Tall, Dark and Italian. Carol Marinelli
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expression was sceptical. ‘At nine-fifteen? I do not think so, cara.’
‘Don’t call me that.’ Tess was angry. ‘And it’s really none of your business what I do, signore. I’ll be at the gallery in the morning. If you have anything to say to me, perhaps you could save it until then?’
‘Tess!’
His use of her name was almost her undoing. His voice had softened, deepened to a dark, persuasive drawl. It caused a quiver in her stomach, an aching need that spread to every part of her body. Despite herself, emotions stirred inside her, and she had to lift a hand to the frame of the door to support her shaking legs.
But somehow, she found the words to say, ‘If this is your way of getting me to apologise for what I said to your mother, you’re going to be unlucky.’ She straightened her spine. ‘I meant what I said, and you can tell her from me that I don’t think much of the way she left without even closing the door behind her.’
Castelli’s brows drew together. Then, before she realised what he intended to do, he swept her hand aside and stepped across the threshold. She was forced to move out of his way to avoid coming into contact with his hard body and he used the opportunity it gave him to slam the door.
The sound reverberated round the apartment and she was gearing herself to demand that he get out of there, at once, when he said, ‘What the hell are you talking about? I did not even know you had met my mother.’
Tess’s lips parted. She didn’t want to believe him but there was something so convincing in his gaze that she couldn’t help herself. ‘I—she came to the gallery,’ she said stiffly. She lifted her shoulders. ‘I thought you knew.’
‘Well, obviously, I did not.’
‘No.’ Tess conceded the point. ‘I’m sorry. I naturally assumed that was why you were here.’
Castelli made a strangely defeated gesture. ‘Naturally,’ he said flatly, walking across the living room to stand staring down at the lights of the harbour below. ‘What other reason could there be?’
Tess caught her lower lip between her teeth. She would not feel sorry for him, she thought. That way lay danger. And, as she didn’t have a satisfactory answer for him, she indulged herself for a moment by pretending he really had come here to see her.
With his back to her, she was able to look at him unobserved and her eyes lingered on broad shoulders, shown to advantage in a close-fitting black polo shirt. His black drawstring trousers were tight over his buttocks but only hinted at the powerful muscles of his legs. Taken as a whole, his outfit didn’t look like something he would wear to a social gathering. Which meant what? That he had come here to see her, after all?
The breath she was about to take caught in her throat and all her bones seemed to melt beneath her. A purely visceral surge of longing gripped her, but before she could say something foolish, comprehension dawned.
‘Ashley,’ she said quickly before her panicked breathing could betray her. ‘You’re here about Ashley.’ She paused to take another calming gulp of air. ‘Have you found out where they are?’
He turned then, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants as he did so, tautening the soft cotton across his thighs. In spite of herself, Tess’s eyes were drawn there. She dragged them away again as he said, ‘No,’ in a flat, expressionless voice. Then, as if he too was finding it hard to speak casually, he continued, ‘Verdicci has had no luck in Genova. If your sister has hired a car, she has hired it under another name.’
‘Oh.’ Tess swallowed. ‘Could she do that?’
‘If she had an accomplice,’ replied Castelli carelessly. ‘Do you know if she has any friends here in San Michele?’
Tess shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know,’ she replied, sure that Ashley had never mentioned any particular friend to her. Certainly no one who might be willing to assist her in doing something that sounded vaguely illegal. ‘She’s only lived here for nine months. Hardly long enough to get that close to anyone.’
‘Except Marco,’ Castelli observed softly, and Tess felt his frustration. Then, his eyes intent, ‘Tell me about my mother. I assume she came to ask you about your sister. What did she say to upset you?’
Tess shrugged. ‘Why do you think she upset me?’ she argued defensively, and a faint smile tugged at his lean, attractive mouth.
‘You said that if I had come for an apology, I would be unlucky, no?’ he responded drily. ‘Please, humour me. I would like to know her reasons for speaking with you.’
Tess sighed. ‘Oh—you know. She thought I might know more than I’d said.’
‘That you might know more than you had told me?’ he suggested shrewdly, and she nodded.
‘Something like that.’
‘Mmm.’ He withdrew his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest, tucking his fingers beneath his arms. ‘I guess she was unhappy with the results I had achieved. Did she tell you what a disappointment I had been to her as both a husband and a father?’
‘No!’ Tess was shocked. ‘She didn’t say anything like that.’
‘But she did imply that I was to blame for allowing Marco to become involved with your sister?’
‘No.’ Tess shook her head. ‘It was Ashley she vilified, not you. Or Marco. She said that Ashley had corrupted her grandson. That he was just a child. And when I said that boys of sixteen were not considered children in England, she criticised that, as well.’ She paused. ‘You—you were hardly mentioned.’
Castelli was sardonic. ‘You disappoint me.’
‘Well, I’m sure she didn’t approve of you associating with me,’ Tess appended swiftly. She pressed her hands together at her midriff, aware that she’d changed into an old pair of denim cut-offs when she’d got home from the gallery and they were hardly flattering. ‘She probably thinks that I’ll corrupt you, too.’
Castelli regarded her with mild amusement. ‘Do you think that is possible, cara? I am not an impressionable boy to be dazzled by a woman’s looks. In my experience, a pretty face has a limited appeal. If I had to choose, I would pick brains over beauty every time.’
‘How noble of you.’ Tess couldn’t hide her bitterness. ‘Is that why your wife left you? Because she couldn’t live up to such high ideals?’
It was an unforgivable thing to say, but Tess refused to feel any remorse. She resented the fact that he’d come here, that he’d felt he had the right to force his way into the apartment on some pretext she had yet to discover. All right, the way she’d behaved on the beach had probably given him the notion that she’d be willing to do just about anything he asked of her. But that had been a moment of madness that she had no intention of repeating. Ever.
Castelli moved then and she had to steel herself not to put the bar that divided the kitchenette from the rest of the room between them. But all he did was rub his palms over his spread thighs. He seemed to be more thoughtful than angry. It was as if he was considering her words and deciding how to answer her. Perhaps she’d been a little too close for comfort, she thought eagerly, feeling a momentary surge of revenge.
When he said, ‘I do not wish to discuss my wife with you,’ she felt almost euphoric. And when he continued, ‘Her reasons for leaving me are not part of this equation,’ she was sure she had bloodied a nerve.
‘So I was right,’ she said, amazed at her own temerity. ‘You’re just like your mother and Maria. You Castellis think you’re never wrong!’
‘No!’ The word was harsh and angry and for the first time Tess was aware that they were alone. ‘You are not right,’ he said, coming towards her. ‘Gina and I did not separate because of any high ideals on my part. Not unless you consider the fact that she preferred to sleep in other beds than mine