by Penny Jordan
‘Is he that irresistible?’
Veronica closed her eyes, her mind immediately conjuring up an image of him looming over her in bed last night, his dark eyes glittering wildly, his voice rough with desire as he told her what he was going to do to her. All night long.
‘He is to me,’ Veronica choked out. And possibly to all the swathes of women who’d come before her.
‘Then you had better come home.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BY THE TIME Leonardo picked up his car at Milan airport he’d come to the conclusion that he was actually falling in love for the first time in his life. He’d missed Veronica like mad within minutes of leaving her. At first, he’d put his feelings down to missing the fantastic sex they’d had together, not realising that his feelings came from something way deeper than that.
Lunch with his parents had been tedious as he tried to sidestep their escalating hopes over his relationship with Veronica. He’d lied, saying that they weren’t romantically involved, but he could see they weren’t buying it. They kept looking at each other with that knowing glint in their eyes until in the end he stopped bothering with the lies, saying instead that, yes, he liked Veronica a lot, but she was going home to Australia in three weeks’ time and there was no point in pursuing the girl. He scoffed at the suggestion that he invite her to stay with him in Milan for a while.
He was no longer scoffing at that idea. In fact, he thought it was a very good idea. He could not wait to ring her and suggest it. It was a pity that the ski season hadn’t started yet. Then he could have taken her skiing. But no matter. There were many other places he could take her. Venice, perhaps. Girls loved the romance of Venice.
By the time Leonardo arrived home—he owned a house not that far from the airport—he could hardly contain his excitement. Of course, he couldn’t tell her he loved her. Yet. That would be premature. And not conducive to achieving his goal, which was her loving him back. He could see Veronica was wary of relationships, though why that was, he wasn’t sure. Her fiancé had been killed. He hadn’t run off with some other woman. The hurt he sometimes glimpsed in her eyes when talking about men must have come from some other earlier man’s treatment of her.
Yes. That had to be it.
Leonardo hurried inside, the house very quiet. He always gave his housekeeper the weekend off when he went to Capri. Francesca was a widow in her fifties and lived in most of the time, but on her weekends off she liked to visit her daughter who lived in Florence, so she wouldn’t be back until the morning. A glance at his Rolex showed it wasn’t too late to call Veronica. It was only twenty-past nine. Pulling out his phone, he hurried upstairs and lay down on his bed, stretching out before bringing up her number and hitting the dial icon.
She took her time answering. The thought that she’d seen who was ringing and simply didn’t want to answer was a worrying one.
‘Hi,’ she said at last. ‘I’m glad you rang.’
His spirits rose immediately.
‘I have something I wanted to ask you,’ she went on, her voice brisk and businesslike, reminding him of the voice she’d used when she’d discussed arrangements with him over the phone from Australia. It made him rethink his tactics, knowing instinctively that she wasn’t just going to say yes to what he wanted. Maybe he should concentrate on getting her to come to Rome in a fortnight’s time. Asking her to come visit him in Milan seemed a step too far at this early stage.
‘What is it?’ he replied, trying not to sound crestfallen, which was something Leonardo rarely felt when it came to women.
‘I need the password to Laurence’s computer,’ she said.
Leonardo frowned. ‘What for?’
‘I’ve been going through his things. I thought I should go through his computer as well, have a look at his search history. It might give me a few clues.’
‘Clues to what?’
‘To why he left me this place, for starters,’ she said sharply. ‘Which reminds me, what happened to his phone?’
‘His phone?’
‘Yes. I would imagine my father was well up on technology. He was an intelligent man. He would have carried a smart phone with him everywhere.’
‘Yes, he did. I have it in a drawer at work, along with his wallet and his watch.’
‘Oh.’
‘If you want them, I could give them to you when we meet up in Rome,’ he offered.
Her hesitation to answer straight away was telling. Leonardo’s heart sank.
‘I… I haven’t made up my mind about that yet,’ she said carefully.
At least she hadn’t said no outright. Still, Leonardo wasn’t used to women waffling where his invitations were concerned. He wasn’t sure what to say next.
‘If you don’t fancy Rome, then how about Venice?’
‘Venice?’ she echoed.
‘Yes. The city of love.’
‘I thought that was Paris,’ she returned, her voice quite cool, making him instantly regret his use of the word.
‘You sound like you’re not too keen,’ he said, knowing that he sounded put out, but unable to harness his disappointment.
‘I told you, Leonardo. I think it’s best we don’t keep seeing each other.’
‘You don’t really mean that.’
‘You’re just not used to girls turning you down.’
‘Possibly. But I honestly believe we have something special. I’d like to explore things further between us.’
She laughed. She actually laughed. ‘I know the kind of exploring you mean and I’m sorry, Leonardo—I do find you terribly attractive, but I can’t see any future for us.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know.’
‘Is it my playboy reputation which worries you?’
‘Partly.’
‘I’m not as bad as the media make out.’
‘If you say so.’
She didn’t sound convinced and Leonardo was beginning to despair. So he played his trump card.
‘What if you’re the right girl Laurence said would come along one day?’
He heard her suck in her breath sharply.
‘You’re just saying that,’ she bit out.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m not. Look, I’m as surprised as you are. But surely you can see the chemistry between us is stronger than usual?’
She said nothing, though he could hear her breathing down the line. It was very fast.
‘For pity’s sake, you can’t go back to Australia without giving us the chance to find out our true feelings for each other.’
‘You promise me you’re not just saying this to get me into bed again?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
Her sigh was long. ‘If you’re playing with me, Leonardo, then you just might die. By my hands.’
Her passionate words excited him. And gave him confidence. She must care about him to feel that strongly.
‘I’m not playing with you,’ he reassured her.
‘I hope not.’
‘I can see you have had your trust in men severely damaged. I can only think some man in your past treated you very badly. A player, is my guess. Am I right?’
‘Yes and no. He wasn’t what you would call a player, just an extremely selfish man who thought of no one’s wishes but his own.’
‘And you think I’m like that, thinking of no one’s wishes but my own?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No,’ he denied hotly. Though he suspected he was guilty of some selfishness.
‘In that case, please do not ring me again until next Sunday evening, at which point I will give you my answer about the following weekend.’
‘What harm could there possibly be in my ringing you? I like talking to you, Veronica. You don’t sugar-coat your answers. You certainly don’t fl
atter me the way most women usually do.’
‘You’re using flattery now to get your own way.’
He ground his teeth with frustration. ‘You constantly misread me.’
‘I don’t think so, Leonardo, but you could prove your good intentions by doing what I ask.’
‘Very well,’ he bit out. ‘I won’t ring you until next Sunday evening.’ With that he hung up, too annoyed with her even to say goodbye. Lord, but she was one difficult woman!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
VERONICA DIDN’T SLEEP well that night, tossing and turning until well after midnight, then waking with the dawn. For a long time she lay there, thinking about Leonardo. Already she was regretting her tough stance of the night before, knowing full well that when next Sunday came she would say yes to spending the following weekend with him. Which meant she wouldn’t be ringing the airlines today and changing her flight to an earlier one.
The romantic side of her wanted to believe he was falling in love with her, but the sensible, pragmatic side kept warning her that it was too good to be true. It was just as well, she decided in the end, that she’d forbidden him to ring her this week. At least that way she wouldn’t be swayed by his sexy voice and, yes, his flattery. Veronica vowed to keep her head and to use this week to do what she’d come here to do: find out everything she could about her father.
It was a stroke of luck that at eleven that morning, after Veronica had spent hours going through her father’s computer without finding a single enlightening thing—he obviously only used it for the most basic correspondence and banking—the front doorbell was rung by the one person who possibly knew more about Laurence than anyone else living on Capri.
Carmelina, Leonardo’s sister and Laurence’s part-time housekeeper.
‘Good morning, Veronica,’ she said when Veronica opened the sliding glass door, her English more formal than her brother’s. ‘I am sorry if I woke you.’
Veronica sashed her bathrobe and smiled at Carmelina. ‘You haven’t. I’ve been up for hours. I was just too lazy to get dressed.’
Carmelina smiled back. She was in her mid-to late thirties and still very attractive—as all the Fabrizzis were—with dark eyes and hair and the loveliest olive skin.
Good genes, her father would have said. Veronica smiled at the thought, pleased that she could think of her father without feeling frustrated with him.
‘I have come to do the cleaning,’ Carmelina said. ‘Leonardo. He is a messy boy. He drops towels and does not pick up.’
‘Oh, no, no, no,’ Veronica said. ‘I couldn’t possibly let you do that. I am quite capable of doing my own cleaning. Trust me. I am not that lazy. I have all day and nothing much else to do. But, now that you’re here, I would like to talk to you. About my father,’ she added quickly when Carmelina looked a little alarmed.
They had coffee together out on the terrace, Carmelina also admiring the view, despite no doubt having seen it countless times. The day was warmer than the previous day, and the sea breeze delightfully cooling.
‘I wish I didn’t have to sell this place,’ Veronica said.
‘Do you have to? I would like you to live here. You would be a very nice neighbour.’
‘I can’t afford the taxes,’ she said, having realised that proving Laurence was her father would be virtually impossible. There wasn’t a single personal item of his in his bedroom or bathroom, everything having been cleared out and the whole house thoroughly cleaned.
‘If you married Leonardo,’ Carmelina said, ‘he would pay the taxes. He is very rich.’
Veronica smiled at the wonderful simplicity of Carmelina’s solution. If only life was that straightforward. ‘You all want Leonardo to get married, don’t you?’
‘Si,’ Carmelina said. ‘But only to someone nice. Like you.’
‘We’ve only just met, Carmelina.’
‘No matter. I love my Alfonso the first day I meet him. Leonardo likes you very much. I can tell.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘You like him too.’
‘I do, but…’
Carmelina frowned over at her, waiting for her to continue.
‘I don’t think Leonardo is ready for marriage yet.’
‘Oh, pah! He is ready. He just needs a push.’
‘Pushing doesn’t always work, Carmelina. Not with someone like Leonardo. He has to make up his own mind. You should tell your mother and father to back off.’
‘Laurence thought he needed a push.’
‘What? What did you say?’
‘I said Laurence thought my brother was ready for a wife. He said he just needed the right girl. Maybe he was thinking of you, Veronica.’
It was a stunning thought, and one which Veronica would never have imagined. But it was possible, she supposed. Maybe that was why he’d left her this villa. And why he’d made Leonardo the executor of his will. So that they could meet and fall in love. It was a hopelessly romantic idea which seemed uncharacteristic of what she’d learned about Laurence.
But maybe it was true. It certainly appealed to her own romantic side.
‘Tell me, Carmelina, what kind of man was my father?’
Carmelina tipped her head on one side as she considered her answer.
‘He was very English,’ she said at last. ‘He did not like to show his feelings. Not like Italians. When his wife died, he did not cry. He just sat out here and did not speak. For days and days.’
Veronica’s heart turned over. ‘Oh, how sad.’
‘Yes, that was what he was. Sad. Very sad.’
‘Was that when he started to drink too much?’
‘Si. He try to hide it but I see the empty bottles.’
Tears pricked at Veronica eyes. If only he’d contacted me, she thought. If only he…
She stood up abruptly. ‘I don’t think I want to talk about that any more.’
Carmelina shook her head as she stood up also. ‘You are just like him. You are afraid to show your feelings. Come. You need a hug.’
* * *
The rest of the day went very well. Carmelina helped Veronica give the house a quick tidy-up while the sheets and towels were in the washing machine. After remaking the bed with fresh linen and replacing the damp towels with fresh ones, Veronica jumped in the shower. Half an hour later both girls left the house arm in arm to go shopping. Not for clothes or even food. It was more of a look-but-not-buy expedition where Carmelina showed Veronica the best places to buy both, as well as the easiest ways for her to get around. They walked some, caught a bus and finally, when they were tired, they called Franco to come, pick them up and drive them home.
‘You ladies look like you have fun,’ he said in his usual jolly manner.
‘We did, Franco,’ Veronica assured him. ‘Carmelina was a marvellous guide. Almost as good as you,’ she added with a sparkling smile.
Franco beamed, catching her eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Si. I am the most best guide on Capri. With the best car too. You call me any time you need ride, Veronica. I will not charge you.’
‘Ooh. I will tell Elena,’ Carmelina said cheekily.
‘She will not care. Elena knows I love her. She not jealous.’
Carmelina laughed. ‘She’s very jealous of any pretty girl who smiles at you.’
Veronica grinned. ‘Then I will try not to smile at him when he gives me a lift.’
‘Si. Good idea.’
Franco drove round to the delivery entrance to the villa, probably to avoid his wife seeing Veronica in his car. But Veronica was just grateful that she didn’t have to climb those steep steps. Her new sandals were starting to rub and she suspected she might have the beginnings of blisters. Saying goodbye to both Franco and Carmelina, she took herself wearily inside, ready to have a siesta. It wasn’t late—only three—but Carmelina had wanted to get back before the
children arrived home from school.
Veronica immediately went down to the bedroom where she dropped her bag by the bed, slipped off her sandals and crashed onto the cover, sleep finding her in less than a minute. When she woke the light outside showed that the sun was very low in the sky. Sighing, she rolled over and reached for her bag, rifling through it for her phone. Once retrieved she checked the time. Six twenty-three. She’d been asleep for over three hours.
She rose and made her way to the bathroom. It wasn’t until then that the thought occurred to Veronica that her period hadn’t arrived yet. She wasn’t overly worried. Although her period was usually as regular as clockwork, her poor body had been through the mill lately, what with the shock of finding out about Laurence, followed by the nervous exhaustion of travelling here, not knowing what she would discover.
Veronica suddenly recalled how her reproductive system had shut down for a while after Jerome had died. This might be something similar. It didn’t cross her mind that she might have fallen pregnant. The thought did occur to her, however, that if her cycle had been disturbed she would have to ask Leonardo to use condoms, if and when she went away with him again. Which could present a problem. What reason could she give when she’d already had unprotected sex with him many times?
Oh, dear. Perhaps she just shouldn’t go away with him. After all, her female intuition kept warning her that he was all hot air about their sexual chemistry being extra special, implying that he might be falling in love with her.
Unfortunately, at the same time, her own feelings kept overriding common sense, tapping into his appeal to give him a chance to show her he wasn’t the player she thought he was. It would be difficult to deny him that chance when she was absolutely crazy about him.
But if he put a foot wrong that weekend then that would be that. And putting a foot wrong could include making a fuss when she asked him to use protection. If he cared for her as he said he did, then he should just do as she wanted, no questions asked.
Suddenly she regretted demanding he not ring her until Sunday. She would so like to hear his voice. Dared she ring him herself?