An Awakening Desire

by Helen Bianchin

  Annalisa appeared to be sitting on the edge of her seat, her expression one of unconscious pleading as she gazed at her father, and Emma waited with interest to see whose side Nick Castelli would take.

  'Perhaps we could reach a compromise ?' His voice was silky beneath the smile he projected. Smooth, yet denoting a will of tensile steel. 'As Silvana will be vacationing in Venice until the last week of the school holidays, I suggest studying be relegated until then. How does that sound?'

  Annalisa clapped her hands together in delight. 'Thank you, Papa.'

  'An excellent idea,' Rosa approved. 'Don't you think so, Emma?'

  Oh lord, why involve me? Emma queried silently. Yet she was aware of Annalisa's intent air of expectancy, an eagerness for Emma to add her approval. 'Yes, of course.' She deliberately refrained from looking at Nick Castelli, although she sensed his gaze and forced her expression to remain serene. It still irked her that he'd known precisely who she was on that long flight, yet had chosen not to introduce himself. And if he had ? What would have been her reaction?

  'What plans do you have for tomorrow, Papa?' Annalisa began, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. 'Emma can come with us, can't she?'

  'That would be nice,' Rosa interceded quickly. 'Silvana's flight leaves early in the morning. You could begin exploring the city itself, or take a picnic lunch into the hills. I have a few days planned for Emma, myself. Shopping, a few fashion showings at some of the famous design houses. Annalisa shall accompany us, if she wishes.'

  'I shall be delighted for Emma to join us,' Nick drawled.

  'How very kind of you, Mr Castelli.'

  'Nicolo,' he corrected imperturbably, and she could have sworn there was an indolent gleam apparent in the depths of his eyes. 'My family and friends call me Nick.'

  Her lashes swept up with complete lack of guile as she silently appraised his enigmatic expression, and his eyes held hers in mesmeric confusion, daring her to refuse.

  For a moment she almost did, then she caught sight of Annalisa's anxious expression and she experienced a twinge of remorse.

  'Really, Nick,' Silvana reproved. 'I am sure Mrs Martinero has plans of her own.'

  'Why so formal?' He flicked his attention from one to the other and raised a quizzical eyebrow in Emma's direction. 'You can't want to be referred to as Mrs Martinero for the duration of your stay?'

  It would be churlish to respond that she wanted to put up an impenetrable barrier and remain aloof from any extended friendship where he was concerned. Then a hollow laugh died in her throat at the mere thought Nick Castelli would never be any woman's friend. Such an appellation was far too insipid! Somehow she doubted there was a woman alive who could fail to be aware of the powerful magnetism he exuded. And how did he regard his daughter's governess-companion? Were they bound together merely by virtue of being related, however distantly? Somehow she imagined Silvana retained an affection for her employer that wasn't motivated entirely by her position or connection to the family. Yet there was a resignation apparent and a degree of vague irritation, almost as if Silvana recognised she would never be anything to Nick Castelli other than Annalisa's tutor and companion.

  'No,' Emma agreed, and incurred a long, level stare from Silvana.

  'I am relieved,' Nick drawled.

  'Shall we adjourn to the salone?' Rosa suggested. 'Then Maria can clear the table.'

  It was an excellent excuse to escape, and Emma used it shamelessly. 'Would you mind if I went to my room and rested for an hour or two?' She still felt tired from the long flight, the dramatic climatic change, and the tension Nick Castelli was able to evoke without any seeming effort at all.

  'Of course not, my dear. In fact, we always observe an afternoon siesta,' Rosa explained kindly as she stood to her feet and moved away from the table. 'The shops— everything, in fact, even the business sector—close at one, then re-open again at four, usually until eight.' She reached out and touched Emma's arm. 'Come downstairs whenever you feel like it. Dinner isn't until nine.'

  A perfectly civil meal, Emma discovered, during which she ate little and allowed herself to be drawn into conversation with Rosa, Enzo and Annalisa. Nick Castelli she largely ignored, except when good manners demanded otherwise, and it was an immeasurable relief to escape to her room and blissful solitude.

  'Please come with us, Emma,' Annalisa implored as she polished off the remainder of her toast and then proceeded to empty the milk in her glass. 'After we see Silvana's flight depart, we could go into the city. You could toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain.' Her eyes lit up with pleasure, and her mouth curved into the most beguiling smile. 'I am sure Papa would not mind if we visit some of the famous boutiques along the Via Condotti.'

  It sounded tempting, although Emma wasn't sure Silvana would approve, or even if Nick Castelli seconded his daughter's invitation.

  'I can see Annalisa has nothing less than the grand tour in store for you,' Nick drawled as he poured himself another cup of coffee, and Rosa added her support.

  'I think it is a splendid idea.'

  She would be perfectly safe, she determined, with Annalisa in tow. Besides, she really did want to explore, and who better to act as her guide than Nick Castelli?

  'Thank you,' she acquiesced politely, blithely ignoring Silvana's faint frown.

  Two hours later they set out in Nick's car, a sleek Ferrari Mondial, Emma noted with concealed admiration. Annalisa's animated chatter more than made up for any lack on the part of her governess, and Emma concentrated her attention on the passing scenery for the time it took to reach the airport.

  After Silvana had departed, Nick steered them, at Annalisa's insistence, to a cafe for a thirst-quenching drink, then they drove into the city.

  Together they walked at a leisurely pace until they reached the base of the Spanish Steps.

  'They are French and Italian,' Nick informed as Emma centred her attention on the broad travertine steps. 'Not Spanish at all.'

  The baroque staircase was crowded with lounging teenagers, vendors and souvenir-hawkers, and Emma bore their open admiration with vague embarrassment.

  'You have gone pink,' Annalisa declared. 'All Italian men express their appreciation of a pretty girl,' she explained with a warm smile. 'You must not think anything of it.'

  She felt Nick's light clasp on her elbow, and quelled an initial instinct to withdraw. Perhaps he sensed it, for his fingers tightened fractionally, and every nerve-end in her body quivered into vibrant life.

  'There is the Trinita del Monte,' Nick declared, directing her attention, to the twin-belfried French church.

  He didn't intimidate her, Emma assured herself, at least not in the accepted sense, yet it was almost as if there was a generation of electricity between them, creating its own Shockwaves and pitching her into a state of confusion.

  They wandered at will along the Via Condotti, where she looked with envy at Gucci's renowned leather emporium and lingered to admire the jewellery displayed in Bulgari's famed store.

  She could have spent days just browsing, she decided, determined to return when there was more time. Rosa was sure to have included this glamorous area in one of her planned shopping excursions.

  Lunch was a leisurely meal eaten in a pleasant ristorante, air-conditioned, Emma discovered much to her relief, for her skin felt flushed with the intense heat. Being plunged into a northern hemispheric summer after experiencing a cold winter in southern climes took some adjustment.

  'What will you have, Emma?' Annalisa queried, openly delighted to be sharing her father's company. 'I will have pasta, I think. Their spaghetti is very good, isn't it, Papa?

  'Indeed it is,' Nick responded easily. 'Some wine, Emma? Or perhaps you would prefer chilled mineral water?'

  Alcohol in the middle of the day would go straight to her head, especially in this heat, and instinct warned she needed every faculty intact to deal with Annalisa's inestimable father!

  'Mineral water, please, and a light garden salad.'


  They had almost finished when Annalisa spared her father an imploring glance. 'Can we visit the Trevi Fountain this afternoon, Papa?'

  Nick afforded her an indulgent smile, as with childish simplicity she set about lining up a number of possible outings that would easily take care of several days.

  It was obvious they shared a close bond, but Emma suppressed a faint feeling of unease at the thought of spending so much time in Nick's company. Not that she wasn't grateful, she assured herself, just mildly resentful. Apprehensive, a tiny imp taunted.

  'Why don't you invite Emma out to dinner tonight, Papa? She has come for a holiday, not to stay at the villa every evening.'

  'Why not?' Nick responded before Emma had a chance to refuse.

  Damn, she cursed silently. How did she get out of this one? Perhaps she could plead exhaustion, or an aversion to the day's heat, and decline?

  It was late when they returned to the villa after a pleasant number of hours spent exploring the city's streets and piazzas, where, much to Annalisa's expressed delight, they tossed coins into the Trevi Fountain. Something, Annalisa assured fervently, she always did so that she would return next summer for a vacation with her adored Zia Rosa and Zio Enzo.

  Nick brought the car to a halt outside the villa's entrance and Emma slid out, a polite few words of thanks hovering on her lips, followed, she determined, by a suitably regretful excuse not to dine with him.

  'Will an hour be sufficient for you to shower and change?'

  Her eyes flew to meet his, and she realised at once the subtle taunt beneath his query was meant to convey that he knew she intended to opt out if she could.

  'Can I help you choose what to wear?' Annalisa begged, and as Emma glanced from father to daughter any words in excuse of the invitation died as she caught sight of the young girl's enthusiasm.

  Afterwards Emma could only query her own sanity as she showered and attended to her toilette. Slipping into fresh underwear, she donned a silk wrap, then at the sound of a tentative knock she crossed to the door and welcomed Annalisa into the room.

  'This cream frock, I think,' the youngster declared at last, after admiring the classic lines of an expensive Zampatti original. 'It's beautiful.'

  'Are you sure?'

  Annalisa's head moved in quick averment. 'Yes,' she declared seriously, watching with intense interest as Emma applied the finishing touches to her make-up.

  It was fifteen minutes before they descended the staircase and entered the salone where Rosa and Enzo were sharing a pre-dinner drink with Nick.

  He looked devastating in impeccable evening attire, Emma decided as she declined Enzo's offer of wine.

  For some unknown reason she seemed to have developed a heightened sensitivity where he was concerned that confounded even her as she attempted to analyse its cause.

  'Shall we leave?'

  There was little she could do but bid Rosa and Enzo goodnight and thank Annalisa for her assistance. Except there was a vague flaring of resentment apparent at his high-handedness.

  The Ferrari was parked immediately outside the main entrance, and Emma slid into the front seat whilst Nick crossed round the front of the car and slipped in behind the wheel. With a deft flick of his wrist he fired the engine, then eased the vehicle down the long, curving driveway.

  As it paused momentarily at the gates he slanted her a dark glance. 'You are annoyed,' he remarked drily.

  'At being railroaded into accepting an invitation I never wanted?' Emma parried, thrusting him an arctic glare. 'Did you expect me not to be?'

  The car gathered speed with smooth precision, traversing the winding road with ease beneath Nick's competent expertise.

  'I had thought you might enjoy seeing some of Rome's nightlife,' he declared silkily.

  'La dolce vita.' She hadn't meant to sound quite so cynical, and he spared her a look that was infinitely mocking.

  'That particular axiom has acquired a rather unsavoury meaning over the years. I had something more—' He paused.

  'Refined?' Emma responded archly.

  'In mind? You can be assured of it,' Nick declared and she preferred a smile that was a mere facsimile.

  'What if I said I was feeling adventurous?'

  'Are you?' There was no doubting his meaning, and Emma didn't dare look at him for fear of glimpsing the amusement she felt sure must be evident. Fool, she accorded wryly. Bandying words with Nick Castelli could only prove to be her undoing. Yet she was darned if she'd let him gain the upper hand.

  'Not in the way you imply.'

  'Pity.' He caught her outraged expression and offered a twisted smile. 'Relax, Emma. All I have in mind is the enjoyment of some fine wine and excellent cuisine in the company of an attractive companion.'

  Relax? How could she relax, for heaven's sake? As urbane as he appeared, there was an animalistic sense of power beneath the sophisticated veneer, an inherent vitality that was arresting. Unleashed, whether in anger or passion, it would prove a force she felt ill-equipped to deal with.

  'Why me?' she queried simply, sparing him a steady glance. 'I don't want to be entertained. I'd be more than happy to remain at the villa. Rosa and Enzo are delightful company.' Once she started, she couldn't stop. 'I'm sure you can't lack—amenable female companionship.'

  'You expect me to deny it?'

  'Not at all,' she responded evenly. 'I'm puzzled why you should waste your time.'

  'With a woman who is the antithesis of amenable, hmm?'

  'I don't want you to feel obligated in any way.'

  'What gives you that idea?'

  'It would be very easy for Rosa and Enzo to ask you to take pity on their grandson's widow,' she said stoically, and unbidden her chin lifted fractionally as she became aware of his deep, probing glance. 'I left Sydney to get away from over-solicitious family protectiveness.' Her eyes darkened with remembered grief. Two sets of parents who treated me like a piece of precious Dresden china, watching and analysing every move I made. I thought I was going to suffocate!'

  Her outburst was greeted with silence; then, after what seemed an age, he voiced quietly, 'We are almost there.'

  Emma took note of her surroundings, and was unable to contain her surprise. 'I thought we were going into the city.'

  'I don't remember saying so.' He eased the car off the road and parked it close to a cluster of time-worn buildings. The pavement was filled with tables and chairs, pottery urns overflowing with flowering plants of various hues which, together with bright-checked tablecloths, green and white striped umbrellas, provided a colourful backdrop to what she identified as a small, bustling trattoria.

  'I thought you would find it amusing to eat here. The food is extremely good, and the atmosphere informal and friendly.'

  It was so different from what she had expected. Somehow she'd envisaged Nick Castelli choosing an elegant restaurant where the city's social echelon wined and dined in sartorial splendour.

  'The chef excels with pasta—his pasta al forno cannot be bettered anywhere.' He slid out of the car and crossed round to open Emma's door, reaching forward to take hold of her arm as she stood to her feet.

  Although it was quite early by Roman standards, there were several patrons seated and she was acutely conscious of their scutiny as she allowed Nick to lead her towards an empty table.

  'They are admiring your hair and pale complexion,' Nick murmured with a faint smile, and her lashes lowered in a gesture of self-defence, aware that she provided a startling contrast to the tall, dark-haired man at her side.

  'Would you like some wine? Or perhaps you'd prefer a chinotto?' he asked as soon as they were seated.

  Emma chose the latter, for it was an innocuous beverage, not unlike Coca Cola, and very palatable. The chatter of voices mingled with music emitting from nearby stereo speakers, conspiring to provide a relaxing atmosphere.

  'We should have brought Annalisa. She would have enjoyed it.'

  His dark, gleaming gaze rested on her expressive features, and a
smile tugged the edges of his mouth. 'Yes. However, my daughter considered I deserved to have you to myself.'

  What would he say if she revealed she'd prefer Annalisa's company to his? Or at least be able to utilise the young girl's presense as a protective buffer. Sagely she declined to comment, and when they were each handed a menu she took time to study the selections and eventually ordered pasta al forno as a starter—only because she enjoyed it, she assured herself firmly, and not due to any recommendation Nick had accorded the dish. Electing to follow it with an individual tossed green salad, she declined dessert.

  Nick joined her with the starter, decided on veal parmigiana as the main course, and opted for the cheese board.

  Emma watched him surreptitiously as he took a measured sip of his wine, and wondered at her sudden lack of savoir-faire. There was something vaguely threatening about her companion, a quality she couldn't quite pin down, and it bothered her more than she was prepared to admit. Consequently she felt ill at ease and slightly on edge. There was no recollection, ever, of having been so acutely aware of a member of the opposite sex. It made her feel breathless, heightening the reality by monitoring every single breath she took, which was crazy. The act of breathing was an automatic reflex, for heaven's sake!

  'You live in Milan, I believe.' The words were a civil attempt at conversation, a need to say something to fill an empty void, and it irked her that he knew she felt gauche in his company.

  'My business interests are centred there.' A slight smile curved his sensuously moulded mouth, and one eyebrow slanted in quizzical amusement. 'Would you like a resume of my life-style? It might save me answering endless questions.'

  Her eyes widened slightly, and a delicate pink tinged her cheeks. It wasn't my intention to pry.'

  'But you feel vaguely uneasy in my presence,' he persisted musingly. 'And aware of the need to indulge in polite conversation.'