"Aha."
"It was Bianca who sent me out there. She was hysterical when she called me."
Now it was Jacopo's turn to be silent, his jaw working.
Guillermo ground his teeth. It was too hot in the office; he was sweating. Jacopo was being a jerk. What was the point in playing dumb?
"Is this how you confront your accusers in the house? With dumb silence?" Why didn't you call me?
"Memmo–"
"Memmo, Memmo. What? You expect me to say nothing? Do nothing?" Guillermo flexed his fist, cracking his knuckles.
Jacopo said, "In some ways I feel the most regret on behalf of Bibi. She was so young when Mama and Papa died. I think for her the villa is a kind of security blanket."
"Stronzo! Security blanket? Villa Cielo Incantato is not some asset you can liquidate when it is convenient, fratello. You seem to be in denial about what you are doing here. This is not your personal property to dispose of."
Jacopo's eyes widened, his lips thinning. "You speak of convenience, little brother?" he hissed.
Guillermo tossed his espresso back and handed the cup to Angela, hovering nearby. Jacopo's eyes followed him, annoyingly calm.
"Yes, I do. You are taking this action with no thought to others. No consideration for the rest of us, no respect for the past, or for future d' Aldobrandins. You leave your own children no legacy, nothing! It is all about you and your political career."
"You are a great one to give speeches, Memmo. What have you done for the family? Where have you been when there are repairs to make, staff to let go, or bills to pay? Pfft. No one knows more about self-interest than you."
Guillermo snorted. His chest was tight, squeezing his throat, preventing words from forming. As if he knew he would regret what he would say next. He fought the impulse to say something viciously hurtful, or worse yet, to curl his hand into a fist and punch his brother's lights out. If only you had called me! No, no. What's the point?
"Why didn't you call me?" he blurted.
Jacopo stilled, assessing Guillermo. "What would be the point, Memmo? What could you or anyone do now?"
Guillermo worked his jaw. "Something. Something, surely. It can't be too late." He stood, staring at his brother. He flipped one hand out, in a gesture of appeal. "We could have talked it over. Problem solved together. I could have helped."
"It is too late for me, Memmo. I have no choice." Jacopo shrugged dismissively. Guillermo saw himself fling vile words in Jacopo's face, or slam his fist into that dogged expression, but would not do anything to damage his relationship with his brother. He'd had enough of his condescension and disregard, though. Why he always should be the one who made concessions and kept the peace, he didn't know.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he asked, between clenched teeth, "What is the status now? Paulo said you listed with Andreas Fitucci of Imobiliare Patria."
"Yes. He will call me if an interested party comes forward."
"So that's it? You will lie back and wait passively to give up?"
Jacopo scrubbed his hands over his face. "I am tired, Memmo. I've been trying to solve this problem for years. And look where it has gotten me. Worse than when I started. Now I am barely hanging on to my career, my livelihood. I have a family to support, eh? I've had to make tough choices."
"It's not good enough, Jacopo." Guillermo shook his head. "There must be something you've overlooked. Some other way to avoid this disaster."
Jacopo's eyebrows rose up cynically. "You are the clever architect, little brother, why don't you find a way?"
Guillermo hesitated, supressing the urge to storm out. He nodded. "Maybe I will." He turned and strode out, quietly closing the office door behind him.
But what could he do? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Maybe Jacopo was right to let it go. He had to give it up. Let it go. He clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw ached, and his head began to throb. He raised his hands to his hair, tugging on fistfuls of it, and scrubbed down his face with his hands. Already he felt the stress. It would kill him, just like it killed Papa. Stronzo! Allora, e chi se ne frega? Who gives a damn?
Guillermo knew what he was good for. He knew what he was good at. He was a good architect. Award-winning, in demand, well paid for his specialty: adding sleek modern glass structures to the ancient and crumbling stone facades of Florence. Making the old new again, able to support the fast and free and ever-changing demands of modern Italy. He lived a good life. Fast and fun. He wanted for nothing. Why go looking for problems?
A heaviness pulled at his limbs, weighing him down, like the limestone walls of the villa, hundreds of years old. He preferred the lightness and freedom of his modern designs. Why would he choose to threaten his comfort and pleasure and freedom for an old dilapidated house and farm that could bring him no profit or joy?
It was foolish to agonize over what could not be changed. To be haunted by ghosts. Guillermo, like his brother and sisters, must look forward and not back. His head pounded, and he paced restlessly along the polished empty corridor of the constituency office building. He felt the need to escape the city, to retreat to a quiet place to think.
An image of a smart, stubborn, aloof, secretly passionate redhead returned to his mind's eye. He recalled how aroused she became when she spoke of the Renaissance art of her thesis research. Perhaps she would enjoy seeing his family home, and its modest collection of sculpture and frescos. Its beauty might warm her reserve. If he could do nothing for the Villa Cielo Incantato, then perhaps the villa, in all its obsolete glory, could do something for him yet, before it was too late.
Clio felt relief more than joy.
She was suffused with warmth and a sense of satisfaction at her progress, at last, though the pressure to perform continued unabated. Dr. Jovi had approved her final thesis premise and outline. She was even feeling generous towards Guillermo d' Aldobrandin for rescuing her, and keeping her stranded at his sister's home all weekend. Despite her panic, all had turned out well. Even though she'd lost her lovely new car, the insurance would cover the cost of a replacement, so even Father could not be too angry.
Her little adventure had relaxed her and seemed to fuel her enthusiasm for her thesis. Now she was hard at work at her cluttered desk in her little corner of her shared office space at the Accademia di Belle Arti without threat of eviction–for now.
"Scusi. Potete dirmi dove trovare Signorina Sinclair McBeal?"
Clio glanced up at the sound of her name.
Before she had a moment to react, Guillermo appeared in her open doorway. Clio sat upright and stared.
"Ah. Clio. Ci si sono. I have found-a you." Why was he speaking heavily accented English when he knew she spoke Italian? Just to prove he could?
"Uh…hello?" Her lunch seemed to roll over in her belly. What was he doing here? She stood up nervously.
Guillermo was wearing his biking leathers again, and had tucked his helmet under his arm. His long, wavy dark hair was tumbled around his handsome face. He raked it back with one hand, and held it there, regarding the wall behind her, his mouth ajar.
She spun around, checking behind her. What? There was nothing there but her research. Photographs and sketches pinned up on the wall.
At last he spoke. "You are surrounded by your…ah, saints-a. You do not find them distracting?" His face was flushed, and he blinked rapidly.
She frowned. "How could they be…?" Then it occurred to her what he meant. For some people, the close-up shots and detailed drawings of all that ecstasy was disconcerting. Confusing. "Oh. No, well. I…no."
He laughed. "If it were me, I'm afraid I could not think clearly. Always I would be-a…imagining other activities."
Now it was Clio's turn to blush. She dropped her gaze. "What brings you here?"
He switched to Italian. "I wanted to see that you were alright. That you got home safely, and that your advisor is not giving you any difficulties about the weekend."
Her officemate Jonathan appeared, wide inquiring eyes peering over
Guillermo's shoulder.
She scowled at him, and he passed on. Responding to Guillermo, she said, "No. No, everything is fine. I'm steaming ahead actually." She patted the papers on her desk and shuffled them around pointlessly.
For several moments, they stared awkwardly at each other, saying nothing. Clio's heart hammered against her ribs.
"And you?" she said. "Any news about your villa? Any changes?"
His brow darkened as his blue gaze searched the floor for an answer. "No. I…" He sniffed. "I had a conversation with my brother, naturalmente." He shrugged, then forced a smile, his white teeth flashing. "But now you mention it, I am planning to drive out to the villa this coming weekend. To have some quiet, and to pick up a few personal items. I thought you might like to see it. You come, no?"
Clio's pulse sped up. Oh, would she. But no. Bad idea. She had to work, and spending more time with him was dangerous. She nibbled her lip. Why would he invite her along? What could he want? It couldn't be good.
"I can't help admitting curiosity. But…" She shook her head, waving her hand at the same time. "I don't think that would be appropriate. We hardly know each other."
He recoiled. "Oh, no, no, Clio. Please don't think that of me. I realize my actions were inappropriate. I was overcome with your beauty, but I have control over myself now. I promise you, that I have only honorable intentions. At Villa Cielo Incantato there are staff," –he turned his palms upward, reasoning– "the old housekeeper and gardener." He thought a moment. "We would not be alone even. My younger sister Bibi will join us. You will be perfectly safe with me. I promise to be a gentleman."
Clio was intrigued to be sure, by the villa and its history, but she felt unaccountably disturbed by his presence, even here in her small office. How would she feel spending another two days in his company. She caught another glimpse of Jonathan passing by behind Guillermo's back. It was best that she not get involved.
"I'm sorry, Guillermo. It is kind of you to think of me, but I really must work very hard to meet my deadline now. I shouldn't be taking the weekends off for any more touring or recreation."
"You could work." He stood upright, brightening. "I would give you the time you need, but you would see the villa, too. And the gardens. I think you would like the gardens very much."
"I'm sorry, no." She smiled sadly. She would never get her thesis written if she continued to be distracted by new sites. She was such a history junkie.
Guillermo slumped against the door jamb with a heavy sigh. He stared at her, frowning, no, pouting, until she felt uncomfortable, and a little sorry for him. He really didn't have much experience with rejection, that was clear.
"Perhaps then you will allow me to take you to dinner sometime?"
She felt her throat tighten in pity. How could she reject him again? "Well, maybe, yes. I could do that. Sometime."
Guillermo's face broke into a wry, self-satisfied smile with a twinkle of satisfaction in his blue eyes, and dipped his head in a tiny, old-fashioned bow of acknowledgement. He stepped forward and scrawled his phone number on the corner of a paper on her desk. "A vostro piacimento."
She laughed, shaking her head, as he turned on his heel and left. At my pleasure, indeed. What does he know about what gives me pleasure?
The moment he was gone, Jonathan popped into the office and dropped into his seat, swiveling to face her. "Well, darling? Do tell."
Chapter 9
None of your business," Clio hissed at Jonathan and stepped to the doorway to watch Guillermo as he swaggered down the corridor. How could she give in to him, the spoiled brat? How could she not?
Still laughing, she turned back to find Dr. Jovi standing behind her. She yelped. Then she laughed. "Oh, my goodness. I didn't know you were there, Dr. Jovi."
"Who was that?"
She was well aware that Jonathan was listening in as well. "Oh, you know. Guillermo d'Aldobrandin. You spoke with him on the phone, remember? He's the man who rescued me on the road Saturday night."
"Ah. He's that sort, is he?"
"What sort?"
"A ruffian." He waved a hand dismissively. "A rogue."
"No."
"He is riding a motorcycle? Just look at him."
The sound of Jonathan's stifled laughter made her frown. He covered it with a cough, and she shook her head.
Clio half agreed with Dr. Jovi, but although she didn't entirely trust Guillermo, she felt compelled to rise to his defense. "I am looking. He's from a very good, respectable family. They were very kind to me."
Dr. Jovi snorted. "Yes, I've read a few things about his family in the news lately."
"Oh." She winced, and her face and ears tingled with heat. "I get the impression his brother is not bad at all. He has made some error of judgment, I understand."
"Oh, so you are privy to the family's secrets now, are you?" His tone was mocking.
"Not at all." She recoiled, stiffening.
"Be very wary, Clio." Dr. Jovi lifted a scolding finger, and wagged it altogether too close to Clio's face for comfort or dignity. "It would not be wise to get involved in a frivolous romantic entanglement right now. Especially with the wrong sort of person. Your father and mother would not approve, you know. You must stay focused on your thesis, my dear. Time is of the essence. You don't want to be a disappointment to your family."
Shut up, already! Clio rubbed her temples. What am I, fifteen years old?
"You know it would be such a waste of your talents if you were to get sidetracked by a man like that. You have a promising academic career ahead of you. There is no future for you there." He droned on, his balding head shaking. "I can't keep covering for you, Clio. Soon I will have to have a frank discussion with Dottore Donald."
Clio stood speechless. Was he threatening her? She brushed a hand to the back of her neck, slick with perspiration.
Heat suffused her face. "Yes, of course, Dr. Jovi," she said through clenched teeth. "Excuse me, please. I have to get back to work." She strode into her office and closed the door, stopping just short of slamming it in the pompous old fart's face.
She stood and breathed, just breathed, until she was a little calmer. She'd never felt so insulted in her life. How dare he lecture her that way?
She was vaguely aware of Jonathan gaping at her.
"What are you looking at?"
She lifted her hands to her face, pressing her hot eyes. Then she moved to her desk and stared down at the number scrawled on the corner of her notepaper. She picked up her phone and dialed.
"You go, girl."
"Oh, shut up, Jonathan."
Clio's phone call had shocked him, just minutes after he had left her office at the Accademia di Belle Arti on via Ricasoli. He had only just mounted his Ducati at the curb by the arcade, licking his wounds, but also looking forward to the promised dinner, and the opportunities it presented for furthering his cause.
"What inspired you to change your mind, Bella?"
"Merely that I'm very intrigued by your historic family villa, and under the circumstances…" she hesitated, "I knew this would be my only chance to see it. It is not often we academics have the doors of private villas thrown open to us."
Sure. Purely academic interest. He didn't believe it for a moment. But that was cool, he could play to that.
It had been a long shot, admittedly. Her rebuff in Paulo's cantini had been decisive, and yet, he sensed a hidden passion in the woman that intrigued him, and spurred him on to pursue her.
He dialed his little sister's cellular. Now he had to convince Bibi to go as well. He prayed she had no commitments for the upcoming weekend.
"Bibi, cara."
"Who is this?"
"Bi-bi."
"Oh. Buongiorno, Memmo." Her voice was sing-song and falsetto, so he cut to the chase.
"Right." He snorted. "I want something."
"What else is new, Memmo?"
"Hey. I went to Pia's because of you and your piagnucolio."
"Hmph. I wasn't whin
ing."
He made a face. "So. What are you doing this weekend?"
Bianca was silent for a moment, and he could hear the hiss of her drag on her cigarette. "I'm not saying yes. What do you want? And what's in it for me?"
"I thought you might like a weekend at the villa. I'm going. I'll… introduce you to Carlo." Bibi had been nagging him for an intro to his colleague.
"Hmm. You want me to be there at the same time as you? Since when, fratello?"
Admittedly, it was far fetched. "Since now. I need a… uh, a chaperone."
The tintinnio of Bianca's hysterical laughter filled his ears for several moments. "You want me to interfere between you and a woman. I understand correctly?"
He sighed. "Si."
More hysterical laughter. "What's the matter with you?"
"It's a long story. I'm motivated."
"Hmm. So now I'm curious. I was going to go to a concert. But it was going to be boring anyway. Are you driving?"
Guillermo thought about that. "Si. But you have to make your own way there."
"Wha-at?"
Guillermo shrugged, though she couldn't see him. "I don't want you to stink up the car with your smoking."
"Yeah, right. Fabio."
"What's wrong with Carlo? You always ask about Carlo."
"Carlo and Fabio."
"Yeesh! Deal."
"See you there."
This weekend away would be pure pleasure. Guillermo was determined to show Clio a good time, whatever it took. Escaping the confines of the city was a brilliant stroke of genius. He needed to get away again, and he always enjoyed the pampering he received at the hands of Marcella and Martino when he went home to Cielo Incantato. The old couple, husband and wife caretakers of the villa since before Guillermo was born, were the closest thing to parents he and his siblings had left since the death of their own parents.
Except for Nonno, who was more child than parent.
Even though it had been accidental, Clio's last adventure in the campagna had been good for her, and had given him the chance to get to know her. The villa was the perfect bait to lure the lovely Clio Sinclair McBeal away from her single-minded industrious focus on her school work and the watchful eye of her over-bearing advisor.
The Art of Enchantment (Life is a Journey Book 1) Page 6
