by Janice Sims
“Books were everywhere,” Gianni said, getting into the story since Francesca was determined to tell it.
“It scared him so badly he went and hid under the bed—he just knew he was going to be severely punished. I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t summon up the energy to punish him,” Francesca told Elle, laughing.
“Thank God he didn’t get hurt,” Elle said.
“That’s what I told Gianni when I stopped laughing,” Francesca said, looking accusingly at Gianni.
“The carpenter’s coming on Monday, sweetheart,” Gianni said in his defense. “Now, can we change the subject?” he asked, looking around the table. “I’m sure no one wants to hear about our son’s misadventures.”
“I don’t mind,” said Belana mischievously. “He sounds like my kind of kid. How old is he?”
“He’s almost two,” said Francesca, smiling gratefully at Belana.
“Uh-oh, the terrible twos,” warned Belana. “I’m afraid you’re in for more trouble.”
“Send him to the army,” Carlo joked. “They could use a good demolitions man.”
“Yes, but he’d never make the height requirements,” said Natalie. “Just let me have him for a week, Francesca. When I return him to you, he’ll be so worn out he won’t have the energy to get into mischief.”
“Is that your sneaky way of getting free labor for your garden?” Francesca asked, grinning.
“Yes, but don’t tell him that,” Natalie said. “I’ll convince him he’s digging his way to China. Children always fall for that one.”
“Just because we fell for it, doesn’t mean today’s kids will,” Dominic said. “They’re more sophisticated than we were.”
“That’s true,” Patrice put in. “I’ve got a three-year-old niece who knows more about the computer than I do!”
“Honey, aren’t they born computer-ready?” asked Isobel. “The way today’s kids are hooked on electronics, it almost seems like they have earpieces surgically implanted. They’re never without them. In fact, no one under the age of forty is ever without them. Show of hands. How many of us have an iPod or a cell phone or some other electronic device on their persons?”
Everybody raised their hands. Belana’s brother, Erik, raised both his. “I’ve got an iPod, a BlackBerry and a digital camera on me.”
“I rest my case,” Isobel said. Smiling at Francesca, she said, “Your son sounds darling to me.”
Elle smiled. Her mother was usually reticent about engaging in conversation with people she hardly knew. What was happening to her? Elle had even caught her smiling sexily at John Whitaker, who had grinned widely upon seeing that smile. She’d accepted a ride on his private jet to get here. What else would she be accepting from him soon? For years she had been telling her mother that John was attracted to her. Could her mother now have decided to act on that fact?
“I’d like to know what inspired you to write Temptation,” Patrice asked Dominic. “I’ve noticed that all of your operas are about the devil in one way or another. Are you obsessed with the devil?”
Dominic smiled at Elle. “According to Signorina Jones, I am the devil.”
“He pushed me to the limit yesterday,” Elle explained, “and I slapped him and told him he was the devil.”
Only Isobel was aghast at this news. No one else seemed surprised by it.
“I’ve often thought he was Satan and I’ve never sung for him,” Sophia teased. “He must have put you through hell.”
“Oh, he did,” Elle said. “He yelled and stamped his foot like an overgrown child. I suppose everyone else he works with is used to his tantrums, but I’m not. It took all my willpower not to stick a pacifier in his mouth and tell him to be quiet.”
Everybody, including Isobel, laughed at this. She was relieved. It sounded like Elle and Dominic Corelli had worked out their problems. She was still worried that Elle was smitten with him, though. Also, judging from the covetous glances Dominic Corelli had been giving her daughter, he was definitely not immune to her charms.
Chapter 11
“Elle, what are you doing out here?” Dominic asked.
He startled Elle. She was standing outside on the veranda of the restaurant. After enjoying a wonderful meal she had excused herself from the table on the pretext of going to the ladies’ room when, in reality, she needed some air. In spite of being surrounded by people she cared for, all of the excitement was overwhelming.
Especially after one of the hotel staff had come to their table with a fax for Dominic. It was their first review. Elle’s stomach had clenched nervously as Dominic began to read:
The Devil and Miss Jones should have been the title of the latest offering from hometown boy Dominic Corelli. A delicious combination of classical music and hip-hop, Temptation, like anything that tempts, was impossible to resist. And at the center of this marvelous opera was the American mezzo-soprano Elle Jones, who in her La Scala debut held the stage like a seasoned singer. With her earthy, sultry voice she enticed and cast a spell upon the audience as Adama. Not since Grace Bumbry has La Scala been graced with the presence of such natural talent. Tenor Jaime Montoya gave polished, convincing performances both as Satan and as Cristiano, the devil in human guise….”
It went on and on, praising the conductor, the supporting cast and even the technical team who moved the scenery around on the stage.
Upon hearing it, the cast had celebrated by drinking champagne. Everyone had praised Elle, saying this was the beginning of a stellar career. She had felt dizzy with emotion.
Soon after that she had left the table, murmuring something about the ladies’ room. But as soon as she saw the doors leading out to the veranda, she had escaped through them. Five minutes later, Dominic had found her.
The moment he stepped outside and felt the chilly night air, he removed his jacket and put it around Elle’s shoulders. The garden in which they stood was lit up with golden lights strung in its trees and shrubs. The effect was very calming, almost magical.
Dominic stood behind her, not touching her except to place his jacket about her shoulders. “Is it too much?” he asked quietly.
Elle didn’t turn around. She was afraid if she did, she would throw herself into his arms, seeking the comfort that he would never freely offer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in. I’ll be okay. I just need a few minutes alone to remind myself that I worked for this. It hasn’t been given to me on a silver platter.”
“That’s right. You’ve been preparing for this all your life,” Dominic told her. “Besides, we haven’t gotten all the notices yet. The other critics might think you stunk up the place.”
Elle laughed nervously. “One can only hope.”
Dominic grasped her by the shoulders from behind. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, because you were brilliant tonight, Elle. You brought it, as you told me you would. I’ve never been prouder of anyone.”
He was encouraged by the fact that Elle didn’t wrench free of his hold. He thought he might venture a bit further. “I had to do what I did so that you could experience this night,” he said softly.
Upon hearing this, Elle turned around and peered up at him with a puzzled expression.
“I tried to tell you,” he continued, “but you didn’t want to hear it then. If I had pursued you before we had premiered the opera they would have said you had the lead only because you and I were lovers. No matter how fervently I denied it they would have been unconvinced. But now, Elle, if you still want me, they will say we have discovered kindred spirits in each other and that you’ve become my muse. It’s true, Elle. No other woman has interested me in the least since I met you. I ache for you. I did then, and I still do.”
Elle calmly took his jacket off and handed it to him. Thrusting it into his arms, she cried, “I can’t be with a man who can turn his emotions on and off as easily as a faucet.”
She turned her back on him and tried to walk away but Dominic grabbed hold of her arm. “Do you think I didn�
��t suffer as much as you did? I had to watch you looking at me with barely hidden longing and not go to you and take you in my arms and kiss you senseless. I had to watch that pompous Spaniard flirt with you without punching him in the face. I think he got some kind of sick pleasure out of it. I was jealous every time he touched you and pretended to make love to you onstage. All of these emotions I had to stamp down because I knew that acting like a lovesick fool wouldn’t do either of us any good!” he said loudly.
“Don’t shout at me!” Elle shouted back at him.
“Then kiss me and shut me up!”
“Never,” said Elle in a lower tone. “Shout all you want. You had your chance, Signor Corelli, and you blew it, baby. I’m not going to be another notch on your bedpost, no matter how good your kisses are.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Then you admit that was a good kiss?”
“The best I ever had. Hey, I love ice cream, too, but I know I can’t have it because it’ll make me fat. Same difference—I can resist you because you’re bad for me.”
“I beg to differ,” he said confidently. “I think I would be good for you. Good for you, and good to you.”
“You don’t believe in commitment,” she stammered, stating one of the reasons he would be bad for her.
“You’re embarking on a new, exciting career,” he countered. “What do you need with commitment? It’s better if you’re not tied down. With me, especially, you would have the best of both worlds—I’m in the same business, so I would understand when you had to fly to some exotic locale to sing. And, too,” he said smoothly, moving closer to her ear, “I would be a lover that would satisfy all your needs, and not ask you to get up and cook me a meal afterward. As you know, I can cook for myself. No, I don’t want a wife, Elle. I want an equal.”
“A wife can be an equal,” she suggested, holding steady.
“Come now,” he gently said. “You’ve noticed it. The moment a man marries he becomes lax in worshipping his woman. Fewer flowers and other gifts and fewer nights on the town and, what’s more, he no longer feels the need to impress her. So he leaves his clothes on the floor. He forgets to phone when he’s going to be late. It’s better not to marry, Elle. Let’s be lovers and friends, not husband and wife.”
“You’re really full of it,” Elle said with a short laugh. “You have examples of great marriages in your own family—your mother and father, for one. Gianni and Francesca have a hot marriage. They can’t keep their hands off each other.”
“And they’ve got one kid and another on the way as proof,” said Dominic.
“What? You don’t want children, either?” she asked incredulously.
“Elle,” he said lazily, lowering his head to plant a kiss on the side of her neck. “All I want is you in my bed, as soon as possible.”
“Oh, that’s a lovely invitation,” Elle said sarcastically, moving away from him. “Thank you very much, but I’m going to have to decline.”
The look he gave her was one of disbelief. “You’re turning me down because I don’t want to get married and have children?”
“That’s right,” Elle told him emphatically. “I don’t make love to men whose children I wouldn’t want to have. Sex has consequences. My mother’s experience taught me to be careful. I already know how you feel about love and family. Though, God knows, I don’t know why you feel that way. Did somebody drop you on your head when you were a baby?”
Dominic laughed. “Now you’ve got jokes. Woman, you are truly the most impossible person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
“A minute ago, all you were thinking about was giving and taking pleasure,” she reminded him, which irritated him further.
Dominic let out a frustrated breath. “I must have been temporarily insane.”
“No, my dear Signor Corelli, you are permanently insane if you think I would touch you with a ten-foot pole, after the hell you put me through during rehearsals and your smarmy confession that love and marriage are repugnant to you!”
“So, you would never consider making love to a man who would only give you the world, not marriage and children?”
“It is possible to have both,” she said. “And nothing you say will change my mind. I’m not settling for less than love, marriage and children.”
“My parents and Gianni and Francesca are exceptions, Elle. The majority of marriages end in divorce. You know I’m not lying.”
“No, you’re not lying. You’re also not showing any faith in love, either. You’re a hypocrite.”
“So now I’m a hypocrite, when I have truthfully stated my position for you? I didn’t lie to you and say I love you and pledge faithfulness till the day I die just to get you into bed. I told you what I am willing to give in exchange for what I want from you.”
“You’re a hypocrite because you write such beautiful music, such wonderful stories about true love,” she proclaimed. “Yet you don’t believe in it.”
Dominic sighed. “All right, you’ve given me examples of couples who are happy. For every one of those, there are single people who can’t find true love. Take your mother, for example. She never married after your father let her down. My own sister, Sophia, is in love with a man who is afraid to marry her because he thinks she’ll castrate him. And Ana, poor Ana, who is so beautiful men want to date her because she looks good on their arms, or to brag to their friends that they’re dating a supermodel. She has yet to meet anyone who sees her and not her body or her beautiful face. So, I’m offering you affection. So much affection that you’ll never notice that it isn’t the fairy-tale love that you will spend your life looking for. Take me, Elle, instead of that idealized male who may never appear on your horizon. What have you got to lose? You’re a young, beautiful woman who deserves to wring all the pleasure she can out of life. Take it.”
That did it. Good God, the man has a golden tongue, Elle thought, and threw herself into his arms. He was right, so right. She wanted him now. So what if the future never brought her that epitome of male superiority that she had created in her mind?
They kissed roughly, almost painfully. The intensity of the moment dictated the violence with which they were possessed.
She hated him for making her face the truth, yet she loved him for it. She felt split in half. She was the same Elle she had been a few minutes ago, who didn’t believe in settling for less than she deserved. Unfortunately, she was also the Elle who desired this man. Dominic drew her to him with his passion for life and an indefinable attraction that was so strong she couldn’t resist it.
They succumbed to the tumultuous emotions they had held at bay for so long.
She felt his muscles rippling beneath his tux as her hands traveled along his back and farther down to his butt, pressing him so close to her that she felt his erection straining to be freed from his trousers.
Turning his head, he broke off the kiss and said hoarsely, “We’d better get back before we’re missed. But, remember, I’m the one taking you home tonight.”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes.”
When Elle and Dominic returned to the reception, Jaime, who was surrounded by beautiful women at his table, called them over. His dark eyes were shining with excitement. “Look,” he said, holding out another faxed sheet, which held the latest review. “The critic from Corriere della Sera says Temptation is an instant classic that will stand the test of time like Verdi’s Requiem.”
Dominic took the sheet of paper and read the review from Milan’s daily paper to Elle, then he handed it back to Jaime. “It seems we are a success,” he said. Corriere della Sera usually spoke for the average citizen of Milan. Even though the rich and famous were the ones photographed attending the opera, in Italy opera was beloved by everyone, not just the wealthy.
Taking Elle by the arm, he said to Jaime, “Enjoy!”
Elle smiled at the sight of Jaime sitting between two Italian beauties who were both obviously his dates. She supposed his ego was too big for just one w
oman tonight.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” her mother asked, concerned, when they got to their table. “You’ve been gone for a while.”
“Nerves,” Elle said. “I’m not used to all of this.” She and Dominic reclaimed their seats.
“Try to enjoy it,” Natalie wisely told her. “After your performance tonight, it’s your life from now on.”
Dominic took Elle’s hand and held on to it underneath the table.
“How did you handle the spotlight?” Elle asked Natalie.
“In my day the paparazzi were not as bad as they are today,” Natalie told her. “We were granted some privacy.” She smiled at Carlo sitting beside her. “Five years into my career I met Carlo, who was very supportive because my idol was his mother, Renata Corelli.”
“She nearly fainted the first time she met my mother,” Carlo said, lovingly gazing into his wife’s eyes. “But Momma loved her on sight.”
“Which made our marriage so much easier, in spite of the fact that most of his sisters hated me on sight,” Natalie said with a laugh.
“But they changed their minds after they got to know her,” Carlo informed Elle.
“Eventually,” Natalie allowed. Elle smiled. Natalie was obviously still a little hurt by his sisters’ rejection.
Natalie smiled at Elle. “Hopefully, you’ll meet someone with whom you have a lot in common. There’s nothing like that kind of support system.” She gave her son a meaningful smile.
Dominic lowered his eyes and smiled. His mother didn’t miss much. He looked across the table at Isobel Jones. She smiled at him in much the same way as his mother had. Oh, no, not both mothers! If they put their heads together and started matchmaking they would make his and Elle’s life together a living hell. Perhaps it would be best to tell them he and Elle were dating. Then their mothers could transfer their considerable energies to some other area of their lives. Perhaps his imagination was running wild. He’d wait and see.
