‘Now listen up, Signor Foscari!’ she said firmly, turning around to face Lorenzo. ‘I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, or why, for that matter, you’ve told your insurance company that you’re “content” to continue with me as your bodyguard. But there’s going to be no more nonsense from you, like that which occurred last night. Right?’
Lorenzo put down his cup of coffee, leaning back in his chair, allowing a long silence to develop as he gazed with a bland, enigmatic expression at the girl standing across the room.
‘I am quite prepared to “listen up”, as you put it,’ he said at last. ‘However, maybe we should first clear the air. No? Because I now wish to tender my complete, unreserved apology concerning that...er...unfortunate incident.’
‘You do?’ Antonia blinked at him warily.
‘There is, of course, no excuse for anyone losing their temper,’ he stated firmly. ‘I can only imagine that my lapse of good manners was due to a more than usually exhausting business itinerary, and possibly the fact that I was tired after a long day’s travel.’ He waved a hand dismissively in the air. ‘My behaviour was, of course, highly regrettable. However, I can assure you that it will never happen again.’
‘You’re damn right it won’t!’ Antonia snapped, slightly thrown by the fact that he appeared to be taking full responsibility for what had happened.
She’d fully expected a difficult if not highly acrimonious interview with this man, and had indeed braced herself to face it. But, now that he’d freely admitted having been well out of order, she wasn’t quite sure where to go from here. Buried in thought, Antonia was not aware of the blue eyes glinting with amusement as he viewed the girl standing stiffly by the window.
‘May I suggest that we both do our best to forget the whole unfortunate affair?’ he murmured soothingly. ‘Especially, as I am quite prepared to give you my word of honour that such an incident will never occur again.’
‘Well...’ She eyed him warily.
‘And may I further suggest that you come and sit down—and join me for a civilised cup of coffee? It is rather difficult to try and hold a conversation with someone who is standing on the other side of the room,’ he added, accompanying his words with a warm, friendly smile.
Smooth charmer! Antonia told herself, grimly acknowledging the skill and dexterity with which he’d managed to so airily dismiss his rotten behaviour.
Having been determined to be fully in charge of this interview, she now had a disturbing feeling that she was, in fact, dancing to this man’s tune.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was wrong. All the same ... Antonia had the distinct feeling that she’d be well advised to keep her wits about her in any future dealings with Lorenzo Foscari.
However, there was clearly nothing to be gained by standing stiffly over here by the window, like a stag at bay. Nor, to be honest, did she wish to have any further discussion about that disturbing kiss last night. Particularly since she was still thoroughly mystified and very cross about her own behavior—let alone his! So, if he was intent on casually dismissing the incident as one of no real importance, it might be a sensible move to follow his example.
‘How do you like your coffee, Miss Simpson?’ he asked as she moved slowly over the carpet towards him.
‘With milk and no sugar,’ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the small table.
As he lifted the jug, Antonia studied the man in front of her.
There was clearly no justice in this world! Because, while she’d spent a virtually sleepless night—and was now feeling distinctly the worse for wear—Lorenzo looked as if he’d had an uninterrupted eight hours of refreshing, blameless sleep.
Unfortunately, something strange seemed to have happened to her last night. In the past she’d guarded some famous and very handsome men, but Antonia had never had a problem ignoring their manifold attractions and concentrating on her job.
Gazing at Lorenzo’s formal white shirt and blue tie, she was suddenly startlingly aware of the way the thin, silky material was clinging so tightly to his muscular torso, emphasising the broad shoulders and slim waist of an extremely fit man.
As he put down the coffee pot and began folding up the newspaper, she found herself staring, mesmerised, at the slim gold watch encircling one of his strong wrists, and at the long, tanned fingers of his hands. Hands which had, only some hours ago, been moving enticingly over her body, and...
For heaven’s sake—you’ve got to get a grip on the situation! she shouted silently at herself, hurriedly raising her cup of coffee to her lips.
‘Well, now...’ Lorenzo murmured, leaning back in his chair and regarding Antonia from beneath his heavy lids, noting her flushed cheeks and her obvious determination to avoid catching his eye as she stared blindly down at the tablecloth.
Quite what it was that he found so intriguing about this young, highly aggressive woman, he had no idea.
Apart from those startlingly large, clear grey eyes, and an occasional glimpse of an enchanting smile, she certainly wasn’t a classical beauty. And, while he was now well aware of the attractions of her slender body—particularly her narrow waist and those warm, deliciously firm breasts—she was obviously not interested in drawing attention to her tall, slim figure.
Clothed in a very severe if undoubtedly smart navy blue suit over a crisp white shirt, she was wearing the minimum of make-up, with her shoulder-length blonde hair brushed into a neat, shining bob, and curling under what could only be called a most determined chin.
Moreover, Antonia Simpson had clearly never found it necessary to use basic, feminine wiles to achieve her ends. He was rapidly coming to realise that this was definitely a lady who possessed attitude with a capital ‘A’!
And it was that last point which he found surprisingly refreshing.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been in the best of moods last night, and thus hardly likely to appreciate her extremely efficient way of handling problems-such as the traffic hold-up on the road leading to the Albert Hall.
Of course, that was before he’d had the pleasure of holding her in his arms. And what a revelation that had been! But, leaving that aside, he was now beginning to think that there was a lot to be said for her ‘Let’s have everything up front’ approach to life. At least everyone knew exactly where they stood! And it certainly made a pleasant change, he told himself ruefully, from the emotionally exhausting problems currently disturbing his private life, in Milan.
‘Well?’
‘Hmm?’ he murmured, before realising that she was waiting for him to speak. ‘Ah, yes. I wanted to tell you that I received a phone call from Italy late last night. The purpose of the call was to inform me that, acting on a tip-off, the police in Rome were closing in on the man who has been issuing threats against my life.’
‘You mean...?’
He nodded. ‘It looks as if it is merely a question of time before he is apprehended. And, since it now seems highly unlikely that Giovanni Parini will suddenly appear here in Britain, my insurance company has agreed to step down the level of protection.’ He shrugged. ‘Apparently, I am now in the low risk category, merely requiring a single bodyguard and driver.’
‘Well, I imagine you must find that a great relief,’ she told him, wondering why she wasn’t feeling more elated at being let off the hook. ‘I’m sure Worldwide Security will have no problem in providing you with a fully competent man, and—’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ he interrupted sharply. ‘I was explaining why I informed the insurers that I was prepared to continue with your services.’
She frowned.
‘Quite frankly, Antonia,’ he told her with a grin, ‘I really don’t think I can face any more disruption in my life. We may have had a rocky start but at least we do, I hope, now understand one another. And the thought of having to accustom myself to living cheek by jowl with yet another stranger is more than I’m prepared to
contemplate.’
‘Well...’
‘So—do we have a deal?’
She shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose we do,’ she answered slowly. ‘I’ll stand down the other guys, and make arrangements for a professional driver and limo to be on call at all times.’
‘Excellent!’ He smiled across the table at her.
‘I’ll need to have a full itinerary of your likely movements for the next few days, of course. And I don’t want to have to put up with any nonsense. Such as trying to sneak out of the hotel behind my back,’ she added grimly. ‘If you want to go to a nightclub, or entertain a woman in your room, I’ll make sure I’m fairly invisible, and that you’re not disturbed. But you must let me know what you’re doing. OK?’
‘Really, Antonia!’ he drawled coldly. ‘I’m hardly the sort of man who’s likely to behave like that.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ She gave a caustic laugh. ‘We’ll see! Believe me, I’m no longer shocked or surprised by some of the antics which even the most staid pillars of society can get up to. Some of the things I’ve seen would make your hair curl!’
Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, his dark brows creased in a frown as he studied the girl seated across the table. It was clear that this young, attractive woman was used to dealing with the very rough, sordidly unpleasant side of life. A fact which, for some strange reason, he found particularly distressing.
‘I think it might be a good idea for you now to tell me
something about yourself,’ he said at last. ‘You must admit
that this is an unusual situation,’ he added with a slight smile as she quickly raised her eyes towards him. ‘What may seem entirely normal to you, in the course of your job, seems, for the ordinary members of the public like myself, a very strange way to earn your living.’
‘Yes, well ...I suppose you have a point,’ she muttered, before once again having the wind taken out of her sails as he announced that he already had full details of her past experience, training with the SAS, et cetera.
How the heck did he find out all that, in such a short space of time? Antonia asked herself grimly. Lorenzo must have moved like greased lightning to have dug out that sort of background information. Which was just one more reason why she’d be well advised to keep a wary eye on this man, who was clearly a very slippery character.
Determined now to play her cards close to her chest, Antonia merely commented, ‘It sounds as though you’ve been rather busy this morning.’
He shrugged. ‘I am, of course, regularly in touch with my office in Milan. So it was a very simple matter to ask my secretary to produce the information I required.’
‘Hmm...’ Antonia murmured sceptically, well aware that since it was now only nine o’clock in the morning this man’s poor secretary must have been ousted from her bed at an unearthly hour. Digging out that sort of high-security information would have undoubtedly taken some considerable time.
‘OK,’ she said, putting down her cup and leaning back in her chair. ‘What exactly do you want to know?’
‘Well ...I do find myself wondering why a very attractive woman would want to spend her days looking after rather dull businessmen such as myself,’ he drawled coolly. ‘In many ways, I would have thought it a very boring job.’
‘Some clients are more dull and boring than others,’ she retorted dryly.
‘Touche!’ he laughed, not bothering to pretend that he hadn’t recognised her acid comment on his behaviour last night. ‘But I understand that you do not solely work as a bodyguard. Correct?’
‘Quite correct,’ she agreed, before explaining that she now had her own private security firm, the development of which was taking up an increasing amount of time.
He nodded. ‘Yes, I can see that might be a good business move on your part,’ he commented, before lapsing into silence for a moment. ‘However, it occurs to me that, as a woman, you must surely be in demand by Middle Eastern clients, wishing to protect their wives and daughters?’
‘Yes, I’ve done quite a lot of that sort of work in the past. However, I’ve now decided that I’m not temperamentally suited to jobs of that nature.’
‘But surely it must be a constant and rather easy source of income?’
She shrugged. ‘Yes, it’s lucrative. But, quite honestly, I can’t stand all that shopping.’ When he lifted a dark, quizzical eyebrow, she added, ‘Close-protection work with Middle Eastern ladies mainly consists of visiting the shops in Knightsbridge or Bond Street.’
‘That doesn’t sound so bad,’ he grinned.
Antonia shook her head. ‘No, believe me—you’re wrong. It’s an absolute nightmare! There you are, travelling with an entourage of anything from half a dozen people to a busload of friends, nannies, and often hordes of children as well.’
‘Good heavens!,
‘Oh, that’s not all,’ she grinned. ‘There are also the ser
vants, who have to be watched like a hawk. They are taken along to order food in restaurants, hold the shopping bags and, most important of all, to look after their mistress’s designer handbag, which will be crammed with thousands of pounds’ worth of fifty-pound notes. And it’s the money in the handbag which is the real headache,’ she added with a heavy sigh.
He frowned. ‘I don’t quite see...’
‘Unfortunately, it isn’t just a matter of guarding the life of the senior Arab wife,’ she explained. ‘It’s also absolutely crucial, that I quickly work out which servant is going to be holding the money. Because every criminal in London is only too well aware that a large, noisy crowd of Middle Eastern ladies will be carrying huge amounts of cash. And, for a well organised gang of thieves, they present an unbelievably easy target.’
‘Ah!’ He gave her a warm, infectious smile. ‘So it seems that shopping is now off the menu.’
She nodded. ‘As I told one of my colleagues just the other day, I’d be quite happy if I never set eyes on Bond Street ever again.’
As he gave a bellow of laughter and she found herself grinning in response, it was a moment or two before Antonia quickly pulled herself together.
For one thing, she really shouldn’t be discussing such matters with a client. And for another ... well, there was no doubt that she was instinctively relaxing beneath his warm, charming smile. Unfortunately, Lorenzo Foscari was far too attractive for his own good—and hers!
‘Well, Miss Simpson...or may I call you Antonia? Because I think we have gone beyond such formal civilities, don’t you? So I suggest that, in private, we call each other by our Christian names.’
She gave him a reluctant nod. ‘OK, I’ll go along with that.’
‘Good. Now, I am sorry to have to tell you, Antonia, that I am about to spoil your day. Because I am intending to visit Bond Street, in order to buy my niece a small present. Possibly a nice string of pearls? Maybe...’ He gave her another warm smile. ‘Maybe you’d be kind enough to give me some advice?’
Taking a deep breath, and doing her very best to ignore the insidious, subtly beguiling warmth of his smile, Antonia enquired as to the exact age of his niece. When he told her that the girl was only just sixteen, and spending the summer in Cambridge at a language school to improve her English, Antonia quickly shook her head.
‘If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I think your niece would consider “a nice string of pearls” rather boring. Far too middle-aged. I mean, it’s the sort of thing she would expect her mother to be wearing,’ Antonia explained as he gazed at her with a slightly puzzled frown.
,At her age,’ Antonia continued, ‘I’d have appreciated something not so expensive, and far more cool. Maybe an up-to-date watch from Cartier? Or, perhaps, a modern piece of jewellery from Tiffany’s might be a better choice?’
‘I can see, my dear Antonia, that you are going to Prove an invaluable asset during my stay in this country!’ he laughed, rising to his feet. ‘Therefore, if you can bring yourself to face Bond Street yet again, let us go shopping!’
&n
bsp; CHAPTER FOUR
LEAVING the crowded suburbs of London well behind them, and with the A10 motorway opening up before her, Antonia put her foot down hard on the accelerator.
It was the sort of early, bright sunny morning when the English countryside was looking its best. Still damp and sparkling with dew, the patchwork quilt of green fields of wheat and barley, interspersed with woodland and meadows, lay spread out on either side of the road, beneath a brilliant blue sky.
Antonia suddenly felt a rush of pleasure at the prospect of leaving the hot, crowded streets of London. It was many years since she’d visited the ancient university city of Cambridge. And they were obviously going to have perfect weather for the trip.
Glancing briefly at the man sitting beside her, who appeared to be studying the passing countryside with some interest, she found it almost impossible to suppress a broad grin.
Only a few days ago, she’d have been prepared to bet a large sum of money on the fact that Lorenzo Foscari, that oh, so macho Italian, would have preferred to slit his throat rather than allow himself to be driven anywhere by a mere woman!
However, she’d been astounded when, after following his instructions to hire a comfortable sports car—’There’s no point in attempting to drive through those narrow English roads in a huge great limousine!’—he’d casually tossed the keys to her, earlier this morning, before lowering himself into the passenger seat of the top-of-the-range Porsche.
‘Good Lord!’ She grinned at him. ‘This is a turn up for the books, isn’t it?’
He raised a dark eyebrow. ‘I see no reason why you should be so surprised,’ he murmured, casting an approving glance at his bodyguard’s cream linen trousers and matching jacket, over a pale sage-green silk shirt.
‘Well...’ She struggled to keep her face straight. ‘If you’ll forgive me for saying so, Lorenzo, you don’t exactly strike me as a man who’d be prepared to accept a female chauffeur!’
Mary Lyons - The Italian Seduction Page 6
