STRANGELY, it wasn’t entirely a surprise to find him there. Some part of her knew that he would never be far away. But she would have given anything to understand the expression in his eyes. There was wariness, and something that was almost calculation, but there was also frank desire. The combination intrigued her.
‘How long have you been there?’ Elise whispered.
‘Only a few moments. I knocked on the front door but there was no reply, so I used the key just once more. I’ll leave it here, at the side.’
‘What time is it?’ she asked.
‘Just past seven.’
‘I’ve slept that long?’ she demanded, startled.
‘I think you needed it. I didn’t want to awaken you.’
She pulled the sheet up higher, vibrantly conscious that she was wearing nothing beneath it. He had only to tug at the material and her nakedness would be revealed. The thought made her skin tingle, and although she clutched the sheet she was also tempted to release it.
‘Don’t hide from me,’ he whispered. ‘There’s nowhere to hide.’
‘Isn’t that for me to say?’ she asked with a touch of rebellion.
As she spoke she tightened her hand on the sheet, but he didn’t try to take it from her. He merely laid his hand on the outside and ran his fingers lightly across her breasts, then let them drift to her waist, where he paused.
He had the cunning of the devil, she realised. The sheet might as well not be there for all the protection it gave. She felt the soft caress of his fingertips back and forth across her stomach and waited for them to go down further, while her heart raced and the breath danced in her throat.
Why didn’t he pull the sheet down and touch her bare skin? But then she knew that he was waiting for her to do it, signifying that she had weakened first. It was a battle of wills and she was damned if she would let him win. But how long could she hold out while her blood raced with excitement? She knew he must be able to read her face.
But then, just when she could feel her will beginning to yield, rescue came in the form of a knock on the outer door. He snatched his hand away, muttering something she couldn’t catch, and walked out quickly, closing the door behind him.
For a moment Elise could do nothing but lie there, her whole body trembling, stunned by what had happened and what she had so nearly done. Suddenly she forced herself to move, scrambling out of bed and groping frantically for something to put on. Anything would do as long as she was dressed before he returned.
She found a pair of elegant black trousers and a white blouse. Then she brushed her hair vigorously and left it loose. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her dressed up elaborately. When she was satisfied that her appearance suggested casual indifference, she walked out.
And was taken completely by surprise.
Voices were coming from the kitchen. There she found Vincente and a young man laying out containers of food on the table. They were just finishing as Vincente signed a paper, sending the young man on his way.
‘I see you’re a really great cook,’ she said, amused. ‘All ready prepared.’
‘You do me an injustice. Only the side dishes were prepared by others. The meat I shall cook myself.’
She didn’t believe him, but he was as good as his word, preparing Abbacchio alla Romana—pieces of suckling lamb cooked until brown, then roasted in a sauce of garlic, rosemary, vinegar and anchovy. He did this himself, waving away her offer of help.
‘If you want to be useful, you can lay the table,’ he said.
The china was fine and hand-painted, set off by heavy cut glass and silver cutlery. When they were ready to eat he delayed a moment to say, ‘I’ve brought you a mobile phone. You’ll need it.’
‘But I have one.’
‘This is an Italian phone,’ he said, as though that explained everything.
It was exquisite—top of the range, with every latest gadget and several numbers already inserted for her use.
‘Those are my numbers at home and at work,’ he indicated. ‘That one is a lawyer whom I’ve asked to make some arrangements on your behalf. I dare say you’ll feel I assumed too much in doing so, but you may find them convenient.’
‘Thank you,’ she said non-committally. ‘And I promise not to disturb you at work. I wouldn’t dare.’
‘I hope you’ll call me if you should need help.’
Elise accepted because it would have been churlish not to. Besides, it really was a lovely object and she had a weakness for high-tech toys.
He served dinner with the skill of a waiter, laying every dish before her with a flourish. There was a series of wines, a different one for every dish, each one perfectly chosen.
They kept the talk light over dinner. He told her about his firm, the branches it had in many different countries. When she asked him about the Palazzo Marini he shrugged and made a wry face.
‘My grandfather bought it to show how far he’d travelled from his poor beginnings. My father wore himself out trying to keep up the pace and that’s why he died in early middle age. Then it was my turn. Luckily, I’m more like my grandfather.’
‘You admire him?’
‘He was a great man, perhaps a little too focused on work at the expense of people, but he did a lot of good for Italy.’
Vincente went to fetch more wine. When he returned she was standing by the window with the lights dimmed, looking out over Rome, which was bathed in floodlight. He filled two glasses and came to stand behind her.
‘Do you recognise anywhere?’ he asked, handing her a glass.
‘So many places, but they all look different now.’
He moved closer and she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
‘Everything is different, even in the last few months. I’ve often wondered if you’ve thought of me as I’ve thought of you.’
‘Are you expecting me to answer that?’ she asked lightly. ‘Or do you already know?’
‘What you really mean is, am I conceited enough to think I already know? No, I’m not that sure of myself. I won’t know the answer until I make love to you.’
She turned slightly, glancing at him sideways.
‘Don’t be so certain that you’ll ever make love to me.’
‘But I will. I must have you in my bed, to see if it compares with the times it’s happened in my dreams.’
Elise tried to answer but something had happened to her breath. She too had had dreams in which they achieved the union denied them months ago, after their first blazing few hours.
‘We came so close once,’ he murmured. ‘Do you remember the night we were one step away from making love?’
‘It wouldn’t have been love-making,’ she said quickly.
‘True, but if I’d said “having sex” you’d have thought me a vulgarian.’
‘“Sex” would have been the truth.’
‘Yes, by all means, let’s be truthful. Let’s say that when I held you against me I had to fight the temptation to strip every last stitch off you and see if your body was as beautiful as my senses were telling me it was.
‘And then, let’s be really truthful and say that this is what you wanted me to wonder, which is why you were naked under that dress.’
‘It was too tight for underwear, and you made me wear it.’
‘And do you always do what a man tells you to do? I don’t think so. You wore it knowing how it would affect me, and it did just that. It made me want you as much as you meant it to, and it lured me into being over-confident, which I think you may also have meant.’
She smiled. ‘Is that what I was thinking?’ she said softly.
‘Let’s say you were enjoying the joke at my expense. When I ran my hands over you through that silk you knew I was relishing every detail, picturing your nakedness, determined to see every beautiful inch of you before the evening was out.’
Softly he added, ‘You played games with me.’
Elise took a sip from her glass and set it down, turning to face him.
‘Not entirely,’ she said. ‘I didn’t lead you on for the pleasure of rejecting you, if that’s what you’re saying. I was sincere, but then—’ She broke off and made a helpless gesture. ‘Suddenly it felt a terrible thing to do.’
‘Terrible to satisfy yourself? Or was it me you didn’t want to satisfy?’
‘Perhaps I just didn’t want to put it to the test. After so long—’ She let the implication hang in the air.
‘That’s important,’ he agreed. ‘You need exactly the right man, enticing you to pleasure subtly. It would be a difficult choice.’
She was surprised into a choke of laughter. ‘Are you suggesting that I’m lining up candidates?’
‘You wouldn’t have to. They’re already in line. I saw them at Ben’s funeral, watching you, wondering if they had a chance. I doubt if Ivor was an isolated case. Even the delivery man who came here tonight gave you an appreciative look, and me an envious one.’
Vincente was telling her that they had come to the end of pretence. She would have known that anyway from the rapid beating of her heart, the warmth that pervaded her.
It was slightly shocking to discover that she could want a man for sex alone, but she couldn’t even deny it to herself, although she made one last desperate attempt.
‘It wasn’t the only reason I pushed you away,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You spoke once of freedom and said that only I could know what it meant to me. For eight years I was Ben’s prisoner, hedged in by his petty, spiteful demands that controlled my life. Now I’m free of him, but there’s more than one kind of prisoner—’
‘But I don’t want to be your gaoler,’ he said, understanding her at once, ‘only for us to find a new kind of freedom together. Trust me.’
The last words were full of perils, but he swept them away by simply laying his mouth over hers. For a moment they were both still, then his lips moved, not demanding but coaxing, teasing. That was her undoing. She could have resisted arrogance but gentleness lured her on, so that she moved her own lips in response, teasing in her turn, sensing his response, as helpless as her own.
She felt his arms go around her so that her head fell against his shoulder and he was kissing her in a way that was almost old-fashioned, as part of an enveloping embrace. It was natural to put her own arms about him and let her hand find its way to the back of his neck, caressing it with longing. Her lips fell apart and his tongue invaded her, moving with subtle skill, as though he’d been here before and knew all about her.
Once before, in the nightclub, she’d seen him as the devil, and now the thought was there again, for how else could he have known that the flickering of his tongue in just that spot could send scurries of pleasure through her? Or perhaps it was his unseen presence, living with her like a ghost ever since, and silently learning her secrets.
But after this there would be no more secrets. This was her last chance to run for cover, because once he’d taken possession of her she would be his, irrevocably. Every instinct she had warned her to escape now, while there was still time.
But there was no time. That moment had passed long ago, and now she was merely living out decisions taken deep inside her, in the still of the night.
He took her hand and led her into her bedroom. His fingers were at the buttons of her blouse, that plain garment with which she’d thought to assert her indifference. It vanished easily and his hand was cupping her breast while his lips made a light, burning trail down her neck.
When she reached out for his clothes he helped her, tossing them aside with relief, then quickly removing the rest of hers.
The sight of his nakedness made her realise how much she’d dwelt on the thought in the months since their first meeting. He was different from her expectations—leaner, more lithe, yet still with an air of power that had nothing to do with mere muscles. His arousal was clear now, a stark, unmistakable message, to which her own arousal was the answer.
Vincente drew her against him so that they stood, holding each other gently, as though waiting for something. His face was very close to hers.
‘Trust me,’ he murmured again and began to lead her to the bed, drawing her down beside him.
Elise reached for him blindly and felt him, hard and purposeful as a weapon in her hand. But he bided his time, kissing her breasts first and then beginning to kiss her everywhere. Now there was nothing she could do but trust him, yielding herself to the fire in her flesh that mounted, consuming her.
He’d promised her tender care and he was keeping his word. The touch of his lips and fingers was gentle, with nothing to alarm her. But now she was such a contrary creature that, far from appreciating his restraint, she felt as if he were torturing her. She wanted more than this—much more—and he was making her wait.
She tried to urge him on, using her hands to incite him. Everything in her screamed, Please—but nothing would prevail on her to yield that far. Instead she sent the message with every caress, every flickering touch—a silent demand for pleasure and fulfilment.
Stroking his back, she could just make out his spine, the flexing of his muscles, then the swell of his behind, which she enclosed and drew towards her. Understanding, he reached out to part her legs, but she was ahead of him, welcoming him between them. There was one last moment when she seemed to be poised on the edge of a precipice, waiting to know if she would fly or fall.
She felt him seeking entry—slowly, with devastating control, easing himself in, forward, giving her the time she needed. Little by little he became part of her, gliding in easily because she was moist with desire, ready for him, gladly accepting each new revelation. And suddenly she was soaring into the clear air.
Now he was deep inside her, moving slowly, withdrawing just enough to return, then repeating the movement with renewed power.
The ultimate moment was a revelation, telling her that her body had been made for this. The violence of her pleasure was almost scary, and scarier still was the need to yield to it—fierce, overwhelming. Years of control and caution fell away from her, leaving her free to become the woman she had always been at heart.
Elise gripped him hard, wanting to draw him more deeply into her, to take control of him until he became nothing but an instrument for her delight. When a man was this good, a woman had the right to his services, didn’t she? The right to take and demand until she was satisfied. And she would never, ever be satisfied because the craving to feel him inside her, moving fiercely yet subtly, creating pleasure where pleasure had never existed before, was an endless need.
The cry that broke from her as she reached the pinnacle was part triumph, part despair that the end was in sight. She arched upward, her arms about his neck, while they thrust against each other until the moment when they both had to recognise that it was over.
He laid her gently back on the bed, his eyes fixed on her face. His breathing was coming in harsh gasps and his eyes were a little wild. Somehow she sensed astonishment—not in his expression but in his whole body. Whatever he’d expected to find in her bed, he’d found something else.
She let out a yell that was half a laugh, closing her eyes again, then giving a long sigh of contentment. Suddenly the whole world was wonderful. When she opened her eyes again he was leaning on one elbow, regarding her with wry interest.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she cried, throwing back her head and arching upwards in delight. ‘I don’t know and it’s wonderful.’
‘As long as it’s wonderful, that’s all right,’ he said.
‘Do you know who I am?’
Vincente shook his head. ‘No, I no longer have any idea.’
‘No longer,’ she echoed, laughing. ‘That means you once thought you did, but you were wrong, d’you hear?’
‘Yes, I was wrong,’ he said quietly. ‘I was wrong.’
It was in the early hours when Vincente slipped out into the silent street, got into his car and drove away in the direction of the River Tiber. At last he stopped and went to lean over the side, looking out over the water to where the lights of the Vatican City gleamed against the dark, like the promise of blessing in a wicked world.
Regarding the beautiful scene, his heart full of recent joys, he yet found a darkness inside him that he couldn’t shake off. His flesh still seemed to burn with the intensity of his desire and hers, and the fulfilment she had offered that had been like no other in his life, but his mind was haunted and troubled.
‘Buon giorno, signore.’
Lost in his thoughts, Vincente hadn’t heard anyone approach. Now he turned sharply and saw a mean-looking, undersized man with sharp, glinting eyes.
‘Do I know you?’ he demanded.
The man gave a silent laugh. ‘Probably not. So many people who hire me choose not to know me later. I respect that, but I do like to check that my work was satisfactory.’
‘Oh, yes. You,’ Vincente said distastefully. ‘Leo Razzini.’
‘The same.’
‘I did hire you, but it was some time ago.’
‘It was a long job and a hard one, but I worked well for you, didn’t I? I found the lady and the fat idiot she was married to, and I helped lure him to Rome so that you could offer him a job. It should have been easy for you after that. Pity he had to go and die. Still, you managed to—shall we say?—“persuade” her here in the end.’
‘I advise you to shut up and leave,’ Vincente said in a hard voice.
‘Of course you despise me now. With the job done and the lady in your power, you can afford to despise me. But my work was satisfactory. At least admit that.’
‘If this is an attempt at blackmail I warn you to go no further,’ Vincente raged softly. ‘I have enough friends in the police to have you locked up for years before you could get anywhere near her.’
‘Signore, please!’ Razzini sounded genuinely hurt. ‘Blackmail is something I never indulge in. It wouldn’t be safe. Some of my customers have made much worse threats than yours, and I know they mean them.’
‘Then what the devil do you want?’
‘A kind word, perhaps. I live by recommendations. After all, I can hardly advertise my line of work, can I? So if you hear of anyone needing my services, you might put in a word for me. Tell them how many others you put on the job before me, and that I was the one who cracked it. That’s all I ask, apart from the very generous fee you paid me. I hope you feel I provided value for money.’
‘I have no complaints with your service,’ Vincente said harshly.
‘It was the right lady that I tracked down for you?’
‘Yes,’ Vincente snapped.
‘I’m glad of that, because it wasn’t easy. You couldn’t give me much information to go on, but I did my best, and it all fell into place in the end. Don’t the English have a saying—all’s well that ends well?’
Vincente clenched his hands and thought of murder.
‘Shut up!’ he snapped. ‘Shut up! And if you know what’s good for you, clear out and never let me see you again.’
It was disconcerting that her first thought on waking was of Vincente, as though he were still there with her in the bed, still possessing her body. But then she opened her eyes and found that it was day, and the early sun was streaming in, and she was alone.
Elise had a dreamy memory of him kissing her forehead before he left, which seemed strangely formal after what they had shared. But perhaps that was for the best. In the night they had become different people, and that quiet kiss had seemed to mark the return to their daytime selves.
Who would have thought she would return to Italy like this?
When Ben had dragged her away from Rome she could never have foreseen the way she had awoken on her first morning back, yawning and stretching luxuriously in the great bed.
She felt full of vigour, leaping up and plunging into the shower. She breakfasted on coffee, feeling no need of anything else, and hurried to get dressed. Her exhilarated mood had calmed and now she was thinking of Angelo again, wanting to see again the places where they had been together in a time when happily ever after had seemed possible.
He had been twenty, a charming handsome boy and a ‘poor student’, he’d always claimed, although he’d seemed to do little studying and always had money to spend. Elise had suspected the existence of a well-off family in the background who’d urged him to study, paid him an allowance but took little further interest.
But she’d been too much in love to spend much time puzzling about the discrepancies. He’d loved her. She’d loved him, and their shabby apartment had been a haven where nobody was allowed to intrude.
Before leaving she took out the cellphone Vincente had given her the night before and turned it off. Deeply as he’d affected her, today was Angelo’s and she didn’t want to be disturbed.
There were a dozen places to visit, but her feet seemed to find their own way through the streets to the great Trevi Fountain. It was as magnificent and beautiful now as it had been then, the great half circle dominated by the statue of Neptune. It was here that Angelo had urged her to toss in a coin and promise never to leave him, or Rome. And she had promised with all her heart.
But the very happiness of the memories made them terrible to face. The young man she had loved was still here, sitting by the water, laughing at her as she hurriedly sketched him. She was clever at drawing and he had told her that she must become a great artist.
‘Not me,’ she’d protested. ‘I can draw well enough for fashion but real art would be beyond my reach.’
It was true, but she had a facility for capturing a likeness. Her picture of him had caught his essence—not just his face but his air of anarchic humour. She remembered how they’d gone back to his room and he’d stretched out on the bed, watching her as she converted the sketch to a water colour. He’d been delighted when she gave him the finished picture.
‘I shall have it framed and hung in a place of honour,’ he’d vowed. ‘Now come here.’
He’d held out his arms for her to join him on the bed, and she’d forgotten the rest of the world.
That had been almost their last happy time. A week later Ben had arrived. Now she wondered if Angelo really had framed the picture, and what had happened to it.
She stood looking at the water sparkling in the sunlight. Nearby was a young couple, tossing coins, vowing to return to Rome and love each other for ever.
‘For ever,’ she murmured. ‘If they only knew.’
Before leaving the fountain she closed her eyes and spoke to Angelo in her heart.
I’m sorry, she said. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I never stopped loving you.
Suddenly her mind was filled with memories of the night before, when only Vincente had existed, and the warmth began to spread through her body again. She had loved Angelo passionately, but she had been an ignorant girl, with no knowledge of what a man’s skill could do for her, the heights to which it could drive her. She knew now that Angelo had been an unskilled boy, but she had loved him truly and never wanted more. Not then.
She shut off the thought. It was a betrayal of Angelo even to think of Vincente at this moment.
I love you, she told him again. Whatever—whatever happens, you will always be my true love.
Elise spent the next few hours going around the little cafés where they had been together, pleased to find so many of them still there. But in her heart she knew she was only putting off the moment she didn’t want to face, and finally she hailed a taxi and told the driver to take her to Trastevere.
She got out a short distance from the apartment and strolled through streets that had once been familiar to her. They were different, more prosperous. Some of the shops had been updated and when she went inside there were no faces that she recognised, although many of them had been family businesses.
The greatest shock was awaiting her when she came to the little street where the shabby buildings had huddled together. They were all gone and in their place was a building site, crawling with workmen.
‘Can I help you?’
The speaker was a middle-aged woman with a cheerful face.
‘I was looking for a place where I used to live,’ Elise said. ‘But it’s not here any more.’
‘That’s right. They’re spending money on Trastevere now, bringing it up to date. It doesn’t do to be sentimental about the old days.’
‘I suppose not. What about the people who used to live in this street?’
‘All rehoused. They won’t be back. These apartments will cost a mint when they’re finished. Whatever was here before has gone for ever.’
‘Yes, I can see that,’ Elise said quietly.
She walked away. There was nothing to stay for.