to accompany the Prime Minister’s entourage to Japan.’ Giovanni looked deadly serious for a moment. ‘Did you really think that she and I…?’
‘Well, you did look very close…’ Emily began hesitantly, wondering how many more surprising revelations she was to learn. ‘You seemed so deep in conversation.’
‘That is certainly true,’ he agreed, ‘because I was telling her all about you, Emily…about this wonderful English girl that I’m in love with. But I also had to tell her that I didn’t think you cared too much for me…not in the way I am yearning for.’ He paused, finding it hard to go on for a second. ‘My sister has always given me good advice,’ he said, ‘and her words were—Never give up on your heart’s desire. If something feels right, go for it. Never give up.’
He looked so appealing, so earnest, that Emily wanted him to hold her close…wanted to feel his arms around her and not let her go. ‘So…Francesca…has no part in the family business?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘No, she has never had any interest at all in fashion, or how the business works,’ he said. ‘And my parents respected that, respected her wishes to go it alone.’ He smiled briefly. ‘My mother is intensely proud of what Francesca has achieved in her own profession. After all, it isn’t everyone who can say that they occasionally take tea with the Prime Minister, or who has met the President of the United States.’
There was a long silence while Emily ate the last of her toast slowly, admitting that her head was feeling almost as light as it had when she’d been suffering that temperature. But she was on an unstoppable train now, she thought. There was more she must know.
‘And Paulina?’ she asked steadily. ‘Your wife? Tell me about her, Giovanni. I want to know everything—everything about you.’
His expression clouded, but only for a moment. ‘That is one subject that I do not like to think about…do not like to talk about,’ he said seriously, ‘but I understand why I must tell you, Emilee-a. It is only right that I should.’
He had hardly touched his tea, and now he put down his mug, standing up and going across to the window, drawing aside the curtain and staring out into the night sky.
‘Paulina—and Francesca—and I had been friends for many years, when we were all very young,’ he said slowly. ‘She was very beautiful…In fact, she looked so like Francesca they were sometimes taken for sisters.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve seen that photograph in your flat, Giovanni,’ Emily said.
‘I’d never really imagined that our relationship would develop into something deeper,’ he went on, ‘but sometimes life takes on a rhythm which is difficult to stop. She was…very much in love with me, that was the trouble…She was like a loyal dog, looking at me with those big eyes…and I found it hard to tell her that I did not feel quite the same way about her. I did try,’ he said, ‘and she even threatened to kill herself on one occasion.’ He paused. ‘Everyone else in the family—’ Giovanni did not mention his mother ‘
—told me so many times that we would be the perfect match, and I tried to believe that because I hated having to reject Paulina. To be rejected is the most hurtful thing.’ Emily glanced up briefly. Yes, she thought, she would wholeheartedly agree with that.
‘So—we got married,’ Giovanni said, ‘and life was pretty good…it was OK. But Paulina changed…she developed into a woman who was never satisfied with what she had, what she was given. She was constantly shopping, buying clothes, shoes, handbags, things she didn’t really need or want…the perfect example of someone who was trying to fill her life with something she was lacking.’ Giovanni paused for so long that Emily looked up curiously. This was hurting him, she thought, hurting him to speak about. But presently he continued, and his voice was sombre.
‘I realized, too late, that it was all my fault,’ he said. ‘Because I neglected her—shamefully. I was working all hours—the business was going through a difficult patch—something that only I could really deal with. There was no one else, and my mother is no longer young. I could not expect too much of her.’ He sighed, then, ‘I always gave Paulina whatever she wanted—paid all her bills without question, but it started to become serious and I had no idea how to handle it. Money is not everything, and it can become a monster—and that is what it became for us. The more Paulina had, the more she wanted. I tried to talk to her about it, but then she accused me of being mean.’ He gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘The only thing I was mean about was not giving my wife the attention she deserved…giving her time so that we could be together properly, to enjoy our lives as other married couples do.’ He shook his head. ‘At the time, I was totally stressed, my nerves hanging by a thread, or so it seemed. Then the unimaginable thing happened—Paulina developed a serious medical problem which no one suspected, and she died within a few months. Died before I could put things right between us, before I could make up for my lack of—thoughtfulness—of attentiveness—which is every woman’s right, surely? I had put the family business—our wonderful, sometimes cursed dynasty—before more important issues like the feelings, the comfort of my wife. And I am left with a deep sense of shame. I can never forgive myself,’ he replied.
There was such a long pause after that that Emily looked up at him, frowning.
‘But the very worst thing, Emily, was something I have never told anyone before—anyone at all,’ he emphasized. He swallowed. ‘During one of her many outbursts, which were becoming more and more frequent, Paulina told me that she’d never been in love with me at all, anyway. What she was in love with was what I owned—and what she wanted access to. She said that from a young age she’d been determined that one day I would marry her.’ He turned slowly and looked down at Emily. ‘But, in spite of all that, I am left with a deep sense of shame…a sense of failure. And I can never forgive myself,’ he repeated.
He came back to sit down beside Emily, whose throat had formed such a hard lump of sympathy she couldn’t speak. But she took his hand gently as he went on.
‘So—I was forced to take a long leave of absence from work recently and, apart from a couple of visits I made to the UK office, I’ve spent much of the time in Rome with friends, doing simple things like minding shops belonging to other people and generally chilling out. Which is when I met you, Emilee-a, carissimo.’ He squeezed her hand tightly. ‘And, even at that early point, I felt a surge of something…a quite irrational hope that some miracle might happen for me.’ He hesitated. ‘But perhaps, now, you can understand my reluctance to say too much about the past,’ he said slowly, ‘though it was never meant to be a secret…something to be held back. But I like to think that I’ve learned from it. I will never make the same mistake again. Any woman who entrusts her life with me will never be short-changed,’ he added, thinking that he was only going to give himself one more chance to prove that—and it had everything to do with Emily.
She turned her head and looked right up into his eyes.
‘I hope you will forgive yourself, one day, Giovanni,’ she said. ‘Carrying guilt around with you for too long isn’t healthy. It doesn’t achieve anything in the long run.’
‘I know you are right,’ he said, ‘but I need someone to help me with that, Emily…it isn’t something I can do by myself.’ He looked down at her, his whole body tensing with desire at her closeness, at the soft feel of her body, at the sweet, warm smell of her skin. And, sensing that she wouldn’t stop him, he tucked her in tighter, reaching for her lips and kissing her gently, cautiously.
And Emily felt her heart breaking into tiny little pieces inside her…little pieces of unbelievable, undeniable surrender. Resting against him pensively, she wondered whether she dared to ask one final question…
She turned her face to look up at him. ‘Whose negligee was that, hanging in the bathroom of your flat, Giovanni?’ she asked, trying not to make the question sound in any way accusing, and he smiled down at her.
‘That’s my sister’s,’ he said. ‘Francesca leaves it there permanently for when she uses the flat as a flying stopover.’ He answered the question as casually as Emily had asked it, and for a few moments there was a comfortable silence as they both relaxed there in the gentle comfort of the modest room.
Suddenly, neither of them could bear it any longer, and now his lips came down on to Emily’s and he kissed her, properly, urgently, with such heightened ardour that it left her senses reeling. And Emily responded without hesitation…No man had ever filled her with such a passionate longing, such yearning…such unbelievable excitement.
In a moment, he whispered, ‘Tell me you love me, Emilee-a, tell me I’m not hoping for something which will never be mine. Tell me that you will be my wife, my life…my everything—for ever…’
And, at last, in a breathless, timeless moment, Emily murmured, ‘I have been trying not to love you, Giovanni, but I can’t keep it up any longer.’ She paused. ‘Of course I love you,’ she said, adding softly, ‘How could I help it?’ and his dark eyes, those mesmerizing windows of his soul, glistened with unshed tears of pleasure and happiness at the words he’d been longing, hoping, praying to hear.
But would his family ever accept her? Emily thought, as Giovanni’s lips claimed hers again. She instinctively felt that Maria was a formidable woman…She could be a formidable enemy…What if she, Emily, wasn’t deemed good enough for the illustrious Bosellis? She drew away and looked up at him. ‘Do you…do you think I would fit in, Giovanni?’ she asked. ‘Come up to standard, shall we say…?’
‘What on earth do you mean, Emily?’ he asked.
‘I’m talking about Maria…your mother. I know she has strong views on important matters. Would I ever be good enough for her remarkable son?’
Giovanni gave a short laugh. ‘My mother is as much in love with you as I am, Emily! Truly, I mean it. I have had long chats with her, and she has told me that if I can persuade you to be my wife, it will be her happiest day!’ He paused. ‘She liked being with you, talking to you. And she could not believe that the picture you gave her was not a copy…but that you had painted it yourself, using your own memory and imagination. And my mother is a very perceptive woman,’ he went on, ‘she knows a gifted artist when she meets one.’ Giovanni’s face broke into a broad grin. ‘I think she would love to have you on board, on our design team…you’d be someone with fresh, modern ideas, and every company needs new blood from time to time.’ He paused. ‘Just think,’ he said, ‘it would be like turning full circle—you and me, the two of us, Emilee-a, taking on what my great-grandparents began all those years ago! Isn’t that an amazing thought? Besides,’ he added mischievously, ‘Antonio needs some heirs—and I think you and I, together, can sort that one out. Only if that’s what you want, too, of course,’ he said quickly. ‘Your feelings will always come first.’ Giovanni’s eyes glistened and, looking up at him, Emily thought, not for the first time, that she would never again know such an achingly desirable man. And someone who, at last, she was going to trust. Because she knew that she could.
She remembered the words her father had used that day…that, if he’d waited much longer, he may have lost Alice for ever…Well, Emily wasn’t going to hesitate any longer.
What was she waiting for? She knelt up on the sofa and put her arms around his neck, almost collapsing into him as she offered him her parted lips to be kissed again…to be tasted…and immediately his hands reached under her flimsy nightwear and roamed over her body, making every one of her nerves tingle as he caressed her back and her bare shoulders, sliding his fingers over the creamy softness of her breasts…gently at first, then with increasing passion, until Emily was forced to draw back reluctantly. Now was not the time, she thought breathlessly, even though their desire for each other was painful. Their lovemaking—which she knew would be beautiful and amazing beyond her wildest dreams—must wait for just a little while longer.
‘Will…will this time next year do-for the first baby?’ she asked teasingly. ‘Is the firm prepared to wait that long—if we’re lucky enough to produce any, that is?’ she added.
Giovanni reached for her again. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said darkly. ‘Don’t you know what my friends call me? I’m known throughout the entire world as “Lucky Gio”. And, at this precise moment, Emilee-a, I know that my luck will never get better than this!’
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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