Tanya took it stiffly. 'How do you do?'
They were led into a vividly furnished room, rich with heavy velvet furnishings and sparkling crystal chandeliers. Fausto sat down in what Tanya suspected with a flash of annoyance was his customary chair, long legs stretched out casually in front of him, evidently very much at home. Tanya deposited herself on a chaise-longue by the window, while the countess curled up, catlike, on a nearby divan. She smoothed the supple leather of her trousers over her slender thighs and contemplated her long, red fingernails as she smiled, 'You're English, aren't you? What part of England are you from?'
'Sussex.' So it was questions-and-answers time.
'I do love England. And the English. Don't you, Fausto?' the countess enquired over her shoulder. 'Such polite, well mannered people, I find.'
The dark eyes drifted across to Tanya with a provocative smile. 'Some of them,' he consented lightly. 'Some of the time.'
Tanya threw him a stiff smile in response as the countess went on, 'My late husband, the count, was distantly related to the Skinners of Sussex. A very old family. You must know them?' One carefully pencilled eyebrow lifted questioningly.
Tanya shook her head. 'No, I'm afraid not.' So the woman was a widow. And that little revelation somehow irked her all the more. She would have been happier to learn the countess had a husband tucked away somewhere.
'And is this your first visit to Italy?'
'Not exactly—though it is my first experience of working here.'
'That must be very interesting for you.'
Tanya nodded and pinned a tight smile on her face, waiting for the next question. She was saved from further interrogation, however, by the appearance of a uniformed maid balancing a vast silver tray of tea and cakes. These were distributed with considerable ceremony, as well as several shy smiles cast in Fausto's direction—confirming Tanya's earlier suspicion that he was a regular visitor at the house. In spite of her recent and fairly substantial lunch, she helped herself to a generous slice of fluffy-looking chocolate cake. At least, if she was eating, she couldn't be expected to answer any more questions for a while.
But she needn't have worried as it turned out. The countess had evidently tired for the time being of her little questions-and-answers game and had removed herself from the divan and produced a sheaf of papers from a bureau drawer. Then, with a cursory, 'Excuse us, my dear. Business calls,' tossed casually in Tanya's direction, she installed her slim figure somewhat precariously on the arm of Fausto's chair.
Tanya sipped absent-mindedly at the fine Darjeeling brew in the delicate pale green Limoges cup and observed the scene in front of her from lowered lids. If this is strictly a business meeting, she told herself, then I'm a monkey's maiden aunt. The bright blonde tresses were virtually resting against Fausto's head, the shiny red lips barely a fraction from his handsome nose as the pair of them bent over the clearly compelling contents of the documents. Perhaps the woman needs glasses, she found herself surmising on a sour note, abandoning midway her slice of chocolate cake. Suddenly she didn't feel like eating any more.
At length the cosy little conference was adjourned.
'Tanya, my dear, so sorry we've been neglecting you.' The countess slid, catlike, from her perch on Fausto's chair—why did she keep comparing the wretched woman to a cat? Tanya wondered drily to herself—and dropped to her leather-clad knees beside his feet, one slender arm slung casually across his grey-clad thigh. She made a small face and flexed her head delicately to one side. 'Darling, I've got a crick in my neck,' she told him in a breathless voice.
'We can't have that.' The long, tanned fingers curved to her nape in a gentle, lingering massage—and was it Tanya's imagination, or did the dark eyes momentarily seek her own before elaborating, 'It's such a very pretty neck.'
The countess sighed and glanced slyly at Tanya. 'He's so clever with his hands.'
I'll bet. But she didn't say the words out loud. Instead she just glared down at her empty teacup and began to wish that she had waited outside.
The countess straightened with a little moan as Fausto leaned back once more in his chair. 'Much better now,' she purred and fixed Tanya with her cold green eyes.
'You've been so quiet, dear. Why don't you tell me all about yourself?'
Tanya could have listed without too much difficulty at least a score of reasons why, but none that was adequately civil sprang immediately to mind. 'There's not much to tell,' she answered airily. 'I'm just an old friend of the family come to help Fausto out in the office for a while.' She glared across at him, wishing she could think of some way to dislodge the smug smile from his face. 'Isn't that right?'
'Oh, Tanya's being much too modest,' he declared. 'She's a girl of many talents, as I'm discovering all the time. She's doing a lot more than just helping me out in the office. Why don't you tell Bea about the little decorating job you're doing for me?'
The cat's eyes widened with sudden interest. 'How exciting! Do tell.'
Tanya shrugged. 'It's just a simple decorating job.' She was not being modest. The truth was she was totally mesmerised by the feline hand now moving down to rest quite openly on Fausto's knee. The hand began a slow and tentative caress.
Then Fausto spoke. 'It's the old wash-house. Tanya's going to do it up for me. And from what I've seen of the sketches she's done, she's going to do a pretty stunning job.' He paused and glanced across at Tanya as though expecting some reaction to his words of praise. But she only stared back at him with hostile, narrowed eyes. What was he waiting for to remove that ridiculous woman's paw from his knee? Was he actually enjoying it so much that he had lost all sense of propriety?
'But that's splendid!' The red lips curved in a plastic smile. 'Haven't I been telling you for years, Fausto dear, that that little place could be turned into an absolute gem? With the right decorators, of course.' She addressed herself to Tanya with a hint of acid in her voice. 'I suppose you've done this sort of thing before?'
Tanya felt the muscles in her jaw tighten. 'I don't take on jobs I'm not qualified to do, if that's what you're implying,' she shot back, almost forgetting in her indignation that this particular job had been forced on her. Who did the abominable woman think she was?
Fausto shifted in his chair, an amused smile flitting across his face as he turned to look across at her. Damn you! Tanya thought, meeting his gaze with an uncompromising flash of anger in her eyes. You're actually enjoying this pathetic little sparring match! It appeals to your superior male conceit to have two females squabbling in front of you!
'Bea may be able to help you,' he offered now, an edge of incitement in his voice. 'She has contacts in the design business. Furniture, furnishings—that kind of thing.' He patted the countess's slim, brown arm. 'I'm sure you'd be glad to offer Tanya any help she needs?'
'Of course. I'd be only too happy to oblige.' This was accompanied by another calculatedly dazzling smile.
'That's very kind of you, I'm sure.' A weak smile here—but she could hardly turn the offer down.
The countess was on to a winning streak. 'Will it be ready in time for the party, do you think?'
What party? Tanya's blank look clearly revealed she hadn't a clue what the woman was talking about.
'But hasn't Fausto told you?' There was a note of triumph in the purring voice. 'Why, my dear, your employer's renowned for his annual summer party. It's the highspot of the season. People simply flock from far and wide. You must have your little decorating job finished by then. We'll all be dying to see it.' She swivelled round and perched her chin coquettishly on Fausto's knee. 'You're not going to disappoint us, caro, I hope. Summer wouldn't be summer without the grand Cabrini ball.'
Fausto smiled down at her indulgently. 'You know I wouldn't dream of disappointing you,' he said. Then he glanced at the thin gold watch at his wrist. 'Time for us to go, I'm afraid.' And, disentangling himself from the countess's embrace—though, Tanya noted, not with any particular haste—he rose to his feet and added, 'I have
to get back for a call from the States.'
'What a busy man you are.' The countess scrambled to his side, slipping one arm possessively through his as she followed him reluctantly out to the hall. 'Always rushing off somewhere.'
He bent to kiss her on both cheeks. 'Ciao, Bea. I'll see you soon.'
The two women exchanged a cool handshake. 'A pleasure to meet you.'
'Likewise.'
'And don't let that boss of yours forget about the party,' came the shrill reminder as the lift doors closed. 'I'll never forgive him if he does.'
Tanya was still bristling when they got outside. She barely even glanced at Fausto as he held open the door of the car for her and she climbed inside. The day had appeared to be going so well up until a couple of hours ago. What a ridiculous encounter! What an absolutely idiotic waste of time!
He slid his long frame easily into the low seat at her side. 'I'm sorry if Bea ruffled your feathers,' he observed with casual insincerity, gunning the engine and slipping smoothly into gear.
Tanya kept her eyes fixed unflinchingly ahead. 'She didn't ruffle my feathers,' she retorted tartly. 'She just doesn't happen to be my type of person, that's all.'
The big car moved silently away from the pavement edge. 'Oh, and what type of person would you say she was?' Subtle amusement was taunting in his voice.
'Your type of person, I would guess.' A hint of malice now in hers.
He laughed out loud, a rich, deep laugh that somehow only irritated Tanya more. 'Is that a compliment or an insult, Tanya dear?'
The spurious endearment made her grit her teeth. 'Neither. A mere statement of fact. I would say she was your type of person to a tee—shallow, supercilious and showy.'
She half expected him to be annoyed, but he only laughed again, then turned with a smile to look at her. 'My, my,' he observed silkily, 'you're showing your claws.'
Tanya sniffed derisively, her eyes still riveted firmly on the road ahead. 'I can't stand fawning females,' she informed him cuttingly. 'Though I'm not surprised that, like most men, you're not impartial to them yourself.'
'As I've already told you, I'm partial to all sorts of women. And luckily there seems to be a huge variety of sorts available.'
'And none more available than the countess, no doubt.'
He turned to look at her again and, almost in spite of herself, Tanya swivelled round to meet his eyes. 'Why, Tanya, I do believe you're jealous,' he accused her with a quiet smile.
'How utterly ridiculous!' She swung away from him, face flaming. Well, it was ridiculous, wasn't it? How could she possibly be jealous of him? She stared hard at the road again as they left the city limits behind and the big car gradually began to gather speed. It was simply that intolerable woman who had made her mad, irked her beyond reason with her pathetic feline overtures.
Again in her mind's eye she saw the languorous arm draped oh-so-casually across Fausto's thigh, the blonde, coquettish head virtually nestling against his, the small hand gently caressing his knee with an almost insolent familiarity. And again she felt the dull ache of anger that had assailed her then, only fiercer and more threatening now as she finally acknowledged it for what it really was.
Not anger at all, but raw, undiluted jealousy.
No! As abruptly as the truth had dawned, she swept it frantically away. She'd been crazy even to allow the thought to cross her mind. He stirred her physically, admittedly—to a degree that both disturbed and frightened her—but that was something she could handle, simply by ignoring it. And there really was no more to it than that. The Countess Bea, along with all the other women in his life, was more than welcome to him. Fausto Cabrini didn't mean a thing to her.
All the way back to the villa she repeated this conviction over and over again to herself, like a child struggling to commit to memory some particularly difficult piece of poetry. By the time they swept up the driveway to the big front door, she had practically convinced herself that it was true.
Fausto disappeared straight away into his office, leaving Tanya to spend what remained of the afternoon as she pleased. It was something of a relief when Emma came to tell her she would be dining alone. The signor, the plump-faced woman informed her pleasantly, was still tied up with work. He would see her later for a drink in the library.
So she had a couple more hours to collect herself, to drive all the silly, unsettling notions from her head. She showered and changed into a simple cotton skirt and matching top. By the time he summoned her to join him in the library—for 'summon' her was exactly what he would do, knowing him—she would be calm and relaxed and totally in command of her senses again. She would prove to him, without even having to bring the subject up, that this afternoon he had misunderstood her totally. Neither jealousy nor any other such emotion entered into her feelings for him.
After a solitary dinner, during which, in spite of her resolution, Tanya was unable to whip up much of an appetite, she went back to her room and made a fruitless attempt to read a book. About ten o'clock the blue phone rang.
'I'm in the library,' was all he said. 'Come down and join me for a drink.'
Her summons.
She did her best to walk sedately down the stairs, though her heart was racing, and she fought hard to ignore the clench of excitement in the pit of her stomach as, with a foolishly trembling hand, she pushed open the library door. Why was her body such a traitor to her mind? Why was it refusing to obey the messages that she was sending from her brain?
'Come on in. I've already fixed your drink for you.' He was seated in one of the deep-cushioned armchairs, two tall glasses set on the low, brass coffee-table in front of him. 'Sit down.' He indicated the armchair next to his own. 'I'm sorry I couldn't join you for dinner. There were a couple of things that needed tying up.'
She smiled a bright smile. 'So Emma said. Did you manage to get it all done?'
'Just about.' He seemed unaware of the tension in her, himself apparently totally at ease. He had changed since she had seen him earlier and was wearing a short-sleeved, blue-striped shirt and a pair of faded denim jeans. The strongly muscled arms were deeply bronzed and shadowed with fine, dark hairs from elbow to wrist. Funny, she pondered, something quickening disloyally inside her at the thought, but she hadn't really noticed that before. The powerful column of his throat arched back as he leaned against the cushion at his head and gazed across at her through lowered lids.
'I have good news for you,' he said, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. 'I'm leaving for New York tomorrow. I'll be away for about ten days.'
'That's nice.' It was a reflex response. A reflex from her brain, but not her heart.
'Yes, I thought you'd be pleased.' He leaned across and pushed the glass of martini closer to her, then raised his own glass slowly to his lips. 'You'll be in charge of the office while I'm gone. I'm sure you'll cope.'
She smiled a tight smile, wishing she felt as overjoyed as she ought to at his unexpected piece of news. It was exactly what she had been wanting, after all. Room to manoeuvre. A chance to rebuild the defences she had so foolishly let fall. But she felt no joy. Only a sudden, uneasy tightening somewhere in the region of her heart.
He reached down for the folder that was lying at his feet. 'I've got your sketches here—but I don't really think there's any need for us to go through them in detail. They're fine.' The dark eyes scrutinised her face. 'In fact, as I told you earlier, they're more than just fine, they're excellent. I've made one or two comments— suggestions more than anything else. You'll see for yourself.' He laid the folder on the table between them. 'I'd no idea you'd been doing all this work outside office hours.'
She shrugged, taking a mouthful of her drink and tasting nothing. 'You said you wanted me to get on with it. Besides, it's what I enjoy doing. Once I got started, I found it difficult to lay it aside.'
He sat back and regarded her with interest in his eyes. His hair seemed very dark against the cushion at his head. 'I really misjudged you, didn't I?'
'What do you mean?' Something in the way he was looking at her was raising goosebumps on her flesh.
'In the beginning. Don't tell me you've forgotten already all the dreadful things I said?'
If only he would say them all again so she could hate him like she used to do! She shrugged again. 'Maybe,' she said.
Fausto's eyes travelled slowly downwards from her face, seeming to caress her slender neck, her shapely shoulders, the full-blooming softness of her breasts. And Tanya could not stop the blush that crept betrayingly into her cheeks. She could feel the agitation in her now mounting almost to fever-pitch. Her eyes dropped to her lap. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry.
'Maybe you'll be able to get started on the decorating while I'm gone,' she heard him say. 'I've left a list of useful addresses and phone numbers on your desk. Decorators, suppliers of various sorts. Most of the big ones are in Milan, but there are one or two closer to home that you might try.'
She swallowed hard and nodded, but somehow couldn't bring herself to look at him. She was afraid of what she might see written in his eyes, even more of the message that she feared was scrawled quite unequivocally in hers. 'Good,' she said through lips that felt numb. 'I'd like to make a start on it.'
'OK.' He paused. 'Of course, if you get stuck with anything, do feel free to give Bea a ring. I'm sure she'd be happy to help you out. I've left her number just in case.'
That jolted her. 'I'm sure I can manage without the countess's assistance, thank you.' The angry bitterness in her voice came as a shock as her eyes shot up to mesh with his. She added, embarrassed, 'I'd prefer to do it on my own, if you don't mind.'
'Of course.' Fausto leaned forward in his seat, dropping his strong, tanned hands between his knees, and the dark eyes held a strangely intent expression that belied his conversational tone as he went on, 'If you have to go into Milan for anything and you don't feel like driving there yourself, get Beppe to take you. He knows his way around. Likewise if you want to go to Lugano to visit your father. I've left strict instructions with both Beppe and Emma that they're to take good care of you while I'm away.' And still he went on watching her with that unfathomable expression in his eyes.
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