Selecting clothes was something she enjoyed, and she possessed a natural flair for colour, fashion and design.
Aysha had three hours before she was due to join her bridesmaids for lunch, and she intended to utilise that time to its fullest potential.
It was nice to be able to take time, instead of having to rush in a limited lunch-hour. Selective shopping was fun, and she gradually added to a growing collection of glossy carry-bags.
Bags she should really dispense with before meeting the girls... which meant a walk back to the car park to deposit her purchases in the boot of her car.
Lianna, Arianne, Suzanne and Tessa were already seated when Aysha joined them. Two brunettes, a redhead, and a blonde. They’d attended school together, suffered through piano and ballet lessons, and, although their characters were quite different from each other, they shared an empathy that had firmed over the years as an unbreakable bond.
‘You’re late, but we forgive you,’ Lianna began before Aysha was able to say a word. ‘Of course, we do understand.’ She offered one of her irrepressible smiles. ‘You have serious shopping on the agenda.’ She leaned forward. ‘And your penance is to relay every little detail.’
‘Let me order a drink first,’ Aysha protested, and gave her order to a hovering waiter. ‘Mineral water, slice of lemon, plenty of ice.’
‘What did you buy to change into after the wedding?’ Arianne quizzed, and Lianna pulled a face.
‘Sweetheart, she won’t need anything to wear after the wedding except skin.’
‘Sure. But she should have something sheer and sexy to start off with,’ Suzanne interceded.
‘Honest, girls, can you see Carlo helping Aysha out of the wedding gown and into a nightgown? Come on, let’s get real here!’
‘Are you done?’ Aysha queried, trying to repress a threatening laugh.
‘Not yet,’ Lianna declared blithely. ‘You need to suffer a little pain for all the trouble we’re going to for you.’ She began counting them off on each finger. ‘Dress fittings, shoe shopping, church rehearsals, child chaperoning, in church and out of it, organising the bridal shower, not to mention make-up sessions and hair stylists practising on our hair.’ Her eyes sparkled with devilish laughter. ‘For all of which our only reward is to kiss the groom.’
‘Who said you get to do that?’ Aysha queried with mock seriousness. ‘Married men don’t kiss other women.’
‘No kiss, we decorate the wedding car,’ Lianna threatened.
‘Are you ladies ready to order?’
‘Yes,’ they agreed in unison, and proceeded to completely confuse the poor young man who’d been assigned to their table.
‘You’re incorrigible,’ Aysha chastised as soon as he’d disappeared towards the kitchen, and Lianna gave a conciliatory shrug.
‘This is a feel-good moment, darling. The last of the great single-women luncheons. Saturday week you join the ranks of married ladies, while we, poor darlings, languish on the sideline searching for the perfect man. Of which, believe me, there are very few.’ She paused to draw breath. ‘If they look good, they sound terrible, or have disgusting habits, or verge towards violence, or, worst of all, have no money.’
Suzanne shook her head. ‘Cynical, way too cynical.’
They ordered another round of drinks, then their food arrived.
‘So, tell us, darling,’ Lianna cajoled. ‘Is Carlo as gorgeous in bed as he is out of it?’
‘That’s a bit below the belt,’ Arianne protested, and Lianna grinned.
‘Got it in one. Hey, if Aysha ditches him, I’m next in line.’ She cast Aysha a wicked wink. ‘Aren’t you glad I’m your best friend?’
‘Yes,’ she responded simply. Loyalty and integrity mattered, and Lianna possessed both, even if she was an irrepressible motor-mouth. The fun, the generous smile hid a childhood marred by tragedy.
‘You haven’t told us what you bought this morning.’
‘You didn’t give me a chance.’
‘I’m giving it to you now,’ Lianna insisted magnanimously, and Aysha laughed.
She needed the levity, and it was good, so good to relax and unwind among friends.
‘What social event is scheduled for tonight? Dinner with family, the theatre, ballet, party? Or do you just get to stay home and go to bed with Carlo?’
‘You have the cheek of old Nick,’ Aysha declared, and caught Lianna’s wicked smile.
‘You didn’t answer the question.’
‘There’s a foreign film festival on at the Arts Centre.’
‘Ah, eclectic entertainment,’ Arianne sighed wistfully. ‘What are you going to wear?’
‘Something utterly gorgeous,’ Lianna declared, her eyes narrowing speculatively. ‘Long black evening trousers or skirt, matching top, shoestring straps, and that exquisite beaded evening jacket you picked up in Hong Kong. Minimum jewellery.’
‘OK.’
‘OK? I’m in fashion, darling. What I’ve just described is considerably higher on the scale of gorgeous than just OK.’
‘All right, I’ll wear it,’ Aysha conceded peaceably.
They skipped dessert, ordered coffee, and Aysha barely made her hair appointment on time.
‘No dinner for me, Mamma. I’ll just pick up some fruit. I had a late lunch,’ she relayed via the mobile phone prior to driving home. With the way traffic was moving, it would be six before she reached Vaucluse. Which would leave her just under an hour to shower, dress, tend to her hair and make-up, and be at Carlo’s apartment by seven-fifteen.
‘Bella,’ he complimented warmly as she used her key barely minutes after the appointed time.
Aysha could have said the same, for he looked devastatingly attractive attired in a dark evening suit, snowy white cotton shirt, and black bow tie. Arresting, she added, aware of her body’s reaction to his appreciative appraisal. Heat flooded her veins, activating all her nerve-ends, as she felt the magnetic pull of the senses. It would be so easy just to hold out her arms and walk into his, then lift her face for his kiss. She wanted to, badly.
‘Would you like a drink before we leave?’
Alcohol on a near-empty stomach wasn’t a good idea, and she shook her head. ‘No. Thanks.’
‘How was lunch with the girls?’
A smile lifted the edges of her mouth, and her eyes gleamed with remembered pleasure. ‘Great. Really great.’
Carlo caught hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘I imagine Lianna was at her irrepressible best?’
‘It was nice just to sit, relax and laugh a little.’ Her smile widened, and her eyes searched his. ‘Lianna is looking forward to kissing the groom.’
Carlo pulled back the cuff of his jacket and checked his watch. ‘Perhaps we should be on our way. Traffic will be heavy, and parking probably a problem.’
It was a gala evening, and a few of the city’s social scions numbered among the guests. The female contingent wore a small fortune in jewels and French designer gowns vied with those by their Italian equivalent.
Aysha mingled with fellow guests, nibbled from a proffered tray of hors d’oeuvres, and sipped orange juice with an added dash of champagne.
‘Sorry I’m a little late. Parking was chaotic.’
Aysha recognised the light feminine voice and turned to greet its owner. ‘Hello, Nina.’
The brunette let her gaze trail down to the tips of Aysha’s shoes, then slowly back again in a deliberately provocative assessment. ‘Aysha, how—pretty, you look. Although black is a little stark, darling, on one as fair as you.’
She turned towards Carlo, and her smile alone could have lit up the entire auditorium. ‘Caro, I really need a drink. Do you think you could organise one for me?’
Very good, Aysha silently applauded. Wait for the second Carlo is out of earshot, and... any minute now—
‘I doubt you’ll satisfy him for long.’
Aysha met that piercing gaze and held it. She even managed a faint smile. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.
’
‘There are distinct advantages in having the wedding ring, I guess.’
‘I get to sleep with him?’
Nina’s eyes glittered. ‘I’d rather be his mistress than his wife, darling. That way I get most of the pleasure, all of the perks, while you do the time.’
The temptation to throw the contents of her glass in Nina’s face was almost irresistible.
‘Champagne?’ Carlo drawled, handing Nina a slim flute.
The electronic tone summoning the audience to take their seats came as a welcome intrusion, and she made her way into the theatre at Carlo’s side, all too aware of Nina’s presence as the usherette pointed them in the direction of their seats.
Now why wasn’t she surprised when Nina’s seat allocation adjoined theirs? Hardly coincidence, and Aysha gritted her teeth when Nina very cleverly ensured Carlo took the centre seat. Grr.
The lights dimmed, and her fingers stiffened as Carlo covered her hand with his own. Worse was the soothing movement of his thumb against the inside of her wrist.
So he sensed her tension. Good. He’d sense a lot more before the evening was over!
The theatre lights went out, technicolor images filled the screen, and the previews of forthcoming movies showed in relatively quick sequence. The main feature was set in Paris, the French dubbed into English, and it was a dark movie, noir, with subjective nuances, no comedy whatsoever. Aysha found it depressing, despite the script, directorship and acting having won several awards.
The final scene climaxed with particular violence, and when the credits faded and the lights came on she saw Nina withdraw a hand from Carlo’s forearm.
Aysha threw her an icy glare, glimpsed the glittering satisfaction evident, and wanted to scream.
She turned towards the aisle and moved with the flow of exiting patrons, aware, as if she was a disembodied spectator, that Nina took full advantage of the crowd situation to press as close to Carlo as decently possible.
They reached the auditorium foyer, and Aysha had to stand with a polite smile pinned to her face as the patrons were served coffee, offered cheese and biscuits or minuscule pieces of cake.
‘Why don’t we go on to a nightclub?’ Nina suggested. ‘It’s not late.’
And watch you attempt to dance and play kissy-face with Carlo? Aysha demanded silently. Not if I have anything to do with it!
‘Don’t let us stop you,’ Carlo declined smoothly as he curved an arm along the back of Aysha’s waist. Tense, definitely tense. He wanted to bend his head and place a placating kiss to the curve of her neck, then look deep into those smoky grey eyes and silently assure her she had nothing whatsoever to worry about.
A slight smile curved his lips. Nina saw it, and misinterpreted its source.
‘The music is incredible.’ She tucked her hand through his arm, and cajoled with the guile of a temptress. ‘You’ll enjoy it.’
‘No,’ he declined in a silky voice as he carefully disengaged her hand. ‘I won’t.’
Nina recognised defeat when she saw it, and she lifted her shoulders with an elegant shrug. ‘If you must miss out...’
His raised eyebrow signalled her departure, and she swept him a deep sultry glance. ‘Another time, maybe.’
Aysha drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. Of all the nerve! She lifted her cup and took a sip of ruinously strong coffee. It would probably keep her awake half the night, but right at this precise moment she didn’t give a damn.
‘Carlo, come stai?’
A business acquaintance, whose presence she welcomed with considerable enthusiasm. The man looked mildly stunned as she enquired about his wife, his children, their schooling and their achievements.
‘You overwhelmed him,’ Carlo declared with deceptive indolence, and she fixed him with a brilliant smile.
‘His arrival was timely,’ she assured him sweetly. ‘I was about to hit you.’
‘In public?’
She drew in a deep breath, and studied his features for several long seconds. ‘This is not a time for levity.’
‘Nina bothers you?’
Aysha forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘She never misses an opportunity to be wherever we happen to go.’
His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘Were you ever lovers?’ she demanded, and a faint chill feathered across the surface of her skin as she waited for his response.
‘No.’
The words tripped out before she could stop them. ‘You’re quite sure about that?’
Carlo was silent for several seconds, then he ventured silkily, ‘I’ve never been indiscriminate with the few women who’ve shared my bed. Believe me, Nina didn’t number among them.’ He took her cup and placed it together with his own on a nearby table. ‘Shall we leave?’
He was angry, but then so was she, and she swept him a glittering look from beneath mascaraed lashes. ‘Let’s do that.’
Their passage to the car wasn’t swift as they paused momentarily to chat to fellow patrons whom they knew or were acquainted with.
‘Your silence is ominous,’ Carlo remarked with droll humour as he eased the Mercedes into the flow of traffic.
‘I’m going with the saying... if you can’t find anything nice to say, it’s better to say nothing at all.’
‘I see.’
No, you don’t. You couldn’t possibly know how terrified I am of not being able to hold your interest. Petrified that one day you’ll find someone else, and I’ll be left a broken shell of my former self.
The drive from the city to Rose Bay was achieved in a relatively short space of time, and Carlo cleared security at his apartment underground car park, then manoeuvred the car into his allotted space.
Aysha released the door-clasp, slid to her feet, closed the door, and moved the few steps to her car.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious. I’m going home.’
‘Your keys are in the apartment,’ Carlo said mildly.
Dammit, so they were. ‘In that case, I’ll go get them.’
She turned and stalked towards the bank of lifts, stabbed the call button, and barely contained her impatience as she waited for it to arrive.
‘Don’t you think you’re overreacting?’
There was something in his voice she failed to recognise, although some deep, inner sixth sense did and sent out a red alert. ‘Not really.’
The doors slid open and she stepped into the cubicle, jabbed the top panel button, and stood in icy silence as they were transported to the uppermost floor.
Carlo unlocked the apartment door, and she swept in ahead of him, located the keys where she’d put them on a table in the foyer, and collected them.
‘Your parents aren’t expecting you back tonight.’
It didn’t help that he was right. ‘So I’ll ring them.’
He noted the proud tilt of her chin, the firm set of her mouth. ‘Stay.’
Her eyes flared. ‘I’d prefer to go home.’ Nina’s vitriolic words had provided too vivid an image to easily dispel.
‘I’ll drive you.’
The inflexibility evident in his voice sent chills scudding down the length of her spine. ‘The hell you will.’
His features hardened, and a muscle tensed at the side of his jaw. ‘Try to walk out of this apartment, and see how far you get.’
Aysha allowed her gaze to travel the length of his body, and back again. He had the height, the sheer strength to overcome any evasive tactics she might employ.
‘Brute force, Carlo? Isn’t that a little drastic?’
‘Not when your well-being and safety are at stake.’
Her chin tilted in a gesture of defiance. ‘Somehow that doesn’t quite add up, does it?’ She held up her hand as he began to speak. ‘Don’t.’ Her eyes held a brilliant sheen that was a mixture of anger, pride, and pain. ‘At least let there be honesty between us.’
‘I have never been dishon
est with you.’
She felt sick inside, a dreadful gnawing emptiness that ripped away any illusions she might have had that affection and caring on his part were enough.
Without a further word she turned and walked towards the front door, released the locking mechanism, then took the few steps necessary to reach the bank of lifts.
Please, please let there be one waiting, she silently begged as she depressed the call button.
The following twenty seconds were among the longest in her life, and she gave an audible sigh of relief when the heavy stainless steel doors slid open.
Aysha stepped inside and turned to jab the appropriate floor panel, only to gasp with outraged indignation as Carlo stepped into the cubicle.
‘Get out’
Dark eyes lanced hers, mercilessly hard and resolute. ‘I can drive you, or follow behind in my car.’ The ruthlessness intensified. ‘Choose.’
The lift doors slid closed, and the cubicle moved swiftly down towards the car park.
‘Go to hell.’
His smile held little humour. ‘That wasn’t an option.’
‘Unfortunately.’
The flippant response served to tighten his expression into a grim mask, and his anger was a palpable entity.
‘Believe you wouldn’t want me to take you there.’ His drawl held a silky threat that sent shivers scudding down the length of her spine.
The doors whispered open, and without a word she preceded him into the huge concrete cavern. Her car was parked next to his, and she widened the distance between them, conscious of her heels clicking against the concrete floor.
Carlo crossed to the Mercedes, unlocked the passenger door, and held it open. ‘Get in.’
Damned if she’d obey his dictum. ‘I’ll need my car in the morning.’
His expression remained unchanged. ‘I’ll collect you.’
Aysha felt like stamping her foot. ‘Or I can have Teresa drop me, or take a cab, or any one of a few other options.’ Her eyes were fiery with rebellion. ‘Don’t patronise me, dammit!’
It had been a long night, fraught with moments of sheer anger, disillusionment, and introspective rationalisation. None of which had done much to ease the heartache or the sense of betrayal. Each of which she’d examined in detail, only to silently castigate herself for having too high an expectation of a union based solely in reality.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 46