The Italian's Passionate Revenge

CHAPTER FIVE

ELISE found a small café and drank mineral water at a table in the sun while she considered her position. But her brain seemed to have trouble functioning. Even after eight years she had hoped to find someone who remembered Angelo and could tell her how and when he’d died. But now there was only a blank.

She took out the cellphone, wondering if there would be a message from Vincente, but there was only a text from a Signor Baltoni, asking her to call him. She did so and discovered that he was the lawyer Vincente had mentioned, who would be delighted if she would come to see him as soon as possible. They settled on a time that afternoon.

He turned out to be an elderly man with a smiling, grandfatherly appearance.

‘I’ve taken the liberty of obtaining a small bank loan on your behalf,’ he said. ‘It’s not much but it’ll keep you going while you decide what you want to do.’

The amount astonished her, so did the low interest rate.

‘Didn’t they mind letting me have it on such favourable terms?’ she queried.

‘The bank is always ready to accommodate good customers.’

‘But I’m a stranger.’

‘Yes-well-er-’

‘Somebody wouldn’t have guaranteed this for me, would they?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘You shouldn’t ask,’ he said at once.

She could go storming off to see Vincente, kill the whole arrangement, or she could keep quiet and let things take their course. Of course, there was no real choice. She must tell Vincente firmly that she couldn’t accept this.

A soft breeze reached her through the open window. As if in a dream, she rose and went to look out over Rome, for this place was high up on the fourth floor. In the distance she could see the glint of the river, and the gentle grace of St Peter’s. Below her, the trees of the Borghese Gardens fluttered in the slight wind and a bird on one of the topmost branches burst out with a song of summer.

‘Fine,’ she said, turning back. ‘Then I won’t ask.’

He beamed with relief and after that everything went smoothly. When she emerged into the sunlight it was with the realisation that she was sufficiently prosperous to live up to her address. It also dawned on her that she had somehow crossed a line and agreed to stay in Rome-at least for a while.

At Signor Baltoni’s suggestion, she looked up a small domestic agency which operated from the basement of the building where she lived and arranged for some part-time staff to care for the apartment. That was a relief as its size had daunted her.

With her own front door shut behind her, she allowed herself to consider clothes.

I need some more and now I can afford them, she mused.

Vincente would be in touch soon and they would spend another evening together, and perhaps another night. Pride demanded that she look her best. For tonight she had one dress that would do, and tomorrow she would seek out others.

Elise took it out, giving it a good shake, deciding that it needed ironing if she were to wear it tonight. Vincente was bound to call at any moment.

Right on cue, he called.

‘Did your meeting with Baltoni go well?’ he asked.

‘Very well, thank you.’

‘Am I in trouble for interfering?’

‘I guess you’re not.’ She laughed.

‘Good. I only want you to find Rome a pleasant place. When I return I shall try to persuade you that it is.’

‘Return?’

‘Yes, business calls me away. I have to go to Sicily for a few days. But, before I go, will you tell me-is all well with you?’

‘Yes, all is well with me.’

‘Good. Then I will call you when I return, but not until then. I know you think I can be rather overbearing, so I’ll leave you in peace until I’m back. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye,’ she said slowly, hanging up.

Elise refused to pine for Vincente. That would be to give him too much importance, she assured herself. There was work to be done, public records to be consulted, seeking Angelo’s death certificate.

But several days’ searching revealed no Caroni who had died around that time. He might never have existed. In despair, she almost wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing.

Refusing to give up, she set out to perfect her Italian, partly by watching the television for hours, and partly by reading everything she could lay her hands on. She bought several daily papers and read them over coffee in a small garden restaurant a few doors down from her apartment.

She found that her Italian came back to her easily, and from the simpler papers she moved on to the financial publications.

As Vincente had told her, the Farnese corporation was huge. His grandfather had founded it, his father had tended it, but the real growth had come about after he’d died and Vincente had taken over. As she went through the newspapers Elise discovered item after item that testified as much to Vincente’s ruthlessness as to his business acumen. He seemed to succeed in everything he did.

His home, the Palazzo Marini, was on the outskirts of Rome. Once the home of aristocrats, it had fallen into disrepair when debts had forced the family to move out. His grandfather had purchased it, but it was Vincente who had renovated it, then used it as a conference centre and a backdrop for entertaining.

A search of the Internet revealed pictures taken at these gatherings, showing the restored glory of the Palazzo. Some of them also showed Vincente, magnificent in triumph.

Handsome devil, she thought reluctantly. Phone, damn you!

He’d been gone over a week now, and he’d kept his promise not to trouble her. At least, that was how he’d phrased it, she recalled. She might, if she were cynical, think it was a move in their game of staying one ahead, his way of showing that their night together had passed from his memory. Or his way of pretending that it had.

Did that mean he could read her thoughts, and knew that the memories of their voracious sex haunted her every moment? Did he suspect how she ached for him to return?

If so, he could just forget it.

Elise awoke one night to the ring of her doorbell, sounding as though someone was leaning on it. Flinging on a light robe, she hurriedly opened the door.

‘Hello,’ he said.

Vincente barely got the word out before she’d pulled him inside, seizing his head between her hands and positioning it where she could fasten her mouth on his. She was the aggressor, driving her tongue between his lips and using it to assault him deliciously. She had wanted this with all her being, and now she was going to make the most of it.

It was she who led the way to the bedroom, holding him tightly in case he tried to escape. Instead, he got ahead of her at the last minute, pulling her down on to the bed, stripping her night clothes from her while she struggled with his buttons. It took longer than they could bear, but at last they were free and she could draw him across her, opening her legs in welcome and emitting a fierce groan as he entered her.

No tenderness now, but vigour, power, plunging in deep, so driven by his need that he could do nothing but claim her fiercely again and again. This was just how she wanted it. With every movement inside her she groaned, the sound mounting until she exploded with a loud cry.

And still it wasn’t over because he stayed as he was, lying on top of her, enclosed within her, while his fingertips wandered over her breasts, teasing the nipples to firm peaks, and she wrapped her thighs about him, imprisoning him for her greater pleasure.

He was tireless, bringing her to climax again and again without weakening, until even his stamina ran out and he rolled away on to his back, gasping.

With difficulty, Elise propped herself up on one elbow and leaned over so that she could rest her head on his heaving chest. She had no strength to do more than that.

After a while their energy revived enough for them to get beneath the covers and go to sleep in each other’s arms.

By the time she awoke the sun was up. She lay for a while, drowsily content, only half believing what had happened the night before. Every nerve in her satiated body was relaxed and happy. She looked at his face, half darkened now with shadow, and ran her hand over the slightly scratchy surface, smiling with pleasure.

Sliding out from his arms, she slipped on her robe and went into the kitchen. As she made coffee she switched on the radio, just in time to hear a news item that made her prick up her ears. When she switched off the radio she considered for a moment before finishing the coffee and returning to the bedroom, a smile on her face.

Vincente was awake now, leaning back on the pillows with his hands behind his head.

‘I’ve just heard a really fascinating item of business news,’ Elise said. ‘Apparently your negotiations in Sicily have hit a bad patch. You were so enraged that you stormed out and returned to your hotel, where you are now incommunicado. No messages can get through to you, and you never come to the phone.’

He grinned. ‘Tonio’s doing well. He’s my assistant, and he has strict instructions to conceal the fact that I’m not there.’

Their eyes met. She didn’t have to ask any questions. He’d done this to be with her. She knew that and he knew she knew it.

‘How did you get away without being seen?’ she asked.

‘The hotel has an underground passage. The car took me to the airport, where my plane was waiting. Tonight I’ll go back the same way.’

‘I see. A shrewd business move. That’s very smart.’

‘I am very smart, aren’t I?’ he said, apparently considering this seriously. ‘With any luck, the other side will have given in by then, impressed by my stern refusal to negotiate.’

‘You’ll make any sacrifice for your business, won’t you?’

He grinned. ‘Come here.’

Elise called the agency to cancel the cleaners and they had twelve perfect hours, undisturbed by the world. She wouldn’t have believed herself capable of such recurring passion as she discovered that day. It was as though she’d been given a new body to replace the jaded, disillusioned one she’d had before. No matter how often he reached for her, she was ready for him, vibrantly alive as though the earlier times had never been.

What had happened, she wondered, to the beliefs with which she’d been reared-that sex was only beautiful as a part of love, and that to really enjoy it the two of you must grow close in heart and mind?

What she felt for Vincente was burningly intense, but it wasn’t love. Love was the sweet and tender feeling she’d known long ago, never to be repeated. The delirious pleasure she knew in Vincente’s embrace was something apart.

Briefly she considered trying to engage him in conversation so that their minds could meet, but the time was passing, and when he touched her she forgot everything else but what he could do to her flesh.

It wasn’t love but it was a new life and, for the moment, it was enough.

At last it was time for him to depart, slipping away under cover of darkness and leaving her achingly bereft. After that she listened to the radio, which duly reported the moment that ‘the well-known entrepreneur, Vincente Farnese, finally agreed to resume negotiations, much to everyone’s relief.’

Three days later he called to say, ‘I’m back. Can I come over?’

Once more Vincente took her by surprise, arriving on her doorstep with his luggage and still wearing his travelling clothes. Clearly he’d come straight from the airport, and seemed only half awake.

Elise sat him down at the table, ready for the supper she had prepared. He ate it slowly, occasionally talking about his time in Sicily after his return. She formed a picture of endless conferences, working breakfasts, late night sessions, half an hour of sleep snatched here and there.

‘I’m made that way,’ he said when she mentioned this. ‘I can manage on little sleep taken now and then. It’s a great help in my business.’

‘Hmm. Well, you look awful,’ she said frankly.

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘But I’m capable of doing the important things. Let me prove it to you.’

Taking her hand, he led the way into the bedroom. They undressed without preamble and lay down on the bed. Elise was suddenly nervous. It had been so glorious before and she’d spent so much time remembering, anticipating. How could anything live up to those fantasies? He would need to be a superhero, and that was a dangerous way to think of any man.

But her hopes were high as she felt him caress her to draw out her response, although she was almost ready before they began. She ached for this, so when he laid his head against her breast and his hands mysteriously stopped moving, she knew a stab of disappointment.

‘Vincente,’ she said, giving him a little shake. ‘Vincente.’

Another shake made him move-not much, but just enough to show her his face, revealing that her worst fears had been realised.

He was asleep.

At first she wanted to scream her vexation and frustration to the world, but then the sight of his softened features caused a surge of tenderness to go through her. She tightened her arms about him so that he settled into a more comfortable position, still with his head resting on her.

Somewhere in her mind a voice spoke, warning her that this was dangerous. The frantic hurly-burly of sex was something she could manage, and relish. But this treacherous sweetness was too much like the feeling she’d known with Angelo, and which she’d sworn never to know again. It was weakness, and she would no more yield to it than she guessed Vincente would himself.

But as long as they were both clear on that point, perhaps there was no harm in a little indulgence.

She smiled, drawing him closer still.

He slept without moving for three hours, while she felt her heart melt. She had no regrets about losing their passion. Tenderness was a more than fair exchange.

Elise dozed and awoke to discover him already awake, taking up exactly where he’d left off. As she moved against him he raised his head, meeting her eyes and inviting her to share the joke. And it was a joke, the funniest joke that had ever made her gasp with pleasure, so that mirth and passion blended into one, in the sweetest experience of her life.

‘Time for the real world,’ Vincente sighed as they lay together afterwards.

‘And that big shareholders’ meeting you’ve got coming up,’ she said.

‘How did you know about that?’

‘I’ve been reading the financial papers-purely to improve my Italian, you understand.’

‘Naturally.’

‘You’ve got a big fight on your hands, but you’re going to face them down.’

‘Without a doubt. I learned a lot of useful things in Sicily. When I’ve processed them I’ll be ready. Until then I’ll virtually have to live at work.’

‘So I’ll see you again when your meeting’s over-if I can find the time.’

His hand was working between her legs again. ‘I think you’ll find it,’ he murmured.

She didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth it.

She relished their battle of wits. It added spice to what would otherwise have been a one-dimensional relationship. She knew now that his need to make love to her was as fierce as her own answering need, and surviving until after his meeting was going to test her patience.

So it was a special pleasure when he cracked first.

Elise answered the phone and his first words were, ‘Can you ride a horse?’

‘Yes, I love riding, but I haven’t any gear with me.’

‘There’s a shop in the Via dei Condotti.’ He gave her the name, saying, ‘You’ll get the best there. How good a rider are you?’

‘I like a quiet mount.’

‘Fine. I’ll collect you tomorrow morning.’

He hung up.

It would have been nice to be able to tell him that for once he’d got it wrong, but when she entered the shop she found it as good as he’d claimed. This was annoying for a brief moment, then exhilarating as she plunged in, emerging with clothes that set off her figure to perfection.

‘You don’t think the jodhpurs are a bit tight?’ she asked cautiously.

‘They are certainly figure-hugging,’ the assistant conceded, ‘but the signora can risk wearing what others could not.’

Which was a polite way of saying that they hugged her behind provocatively.

‘I’ll take everything,’ she said.

Vincente was driving his own car when he arrived next morning, having called first to say he expected her to be waiting on the front step.

‘Yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir,’ she’d recited.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Never mind. English joke. I’ll be there.’

‘Very good,’ he said as they drove away next morning. ‘I barely had to pause. That traffic attendant was ready to become very difficult.’

‘Difficult with you? Nonsense! He wouldn’t have dared.’

He didn’t reply but, glancing sideways, she saw him grinning.

‘I’m amazed you could spare the time,’ she observed as they headed out into the countryside. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be living at the office?’

‘Not a good policy. It could make the enemy think I’m worried.’

‘Good, good,’ she said, nodding. ‘You’ve probably got a photographer at the stables to take a picture showing how relaxed you are.’

‘Now that’s a trick I missed. Never mind, a man can’t think of everything.’

‘I thought you prided yourself on being able to do just that.’

He gave a crack of laughter. ‘You caught me fairly there.’

After a moment he said quietly, ‘I hope you know I wouldn’t impose a photographer on you without warning. You might not believe it, but I have enough manners for that.’

‘You’re right,’ she said demurely. ‘I wouldn’t believe it.’

He gave a shout of laughter. ‘I’m not that bad, am I?’

‘Is this place very far?’ she asked wickedly.

‘All right, for the moment I’ll let you snub me. You’ll change your tune when you see your mare. I chose her specially for you.’

‘So you think you can dictate that for me as well?’

Vincente grinned. ‘Wait and see.’

By now they were out in the country and a few minutes later they turned down a long lane that led to a riding stable. A groom led out an elegant dappled mare and introduced her to Elise as Dorabella.

‘But we call her Dora, ’he explained. ‘She prefers it. She’s very friendly. Signor Farnese said she would be just what you wanted.’

And she was. He’d even managed to get this right! But Elise was too preoccupied with stroking Dora’s nose and receiving a nuzzle in return to take exception.

Vincente’s mount was a magnificent stallion called Garibaldi, with fire in his eyes and impatience in his step. They set out together, but soon Elise sensed that Vincente and his mount were equally impatient to let rip.

‘Why don’t you take the edge off him first?’ she said. ‘I’ll go at a more gentle pace.’

He was away like the wind, while she took Dora up on to a slight incline from where she could watch him. Garibaldi leapt, soared and pounded the ground with a fierce vigour that echoed that of the man on his back.

Now they were out of sight, but after ten minutes she saw them again in the distance, racing with an exuberance that was almost violent.

‘I’m glad we didn’t go in for any of that,’ she told Dora, stroking her neck. ‘Why don’t we-oh, no!’

The cry was wrenched from her as Garibaldi soared over a fallen tree, then faltered, twisting in the air and hurling Vincente to the ground before heading down after him. For a terrible moment her inner eye saw the horse’s bulk landing on Vincente and crushing him to death. It seemed that nothing could prevent it, but then, with a mighty effort, Vincente managed to throw himself out of the way of the animal, then collapsed.

Elise galloped to where he was lying on his face, frighteningly still. She jumped from Dora’s back and knelt beside him, but he didn’t move.

‘Vincente!’ she cried frantically.

A groan was the only answer, but then, to her intense relief, he gave vent to a stream of curses as he began to push himself up with his arms.

But almost at once he gave up the effort and rolled on to his back.

‘You’re badly hurt,’ she said worriedly. ‘I’m going to get an ambulance.’

‘No ambulance,’ he said, suddenly fierce. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Where are the horses?’

‘There,’ she said, pointing. Garibaldi had survived the fall unhurt and was nibbling grass, with Dora close by.

‘Take them back to the stables,’ Vincente told her, speaking in painful gasps, ‘and fetch the car here.’

He could hardly move but as she made to get to her feet his hand shot out and gripped her.

‘No ambulance,’ he repeated. ‘You tell nobody. Promise.’

‘I’ve got to tell them the horse fell. He might need treatment.’

‘Him, not me. Promise.’

‘I promise-for the moment.’

Elise pulled free and ran to the horses, mounting Dora and taking Garibaldi’s reins. Back at the stables, she handed the animals over with a brief explanation, then ran for the car and in a few minutes was on her way back. She was frantic with fear lest he should have collapsed completely.

She found him sitting on a large stone, where he’d evidently dragged himself with a good deal of pain. He was clutching his side and gasping but managed to force a smile when he saw her stop the car close to him.

‘What did you tell them?’ he grumbled, grimacing.

‘Never mind that now. Put your arm around my neck. It’s only a couple of steps.’

She helped him stagger to the car and stretch out on to the back seat.

‘What did you tell them?’ he repeated.

‘Just enough to make sure they got a vet for Garibaldi. I said you had only a few bruises.’

‘Are you sure?’ he demanded suspiciously, clutching the back of her seat and hauling himself up.

She lost her temper. ‘Sure I’m sure,’ she yelled over her shoulder. ‘They asked why you weren’t coming back and I said it was because you were a miserable, ill-tempered so-and-so who couldn’t bear anyone to see him when he looked silly. They accepted that without question.’

He gave a grunt. ‘Fine.’

‘I’ll have you home in a minute.’

‘Not my home,’ he said quickly. ‘Yours. I don’t want to be seen by anyone who knows me. Just let word get around that I’m in this state and the jackals will start closing in on me.’

‘All right.’

Vincente collapsed back into his seat and said no more until they reached home, where he forced himself to limp to the lift without help, except for holding her hand. Through that contact she could feel the effort it cost him. He was trembling and the sweat stood out on his brow, and it was a relief when the doors opened to reveal nobody in the corridor and she was able to get him inside her apartment, unnoticed by anyone. There he collapsed again on to the sofa.

‘You need a doctor,’ she said.

‘I told you-no.’

‘Why all this mad secrecy?’ she demanded, exasperated.

‘It’s not mad, it’s essential. You know about the shareholders’ meeting, how important it is. There are going to be arguments that I have to win. I’ve got to be at my best, no sign of weakness.’

‘Too bad if you pass out,’ she snapped. ‘Of course they may not take that as a sign of weakness.’

‘Heaven save me from a managing woman!’

‘Heaven save you from your own stupidity! Vincente, listen to me. I’m not going to argue. You need treatment and I’m going to call someone, either a doctor to come here or an ambulance to take you away. Your choice.’

He glared at her. ‘You’re making a fuss about nothing.’

‘When a doctor tells me that, I’ll believe it. What’s your doctor’s number?’

‘Elise-’

‘It’s that or the ambulance, and you have ten seconds: nine, eight-’

‘All right! I’ll call the doctor myself-’ he yelled, before muttering under his breath, ‘so that you don’t make it sound as though I’m dying.’

‘Hah!’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I’ll say what I want to when he gets here and you won’t stop me.’

‘Cane dei to morti!’ he raged.

‘Anything you like,’ she said, recognising the curse. It had been one of Angelo’s favourites, and was an extremely rude comment about ancestors and their likely burial sites. ‘Now get on that phone.’

He did so, scowling at her in a black rage.

‘He’ll be right along,’ he growled at last, hanging up.

‘I’ll help you get undressed and into bed.’

‘Thank you,’ he said in a quieter voice.

‘Why have you stopped snarling at me?’

‘Because you weren’t taking any notice,’ he admitted wryly.

‘Then you’re quite right not to waste time on it. Put your arms around me and I’ll help you up.’

Vincente made no further argument, but allowed her to take him into the bedroom, where she stripped him down to his under-pants and settled him in bed.

‘I’m sorry I shouted at you,’ he said at last. ‘Sometimes I’m a bit-’

‘I know you are. More than a bit. Lie still.’

The doctor arrived ten minutes later. He and Vincente were old friends and said what they liked to each other. He conducted an efficient examination and snorted. ‘You’ve got off lightly,’ he said. ‘A twisted ankle and you’ve pulled a couple of muscles in your back, which probably hurts like the devil but isn’t serious. A couple of days in bed should do a lot. I’ll send a nurse in.’

‘No nurse,’ Vincente said at once. ‘I don’t want strangers.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Elise said.

‘Thank you,’ the doctor said. ‘You’ll just have to wait on him generally and be a maid of all work.’ He glanced wryly at Vincente, adding, ‘If you can stand it, signora.’

‘Maybe he’ll have a tough time with me,’ she said lightly, and received Vincente’s wry look of appreciation.