A Venetian Affair. Lucy Gordon
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‘When I learned that you were hurt I wanted to come here at once to see you. But I had to wait while many photographs were taken, then drive to the Dysart home to congratulate the bride and groom, also to ask your mother her permission to visit you.’ Domenico smiled. ‘She is a charming lady.’
‘That she is,’ agreed Laura. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘At an inn called the Forrester’s Arms. You know it?’
‘Yes, it’s a nice country pub with good food, but a far cry from the Forli Palace.’
‘Non importa. A change is good, yes?’
‘It will certainly be that—’ She broke off as the phone rang, and excused herself to go inside to answer it. ‘Hi, Mother.’
‘Are you all right, darling?’ asked Isabel anxiously.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Is Domenico still with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How long is he staying?’
‘I don’t know. Are you ready to come home, then?’
‘Actually, Frances wants me to stay on for a while, so if you’ve still got company maybe I will.’
‘Stay as long as you like. Have fun. I’ll see you later.’ Laura put the phone down and went back to Domenico. ‘That was my mother, asking how long you’re likely to stay.’ She smiled coolly. ‘But you can go now, if you like. I’ll be fine on my own until she comes home.’
His face darkened. ‘You wish me to go?’
‘Not quite yet. First there are one or two things I want to say. As you said, it’s difficult over the phone—’ She broke off as rain began to fall and reached for the tape-player. ‘Grab your jacket and leave the rest. We’d better go inside.’
In the small sitting room Laura switched on lamps, waved Domenico to a chair and sat down on the sofa with her feet up.
‘So tell me these one or two things,’ he commanded, tearing his eyes from the length of bare brown leg on display.
‘First,’ began Laura, ‘when we became lovers I didn’t know who, or what, you were.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It was obvious from your apartment and your clothes that you earned good money, but I took it you were in some management job at the hotel. I had no idea that you owned it.’
‘I do not own it. The hotel belongs to the Forli Group, of which I am a part because I am family,’ he said, with the air of one explaining to a child. ‘I am in charge in Venice now because my father has retired.’ He threw out his expressive hands. ‘What difference does this make?’
‘Quite a lot to me. You live among the pillars and frescoes of the Palazzo Forli or in your smart San Marco apartment overlooking the Grand Canal.’ She waved a hand at the small, crowded room. ‘I live here, or in my tiny flat in London.’
‘So? I do not understand the problem.’
Her chin went up. ‘It’s not a problem any more. When we parted that last night I was moonstruck enough to think that a relationship of some kind was possible. But now I know the facts it’s out of the question. You lied to me, Domenico.’
He sighed impatiently. ‘I did not lie, exactly. It was so good to be with someone who seemed to like me for myself, I did not tell you—’
‘That’s not the lie I’m talking about. You said there was no woman in your life, yet according to Fen’s sister, Jess Forli, there is.’ Laura’s eyes stabbed his accusingly. ‘Admit it, Domenico, you said all that nonsense about falling in love just to get me into bed. And like a fool I fell for it.’
The translucent eyes narrowed to glittering shards of ice. ‘There is no other woman in my life. And I did not lie about my feelings for you.’ He got slowly to his feet and picked up his jacket, controlled fury in every move. ‘But if you can believe such things of me you are right, Laura. There is no possibility of a relationship between us.’
‘So why did you come here today?’
He smiled scornfully. ‘Do not imagine it was to discuss this boring subject of relationships. My visit is courtesy only, because you are injured.’
‘How very kind of you,’ she managed, when she could trust her voice.
He put on his jacket, suddenly a remote, elegant stranger. ‘Allora, I must go back to the Dysart home to wish the bride and groom well before they leave for their honeymoon.’
Laura led the way into the hall to open the front door. ‘Goodbye, then. Thank you for taking time to visit me.’
‘Prego,’ he said, shrugging.
‘Wait—I almost forgot. I have something for you.’ She went back into the sitting room to search in her handbag, then returned to him, holding out an envelope.
Domenico opened it, his face stony as he saw money. ‘Grazie,’ he said savagely, and thrust the envelope in his pocket. ‘Now you owe me nothing and you can be happy, yes? But tell me, Laura, if you had such harsh things to say, why did you not accuse me of these things at once and send me away?’
She smiled at him sweetly. ‘I was bored. Your company was better than none.’
His eyes glittered with outrage for an instant, then with a graceful, insolent bow he strode off through the rain to his hired car. An Italian model, Laura noted dully. Domenico liked to maintain his image at all times and in all places.
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