Tanya looked at the other woman in some surprise. 'You've known her that long?' she enquired curiously.
'Oh, yes. And her brother, the Signor Fausto, too. I went to work for their parents more than thirty years ago. That was in New York, of course.' She paused. 'Naturally you knew that the signor and the Signorina Renata were born in the United States?'
Tanya nodded. Renata had told her that. 'And when did you come back to Italy?' she asked.
Emma sighed. 'We all came back about ten years ago. That was after the signor's mother died. A very sad time. My own husband was taken at about the same time and, mercifully, when the Signor Fausto and the Signorina Renata left New York to come over here and join their father in Milan, the signor persuaded his father to allow me and my young son to come back as well. I'd spent more than twenty years in the United States, but when my husband died I just wanted to come home again.' She paused as a wistful little smile lit up her face. 'I have a lot to be grateful to the signor for. As you know, the Signorina Renata returned to New York some years ago to make her home there—and I wasn't really needed in Milan. But when his father died and the signor took over this place he asked me to come and be his housekeeper. And he made my son Beppe assistant manager of the estate.'
'Beppe?' Suddenly Tanya remembered why the name had a familiar ring. 'Do you mean the young man who drove me from the airport? The chauffeur?'
Emma nodded with maternal pride. 'Yes, he chauffeurs for the signor as well, sometimes. Doesn't he look handsome in his uniform?'
Tanya vividly recalled the slim, dark youth who had stood out so spectacularly in the arrivals lounge. She nodded. 'Yes, he does.'
Again Emma smiled that wistful little smile. 'Sometimes I wonder what would have become of Beppe if it hadn't been for the signor. Soon after we returned to Italy it was discovered he was suffering from a very serious heart condition. He needed major surgery and a long stay in hospital—and the signor, bless him, paid for everything.' She pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and blew very loudly into it. 'Oh yes, I have a great deal to be thankful to the signor for.'
All this unrestrained adulation for Fausto Cabrini was beginning to make Tanya feel ever so slightly nauseous.
So what if he had ever-so-compassionately persuaded his father to bring Emma and Beppe back to Italy? It had probably suited his own purposes very nicely to do so. And so what if he had ever-so-generously paid all Beppe's medical bills? A few thousand pounds to a man of Fausto Cabrini's wealth meant absolutely nothing. Besides, he had probably been repaid a dozen times through the faithful, unstinting service that both Beppe and Emma had undoubtedly given him over the years. Yet here was Emma lavishing praise on the man as though he were some kind of latter-day philanthropist!
It made Tanya's blood boil. And it reminded her somewhat bitterly of her own father's misplaced gratitude. 'Signor Cabrini's generous offer', he had said—when in fact there had been nothing generous about the deal Cabrini had offered at all. Yet making others feel beholden to him was quite clearly Fausto Cabrini's stock in trade. No doubt it appealed to his overweening sense of power and superiority. He enjoyed the role of big man dispensing favours, the grande signor impressing the peasants with his magnificent largesse.
Tanya sniffed derisively to herself as she stepped out of the final dress that Emma had picked out for her. Well, she for one was never likely to be taken in. She had seen the cold, hard, calculating other side of him. She knew him for the tyrant that he really was.
Emma was watching her expectantly. 'Have you decided, signorina?' she enquired as Tanya handed the last dress back to her.
Tanya hesitated. 'They're all so beautiful.' Then added with sudden decision, 'But I think the first one, the aquamarine silk.'
'A perfect choice,' Emma agreed. 'With your colouring it looks magnificent.' She started gathering up the piles of dresses and hanging them back in the wardrobes again. 'I'll press it for you and leave it in your room. And the fuchsia and the white as well. These will come in handy for future occasions.'
Tanya mentally wrinkled her nose at the thought. In the sheer delight of trying all the dresses on she had quite forgotten the unfortunate purpose behind the exercise. A working night out with Cabrini—and only the first of many, she feared. With a sudden stab of resentment she decided to take her opportunity to embark on a subtle line of investigation about the man. 'It's really very nice of Signor Cabrini to take me along on this dinner tonight,' she confided to Emma, hoping the false words at least sounded sincere. Then added ultra-casually, 'Used he to take his previous secretary on these little outings too?'
'Oh yes. From time to time. I think she enjoyed them. I'm sure you will too, signorina.'
'I'm sure I shall,' Tanya lied—then quickly asked the question she had been leading up to all the time. 'Why did she leave?' The question had been bothering her since Cabrini had revealed himself so reluctant to be drawn on the subject yesterday—and it struck her as more than likely that Emma would know the reason why.
Just for a moment the smile seemed to fade from the housekeeper's plump, good-humoured face and Tanya thought she detected a trace of embarrassment in the hurried reply. 'She went back south to her family. She came from a village in Calabria, you see.'
'But why would she want to go back there if she had a good job here?' Tanya insisted, certain that Emma was hiding the truth. It seemed more than highly probable that the girl had left because of Cabrini. After all, it wasn't hard to imagine any employee reaching the point where she simply couldn't stomach his monstrous male arrogance any more. She had serious doubts about her own ability to put up with it. Or, possibly, he had fired the girl without notice on some vain, vindictive whim.
He was exactly the sort of bully who would do such a thing. And for some reason Tanya was curious to get to the bottom of the mystery.
The grey-haired woman shrugged as she carefully draped the three chosen dresses over her arm. 'She left, signorina. That is all I know.' And something in her tone warned Tanya it would be pointless to ply her with more questions. She clearly intended giving nothing away.
Abruptly, Tanya changed the subject. She had already been accused once of prying where this matter was concerned and she had no desire to have that particular accusation levelled at her again. She would find out the truth in time, no doubt. She threw Emma a conciliatory smile. 'Thanks for your help with the dresses. I really appreciate your taking the time.'
'My pleasure.' Emma returned her smile, evidently relieved that the subject of Tanya's predecessor had been dropped. 'And now I must go and get lunch ready.'
A table on the terrace had been laid for two under a huge red-and-green-striped sun umbrella. As Tanya stepped through the french doors of the dining-room on to the sunlit ceramic tiles, she noticed that Fausto Cabrini was already waiting for her. And the spindly high heels of the red strappy sandals she was wearing beat a sharp tattoo as she hurried over to join him. He at least had the grace to raise his eyes, if nothing else, as she sat down.
'I asked Emma to prepare something fairly light,' he told her, indicating with a brief wave of his hand the platters of prosciutto, bresaola and other cold meats arranged with a huge bowl of salad on the sparkling white tablecloth. Then he added, evidently not greatly concerned whether the arrangement suited her or not, 'We'll probably be having a pretty heavy dinner tonight.'
He had shed the jacket of the cream linen suit he had been wearing in the office earlier, and the pale blue shirt, that somehow emphasised the darkness of his tan, was open at the neck and casually rolled back at the cuffs. As Tanya glanced across at him, she caught an unexpected glimpse of brown, hair-roughened chest. 'This will be fine,' she assured him and sat down quickly, averting her eyes.
He leaned forward and poured red wine from a carafe into her glass. 'Did you have any success with Renata's things?'
'Yes, thanks,' she answered, deliberately brief, and helped herself to a couple of slices of cold meat.
'Good.' S
he had expected that he would ask her to elaborate, but instead he dropped the subject and entreated her, 'I suggest you eat up. I have a very busy afternoon ahead and there's something I'd like to show you after lunch.'
'I'll be as quick as I can.' She threw him a sarcastic look and jammed a large piece of Parma ham on to the end of her fork. He had a nerve, virtually commanding her to have lunch with him, then, the minute she sat down to eat, instructing her to get the food down as fast as possible and not waste his precious time! She glared across the table at him and lifted the enormous forkful to her mouth.
'I'm glad to see the morning's work has given you an appetite. Still, there's no need to give yourself indigestion, I'm sure.' He was sitting back in his seat so that the expression on his face was lost in the shadow of the sun umbrella, but Tanya could hear the mocking amusement in his voice. The black eyes would be watching her through narrowed, disdainful lids, the firm lips curved in an even more disdainful smile. Defiantly she stuffed the fork and its exaggerated load into her mouth and proceeded to chew slowly and methodically, privately praying that she wouldn't choke. Let him laugh at her if he liked. She really didn't give a damn.
'Did you have time to look through those files I gave you?'
She finished chewing and swallowed carefully before answering. 'Of course.'
'Good. We can discuss the contents later.'
Tanya stabbed a slice of herbed tomato with her fork. So it wasn't enough that she had to suffer the imposition of working for him—she was to be subjected to regular cross-examinations as well! Though this morning, admittedly, he had left her pretty much to herself.
She had arrived at Cabrini's office on the lower ground floor at precisely seven minutes to eight—step one in her strategy to put paid to his eternal carping about her being some kind of spoiled and lazy brat. Not that he had bothered to comment on her commendably zealous punctuality. Instead, after a perfunctory greeting, he had told her, 'Let's get started. I'll show you round.'
Fausto Cabrini had most definitely been right about one thing, she had quickly discovered. His office in the converted basement of the villa was superbly equipped, even to the extent of boasting a sophisticated computer link-up with his offices in Milan. At the touch of a button he could summon up-to-the-minute details of Cabrini Industries' latest deal or see how the dollar was faring on the Hong Kong currency exchange. It was all rather impressive and a far cry from the 'little room on the banks of Lake Maggiore' that Tanya had so scathingly described.
Her own adjoining office, she'd been relieved to see, was much more modestly kitted out. Just an ordinary typewriter, a row of standard filing cabinets and a couple of phones. With any luck she would not be required to cope with any of the fancy electronic gadgetry next door.
It was almost as though he could see inside her head now as he reached for a bread roll and broke it in two. 'Tomorrow I'll start teaching you how to use the computer,' he said. Then added, misinterpreting the look of irritation on her face, 'That, of course, will require a bit of unaccustomed effort on your part—but I'm afraid you won't really be a great deal of use to me otherwise.'
Tanya eyed him with hostility. Being 'of use' to Fausto Cabrini was really the very least of her desires. And the prospect of being subjected to his tutelage held absolutely no appeal at all. 'Couldn't you just give me a manual or something to study? I'm sure you're much too busy to waste time teaching me.'
'Oh, it will not be time wasted, signorina, I promise you.' Reading her thoughts with total accuracy this time, he went on, 'It need not even be particularly unpleasant if you're prepared to approach it in the right frame of mind.'
'The right frame of mind being one of total subservience to you, no doubt.'
'Not to me, signorina. To the task in hand. You may even somewhat belatedly discover that effort and achievement have their own rewards.'
Tanya watched as he dealt deftly with a large slice of mortadella and suddenly longed to wipe the look of smug superiority from his face. 'Are effort and achievement all you ever think about?' she asked him nastily. 'It seems to me you lead a very one-dimensional life.'
'Is that so?' One dark eyebrow arched in amused curiosity at her remark. 'And on which particular dimensions would you suggest my life is lacking, signorina?'
Tanya hesitated. Already she could sense that she was stepping into deeper water than she had meant, but she forced herself to plunge foolhardily on. 'Your work seems to take up your entire life. You give the impression that you really don't have a great deal of time for anything else.'
'Like what, for example? I swim and jog and play other sports. I listen to music regularly. I travel a lot.' He was taking obvious delight in cleverly leading her into an area where she did not want to go. 'Tell me, where is this great gap in my life that you perceive?'
She made a stab at what she hoped looked like a casual shrug. 'People, relationships—they don't seem to figure very much.'
'Relationships?' Fausto Cabrini repeated the word slowly, as though he had never actually come across it before. 'And what sorts of relationships exactly did you have in mind?'
Tanya squirmed inwardly, detesting the way he had manoeuvred her into a corner like this. She stared at him flatly. 'Normal relationships.'
'Normal relationships?' He frowned back at her.
'That's what I said.' The tawny eyes snapped impatiently at him. Did he intend to repeat every wretched thing she said?
'I see.' He feigned dawning enlightenment and leaned towards her with an almost rakish smile. 'So it's the sexual dimension that you're curious about.'
'I didn't say that.'
'You didn't need to.'
God, how she hated him!
'Still, let me set your mind at rest,' he told her with satisfaction, overriding the feeble protest that was forming on her lips. 'That particular dimension of my life is well taken care of.' A wicked gleam shone in his eyes. 'Of course, if you insist I'd be perfectly happy to elaborate.'
'I'd really rather you didn't, thank you all the same. I have no wish to know the sordid details of your life.'
'Good.' He helped himself to another couple of slices of cold meat. 'I doubt that either of us can really spare the time.'
For the rest of the meal Tanya concentrated on the food in front of her, though their little skirmish had somewhat blunted her appetite. Of course, she might have known that he would end up getting the better of her. For some intolerable reason he always did. He for ever seemed to be at least two jumps ahead of her. It was his devious nature, she decided, watching with cold distaste from the corner of her eye as he devoured with tranquil relish the generous pile of food heaped on his plate. He was a born manipulator, a man who would never let scruples hold him back.
For the moment, however, he seemed as happy as she to eschew further confrontation—though she had no illusions that this peaceful, almost conciliatory mood would last.
It was later, as Emma appeared to clear away the coffee things, that he suddenly pushed back his chair without warning and got to his feet. 'Shall we go?' It was less of a suggestion, more of a command.
Tanya blinked at him. 'Go where?'
'I told you there was something I wanted to show you.'
'Of course.' It had totally slipped her mind.
He started to move away impatiently, heading for the steps that led down from the terrace into the garden.
She hurried after him. 'Where are you taking me?'
He paused at the foot of the steps and turned to look up at her. 'You'll see.' Then he flicked a critical glance at the precariously heeled sandals she was wearing. 'Don't you have anything a bit more sensible to put on your feet? The ground's pretty rough where we're headed.'
Tanya tossed her head dismissively. This morning she had deliberately picked out the highest-heeled pair of sandals that she'd brought with her. And it had been a complete and utter waste of time. Even with these veritable stilts, he still managed to tower over her! 'Thank you, but I can manage
perfectly well in these,' she retorted, both irked and curious at the same time. Where on earth was he taking her?
He shrugged. 'Suit yourself.' Then turned away. 'Just follow me—and watch where you put your feet. I don't want to end up having to carry you because you go and turn your ankle.'
Perish the thought! She hurried down the stone steps behind him, secretly vowing that even if she broke both legs she would crawl back on all fours before she would allow Fausto Cabrini the satisfaction of gallantly coming to her aid. She would almost sooner die than that.
All the same, she soon found herself wishing she were wearing slightly more comfortable heels as she followed his tall frame across the lawn and past the flowerbeds to the wooded area where the grounds directly overlooked the lake. He was making no concessions at all—neither for her shorter legs, nor for her ridiculously unsuitable footwear—and Tanya was finding considerable difficulty in keeping up with him. Had he been anyone else, she would have called out, asked him to slow down a bit—but, instead, she simply gritted her teeth in silence and staggered on as best she could.
They had come to the edge of the wooded area and abruptly he came to a halt and whirled round to face her. She jumped back, startled, and felt herself flush, foolishly wondering if he had had secret access to her thoughts.
Apparently he hadn't, for there was only cool detachment in the dark eyes that met hers. 'The ground's a bit rough from now on,' he informed her. 'Perhaps you might find it easier if you went barefoot.'
She stared past him and straightened her shoulders mutinously. 'That won't be necessary. I told you I can manage.'
He turned away again without a word and led the way along a narrow, winding path between the trees. Maybe he had increased his pace, or maybe Tanya was simply finding it more and more of a struggle to keep up with him, but on more than one occasion he completely disappeared from view and she had no choice but to stumble blindly on, keeping her eyes peeled for the occasional, reassuring patch of blue that at least told her she was heading in the right direction.
Reluctant Prisoner Page 5