Italian Passion

by Jayne Castel

  Italian Passion

  Florentine Awakening

  Venetian Distraction

  Two more romance novellas, set in Florence and Venice, that will sweep you away!

  Jayne Castel

  All characters and situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  Italian Passion by Jayne Castel

  Copyright © 2013 Jayne Castel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Edited by Tim Burton.

  Cover photography courtesy of www.istockphotos.com

  Cover design by Jayne Castel.

  Visit Jayne’s website and blog: www.jaynecastel.com

  Follow Jayne on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/JayneCastel

  Florentine Awakening

  by Jayne Castel

  “Richard, I think Siena is the next stop.”

  Silence followed Vanessa’s words – the same silence that had followed almost every comment she had made since they had boarded the train in Rome.

  Vanessa Woods leant back in her seat and took off her sunglasses, fixing her boyfriend in a wintry stare. She had let every rude silence go so far, not wanting to spoil their holiday, but she knew that she could not let this continue; otherwise their entire week in Tuscany would consist of stony silences and hurtful glares.

  “Richard. Did you hear me?”

  Silence.

  “Richard!”

  “I heard you,” Richard lowered the novel he had been engrossed in since the journey began and frowned at her. “There’s no need to nag.”

  “I’m not nagging. If you’d answered me the first time, I wouldn’t have had to repeat myself.”

  “Can’t you see I’m reading?”

  “You’ve had your nose stuck in that book since Rome,” Vanessa felt anger, and a nauseating stab of fear, twist her stomach. “The least you can do is acknowledge me when I speak to you.”

  Richard’s cheeks flushed and his gaze narrowed further. Vanessa braced herself for the torrent of abuse she well knew he was capable of, but he was mercifully cut off when the crackling loud-speaker announced the train’s arrival into Siena.

  “Attenzione! Il treno è in arrivo alla stazione di Siena.”

  Not waiting for Richard’s response, Vanessa got to her feet and pulled their matching trolley suitcases down from the luggage rack. Then, without glancing at her boyfriend’s furious face, she followed the stream of passengers towards the doors. The train rumbled and hissed to a halt, before the doors creaked open.

  Vanessa stepped off the train into the bright spring sunshine with a hammering heart. She had not wanted to start their holiday off with a fight – she had been so looking forward to Tuscany. Now, with Richard’s anger boring a hole into her back, she felt tears welling.

  I was a fool to think a holiday together would change anything.

  She and Richard had been together for nearly two years, and had been living together the last four months. Richard was an insurance broker in Bristol, and Vanessa was a PA in the same insurance firm. They had met at work, and got together after a raucous Christmas party. Their first year and a half as a couple had gone so well that they had decided to take the next step and rent a flat together. However, things slid steadily downhill from there. Before they lived together, Richard had been the perfect, if at times distracted, boyfriend, but after they moved in together, he had become gradually more and more distant. Often days would pass with him barely speaking a word to her; and when she questioned him, more often than not he would lose his temper and end up storming from the flat.

  This holiday had been Vanessa’s idea. It had taken her weeks to convince him; only now, as the train pulled away from the platform and Vanessa turned to meet Richard’s angry, red face, she was beginning to think she had made a terrible mistake.

  “Come on,” Vanessa said brightly, flicking her straight blonde hair off her face and attempting to pretend they were enjoying themselves. “Shall we walk to the hotel? The guidebook says it’s a twenty minute walk, but it’s such a nice afternoon…”

  “We’re taking a taxi,” Richard replied shortly. He pushed past her and strode along the platform. He clove a path through a cluster of Japanese tourists, scattering them. Vanessa hurried after him, apologising as she went.

  Outside the station, Richard marched up to the first taxi waiting in the rank and barked the name of the hotel at the driver. Raising his eyebrows slightly, the elderly man lifted their trolley suitcases into the boot before opening the door for Vanessa.

  “Grazie,” she murmured – using the only Italian word she knew.

  “Prego signorina!” his wrinkled face broke into a warm grin.

  Inside the taxi, the air was decidedly chilly – although the coldness was nothing do no with the air conditioning, but rather the result of Richard’s disdain. As the taxi pulled out onto the main road leading into Siena’s centro storico, Vanessa glanced across at her boyfriend and felt her stomach twist once more. She could see he was fuming, and knew to expect a tongue-lashing once they reached their hotel room.

  Running an eye over Richard, Vanessa was shocked to find she no longer found him as attractive as she had during the early stages of their relationship. When they had first met his blond good-looks and tall, gym-toned physique had caught her eye immediately. She had liked his cool, nonchalant manner and dry sense of humour; although these days she found his face sullen and his brow creased with a perpetual frown. Whenever she enraged him, which was often these days, his face turned an angry beetroot-red.

  She knew better than to try and engage Richard in conversation when he was angry with her, and so Vanessa held her tongue and turned her gaze, instead, to the terracotta façades of Siena’s historic centre. It was as if they had stepped back into the past, into the heart of the Middle Ages; each street they passed through had managed to blend old and new – shop fronts nestled in between ancient stone walls, seamlessly.

  The taxi dropped them off in an ivy-draped backstreet in front of their pensione. Vanessa followed Richard inside, admiring the charming façade as she did so. The fact that it was crumbling just added to its beauty.

  Inside, a young woman with long dark hair and almond-shaped chocolate brown eyes greeted them at reception. Richard’s surly attitude vanished in an instant, and he gave the girl lingering smiles as she checked them in. Vanessa stood behind him, watching in horror as Richard flirted openly with the Italian siren.

  “What’s your name?” he asked with that half-smile that had wooed Vanessa in the beginning.

  “Maria,” the young woman smiled back, before busying herself with copying down their passport numbers into a ledger.

  “I’d heard Italian women were beautiful but you make the average English woman look like a frump. You could be a model you know.”

  Maria’s smile wavered and her gaze flicked over to Vanessa. Richard was making her uncomfortable.

  For her part, Vanessa had heard enough. She felt ill listening to Richard’s heavy-handed attempts at seduction; even if it was only designed to make her jealous. She stepped forward, deliberately, jabbing her elbow into Richard’s side as she did so and gave Maria a bright smile.

  “Good to meet you Maria. I’m Vanessa.”

  The warmth returned to Maria’s gaze before she handed both their passports back to Vanessa, and their room keys.

  “Lovely to meet you,” she replied in lightly accented English. “I hope you enjoy your stay. Your room is number 14 – it’s on the second floor.”

  Vanessa took the keys and, with
out even glancing at Richard, stormed over to the stairs, running over his foot with her trolley as she did so. She could hear his voice behind her, attempting to engage the receptionist in conversation once more while he waited for the lift. Vanessa ground her teeth, picked up her trolley suitcase, and marched up the narrow stairwell to the second floor. Finding their room, she unlocked the door and let herself in.

  The sight of it made her eyes fill with tears. It was gorgeous – a spacious room with a terracotta tiled floor, gauzy curtains and wooden shutters. A king-sized bed with white linen dominated the space. It was the perfect honeymoon suite for a loving couple, only she was here with a man who treated her like something he had just scraped off his shoe.

  Hearing his footsteps approaching along the tiled corridor, Vanessa fled into the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind her. Like the bedroom, the bathroom was immaculate, with expensive fittings. It had a large bathtub in one corner with a shower over it.

  “Vanessa!” she heard the door slam, and the hard edge to his voice.

  “I’m having a bath,” Vanessa shouted back, before switching on the hot tap and turning on the extraction fan to drown out his voice. “I’ll be out in a bit!”

  She could hear his muffled curses but deliberately shut her ears to them. Turning to look for some bubble bath to use, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. A small, curvaceous woman of around thirty, with straight blonde hair cut in layers around a heart-shaped face, and tear-filled blue eyes, stared back at her.

  This had been her dream holiday and if she could, she would get on the first plane home.

  Vanessa undressed, tears running down her cheeks. She filled the bath as full as she dared, using copious amounts of an orange and basil bubble bath, before piling her hair on the top of her head and climbing in. The hot water was a salve, soothing her raw nerves. Closing her eyes, she listened to the whirr of the extractor fan and the dripping of the tap, and wished that she would never have to leave this bathtub.

  Pink from her bath and wrapped in a thick, white towel, Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed and listened while Richard stormed around the room, ranting.

  Selfish, nagging, spoilt, demanding. The insults did not stop. He catalogued, in detail, all her transgressions since they had boarded the plane at Gatwick.

  You talk too much. You expect too much. You only think about yourself. You always want to be the centre of attention. After a few, half-hearted efforts to defend herself, which only made him angrier, Vanessa lapsed into silence.

  The late afternoon sun filtered in through the window and pooled on the terracotta tiles. Outside, a scooter puttered down the street; the noise of its engine vibrating off the ancient walls. Eventually, her vacant expression and glazed gaze, only served to make Richard turn nastier.

  “I can’t believe I ended up with such a moron,” he snarled, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door, “I suppose that’s what I get for shagging the company secretary. Find someone else to have dinner with this evening. I’m going out on my own.”

  Richard’s last words caused Vanessa to start.

  “What?” She jumped to her feet and followed him. “But we’ve just arrived. I thought we’d go out for dinner a later. You’re ruining our holiday Richard.”

  “I’m ruining it?” he turned on her. “Haven’t you listened to a word I just said? Have dinner on your own you selfish bitch.”

  With that he stormed from the room and slammed the door in her face.

  Vanessa stood in the centre of the room, stunned. Although Richard’s presence was starting to give her stomach ache, she could not believe he would go out for the evening without her. Still wrapped in her towel, Vanessa walked back to the bed and sat woodenly down on the edge.

  They had a week booked in Tuscany – two nights here in Siena followed by five nights in Florence. If things did not improve, it would end up being the longest week of her life.

  ***

  The sun shone through the car window and pooled on Vanessa’s lap. Reaching over, she pushed a button, and opened the front passenger window slightly, letting the whisper of a breeze into the car. Then, she glanced to her left, at where Richard was peering at the SatNav and felt some of the tension in her neck and shoulders ease. He either had not noticed she had opened the window slightly, or was too pre-occupied to care.

  Today had got off to a considerably better start than the day before. With any luck, she and Richard would enjoy their Tuscan holiday after all.

  The Fiat 500 nosed its way down the narrow cobbled street. Above the tumble of orange tiled roofs, the sky was robin’s-egg blue. It was a glorious morning, and they had just picked up a hire car and were off to the small, walled, medieval town of San Gimignano for the day.

  Last night, after she had dressed and put on a bit of make up to disguise the fact that she had been crying, Vanessa had gone out to explore Siena on her own. She had walked through the shell-shaped Piazza del Campo, where the locals held their famous horse race, the Palio, every summer; and visited the white and black-striped façade of Siena’s Cathedral. She had sat for a long while in Piazza del Campo, watching the locals stroll through the square, before the sun set in a blaze of gold and her stomach began to rumble. Not used to dining on her own, Vanessa had opted for a hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, where she could take away a slab of steaming hot margherita pizza with a can of soft-drink. She sat on a bench, enjoying her simple dinner, and watching as couples wandered past, hovering outside restaurants and gazing at the menus before deciding whether or not to dine there. Vanessa’s eyes had filled with tears as she watched them. That should have been her and Richard this evening. Instead, he was off most probably getting drunk, while she ate takeaway pizza alone.

  It was dark when Vanessa arrived back at the hotel and, avoiding Maria’s curious gaze, took the stairs back to their room – only to find it empty.

  Richard had returned after midnight, drunk and amorous. He barged into the room, switched on the light and stripped off his clothes, before climbing into bed and begging forgiveness. He said all the usual things, about how he had been stressed at work, about how she needed to make an effort to understand him better, and that he was sorry he had shouted and sworn at her, and that he would never do it again.

  Vanessa had been relieved by his change of mood, but not so grateful that she let him have sex with her. Despite that she accepted his apology, and even said she was sorry for upsetting him, sex was the last thing she wanted from Richard. He whined for a minute or two before the alcohol did its work, and he fell into a deep sleep. Yet, Vanessa lay awake for hours, staring up at the darkness and listening to the sound of Richard’s breathing.

  Was love supposed to feel this empty?

  Now, in the soft morning light, Vanessa was feeling much better. After a delicious breakfast of warm pastries and coffee in the hotel’s breakfast room, she was eager to explore some of Tuscany’s countryside. Richard was a good, confident driver who made an easy transition to driving on the right-hand side of the road and navigated his way through the narrow streets, and amongst the chaotic traffic beyond, as if he had always lived here.

  They drove into the countryside, through picturesque rolling hills carpeted with vineyards, olive groves and rows of bristling cypress trees. Vanessa spoke little, wary of breaking the newfound peace between them. Richard, likewise, did not make an attempt at conversation, save the odd comment about the passing scenery, and they reached San Gimignano without exchanging more than half a dozen words.

  Richard parked the Fiat on the outskirts of the town, just outside the medieval walls, while Vanessa retrieved a ticket from one of the pay-and-display machines nearby. As she waited for the machine to print out her ticket, Vanessa glanced up at the collection of medieval stone towers rising above her. They contrasted against the blue sky like ancient stone sentinels; there were so many of them that she could see how San Gimignano’s most distinctive feature had earned it the nickname, ‘the medieval Manhattan�
�. Vanessa’s spirits lifted further. She could not wait to explore this town.

  They spent the rest of the morning discovering San Gimignano; taking photographs, exploring back alleys and visiting the shops selling local pottery, wine and food. Eventually, they found a little trattoria at the top of the town to have lunch in. The restaurant was small, and run by a husband-and-wife team.

  “Sit down and I bring you the menu!” the wife, a short, broad lady wearing a white starched apron, beamed at Vanessa, ushering them to their table.

  Taking a seat on the narrow terrace in front of the restaurant, Vanessa’s gaze took in the view of tiled roofs and towers tumbling down to the city walls below, with a backdrop of green hills beyond. She sighed in pleasure – what a magical spot.

  They ordered lunch; bowls of home-made egg pasta with tomato and bacon sauce followed by green salads. They shared a carafe of local red wine with their meal, which was delicious – yet, as they ate, Vanessa felt some of the earlier tension between her and Richard return.

  They dined in silence. Whenever, Vanessa would glance Richard’s way, he appeared distracted, either gazing out at the view or checking his text messages. His phone buzzed constantly throughout lunch, until Vanessa started to clench her jaw. She had to fight the urge to snatch the phone and throw it onto the cobblestones below.

  “Who’s sending you all those texts?” she asked finally as the owner placed two dishes of tiramisu in front of them. “Surely not work?”

  Richard shook his head, his expression shuttered.

  “I mean, you hardly take any holidays,” Vanessa continued. “They should leave you alone.”

  “It’s not work,” Richard replied coldly.

  There was something in his tone that caused Vanessa to pause. She was about to try her first forkful of tiramisu but when her gaze met his, her stomach closed. She lowered the fork back to her plate, untasted.