The Passionate Italian

by Diana Fraser

They lay quietly together, listening to the storm raging outside and within, she in his arms.

  “No more secrets Rose.”

  Whether it was an order or a desire, she couldn’t tell.

  “No more secrets,” she whispered—her words expressing more a wish, than a promise.

  It wasn’t until much later that Giovanni felt Rose’s limbs relax completely and her breathing quieten and deepen.

  The storm was dying, still punctuated with gusts of wind that rattled the windows and distant crackles of thunder. But Rose lay sated and peacefully asleep. Her body relaxed and in total abandon, arms flung wide, a leg wrapped around his.

  Giovanni smiled. It made him deeply happy to see her relaxed, without the stresses and worries that made her sleepwalk; no defensive posture, indicating her guard was up; just the essence of the lady he loved. She’d opened herself up to him and he’d gladly taken what she had to offer.

  Giovanni wrapped a stray lock of her hair around his finger and kissed it. He felt his heart beat solidly within him and could see the faint movement of the thin skin at her wrist pulse with her life beat, in time to his own. Her delicacy and her strength overwhelmed him.

  He traced a fingertip across her breast, watching her skin rise in goose bumps and the nipple pucker in response to his touch. She was exquisite and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  She sighed and moved her head closer to his, seeking out his presence in her sleep. Her hair tumbled over the pillow and onto his chest. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her and holding her there—wanting to keep that way forever.

  He concentrated all his senses on the feel of her even breath on his cheek.

  Hours passed, intensely savored, until he, too, drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dawn broke dull and drained into the uncurtained bedroom. The storm had blown out leaving a strange yellowish light over the lake and forest.

  Rose’s body felt at ease and relaxed, despite a severe shortage of sleep. When she’d not been dozing, she’d either been watching, or making love to, Giovanni. She’d had too many years without him—nights when she’d cried herself to sleep because she couldn’t remember his face. She was determined to imprint every inch of his face and body into her memory this time. Just in case.

  Gently she teased her body from his grip and walked over to the window. It was the same view as yesterday but her life had changed forever. Her present and her future were with him now.

  She turned to look at him. He lay unmoving, the covers pushed to one side, revealing his body softly shadowed in the dim light.

  She could appreciate his beauty now that her body was satisfied. Last night the intensity of their love-making had been all encompassing; there had been no room for thought, for mental processes of any kind. But in that strange light of day, she wanted to experience him at a different level, one that was separate from the night’s passion.

  She walked quietly up to him looked first upon his sleeping face: relaxed and beautiful. It was always beautiful but it was usually overwhelmed by the strength of his character. This morning, however, the worry lines around his eyes had faded, as had the tension surrounding his mouth. The arrogance and dominance had disappeared and the inner man was revealed, not the man that his family and his fate had made him. She moved to touch him but stopped short. Instead she retreated and reached for her robe.

  She frowned as she slipped it on.

  She’d lied.

  There was still one more secret she hadn’t shared. One more, which would hopefully become unimportant in a few days once the trial was over. Only then could she relax fully, knowing the threat of Alberto had disappeared.

  In the meantime she had to push it to the back of her mind. Nothing could come between them, their love was too strong.

  She leaned out the window, breathing deeply of the fresh, morning air. Beneath the open window was a drift of white scented flowers that were almost luminous in the dull light. Despite the niggling worry, everything—from the beauty of her surroundings to the satisfied languor of her body—reminded her of the absolute joy she’d found in Giovanni’s arms.

  It was as if they’d never been apart but for one thing. But surely one secret wouldn’t hurt. Particularly when the only other person who knew it was to be incarcerated for years. Giovanni would very possibly never find out. The truth need never surface. She need never have to face giving Giovanni the painful news about what his brother had done.

  But what if something went wrong? What if Alberto was acquitted and Giovanni discovered everything?

  She withdrew from the window as the morning chill began to penetrate her robe. It wouldn’t happen. She couldn’t let it. She’d make sure her report gave Alberto’s prosecution as much ammunition as she could find.

  She picked up her hairbrush and began to beat her hair into submission.

  It wouldn’t happen.

  Once dressed in the smart work clothes Milan society demanded, she stepped back into the bedroom.

  “Come here.” The voice was sleepy but the command was unmistakable.

  She perched on the side of the bed and held out her hand to him.

  He grabbed it and held it tight.

  “Why are you up so early? The meeting isn’t until this afternoon.”

  “It’s OK for the boss to laze around but the workers have work to do this morning.”

  “Leave the completion of the report to your team. They can do it. I need you here.”

  “No. I have to finish this. I need to.”

  There was something in the tone of her voice that made Giovanni sit up and take notice.

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s too much riding on it.”

  A dull ache settled in his gut.

  He noticed then, that she was dressed for work; that she’d slipped back, away from him, into her professional mode. He also noticed how her glance barely rested on him.

  The ache turned into something much worse.

  The dull light was suddenly sharpened by a ray of sunlight that had broken through the gloom. It illuminated her hair, creating a halo of light, within which he could see no detail.

  “Come here. Closer.”

  She stepped away. “Look, I have to get back this morning. I’ve arranged for Guido—on the mainland—to pick me up. You stay here, relax. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

  He lay back, numbly, trying to fight the feeling that Rose had just slipped away from him again. He heard the distant hum of the motorboat approach.

  “We’ll both return this morning. You can finalize your report—we’ll need it for the courts—and I’ll catch up with my work before this afternoon’s meeting. I’ll tell Guido that you don’t need the lift. I’ll take you. We’ll return together. There will be no more parting.”

  The heat of the sun had burnt off the remaining strands of murky haze that clung to the lake, leaving the air clear and fresh—full of possibilities.

  Sitting beside Giovanni, holding his hand and watching the soft pink of early morning dissolve into rainbow hues through the breaking waves, Rose thought she’d never seen anything more beautiful. If only there wasn’t the specter of Alberto hanging over her. Just forty-eight hours to get through and then all would be well.

  The return drive passed by quickly. Lost in her own thoughts, Rose was relieved that Giovanni didn’t question her any further on her change in mood. She tried not to let it show, but it seemed that he sensed whatever was on her mind.

  Soon. The need for secrecy, for fear, would be over soon.

  When they pulled up outside the Palazzo, Rose could see tension once more in Giovanni’s face.

  “I’ll wait.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides you need to prepare for the meeting as much as me.” She felt a flutter in her stomach looking at his frown.

  “It doesn’t feel right, leaving you alone.”

  “Come on. After today, we need never be
apart. I promise.”

  “Si certo. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

  “Just this once. It’s too important—you need to prepare and so do I. I’ll see you in one hour.”

  “That means two.”

  She laughed at the scowl on Giovanni’s lips and reached over to kiss him. It was meant to have been a peck but Giovanni slipped his hand around the back of her neck and the kiss became long and passionate. She shifted back into her seat and moaned under his lips, her hands slipping into his hair and pulling her hard to him.

  He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire.

  “I’m coming with you. I want you.”

  “You always want me.” She felt the thrill of knowledge and sureness of his love as she’d never done before. “But you mustn’t. Let me prepare myself—go over the findings once more—and I’ll be in the office before you know it to brief the team. It’s too important.”

  “Go then, but be in my office at ten. We’ll go over the report with the team together. And Rose?” She turned to face him, ready to close the door. “Don’t be late.”

  “As if.” She laughed and hopped out. “Not for this meeting anyway.” She slammed the door closed and watched as Giovanni roared down the street in the black Maserati.

  She couldn’t be late for this morning’s meeting. Everything had to be right for this afternoon when they met with the board of directors and all the family. Except Alberto of course. He was stuck in Switzerland awaiting trial. He wasn’t allowed to leave the city, let alone the country.

  Just as well, she thought as she entered the empty entrance hall. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to do what she had to do, if Alberto was there.

  As much as she hated the elevator for its noisy instability, she pressed the button. With the work still in progress on the winding attic stairs, it was the only means of access. She looked around at the mausoleum of a house.

  She’d be pleased to leave it and make her home somewhere else—somewhere new to them both. There was too much history here—centuries of it in fact. They both needed somewhere different to start afresh.

  Then it struck her. The lift was taking its time clunking its way down to her. Down? It was usually sitting in the basement. She shrugged. Perhaps the workmen had used it last.

  On reaching the attic, she swept the grille aside and walked out into the suite of rooms. The neutral colors were bathed in the morning light giving the room a vibrancy and life that the rest of the house didn’t share. She flung her bag on the table and quickly plucked out a different suit from the dressing room. If you’re going to alienate your mother-in-law and accuse your brother-in-law of large-scale theft, you may as well look smart.

  She switched on the shower and went over to the desk—a slab of pale wood in front of the window—to gather together her papers. She reached into her briefcase to withdraw her laptop and her heart missed a beat.

  It was empty.

  It had been there just the previous day. She looked around, suddenly freaked, panicking. She paced up and down, searching the closets, the cupboards, bags, everything. But it had disappeared. What the hell? She had back-ups of course, but everything she had was on that computer. She would never have left it here except for the state-of-the-art security system that Giovanni had installed.

  She switched off the shower and returned to the bedroom, pulling out her clothes one by one and throwing them on the bed.

  She must have left it at work. She reached over to pull her cell phone out of her bag but that wasn’t there either. Was she going crazy? She’d had the damn thing only moments before.

  “Here, is this what you’re looking for?”

  She screamed and jumped away as a hand touched her waist.

  “Alberto!”

  “Rose!” He said in mock surprise, echoing her tone. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “You know what I’m doing here.” She tried to stem the shaking, tried to control her voice but she could hear the shock and trembling that would indicate weakness to Alberto.

  “Are you scared of me, little Rose?” He reached out and tried to stroke her hair. She pulled away. She had to be stronger.

  “Why would I be scared of you?”

  “Because I’ve hurt you before and I’ve spent the time since we last met very profitably, enjoying myself, honing my skills, if you like to think of it that way.”

  She shook her head.

  He smiled. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”

  “My cell phone please.” She held out her hand while standing as far away from him as possible.

  “Come and get it.” He grinned, dangling the cell phone between his fingers.

  She held her hands together in an effort to stem the shaking and then lunged for her phone. Surprised he gave it to her, she shakily moved away and pressed in the quick dial number for Giovanni, watching Alberto all the time.

  The phone didn’t work.

  Alberto laughed.

  “I’m afraid your SIM card has just gone out the window.” He sighed in mock sympathy. “Come sit on the bed with me and talk.”

  “There’s no way I’m going anywhere near you.” She strode over to the lift.

  “No point I’m afraid. Unfortunately the lift isn’t working at the moment. Missing a vital part.”

  “Don’t tell me, it’s a vital part that you have on you.”

  “So quick, cara.”

  She flinched at the use of the word that Giovanni used for her, but remained silent.

  Alberto smiled, his eyes cold and calculating. He walked around her, a complete circle. “I thought you might come.”

  She shook her head and backed off from him, to the window.

  “I watched you and my brother going out to the island.” He looked at her with mock surprise. “Had you forgotten that I was confined to Switzerland? Lugano, is in Switzerland remember.”

  “You watched us?” Rose couldn’t believe it. The specter of Alberto had been real. He’d been there, watching her when she’d been at her most vulnerable.

  “Yes. Very touching too. A bit too emotional for my taste though. Anyway, I thought to myself, how easy it would be to take one of the boats from the boathouse and slip across, unnoticed back to Italy. Back to the palazzo where I could gather your files and disappear. Then you’d have nothing.”

  “I have back-ups.”

  “At the office? Ah, Allegra seemed quite happy to give them to me. Such a persuadable girl.”

  “You didn’t hurt her?”

  “I didn’t have to.” He stepped towards her. “I have everything I need to stop you from blackening my name. I’m innocent.”

  “No you’re not. You’re as guilty as hell.”

  He laughed. “No. I’m innocent. You have nothing on me now. I hold all the copies of your report. It’s a shame for you that my big brother insisted on absolute confidentiality. Even he hasn’t seen the final report, has he? Nothing signed; nothing formal that the courts would require.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Allegra was so forthcoming, as I said. So I have all your evidence and, as a bonus, I have you.”

  “You don’t have me.” The anger of two years of watching and waiting and hating flamed deep within her and she brought up her fist to punch him but his hand, more quickly than she’d imagined, shot up and stopped her blow. His fingers squeezed around her arm tightly, cutting off all feeling.

  “You didn’t fight so much last time did you? I remember.”

  Rose felt sick at the reminder.

  “Perhaps you enjoyed it, despite your pretty remonstrances.”

  “I had a baby to protect.” She spat the words out.

  “Ah, but no more.” He slid his hand up her arm. “But perhaps in the future?”

  She struggled to free her arm.

  “There’s no point in trying to get away. There’s going to be no-one coming to your rescue, my little English slut. The meeting isn’t until this afternoon. That’s hou
rs away. You won’t be missed until then and, by that time, I’ll be long gone. And so will all your evidence.”

  “I need air.”

  He flicked her away as if she were worthless and turned his back on her as if to underline the point.

  She slowly stepped back until she could feel the catch of the window beneath her fingers. Desperate, she balled her fist and punched it for all she was worth into the glass and screamed.

  There was only a dull crack as pain shot through her fingers.

  “Good try.” He clapped his hands as he approached her. She scrambled with the latch once more.

  But he was quicker and she screamed for all she was worth, hoping that the sound would carry through the cracked window, down into the street. The sound stopped abruptly as he grabbed her around the waist, winding her.

  He picked her off her feet and threw her onto the bed. Her head hit the corner of the large granite lamp base with a sickening thud. Dizzily she brought her hand up to her head and felt the warmth of the blood. She looked up at him—two of him. He was advancing towards her and she tried to move, to stand, to do anything. But sickness and darkness threatened. Despite the adrenalin rush of panic, the darkness won. The last thing she remembered was the sweet smell of his aftershave as his body touched hers.

  “Where the hell was she?”

  She’d said she wouldn’t be late and he’d told her the meeting was at ten. It was, in fact, later, but she wasn’t to know that. He’d needed some excuse to get her back to him early.

  It was now ten past eleven and there was no sign of her. She was always one hour late—no more and no less. He’d sometimes reckoned her body clock was in a different time zone—one of her own making. But, whatever, it wasn’t like her.

  Something was wrong.

  And where the hell was Allegra? She’d disappeared off the face of the earth. What the hell was going on?

  He double-clicked icons madly, trying to work out where things had been filed. It was all too logical—he didn’t understand it. He couldn’t find a thing.

  His staff didn’t know—hadn’t been involved because of the secrecy—and were running around trying to appease him. It was driving him mad.