“I thought I'd take them to bed with me. Do a little reading. Is that okay?”
He nodded. “Of course. You think you're Italian is good enough to read them?”
“No. Problem.” She patted the magazines. “I can make out some of the headlines. And they're full of pictures. I should get a thousand words out of each picture - as they say.”
“If you want to read, I have some books in English - novels,” he said. “Perhaps that will be better for you.”
“These'll do fine.”
“Those are scandal magazines. I'm sure you're above all that.”
“I don't mind a little bit of scandal here and there.”
“I am surprised that this sort of thing would appeal to you.”
“It doesn't generally.” Genie fidgeted in an attempt to master her increasing discomfort. Ordinarily she would be caught dead with such garbage - especially after her outrageous exposure in “Celebs”. “Something to read, that's all.”
“Then a novel will be more fulfilling, no? More your level, I should think.”
“Thanks Lorenzo, but novels and I...well, once I start, I won't be able to put it down.” She shook her head. “I won't get any sleep at all then.”
He tried another smile in response. On a scale of ten, it might have just made a two. “Va bene. If that’s what you want.”
“Just for tonight. Perhaps I'll try one of your novels another time.” What is it, Lorenzo? Do these magazines hold too precious memory of Anna for you? Don't you want another woman handling them? “If you really don't mind.”
“No. If that's what you want.” Whatever was on his mind was a million miles away from his words.
An ensuing stillness spread out and filled the room. Only the crackling of the burning logs intruded and kept it from becoming oppressive.
Genie felt as though some unknown force was hovering in the air, waiting to blanket them both. Was there something about these stupid magazines that affected Lorenzo so much? Surely, it can’t be just because he’s missing his wife.
People can be funny.
Funny, or not, the mood had shifted downwards. Best to get away before it gets any worse.
Genie concocted a wide, noisy yawn. “I think the day has finally beaten me into submission.”
He nodded. “Perhaps we are both tired.”
“I know I am. I’m going to surrender and make for that lovely bed.” She leaned forward in the chair and jumped up. It was too quick. The room ebbed and flowed and the floor appeared to reach out for her.
She was conscious of Lorenzo's grip on her upper arm. “Che successo? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Genie shook her head to make sure. “The blood that belongs in my head took a short trip, that’s all.” Genie smiled at him and made no attempt to free herself from his grasp. The warmth of his hands stimulated all sorts of wonderful feelings that were hard to give up.
“Bene.” Lorenzo loosened his grip but did not let his hand fall away from her arms.
Genie engaged his eyes warmly - inviting.
Lorenzo's gaze took a tender tour around her face.
Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me! Genie's eyes ordered.
No. Don't. It's not a good idea.
Yes it is.
She ran her tongue around her lips.
She sensed Lorenzo's breathing step up in pace. His gaze shifted back and forth between her eyes and her mouth in rapid movements. He inclined his head to one side and just before Genie closed her eyes she noted his lips part.
Her heart missed several beats as time stretched out to eternity. She waited for his mouth to press against hers.
In that moment of eternity, she fantasized the feel of Lorenzo's lips lightly brushing against her neck sending mild electric shocks rippling down through her body. She sensed nuzzled her head against his, enjoying the odd feeling of pins and needles on the back of her tongue.
She imagined him tracing a series of kisses across her forehead and down onto the other side of her neck.
Genie's breath came in short gasps.
No man ever touched her so deeply like this.
No touch had ever...
The sensation of Lorenzo's touch remained for its own eternity after she realised his hands held her no longer.
Reality swiftly swallowed up her fantasy. Fear prevented her from opening her eyes. How could she look at him after she had so openly willed him to make love to her?
How would he be looking at her? Like a wanton hussy – or whatever the Italian equivalent was?
She gathered as much courage together as she could and prised open her eyes - just in time to see Lorenzo stepping back. He dropped his gaze, hung his head and cleared his throat.
Lorenzo cleared his throat again and lifted his head. “Genie, mi dispiace--.”
“No. No,” she said.
“I should not have--”
“No. You... I should...”
“...I took advantage--”
“No. “It's...it's...okay.” Genie shrugged and formed a tight, mirthless smile.
Lorenzo nodded briefly.
After a few seconds, Genie took a deep shuddering breath to break free from the awkwardness of the moment. “I think I’ll go to bed now,” she said. “I’m feeling very tired.”
“Of course. I understand.”
Yeah, well...I got some understanding to do as well, Genie thought. She pointed at the sideboard and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“Certo.” The tone in that single word sounded more like “If you must,” than “Of course.”.
Genie quickly retrieved the magazines. “I'll just read a bit. Read myself to sleep.” You've already said that.
Lorenzo nodded again. “Bon idea. Buona notte, then.”
“Buona notte, Lorenzo.” Genie breathed a sigh of relief to bring the difficult moment to some sort of closure. “Sleep well.” She spun around and quickly made her way to the stairs with Domino in tow.
A spark of irritation flared into life. She had brushed off so many men - so many fortune hunters.
Now she'd been brushed off.
The rhythmic click, click of Domino's nails on the stairs behind her appeared to mock her.
“Great. Now, how do I brush off this damn dog?”
Chapter Eleven
Genie threw herself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “What's wrong with you Genie Hamilton?”
She slapped the magazines down on the bed beside her.
“You made a solemn promise never to get involved with another man unless you knew everything there was to know about him, remember?”
I remember.
“And Lorenzo didn't fall into that category - yet - does he?”
Well--
“Does he?”
No...not yet.
“Perhaps...” She wrinkled her brow. How much did she really need to know? How much could she ever know about a man?
How much did she know about Lorenzo?
Nothing much.
But he hadn't shown any signs of being one of those low-life fortune hunters.
“Then again, I've met plenty who were very good at hiding their true designs.” Perhaps Lorenzo was one of those. Perhaps he has deeper motives than a snow-bound fling. He may be like all the others. How could she trust him?
How can she trust any man?
Genie plummeted into a dark place that pressed in on her from all sides. She squeezed her eyes closed and rolled her head from side to side on the pillows. Hot tears formed behind her eyelids, gradually oozing their way out to roll down the sides of her face.
She swallowed at the lump in her throat. “I am trapped in a prison of my own making. I made the steel bars even tougher with a thick coating of man-mistrust.”
And yet, despite her determined plan; despite her Genie-made prison, this very evening, she threw caution to the wind and broke out. Her resolve had been put to the test and she failed.
Lorenzo hadn't.
&n
bsp; He was strong enough to pull back.
He'd saved her.
“Stop. Stop. Stop. Get a grip on yourself, Genie Hamilton.” She sat up abruptly and perched on the side of the bed. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
A good, hot shower. That's what she needed. Wash it all away.
Her thoughts turned again to Lorenzo. “How am I going to face him tomorrow morning? Breaking away tonight had been difficult enough.”
In the shower, the thought preoccupied her. She rehearsed several approaches and discarded them, just as quickly. In the end, she gave up. Drying herself, she decided she was going to have to play it by ear. Everything would depend on Lorenzo's behaviour.
Perhaps a good night's sleep will help. She might wake up with a brilliant idea.
“And Domino might fly,” she scoffed.
With a heavy sigh, she crawled into bed, picked up one of the magazines and began to flip through it. As she expected, it was full of images of Italian social life, celebrities, and persons of the more notorious variety.
It was the third magazine that dealt Genie a blow.
Ice formed in the pit of her stomach. Staring at her from the page were a series of images of Genie Hamilton and a string of past 'potential' suitors. A large chunk of her courting life was spread out across six pages - with a continuation on page 30.
She didn't need to understand the text to guess how much it revealed about her. The frequency with which her name appeared was sufficient to guess. Whatever it said, it didn't matter. She could make an educated guess, especially when she saw the names of her parents buried in the first column, closely followed by astronomical numbers indicating the family's worth.
In addition to all of that, her full name, framed by a few Italian words, leapt off the page in the 40-point type headline.
“Lorenzo must have... Even if they were his wife's magazines, she must have told him some of the stories.” She stared at the garish layout. “He might even have browsed through these magazines in the more boring moments. He did seem to know what they were about.”
“Of course.” She lifted her gaze and stared into the middle distance. “That's why he was so upset when I found these. It wasn't anything to do with his precious Anna.” She smacked her palm down on the pages before her. “He didn't want me to see this. How eager he was to get me to read a novel instead.”
She threw the magazine down on the bed. “Now I know what was behind all those questions.” She nodded knowingly. “I’m wise to your love-making trickery too. Turn on the passion; then turn it off at the last moment. Playing hard to get, that’s your game, isn’t it?”
It's so much easier to see the more 'honest' fortune hunters - those who smothered her with manufactured attention.
True, there were one or two Lorenzo-types - pretending not to know who she was. They tried to sell the idea that she was just another pretty girl. However, it didn't take long for the truth to emerge. Their deceit tripped them up very quickly.
There came a time when no get-rich-quick hopeful could get past his first '”Hello.”
Carter had come along when her mistrust was at its peak.
That morning, he'd rescued her from a bunch of predatory paparazzi.
“What was that all about?” he asked after bundling her into his car. “You a film star or something?”
“Something like that.”
Somehow they'd bumped into one another again in “Henri's” - her favourite club. Then again at a wedding.
Then over dinner - again and again.
All the time, he seemed to be unaware of the article or her notoriety. It had taken her some time to relax her guard. She was reluctant at first, but he was fun. Her growing feelings gradually gained precedence, deadening her feelings of mistrust.
Genie thudded her fist against the bed in an attempt to knock the memory out of her head. But it persisted. Carter had turned out to be like all the others. It still burned. In a moment of intimacy he inadvertently revealed his true colours and tore Genie's heart in two. Travel the world, indeed. Build this mansion and that holiday home - all with her money, of course.
Carter had been the last straw. He became to her the avatar of all men. And all men became her enemy. Life became her enemy. So she ran and kept on running...all the way through Europe; all the way down to Italy; all the way to an obscure farm in the Italian Alps; all the way to an Italian version of Carter.
Only this Carter added a new technique - playing hard to get.
Pulling back at the height of a moment of passion was supposed to make her want him more.
It almost worked.
Her thoughts turned to what might have been had they completed the kiss. The walls of her bedroom closed in on her. She slapped her hand on her sternum and struggled to suck in air. It was happening all over again.
“I've landed in the clutches of another fortune hunter.”
Chapter Twelve
The turmoil in Genie's mind defeated sleep.
In her mind, questions about Lorenzo quickly built from, “Did he know?” to, “He knew.”
Her internal arguments steadily closed in and stifled her in their grip.
Can't breathe.
She turned her head to look at the open pages of the magazine lying on the bed beside her. “He knew. How clever he was,” she said. “That look. That smile. Sucked me in, that's what. All lies.”
Genie' grasped offending magazine, screwed it up in both hands and threw into the corner of the room. “I'm never going to find a man who wants me just for me,” she said, glowering at the crumpled magazine. “Not here, that's for sure.”
Must get away.
Wetness began to settle in her eyes. “I wanted to believe you, Lorenzo Calderone,” she said, brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “He'd...he'd been...” A rivulet ran down her cheek. “And now, I'm cooped up with him behind a wall of snow.” She frowned. “Unless...”
Did he lie about that too? Did he tell her that so she would stay and he could..? “You should have gone to see for yourself.”
So, go and see.
Even if Lorenzo had told her the truth, hadn't she seen the snow melting recently? What was good for Lorenzo's place must be good for the pass. It stands to reason.
“I can get away.”
She jerked to her feet. “I'm going to risk it.
You've runaway once.
You can do it again.
She nodded resolutely. “Definitely.”
Her tone didn't quite sound definite.
Lingering uncertainty clawed at her resolve. I'll be okay,” she said, trying to boost her confidence. “All I have to do is get my stuff from the police, and--”
Thoughts of Lorenzo interrupted.
He'd done that. He'd got her stuff returned. Was that just being kind, or...
“Probably, or.” She shook her head to knock the doubts aside. “Stick to Plan A. The car should be ready by now - and then - I’m home and dry.”
That thought of home spurred her into action.
Gathering her few belongings, she stuffed them into her backpack. Her previous experience of battling through snow taught her a strong lesson. “Lots of clothes,” she said. “Lots of clothes.”
She piled on layer after layer - mostly clothes belonging to Lorenzo's mysteriously absent wife. Genie felt a fleeting glimmer of guilt. After all, it was like stealing. But she needed protection from the cold. They'd understand that - Lorenzo and Anna. She'd freeze out there otherwise. “I'll send them back when I get home.”
When she'd struggled into the final layer, she couldn't lay her arms against her sides. “I look like I've got boils under my arms.”
Scooping up her backpack, she drove her arm through one strap. Then, a practiced swing brought the second strap Into contact with her other arm. A quick hunch, and the pack settled comfortably on her back.
“Ready to go.”
She inched open the bedroom door, and listened for Lorenzo. Never quite sure
when he slept, or when he woke up, extreme caution was the order of the day. After all, he always looked as though he'd been up hours before she rose to face the day. Nothing strange about that. In her former life, everybody in her hemisphere of the world was up before she rose to face the day.
No sound.
No light.
No movement.
“Looks like I beat him to it this morning,” she whispered. “That's one for the history books.”
Now all she had to do was get past the guardian at her door.
Carefully, and slowly, she stepped over Domino's bulky body lying across her bedroom doorway. Before her foot touched the ground, he raised his head and examined her sleepily.
“Nice Domino,” she whispered, straddling his body. “Shh. Don't wake up Daddy.”
He grunted and snuffled.
“Stay now.” She brought her remaining foot over to join the other. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Now she was lying to a dog?
This brought communicating with animals to a new level.
A new depth, more like it.
Domino rolled his head back to keep her in view as she started down the stairs.
“Stay, Dom,” she whispered urgently and began her slow, silent descent.
Within seconds, she heard the clip, clip of Domino's nails - and his snuffles - tracking her.
She turned. “Go back,” she whispered. “Beddy-byes - you're talking to a dog again.” She shook her head in despair. “Go back to sleep you stupid dog.” She tried in vain to push him back up the stairs. “Wait...what's the Italian for sleep?” “Um...” She pointed to her bedroom door. “Va a dormire, Domino.”
He snuffled wetly, wheezed in disgust as he made an ungainly turn, and ambled up the stairs. He flopped down in front of her door with a dull thud.
Genie smiled at him. “Good...buon uomo...uh...ragazzo...whatever. Buon anyhow.”
To make sure he didn't try to follow her, Genie backed down the stairs. Domino watched her intently all the way until she stepped down below the line of sight. Finally, she managed to reach the front door without her customary canine chaperone.
Runaway Love Page 7
