Antonia gave a heavy sigh. ‘You’ve got to face facts,’ she told him firmly. ‘I mean, you’ll soon be swanning off back to Italy, right? And there’s no way our relationship can work at such a distance. Surely that’s obvious?’
‘Nonsense!’ he ground out. ‘It merely requires some organisation on both our parts. I can easily arrange for us to still see a lot of one another. Which is why I refuse to accept for us to still see a lot of one another. Which is why I refuse to accept that feeble excuse,’ he added, his voice heavy with scorn and derision.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ she exploded angrily. ‘It’s simply not that simple. And you know it! Why can’t you see that our relationship is like a...a holiday romance?’
‘No! It is not like that, Antonia,’ he lashed back angrily.
‘Oh, yes, it is!’ she retorted flatly as she turned the wheel to turn into the lane running along the back of the hotel.
This quarrel clearly wasn’t going to end here. Moreover, since Lorenzo obviously had no compunction about giving full expressions to his views, as loudly as possible, it seemed prudent not to let this row continue in the main foyer of the hotel.
‘Besides,’ she told him, getting out of the car and collecting her suitcase, ‘while I’m flattered that you don’t want to terminate our affair, I’ve no doubt that you’ve got a whole harem of glamorous girlfriends in Milan. So, unlike myself, at least you’ll be all right,’ she added cattily.
‘You are talking utter rubbish!’ he retorted, getting out of the car and loudly slamming the passenger door shut.
However, Antonia had no problem noting the two bright spots of color on his high cheekbones, and the way he wasn’t quite looking her straight in the eye.
Uh-oh! It looked as if she’d hit a raw nerve, she told herself. It looked as if he had got a long-term girlfriend, tucked away somewhere. So, maybe her decision to cut and run had been the right one, after all?
There was absolutely no way she was prepared to be just one of a large number of girlfriends. No way! she told herself firmly, her resolve stiffening by the minute as she stalked ahead of him into the hotel. And besides, she’d heard nothing during the last hour but Lorenzo’s objections on his own behalf. At no point had he bothered to stop and think how it was going to affect her.
Bloody men—they were all the same! she told herself grimly, refusing to address another word to him until she was safely tucked away in her own suite of rooms at the hotel, with the door securely locked against the world—and Lorenzo.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THERE was no doubt that the last two days had been utterly dreadful, Antonia told herself with a heavy sigh, leaning back against her seat in the rear of the large black limousine and wondering just how long she was going to have to wait for Lorenzo?
Clearly absolutely furious at her decision to call a halt to their brief affair, the only word applicable to Lorenzo’s recent behaviour was horrendous!
Icy cold and remote, he’d hardly been able to bring himself to behave in a civilised manner—and he certainly hadn’t tried very hard. Locking himself away and concentrating on business, he’d kept as much distance from her as possible.
She had tried offering him her resignation, thinking that this would be an easy way out for both of them. But, for some perverted reason of his own, he was adamantly refusing to accept it. As was James Riley, his agency being at full stretch with so many summer visitors flying into the capital city.
So, realising that she was just going to have to tough it out, Antonia had gritted her teeth and got on with the job. Until last night, that was.
She had told Lorenzo—goodness knows how many times—that he must not, on any account, leave the hotel without telling her where he was going. And yet he’d done just that—suddenly disappearing into thin air, and practically giving her a heart attack, until she’d finally run him down to earth in a small bar, along the road from the hotel.
‘You blithering idiot!’ she had roared, her worry about his safety giving an edge to her massive loss of temper. ‘I don’t know why I bother trying to look after you. Surely ... surely you can see that wandering off by yourself, into a low dive like this, would give any assassin the perfect opportunity to knock your block off?’
‘I’m sick and tired of being ordered around like a small child!’ he’d snarled back angrily. ‘Why should I have to account to you for my every movement?’
‘Because I’m trying to save your rotten skin—that’s why!’ she’d lashed back furiously, finding a perverse pleasure in at last being able to release some of the stress and tension which had left her feeling totally screwed up over the past few days. ‘But ...hey! If you’re tired of life—that’s just fine by me!’ she’d added with a shrill, high-pitched laugh, before stomping angrily out of the bar.
Leaning against the wall by the entrance, grateful for the darkness which was hiding her flushed cheeks, and taking deep breaths of the damp night air, she’d done her best to calm down.
‘All you have to do is to tell me when you’re going out,’ she’d stated firmly, when he’d eventually emerged from the bar, some time later. ‘I won’t get in your way. I won’t be a nuisance. But, I must know where you are at all times.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ he’d told her stiffly, before striding off ahead of her back to the hotel.
Antonia was well aware that she had no excuse for so spectacularly losing her own temper last night. But Lorenzo had soon found a way of taking his revenge.
Deciding to exercise her stiff limbs, Antonia opened the door of the limousine, wishing she’d had the forethought to bring a newspaper and a hot Thermos of coffee with her, like the chauffeur sitting comfortably in the front seat of the large vehicle.
‘What time do you make it, Bob?’ she asked, sticking her head in through the window and squinting down at the clock on the dashboard.
‘It’s only eleven o’clock,’ he told her with a shrug, before taking another large bite from his thick cheese sandwich. ‘I don’t suppose your client will be out of there before two o’clock in the morning, at least. And we’re not the only ones twiddling our thumbs,’ he added, nodding to a long line of official, diplomatic limousines, parked nose to tail in the adjoining streets.
‘Yeah ...I expect you’re right,’ she muttered, pacing slowly up and down outside the large building in Three Kings Yard, which contained the Italian Embassy.
Every window seemed to be lit by blazing chandeliers whose light spilled out on to the pavement surrounding the building; the noise of laughter and music echoed in the night air.
Well, at least Lorenzo was enjoying himself, she thought acidly, hugging her jacket more tightly about her slim figure and trying hard not to think about the flagons of champagne and delicious food which Lorenzo was undoubtedly consuming right this minute.
She’d been on plenty of stakeouts, of course. So sitting in a car and possessing herself in patience for hours on end wasn’t exactly a new experience. But she was only human. And the delight with which Lorenzo had greeted that stunning-looking girl, who’d so unexpectedly turned up to see him this morning, had left Antonia feeling sick with jealousy.
It was a terrible emotion. In fact, she was discovering, for almost the first time in her life, the utterly corrosive, destructive effect of jealousy’s slimy, acid-green bile, as the evil poison flooded through the veins of her trembling body.
The young girl had been absolutely gorgeous! Unfortunately, try as she might, Antonia had not been able to discern even the slightest flaw in that perfect skin and delicate, hourglass figure. And it was clear that Lorenzo had agreed with her assessment. In fact, he’d been enthusiastically throwing his arms around the girl as Antonia had quickly decided to leave the room.
However, calling her back into his suite some time later, l.orenzo had informed her coldly that the girl, the daughter of an old friend of his, had been there to deliver an invitation: And he would, therefore, be att
ending a reception at the Italian Embassy that evening.
Quite why she’d been so foolish as to imagine that she was included in the invitation Antonia had no idea. Except, of course, that Lorenzo must have planned it that way. Because, as the limousine had drawn up outside the porticoed entrance, he’d obviously taken great pleasure in informing her that there was no reason for her to be wearing that smart navy silk dress.
‘I really can’t imagine why you wasted your time deciding which garment to wear tonight. Since you were not, of course, included in the invitation,’ he’d drawled sardonically. ‘Oh, dear—poor Antonia! Quite the little Cinderella, hmm?’
What was more, the swine had been clearly enjoying the fact that, furious at having been made to look such a fool, she was itching to slap that highly irritating smile from his face.
‘I expect you to stay here—fully alert, observant and on guard, of course—just in case a dangerous “assassin” should happen to come by,’ he’d added, giving her a cold, triumphant smile, before strolling nonchalantly up the steps and into the building.
Well, she might have known that he’d think of some way of punishing her. Because no one liked being finished with, she consoled herself. And she supposed that his rotten behaviour should at least have been predictable. But, when terminating their relationship, she’d felt every bit as much pain as he had. She was still wretchedly unhappy. She had spent most of the past two nights pacing wearily up and down, unable to gain any rest and longing, with every fibre of her being, to be safely clasped in his arms once again.
But the fact that she, too, was in torment clearly hadn’t even occurred to him. Lorenzo was totally self-absorbed in his own unhappiness at her rejection, and she could only hope and pray that it wouldn’t be long before he returned to Milan.
The chauffeur’s prediction was quite correct. It was just after two o’clock in the morning when Lorenzo eventually decided to leave the party.
Tired and weary, Antonia had just returned from a brisk walk around the block, in an effort to keep herself awake, and was seated on the rear seat of the limousine when she saw his tall figure leaving the building. And, of course, as she might have suspected, he was not alone.
For there, hanging on his arm and gazing adoringly up into his face, was the same girl who’d arrived at his suite with the invitation to the party.
Although she seemed to have made a mess of her life lately, that didn’t mean that she was entirely stupid, Antonia told herself grimly. And when, in the full glare of the overhead porch light, Lorenzo gathered the young girl into his arms—clearly enjoying a long and lingering goodnight kiss—she quickly realised that the scene had been partly staged for her benefit.
In fact, she was almost ninety-nine per cent certain that Lorenzo would have been severely disappointed if she hadn’t witnessed that long-drawn-out embrace.
But, however much it hurt—and it most certainly did—she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing that she cared one way or the other. After all, he was clearly convinced that she was a Hard-Hearted Hannah. So, why should she disappoint him?
‘Isn’t she a lovely young girl?’ Lorenzo drawled smoothly, directing Antonia’s attention to the figure blowing kisses in his wake as the limousine began drawing away. ‘I really must see a lot more of her!’ he added cheerfully, clearly gaining considerable satisfaction and pleasure from twisting the knife in Antonia’s heart.
However, she’d had a few minutes to prepare her defences, and was prepared to give as much as she got.
‘Yes, she really is extraordinarily beautiful,’ Antonia agreed in a light, bright tone of voice. ‘And clearly not a day over eighteen, either. Of course,’ she added sweetly, ‘if I was her father, I wouldn’t be too keen on my daughter getting involved with a man, who must be at least twenty years older than she is. But...hey! What do I know?’
‘Correct! You know nothing!’ he grated angrily in the darkness beside her. ‘You’re just jealous of her youth and beauty—that’s all!’
It had been a long night, and Antonia was bone-weary and fed up to the back teeth with the stress and strain of the last few days.
‘You’re quite right,’ she said with a heavy sigh, leaning back in the seat and staring dully up at the roof of the vehicle. ‘But then, that’s exactly what you intended, right? So, congratulations, Lorenzo—you finally managed to hit the bull’s-eye!’
‘Antonia...I...’
‘Oh—go to hell!’ she muttered, determinedly clamping her eyes shut against the weak tears threatening to fall any minute. She never cried—and certainly not in public! she told herself fiercely, desperately striving to pull herself together.
‘I fear that I am already there,’ he said quietly.
‘Yeah, well ... that makes two of us,’ she sighed. ‘Only, of course, it hasn’t occurred to you to even think about how I feel, has it?’ she added bitterly. ‘Oh, no—you’re far too preoccupied with your own feelings and emotions to give two hoots about anyone else’s.’
Sharply turning his head to look at the woman sitting in the darkness beside him, he was startled to glimpse tiny beads of moisture slowly trickling down the side of her cheek from beneath her tightly closed eyelids—clearly visible in the bright lights as they arrived outside the entrance of his hotel.
But, before he could say anything, the driver was opening the door, and Antonia had leapt from the limousine, quickly running through the foyer and disappearing from sight.
After yet another sleepless night—most of which she’d spent wide awake, castigating herself for being so weak and feeble—Antonia was surprised when Lorenzo summoned her to his suite early the next morning.
‘I have some good news and some bad news,’ he drawled blandly, his voice empty of all expression. ‘The bad news is that the Rome police have apparently failed to apprehend the man who’s been making threats against my life. Giovanni Parini has apparently vanished into thin air—and is therefore still a possible danger, as far as I am concerned.
‘The good news,’ he continued smoothly, ‘is that, for various reasons, I find that I must immediately return to Italy.’
So, this is it... Antonia found herself thinking. This really is the last time that he and I will ever see each other. And it seemed to take the most enormous effort for her to keep standing on her feet, calmly waiting for her dismissal.
However, whatever she might have expected him to say next, she was totally astounded when he announced that he was intending to take her with him on his return to Italy.
‘But you can’t...’ she protested. ‘You don’t need me. In fact, the whole idea is simply and utterly ridiculous!’
‘I have already discussed my intentions with both the insurance company and Mr Riley of the Worldwide agency. They agree with me that your contract between us must be fulfilled,’ he told her firmly.
‘And so, Miss Simpson, I have to tell you that if you do not comply with the terms as outlined in that contract I will be immediately suing Mr James Riley and his agency for every penny they’ve got. As well as making sure, to the very best of my ability, that you never have an opportunity to act as a bodyguard ever again.’
Rigid with shock, Antonia could scarcely believe her ears. But, as she glared up into the bland, enigmatic blue eyes of the man whom, she now decided, she loathed with every fibre of her being, she realised that there was virtually nothing she could do about the situation.
Giving a heavy sigh, Antonia did up her seat belt, waiting for take-off as she leaned back in the wide, comfortable seat of the private aircraft, and wondering just what she’d done to deserve such a fate.
In fact, ever since having been assigned to act as Lorenzo’s bodyguard, her whole life seemed to have gone totally pear-shaped!
Actually, she corrected herself, it appeared to be more like one of those roller-coaster rides in a fairground. Swooshing up and down—one minute ecstatically happy, and the next thrust into the very depths of
despair.
Giving herself a quick mental shake, she realised that she must do her best to try and think positively about her current situation. After all, there must be a silver lining to the heavy, dark clouds surrounding her. Although, for the life of her, Antonia hadn’t been able to find it over the past two days.
Ever since Lorenzo had insisted on her accompanying him on his return to Milan, it seemed as though she’d been consumed by his blazing anger and cold fury. Spending hours weeping in the privacy of her own bedroom at night, and feeling exhausted and jittery during the day, she was beginning to feel thoroughly disorientated, not knowing whether she was coming or going.
Although she’d always prided herself on being a rational, sensible human being, Antonia had never before found herself having to deal with such a maelstrom of deep, confused emotions. Could it be that despite her best intentions she’d fallen heavily in love with Lorenzo? Because, if so, as far as she was concerned, falling in love was the absolute pits!
She might have been able to cope better with the situation if Lorenzo hadn’t seemed to be positively enjoying her discomfiture.
When she glanced across the cabin of the small private aircraft, her lips tightened grimly as she viewed his tall figure seated at a table fixed to the bulkhead; he was already working his way steadily through a huge file of papers.
Under any other circumstances, she would have freely admitted her admiration for his ability, wherever he might be, to concentrate his full attention on the work in hand—to be able to swiftly master a complicated, intricate problem concerning his business which would take a lesser man much longer to achieve.
But she definitely wasn’t feeling fair or generous-minded towards him at the moment. And why should she, when he was clearly using his involvement in business matters to prevent all discussion of his arbitrary decision to drag her off with him to Italy?
What seemed to make matters ten times worse was the fact that Lorenzo, when he wasn’t buried deep in work, appeared to have had a mystifying, complete change of character. Never raising his voice, he’d been scrupulously polite at all times. And, apparently fully in control of his temper—an amazing fact in itself!---he’d given her no opportunity to release her pent-up feelings of anger and frustration.
Mary Lyons - The Italian Seduction Page 14