Latin Lovers. Helen Bianchin
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‘All right, I’ll wear it,’ Aysha conceded peaceably.
They skipped dessert, ordered coffee, and Aysha barely made her hair appointment on time.
‘No dinner for me, Mamma. I’ll just pick up some fruit. I had a late lunch,’ she relayed via the mobile phone prior to driving home. With the way traffic was moving, it would be six before she reached Vaucluse. Which would leave her just under an hour to shower, dress, tend to her hair and make-up, and be at Carlo’s apartment by seven-fifteen.
‘Bella,’ he complimented warmly as she used her key barely minutes after the appointed time.
Aysha could have said the same, for he looked devastatingly attractive attired in a dark evening suit, snowy white cotton shirt, and black bow tie. Arresting, she added, aware of her body’s reaction to his appreciative appraisal. Heat flooded her veins, activating all her nerve-ends, as she felt the magnetic pull of the senses. It would be so easy just to hold out her arms and walk into his, then lift her face for his kiss. She wanted to, badly.
‘Would you like a drink before we leave?’
Alcohol on a near-empty stomach wasn’t a good idea, and she shook her head. ‘No. Thanks.’
‘How was lunch with the girls?’
A smile lifted the edges of her mouth, and her eyes gleamed with remembered pleasure. ‘Great. Really great.’
Carlo caught hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘I imagine Lianna was at her irrepressible best?’
‘It was nice just to sit, relax and laugh a little.’ Her smile widened, and her eyes searched his. ‘Lianna is looking forward to kissing the groom.’
Carlo pulled back the cuff of his jacket and checked his watch. ‘Perhaps we should be on our way. Traffic will be heavy, and parking probably a problem.’
It was a gala evening, and a few of the city’s social scions numbered among the guests. The female contingent wore a small fortune in jewels and French designer gowns vied with those by their Italian equivalent.
Aysha mingled with fellow guests, nibbled from a proffered tray of hors d’oeuvres, and sipped orange juice with an added dash of champagne.
‘Sorry I’m a little late. Parking was chaotic.’
Aysha recognised the light feminine voice and turned to greet its owner. ‘Hello, Nina.’
The brunette let her gaze trail down to the tips of Aysha’s shoes, then slowly back again in a deliberately provocative assessment. ‘Aysha, how—pretty, you look. Although black is a little stark, darling, on one as fair as you.’
She turned towards Carlo, and her smile alone could have lit up the entire auditorium. ‘Caro, I really need a drink. Do you think you could organise one for me?’
Very good, Aysha silently applauded. Wait for the second Carlo is out of earshot, and... any minute now—
‘I doubt you’ll satisfy him for long.’
Aysha met that piercing gaze and held it. She even managed a faint smile. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’
‘There are distinct advantages in having the wedding ring, I guess.’
‘I get to sleep with him?’
Nina’s eyes glittered. ‘I’d rather be his mistress than his wife, darling. That way I get most of the pleasure, all of the perks, while you do the time.’
The temptation to throw the contents of her glass in Nina’s face was almost irresistible.
‘Champagne?’ Carlo drawled, handing Nina a slim flute.
The electronic tone summoning the audience to take their seats came as a welcome intrusion, and she made her way into the theatre at Carlo’s side, all too aware of Nina’s presence as the usherette pointed them in the direction of their seats.
Now why wasn’t she surprised when Nina’s seat allocation adjoined theirs? Hardly coincidence, and Aysha gritted her teeth when Nina very cleverly ensured Carlo took the centre seat. Grr.
The lights dimmed, and her fingers stiffened as Carlo covered her hand with his own. Worse was the soothing movement of his thumb against the inside of her wrist.
So he sensed her tension. Good. He’d sense a lot more before the evening was over!
The theatre lights went out, technicolor images filled the screen, and the previews of forthcoming movies showed in relatively quick sequence. The main feature was set in Paris, the French dubbed into English, and it was a dark movie, noir, with subjective nuances, no comedy whatsoever. Aysha found it depressing, despite the script, directorship and acting having won several awards.
The final scene climaxed with particular violence, and when the credits faded and the lights came on she saw Nina withdraw a hand from Carlo’s forearm.
Aysha threw her an icy glare, glimpsed the glittering satisfaction evident, and wanted to scream.
She turned towards the aisle and moved with the flow of exiting patrons, aware, as if she was a disembodied spectator, that Nina took full advantage of the crowd situation to press as close to Carlo as decently possible.
They reached the auditorium foyer, and Aysha had to stand with a polite smile pinned to her face as the patrons were served coffee, offered cheese and biscuits or minuscule pieces of cake.
‘Why don’t we go on to a nightclub?’ Nina suggested. ‘It’s not late.’
And watch you attempt to dance and play kissy-face with Carlo? Aysha demanded silently. Not if I have anything to do with it!
‘Don’t let us stop you,’ Carlo declined smoothly as he curved an arm along the back of Aysha’s waist. Tense, definitely tense. He wanted to bend his head and place a placating kiss to the curve of her neck, then look deep into those smoky grey eyes and silently assure her she had nothing whatsoever to worry about.
A slight smile curved his lips. Nina saw it, and misinterpreted its source.
‘The music is incredible.’ She tucked her hand through his arm, and cajoled with the guile of a temptress. ‘You’ll enjoy it.’
‘No,’ he declined in a silky voice as he carefully disengaged her hand. ‘I won’t.’
Nina recognised defeat when she saw it, and she lifted her shoulders with an elegant shrug. ‘If you must miss out...’
His raised eyebrow signalled her departure, and she swept him a deep sultry glance. ‘Another time, maybe.’
Aysha drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. Of all the nerve! She lifted her cup and took a sip of ruinously strong coffee. It would probably keep her awake half the night, but right at this precise moment she didn’t give a damn.
‘Carlo, come stai?’
A business acquaintance, whose presence she welcomed with considerable enthusiasm. The man looked mildly stunned as she enquired about his wife, his children, their schooling and their achievements.
‘You overwhelmed him,’ Carlo declared with deceptive indolence, and she fixed him with a brilliant smile.
‘His arrival was timely,’ she assured him sweetly. ‘I was about to hit you.’
‘In public?’
She drew in a deep breath, and studied his features for several long seconds. ‘This is not a time for levity.’
‘Nina bothers you?’
Aysha forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘She never misses an opportunity to be wherever we happen to go.’
His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘Were you ever lovers?’ she demanded, and a faint chill feathered across the