Veretti’s Dark Vengeance

CHAPTER SIX

NOW Helena spent all her time at Larezzo, learning everything, eagerly absorbing information, enjoying herself as never before.

Her employees loved her for her passionate interest, her determination to protect the factory at all costs, but also the fact that she had the good sense not to interfere.

‘Not yet, anyway,’ she promised them. ‘My time will come. For the moment I’m just going to watch you, and concentrate on making some more money to invest. No more bank loans. They’re not safe.’

The cheer that greeted this told her just how well-informed her employees were. There was another cheer when she added, ‘I may have to do some more modelling for the sake of our future.’

One of her workers was heard to murmur that she should have sold out to Salvatore, but was quickly silenced by the indignation of the others.

‘Perhaps you should fire Jacopo,’ Emilio sighed. ‘You know what he’ll be doing now, don’t you?’

‘Reporting back to Salvatore,’ Helena deduced accurately. ‘Let’s give him something to report.’

After that things happened faster than she could have imagined. Leo, the young designer and her ardent fan, gladly accepted her instructions to create a piece resembling Salvatore’s head, but done to resemble the devil, with pointed eyebrows and horns.

‘How long will it take to produce it in glass?’ she asked him.

‘A couple of days if I work fast.’

‘Wonderful. I thought it took you ages to produce your creations.’

He winked. ‘That’s what I tell Emilio to boost my pay.’

‘You forgot you’re talking to the boss,’ she teased him.

He made a comical gesture of despair, and they laughed together.

‘Do this for me and I’ll pay you a bonus,’ she promised.

Emilio shared the joke when she told him.

‘That boy’s a wizard,’ he confirmed. ‘He’s created pieces in less than two days when we’ve had a sudden crisis.’

‘What kind of crisis?’ Helena wanted to know.

Suddenly the kindly manager was embarrassed.

‘Ah-well, it was a long time ago-’

‘You mean before Antonio met me, and was still sending glass tributes to other ladies,’ Helena supplied.

‘Something like that,’ Emilio said vaguely.

She sighed in apparent disillusion. ‘And there was I, imagining that he must have lived like a monk. Don’t worry, Emilio. I have no illusions about Antonio. He was dear to me as he was.’

Emilio looked relieved and soon found something else to do.

The glass head was a masterpiece, unmistakeably Salvatore, despite the extras.

‘Are you going to send it to him?’ Emilio asked.

‘Certainly not. I shall just leave it here, in plain view, where Jacopo can find it easily.’

They didn’t have to wait long. A few hours later Jacopo was observed slipping into Salvatore’s factory. Next day he returned to work in a scowling temper.

‘Salvatore sent him away with a flea in his ear,’ Helena guessed.

‘That doesn’t sound like him,’ Emilio said doubtfully.

‘I think it does.’

‘Don’t forget he fights to win.’

‘Unless he knows he can’t win,’ Helena murmured mysteriously.

From Salvatore there was no word. He seemed to have gone to ground, meaning that he was more dangerous than ever.

One evening, as she reached the hotel the desk clerk told her that a parcel had been left for her. In her room she unwrapped it and sat gazing in awe at its beauty.

It too was a head, but not a recognisable one. There were no distinct features, just a general air of beauty and fair hair streaming back. Any woman would be proud to believe that a man saw her that way.

There was no note or any sign to show who’d sent it, but she called Salvatore, and he answered with a speed that showed he’d been waiting. As soon as she heard his voice she said, ‘I give in.’

‘What-exactly-does that mean?’ he asked with exaggerated caution.

‘It means you’re better at this than I am. It means you wrong-footed me. It means thank you, it’s beautiful.’

‘I hoped you’d like it,’ he said warmly. ‘Are you free to have dinner with me tonight? I know a restaurant that I think you would enjoy.’

‘That sounds lovely.’

This time there was no gondolier. Salvatore came to the hotel on foot. By chance Helena was looking out of her window and had a long view of him approaching. She watched as he crossed a small bridge, pausing at the top to lean on the rail and look out over the lagoon.

She drew back, enjoying the chance to study him without his knowing. Hostility apart, she had to admit that with this man nature had distributed her gifts unjustly. There were better men in the world, good, civilised men with kindly natures, who deserved the best. Yet women would overlook them in favour of an arrogant schemer, who couldn’t be trusted an inch, for no better reason than that he seemed to embody all masculine attraction in himself.

From this distance she could see what hadn’t been so clear before, that his legs were long like an athlete’s, and he moved with a careless grace that almost, but not quite, concealed his power.

At the thought of that power a tremor of excitement ran through her, warning her that she’d started on a dangerous road. She wanted him. She was honest enough to admit that to herself. She wanted that body and whatever it could offer to her own body. She wanted his hands on her, touching her intimately in the places that he’d brought alive just by his presence, and bringing them even more alive by the skill of his caresses.

Her head was on guard against him, but her flesh refused to be cautious. Nature had designed him to give her pleasure, and she would make him fulfil nature’s purpose or live desolate for the rest of her days.

While she watched he straightened up and turned to finish the journey to the hotel. A few moments later she went down to greet him with a bland smile that gave no hint of the turmoil within.

He escorted her a short walk to a tiny restaurant, where he led her out into the garden and towards a small table in the far corner, lit only by a candle and a few fairy lights overhead.

‘Did I make a good choice?’ Salvatore asked. ‘Of course it’s not a fine, luxurious place-’

‘All the better for that. It’s charming. Thank you for not trying to overwhelm me with finery.’

‘That would be very foolish of me, wouldn’t it? I can’t compete with “Helen of Troy”.’

‘So you know about that?’

‘Yes-finally. Everyone else in Venice seems to have known about it first. And I must admit, you tried to warn me that there was something I didn’t know, but I just charged on, didn’t I? And I got my just deserts.’

She studied him for any trace of irony, but failed to find it. While she was still trying to make her mind up a waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne.

‘The very finest, signor, just as you said.’

‘Don’t be fooled by the modest appearance of this place,’ Salvatore told her. ‘Their cellar is the best.’

When the waiter had gone he raised his glass to her.

‘I salute you,’ he said. ‘And I congratulate you.’

‘Shouldn’t I be congratulating you for the neat trick you pulled?’

‘I never intended to pull one. Jacopo isn’t in my pay. He used to work for me, but I fired him for laziness. He got a job with Larezzo, but I gather it doesn’t pay so well, and he persuaded himself that he could get back into my good books by spying on you. I’ve never encouraged him, but when he saw that head he took a picture of it and hurried to see me, saying I was being slandered.’

‘Slandered? How?’

‘That head shows me as the devil.’

Helena’s lips twitched. ‘Yes, but where’s the slander?’

He grinned. ‘Thanks, you’ve just confirmed what I thought. You didn’t leave it out by accident. Jacopo was supposed to find it. In fact, he did exactly what you meant him to-which is what men usually do, of course.’

She smiled and moved in closer so that he could feel her breath on his face, murmuring softly, ‘You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?’

She saw by his face that she’d given him precisely the hard time she’d intended. His voice was shaking as he moved towards her and replied, ‘No answer necessary.’

He laid his lips softly on her cheek, let them drift to her mouth for the lightest possible touch, and withdrew.

‘You just proved it,’ she whispered.

‘Did I?’

‘That was what I meant you to do.’

‘Your wish is my command.’

Helena groaned. ‘Here’s the waiter.’

They sat in well-behaved silence while he refilled the champagne glasses, laid out the menu and made a few suggestions. By the time he left the moment had passed, and they sipped champagne with perfect propriety.

‘To let you enjoy the full extent of your victory,’ Salvatore resumed, ‘I’ll tell you that when I realised how financially successful you must have been for years I was appalled at my own temerity in daring to challenge you. How I could have been so deluded-?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ she said, doubled up with laughter. ‘You don’t fool me with that stuff.’

‘Well, I thought it was worth a try,’ he said, abandoning the act and adding his laughter to hers.

A frisson of excitement went through her, making her heart beat with apprehension. How could she have forgotten that laughter was the most dangerous thing on earth between a man and a woman? More perilous than desire because more likely to spring on you suddenly.

She was helplessly off-guard now, caught in the delight of feeling their minds in tune, even if only briefly. It was almost a relief when the waiter returned and they got down to the serious business of ordering.

Suddenly he said, ‘If I’m honest I’ll admit that I’m glad we’re at a standstill, because that means you’ll stay in Venice. And I really want you to stay.’ He met her eyes. ‘You’re not going to ask me why, are you?’

‘No, I’m not going to do that.’

‘We have unfinished business, and I don’t mean the glass factory.’

She hadn’t meant to give him the satisfaction of agreeing, but she found herself nodding. It was almost as though he’d hypnotised her into wanting whatever he wanted. But in truth she knew that the spell came from within herself as much as from him.

‘Tell me,’ he said after a moment, ‘were you really going to release that devil head to the public?’

‘Of course not. I knew you’d get to hear of it, but I hadn’t expected your answer to be so neat. I’m going to treasure that lovely piece.’

‘I hope you’re going to give me mine.’

‘Actually I thought I’d auction it,’ she said mischievously. ‘It should raise a fortune.’

‘Try it. Just try it.’

‘What would you do? Sue me for violating your personal copyright?’

His voice was soft and vibrant.

‘There are many things about you that trouble me, Helena, but that’s the least of them.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ She met his eyes and was stunned almost to silence by the unmistakeable message she found there.

‘Am I still doing what you meant me to do?’ he asked.

‘Definitely, but since it’s mutual we can say that battle honours are even.’

‘So far,’ he pointed out.

‘Yes, so far. The preliminary skirmish has been interesting, but it’s not the whole war.’

‘Perhaps the part that’s still to come won’t be a war,’ he suggested.

‘Oh, I think it will. More fun that way!’

He nodded. ‘My own feelings exactly. So why don’t I start by making a raid on enemy territory? I think I’d better come back with you tonight, and secure possession of “my” head.’

‘Yes, it is rather revealing, isn’t it?’

He raised his glass.

‘To a long-a very long-truce,’ he said.

‘Armed truce?’ she asked, raising hers.

‘Whichever you think most enjoyable.’

‘Armed, then.’

They clinked again.

She wondered what he was really feeling, and if he even knew the answer himself. They were both playing a game, but she was ready, and what counted was whatever was interesting.

And the coming night was going to be very interesting.

As Salvatore had said, the restaurant’s modest appearance was deceptive. It served the very best Venetian cuisine, and Helena was soon deep in delicious choices, risotto with asparagus, risotto with pumpkin, braised beef with Amarone wine.

‘You’ll at least admit that Venetian cooking is the best in the world,’ Salvatore urged, watching her, eyes alight with humour.

‘I’m not sure I could go that far,’ she said in a tone of serious consideration. ‘I’m afraid the closest I could come would be to say-that it’s the best I’ve ever tasted,’ she finished wickedly.

‘That’ll do for now.’

‘But Venetian glass is different. That, of course, is definitely the best in the world.’

It was the perfect choice of subject. As she’d hoped, he began to tell her about the interest they shared. It was something Antonio had tried to do, but he lacked a feel for history and he hadn’t made it live as Salvatore did easily.

‘Venice stands poised between east and west,’ he said, ‘and in many ways it’s a city of the east. In the thirteenth century, when Constantinople was sacked during the crusades, some of the fleeing glass workers came to Venice, bringing with them techniques that made the world wonder, and beauty that had never been seen before.

‘They were soon among the most important citizens in the Venetian republic. They could wear swords and do almost anything without fear of prosecution.’

‘Ah, I see!’ she said knowingly.

‘Just what do you think you see?’

‘That kind of power might affect some people. They’d start to feel they’d always be free to please themselves.’

Salvatore nodded, conceding her point.

‘And you think such arrogance might have continued to the present day?’ he asked with an air of innocence that would have fooled anyone but her.

‘Sure to, I’d say. Remind you of anyone you know?’

‘Possibly my great-great-grandfather, Claudio Veretti. He married into a noble family, which was common, as they were in great demand, owing to their privileges. The family originally owned the palazzo, but since they were spendthrifts it soon passed into my ancestor’s hands.’

‘And naturally he changed the name and put his stamp on it,’ Helena supplied.

‘Naturally. In those days people of affluence didn’t marry for love. They married to create more wealth, and what’s the point of doing that if you can’t advertise the fact?’

‘Is that meant to be a dig at me?’ she asked suddenly.

‘What?’

‘People of affluence marrying to create more wealth, which is what you assumed I did-’

‘No! Helena, for pity’s sake, I thought we’d put that behind us. I was wrong, I know that now. You didn’t marry Antonio for his money. You didn’t need to. The Press said you amassed a fortune during your modelling career.’ He saw her raised eyebrows and hastened to say, ‘I looked you up recently on the internet. The information wasn’t much, it didn’t even mention that you had married Antonio-’

‘Nobody knew. We wanted to be left alone.’

‘Antonio didn’t even tell his family.’

‘I think he knew you wouldn’t approve of me.’

Sensing the approach of danger, he veered off hastily.

‘As I said, little information but plenty of pictures. I practically watched you grow up, from pretty to beautiful to astounding. I guess that’s why Antonio fell in love with you.’

‘Not according to him. He didn’t know me as a model. I’d already given it up when we met. I couldn’t stand the life any longer. I wanted something else so I fancied myself as a businesswoman.’

She gave a little choke of laughter.

‘Talk about delusional! I nearly let myself get conned out of every penny by a trickster. Luckily Antonio was staying in the same hotel and knew the man by reputation. He stepped in and saved me. That’s how we met.’

She elaborated on the story, deliberately emphasising the details that made Antonio look wise and herself look foolish.

‘The rest of the world saw me as a powerful woman who could have everything she wanted. Antonio saw me as a daft female, in need of male protection. In an odd way that’s what attracted me to him. Shockingly unliberated, but I found I liked it. He thought I needed looking after. Nobody else ever did. For two years we looked after each other.’

She fell silent a moment, gazing into the distance with a faint smile on her face. Salvatore caught his breath as he realised this was the look he’d seen before, when she went into another world, from which he was barred.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked gently.

‘About him, the way he was, the silly things he used to say, the way we laughed together.’

Helena looked up suddenly and he was relieved to see that she was back with him.

‘Don’t be sad,’ he said impulsively.

‘I’m not. I’ll always have him.’

She waited while the waiter cleared the course away. Not until she was contemplating coffee and cheesecake trifle did she say, ‘I wish you’d talk to me about him. What was he like when he was younger? And don’t be embarrassed to tell me about his conquests. There can’t be many that he didn’t tell me about himself.’

‘He told you?’

‘We were very, very good friends.’

Suddenly a drop of water landed on her hand. Then another.

‘It’s raining,’ Salvatore said. ‘We’d better get inside.’

They scuttled in and found a seat to finish their wine. Salvatore spoke to someone on his cell-phone.

‘The boat will be here in a minute,’ he said.

‘I hope it’s a nice, sheltered motor boat,’ she said, for now the rain was pelting down hard.

‘No, it’s a gondola.’

‘A gondola-in this?’ She waved her hand at the window.

He grinned. ‘Wait and see.’

She understood as soon as the boat arrived. A small cabin had been fixed on the top, made of a ceiling and corner supports, clipped to the side of the boat, with curtains around the four sides.

‘Of course,’ she exclaimed. ‘It has a felze. Antonio said that at one time all gondolas had them so that people could travel in privacy, but now they’re not seen very often.’

‘No, these days the passengers tend to be tourists, who want to look out at the view, and a felze would get in the way.’

The gondolier pulled back the curtains on one side and reached out to help her in, while Salvatore steadied her from behind until she dropped down among the cushions. Then he was there beside her, drawing the curtains against the rain.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, reaching out in the near-darkness.

‘Yes, I think so-whoa!’

The sound was jerked from her as the boat cast off, rocking vigorously so that she reached out and clasped him.

‘The wind is making the water a little rough,’ he said. ‘Hold on to me.’

She did so, and felt his arm go beneath her neck, then tighten, to draw her closer to him. In the darkness his mouth touched hers and she thrilled at the sensation, moving her lips against his, inviting him eagerly.

She felt his hand at the front of her blouse, pulling the buttons open, finding the slip beneath, moving further, discovering that she wore nothing under the slip, leaving him free to caress her breast with fingers that were both gentle and skilled.

He knew exactly the right touch to give maximum pleasure, and he used it ruthlessly to tease her nipple to hardness, after which he laid his lips between her breasts. She knew he must be able to feel her heart pounding. There was no way of concealing what he was doing to her, and she didn’t try.

Instead, she paid him back in kind, letting her fingers find the place at the back of his neck where she knew he was sensitive. She’d learned it last time and now she used it to the full, relishing the sensation of his response, which he could no more hide than she could hide her own. He drew back a little, gazing down on her, his breath coming harshly.

‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered.

At once he dropped his head so that his mouth was against her neck, leaving a trail of heat and excitement wherever it moved. Her neck was long, swan-like, and he paid it the tribute of total attention, taking his time, not moving on until he was sure of her pleasure.

‘Helena…’ His voice sounded as she had never heard it before.

‘Yes,’ she murmured.

But suddenly there was a slight bump as the gondola came to a halt.

‘We’ve reached the hotel,’ Salvatore said raggedly. ‘We have to become respectable citizens again.’

She clutched him. ‘I’m not sure I can manage that.’

‘Neither am I, but we’ll have to pretend.’

He began to fasten her buttons. His hands were shaking.

‘I think I’m just about ready,’ she breathed.

‘Then come with me.’

Somehow they managed to walk sedately into the Illyria and across the lobby. In the elevator they stood side by side, not daring to touch each other until they were safely in her room. Then it was unsure which of them moved first, but they were in each other’s arms, kissing fiercely, desperately.

He began pulling away her clothes, tossing them onto the floor. The buttons on his shirt opened easily, revealing the chest beneath, thickly haired, rough to the touch, exciting.

There were no lights on in the room but outside the room lightning was beginning to flash. Boats passed, their lights gleaming through the windows, then gone again. Here in the bedroom her body flared into new life with every touch.

She leaned back until she could feel her own long hair touch her waist, while his kiss went lower, between her breasts, and she clasped her hands about his head, unable to suppress a groan of pleasure.

The warmth that suffused her went to every extremity, melting her will, making it one with his own until she had nothing left to hope for except that this should last for ever.

Which was exactly what he’d wanted.

The words were like a shriek in her head, warning that this was still and always a struggle for supremacy, and their fierce sexual attraction was simply another weapon for each to use against the other, at its most deadly when at its most glorious.

Her violent excitement began to die as a chill of doubt went through her. It was so long since a man had taken her to bed that now she faced the prospect like a virgin. She’d enjoyed the mounting passion, the teasing and enticement, but as she neared the moment of truth she knew she was afraid.

‘What is it?’ he asked, feeling her grow tense.

‘Nothing, it’s just-give me a moment. No-no!’ The cry was drawn from her as she felt his lips against her skin again. ‘Let me go.’

He released her so suddenly that she staggered and had to clutch him to avoid falling. Desperately she realised that her legs were now too weak to support her without his help.

‘You pick this moment to say let you go?’ he demanded harshly.

‘I can’t help it,’ she gasped. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t go on. This isn’t-what should be happening.’

‘I’d love to know what “should be happening” according to that cunning little brain of yours. Look at me!’

He gave her a little shake that forced her to meet his eyes with their look of grim condemnation.

‘What should be happening, Helena? Should I just trail forlornly away like a whipped puppy because you’ve decided against me? If you thought that you were deluding yourself. I’ve warned you before not to take me on. You were very foolish to ignore that warning.’

‘It’s not as you think-’ she cried.

‘Be glad you don’t know what I’m thinking right now. It would make you shiver. Who did you think you were dealing with?’

‘It’s just that I’m not quite ready-’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me. You knew what was going to happen when you walked through that door. You knew before that, in the gondola, back at the restaurant-unless I misunderstood what we were talking about.’

‘Let go of my arms,’ she said desperately. ‘Salvatore, I mean it. Let me go now.’