by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker
‘So I offered Mr Ravenelli the use of it—for a reasonable rent.’
She couldn’t resist a swift sidelong glance at Vincenzo as she added the final, pointed phrase, then wished she hadn’t because another of those slight inclinations of his head in approval made it appear far too much as if they were conspirators, in this together, for her liking.
‘What a practical solution.’
The shrill of the telephone from the next room, David’s office, had him turning his head in that direction.
‘I’ll get that,’ he said when Amy made a move to go and answer it. ‘You see to the coffees.’
With David at his desk, and the security of the closed door between them, Amy rounded on Vincenzo, blue eyes flashing angry fire.
‘My room!’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘You’re staying in my spare room! In my home! You’re pushing things, Vincenzo. We had no such agreement. I never offered…’
‘Oh, but you did,’ he returned with an imperturbable little smile. ‘Just now you offered me the use of your spare room “for a reasonable rent”.’ Tauntingly, he repeated her own words back to her. ‘I was actually about to suggest that you had offered to help me find a house to let locally.’
Finding herself totally checkmated, Amy could only decide that, in this case, discretion was definitely the better part of valour, and she set herself to pouring the coffees with unnecessary concentration. She had no way of knowing whether Vincenzo had had any such thing in mind, and that he had simply opened a door that she had blindly walked through.
But it was obvious that she had been outmanoeuvred by an expert and there was nothing she could do about it. She could only hope that if she had a quiet word with David later, he would understand her concern at having a man she supposedly hardly knew sharing her home and would offer to have a word with Vincenzo in order to get him to change his mind.
Unfortunately, David failed to see her point of view.
‘I understand your feelings, Amy,’ he said when, using the excuse of some papers she needed signing, she raised the matter with him in the privacy of his office. ‘But I don’t think you need to worry. Didn’t you notice his hands?’
‘His hands?’ Amy echoed in bewilderment. What did Vincenzo’s hands have to do with anything?
‘He’s wearing a wedding ring,’ David explained patiently. ‘He’s a married man. So I hardly think you need to worry about his behaviour when he’s with you.’
A married man! Amy didn’t know whether to laugh or give in to the tears of sheer frustration that were burning in her eyes. Of course she knew that dreadful man was married!
She couldn’t believe the appalling irony that David thought her peace of mind had been earned by the band of gold that was her own worst nightmare. But of course, David was thinking once again of the potential benefits to his company of Vincenzo’s presence in Charnham. With Amy acting as hostess, her employer would have the perfect excuse to call round, socialise with him.
Which added another, further complication to her own problems. David’s firm had not been doing too well recently. Any business Vincenzo could put their way would be more than welcome. More than that.
In fact, aside from the Randerson contract that David had rung to tell her about so inopportunely in Venice, they had no business lined up for the future. Vincenzo’s interest could save them from bankruptcy. But equally, one false move to alienate him would mean that she was out of a much-needed job and once more hunting for employment. It was not a comfortable feeling.
And as the days passed, that feeling grew worse, closing round her until she felt as if she was being slowly suffocated, unable to breathe.
With Vincenzo there in her life, living in her home, it seemed as if her existence was not her own. If she turned round he was there, watching every move she made. If she went into the kitchen, he was making coffee or a snack.
Even her bathroom was permeated by the tangy, evocative scent of his male toiletries. Just to go in there was to awaken unwanted memories of long-ago days when she had been held so close to the powerful strength of his hard male body, breathing that same sensual aroma mixed with the more intimate, personal scent of his skin.
It was there in her nostrils when she went to bed at night, so it was no wonder that her dreams were filled with wild, tormenting images, replaying over and over again the one hot night she had spent in Vincenzo’s bed. Her wedding night. As a result she slept restlessly and uncomfortably, waking in a tangle of sheets, her heart pounding, her body slick with perspiration, an empty ache of longing burning cruelly at the juncture of her thighs.
It had been like this four years before, when she had first left Vincenzo. She had fled back to England, hiding there like some wounded animal seeking sanctuary from the hunters. She had never expected that Vincenzo would come after her, knocking at her door…
‘Amy…Amy?’
It took several moments to realise that the voice was not part of her dreams. That the knocking at her door was real.
Her eyes flew open on a cry of shock. The subject of her memories stood beside the bed, a dark, disturbing shape in the shadows of just before dawn.
‘What are you doing in my room?’
The thoughtless question earned her a scowl of reproof.
‘I had to wake you. You cried out in your sleep, and you were tossing around so much I thought you might throw yourself out of bed. You must have been in the grip of nightmare.’
She still was, Amy reflected. Only this time it was a waking dream. This time, the tall, strong figure confronting her was real, not just some figment of her imagination. Vincenzo’s black hair was ruffled from sleep, his bronzed chest bare, his only covering a pair of black pyjama bottoms that might have covered the length and power of his legs, but they certainly didn’t conceal it.
Amy’s mouth was uncomfortably dry, and she had to swallow hard to ease the sudden tension in her throat. She was suddenly a prey to a shockingly forceful desire, a wild, erotic image centering on catching hold of the long, tanned arm that was so temptingly close. So close that she could almost feel the brush of the silky dark hairs, inhale the warm scent of his skin, musky with the aftermath of sleep.
She could just reach out and fasten her hand around his wrist…pull him into bed with her…kiss that sleep-softened mouth…
No! A short, brutal little struggle restored her mental balance again. But she wasn’t totally free of the sensual memories of her wedding night yet.
‘A nightmare…’ she echoed, on a long despondent sigh. ‘Yes…’
In spite of herself she shivered miserably, unable to shrug off the bitter memories.
‘Amy!’
Vincenzo’s voice was soft and to her horror he came to sit on the bed beside her, one strong arm coming round her shoulder, drawing her close.
‘What is it that frightened you?’
You frightened me, would have been the honest answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She couldn’t say anything, fearful of shattering the unexpectedly gentle mood of the moment.
She just wanted to be held—if only for a moment. Held and comforted. The weight and warmth of Vincenzo’s arm around her, his body close to hers, was soothing after the terrors of her dreams. With the instinctive reaction of a small child seeking comfort, she cuddled closer, resting her head on his chest.
‘Amy?’
His voice was even gentler now and she felt the soft drift of his mouth across her hair in a delicate caress as he muttered something in low-voiced Italian.
‘What did you say?’ she asked huskily and felt him stiffen slightly against her.
‘That you have no need to worry,’ he translated with obvious reluctance. ‘That if you need me I will stay until you fall asleep. That I will watch over you and protect you from the demons of the night.’
She was tempted. Dear God, but she was tempted. Every cell in her body was begging her to abandon herself to the protection of his arms, to indulge in the security he see
med to offer. But her mind and every trace of self protection she possessed warned her that that security was no more than a lie.
‘Why did you come after me?’ It wasn’t what she’d meant to say but somehow the question slid out past defences weakened by the comfort of his presence. ‘When I left you after our marriage, you said you never wanted to see me again, so why did you follow me?’
For a long moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but just as she was about to give up on the idea he gave a faint sigh and rubbed the back of his free hand across his forehead in a gesture of unexpected weariness.
‘Because I couldn’t help myself,’ he answered on a note of self-deprecation. ‘And I wanted to explain.’
‘Explain?’
Amy pulled herself up on the pillows so that she could look into his shadowed face, finding it impossible to read in the moonlight.
‘Explain what?’
‘About the bet.’
The word was like a knife in her heart. But even as she opened her mouth to launch into an attack, wanting to turn the pain back on him, something stopped her.
She didn’t know what it was; whether it was the darkness or the lateness of the hour that stopped her. This moment felt like a tiny sliver of space suspended out of normal time. It seemed almost unreal, as if nothing they did in it really mattered, or would have any repercussions later.
‘What would you have said?’
Vincenzo followed her lead with intuitive empathy.
‘That when Sal suggested the idea, it had nothing to do with you as a person. I hadn’t even met you then.’
‘And when you did?’
‘To tell you the truth, I forgot all about the damn bet. It was only later that I remembered…’
‘And you didn’t think that perhaps it might be more moral to tell me—or to let me go?’
‘No!’
The shake of his head was as violent as his tone.
‘I couldn’t let you go. I’d never seen anyone like you. Never met anyone who knocked me for six the way you did.’
‘Convenient for you.’ Bitterness made her voice burn. ‘That way, you could mix business with pleasure—get your kicks and still win back the ruby. It would have been so much harder if I’d repelled you.’
‘I told you, it wasn’t like that. I wanted you so badly.’
‘You wanted the ruby.’ Wrenching herself away from him, Amy sat up suddenly, looking straight into his face. ‘Which did you want the most?’
The way his expression changed, closing up on her, his hesitation, told their own story. Her heart seemed to crack open inside her. Did she really need an answer?
‘I wanted the ruby,’ he confirmed. ‘But—’
‘But you were greedy,’ Amy finished for him. ‘What you really wanted was both. Well, fifty per cent isn’t a bad return. You’ve got the ring; you’ll have to settle for that.’
‘Amy…’
‘No!’
He’d almost managed it. Almost deceived her into thinking that perhaps she’d got him wrong, that perhaps…No, she mustn’t allow herself the weakness of even thinking that way.
‘Get out!’ she flung at him. ‘Get out and leave me alone.’
Immediately the long body stiffened into a line of cold rejection. The arm around her was snatched away; Vincenzo got to his feet in one swift, lithe movement.
‘Willingly,’ he muttered, cold and clipped and totally hostile and, turning on his heel, he marched from the room.
Amy regretted her hard words as soon as they were out. He had come to her room out of concern. He had offered her comfort. He could quite easily have simply ignored the disturbed cries she had made in her sleep.
Vincenzo! She tried to call after him but her voice failed her, producing only an inaudible croak.
‘Vincenzo!’ She tried again, but it was too late. His long strides had already taken him down the landing and into his own room.
The sound of his door banging shut seemed to echo down through the years, bringing with it the memory of the only other time Vincenzo had been in England and she had told him to go to hell.
He hadn’t given up, even after she’d slammed the door in his face. He’d banged his fist hard against the wood, put his finger on the bell and left it there. But eventually, when she’d threatened to send for the police, he’d seen the wisdom of discretion and left.
But he hadn’t actually conceded defeat, not really. Because the last words he’d flung at her were still branded into her soul. Etched there in letters of fire.
‘I will not come to you again, moglie mia. The next time you will come to me.’
Her relationship with Vincenzo was over, dead, Amy told herself desperately, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. It had been that way for years.
She was ready to begin a new way of life, ready to look to the future. So why, why would her weak, foolish thoughts keep on returning to the past?
‘Why?’ she muttered aloud. ‘Why, why, why?’
And the dark silence of the night held no possible answer except for the one she didn’t dare to face, knowing it would tear her apart if she did so.
Chapter Ten
‘AMY, are you ever going to give me an answer to my question?’
For a few fraught moments Amy couldn’t remember just what question David meant, and she had opened her mouth to ask for elucidation when realisation had her closing it again in shock, horrified at the terrible mistake she had almost made.
‘I—I need time to think,’ she hedged awkwardly, concentrating fiercely on the flowers she was arranging, and praying that the extravagant foliage hide the way all colour had faded from her cheeks, leaving her looking pale and strained.
David’s sigh was a perfect blend of exasperation and resigned patience, rapidly wearing thin at the edges.
‘Just how long do you plan on keeping me waiting? It was only an invitation to dinner.’
‘I know!’
Amy pushed the last rose into the vase with such force that its delicate stalk broke under the pressure, the rich, red velvet head drooping over sadly.
It looked just the way she felt, she reflected unhappily. Limp and beaten down, and thoroughly dejected.
Three weeks of Vincenzo’s presence in her life had done that to her. Three weeks of having to watch every move, censor every sentence she spoke. Three weeks of not daring to breathe, terrified of putting a foot wrong. Of going to bed at night exhausted and drained as a result of constantly worrying that today might be the day she betrayed herself by a word or a gesture. And waking up again every bit as tired as before, after long, restless hours spent staring at the ceiling, reviewing the day in the vain hope that she might actually get some sleep.
And then David had suddenly decided to complicate matters, albeit unknowingly. First with the unexpected dinner invitation and now the roses he had arrived at her flat to present her with this afternoon. The flowers in particular were so unlike him that they’d knocked her off balance completely.
‘I don’t mean to mess you about, David…’
Unable to pretend that the roses needed her attention any more, she swung round to face him, forcing what she hoped was an appeasing smile on to her face.
‘But it’s just that I’m not sure I’m quite ready for this. With…’
Shuddering in shock, she hastily gulped down the words she had been about to say.
With one broken marriage behind me…
Dear God, she had come so close to giving herself away!
There was no way she could expect David to understand the foolish mistake her marriage had been. He wasn’t the sort of man to let any emotion run away with him. He seemed to have been born middle-aged, and ‘sensible’ was very definitely his middle name.
‘With?’ David prompted when she remained lost in thought, leaving the revealing sentence hanging in the air.
‘With—’ Amy hunted frantically for something to fill the uncomfortable space. ‘With—with work b
eing so pressurised lately, I’ve hardly had time to breathe, let alone think!’
Mentioning work had been the right idea, distracting David instantly. Vincenzo had been as good as his word. Already, several major projects were in the pipeline, and David’s attention focused on them night and day.
‘We both have,’ he conceded. ‘It’s been a difficult time but I think it’s finally paying off. We’ll be able to look to the future.’
‘I’d like that.’
It came out on a sigh, putting more emphasis than she had meant onto the words. If only she could think about a future. A time when her own position was decided, when Vincenzo had given her her freedom and gone back to Italy, leaving her in peace.
‘Is that your answer?’ David pounced on her abstracted reply, making her realise her mistake just a moment too late. ‘That we have a future together?’
‘I—no—I mean…David, please don’t push me!’
It would be so much easier if she could say yes. If she could have turned the relationship she had claimed to have with her boss into something real. She was comfortable with him, they had worked together well for three years and they shared interests in music and the theatre. But there was no love—and there never could be.
Coming to her side, David took her hand in his.
‘Promise me you’ll think about it,’ he murmured in her ear, twisting her in his arms so that they were face to face. ‘We get along well together in everything else. Isn’t it time we found out if we’re compatible in other ways?’
Taken completely aback, Amy rocked slightly on suddenly unsteady feet, not at all prepared to answer that question.
‘But—but, David—I…’ she began, with no idea as to how she was going to continue.
But she was saved from having to answer by the slam of a door, and a moment later Vincenzo strolled into the room.