So instead, she raised her head and bared her teeth in what was as much a grimace as a smile. “Speaking of emotional voyeurism, didn’t you say the Guggenheim was somewhere around here?”
For a moment, his expression was surprised, before he laughed. “Modern art, eh? I would say that’s as much about emotional exhibitionism as it is about voyeurism, yes?” But then he nodded. “It is just a few streets away.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon at the gallery, whose main exhibits consisted of the private art collection of Peggy Guggenheim. When she died, her Venetian palazzo on the Grand Canal was opened to the public. But, though the works it housed were fascinating, Calia had difficulty engaging with them emotionally. She was too caught in the weight of her own despondency.
She couldn’t live like this—on this ridiculous roller-coaster of uncertainty. If Gio smiled and showed warmth, then she convinced herself that he was starting to care, only to have her hopes dashed when he shut her out. She had begun to weary of the guessing game, but the idea of baring her emotions with little or no encouragement from him scared her silly.
Still, she decided, even if she didn’t get some sense of emotional engagement from Gio by the end of this weekend, she would confront him. Maybe a declaration of love would be too much, but at the least, she’d make it clear that she had begun to care, and was interested in something more than just a physical relationship. If he didn’t want to explore that avenue, then they would end it. Simple.
In theory, at least.
But for now, she would bide her time as she tried to get some idea of where Gio really stood on the subject of their involvement. His unwillingness to trust her complicated things, making him more difficult to read.
As she and Gio walked through the rooms and corridors of the gallery, she did her best to at least appear intent on the various artworks. They discovered a common sensibility in their tastes—though Calia soon found her knowledge was far outpaced by Gio’s. Again and again, she was surprised and impressed by his insights and observations.
As they contemplated a canvas that had seemed particularly impenetrable, until Gio’s comments had shed new light on the complexities of the work, Calia shook her head. “I have to admit that your knowledge is humbling. I used to think I was pretty literate about these kinds things, but you leave me in the dust.”
He laughed. “I have been here many times before. And, given that my family’s tradition of collecting art goes back to the early seventeenth century, being a Diamanti means I have grown up steeped in art history. I think it could safely be said that I have had a bit of a head start.”
“You must have an amazing collection, then.”
He nodded. “Perhaps on the way back, we can stop by the family home in Tuscany—those pieces that are not on loan to various galleries are housed there.”
She grinned. “I’d love it!”
They ended the day with a leisurely dinner on the terrace of a restaurant Gio knew. To Calia’s left was a narrow little alley of a street, while to her right, a peaceful canal whose quiet waters were occasionally disturbed by the purr of a water taxi or the soft slap of water against the oar of a gondola.
Afterwards, Gio hailed a gondolier. As they settled into the cushioned luxury of the traditional conveyance, he gave her a rueful smile. “This is a thing the tourists do, but I could see from your face that your trip would not be complete without a ride on one of these,” he said with grudging indulgence.
Calia grinned to herself as she curled up next to him and determined to enjoy every second of the ride. She knew that if she had arrived by train, with her backpack strapped on, she’d likely be taking a waterbus to some utilitarian hostel now, with shared showers and dormitory-style beds. Certainly, a gondola ride would not have been part of her budget.
“Thank you, Gio. It really is lovely.”
Their lovemaking lasted well into the night, and Calia was awakened by his kisses on Saturday morning. They spent much of the day in Gio’s room—and what a room! As vast and as opulent as the rest of the house, it was a chamber fit for royalty.
Meals and champagne were brought to them at regular intervals, and they fed each other playfully, before resuming their amorous explorations. Calia basked in every sensual look, languid touch and voluptuous moment.
They left just before midday on Sunday. As promised, Gio took her to the family home in the hills of Tuscany. But, though the Diamanti art collection was beyond impressive, Calia couldn’t help but feel daunted by this further evidence of Gio’s wealth. This wasn’t just a matter of scale—Gio’s new BMW versus Calia’s twelve-year-old Volkswagen. This really was another world entirely.
Gio’s phone rang as they were walking out to the car. While he took the call, Calia walked over to a marble fountain in the garden and settled on bench, absently watching the arc of the water splashing into its shallow pond.
How could a man from this kind of background be interested in anything more than a temporary relationship with someone like her? He would want to marry someone from his world—someone who understood the demands of wealth and didn’t question them.
Such contemplations stole her breath away, bringing her hard up against the realization that at some point she had begun thinking in terms of commitment with Gio. The knowledge was like a punch in the stomach. She shook her head, gasping at the unpleasant impact of this new knowledge.
Even a long-term liaison with the man would no longer be enough. She wanted the full meal deal: marriage, kids and stability. She wanted forever after.
“Calia?”
Gio stood nearby, watching her. She blinked at him, trying to shake away the horrified daze that clouded her mind.
“That was Paolo,” he said. “Some business matters have come up. He needs to see me about them as soon as possible. He and Antonia have some sort of event this evening, but they will wait for us at the villa so he and I can discuss the matter before they get on their way.”
Calia hadn’t been looking forward to their return to Rome. She had begun to think of it as the beginning of the end of her holiday. The thought of seeing the other woman again further soured the prospect for her.
As they turned back onto the autostrade, Gio glanced at her with the hint of a frown between his brows. “You have been very quiet. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Maybe just a little tired,” she replied, watching his profile. He glanced at her again, a smile touching his mouth. She glimpsed a question in his eyes, before he returned his gaze to the road.
“What is it?” he asked. “You are watching me as if you do not quite like what you are seeing.”
“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“What about?”
She hesitated, then drew back from discussing the future of their relationship. She wasn’t about to reveal her feelings while they were driving along the highway—she wanted to ensure she had his full attention during any such discussion, and so it would have to wait for a more appropriate time and place.
She ploughed on before she could chastise herself for her own cowardice, scrambling for a safer topic of conversation. “I’ll have to fax that contract tomorrow. I’ll also need to find out if your lawyers found any clauses I should be worried about, since I want to call the firm in Frankfurt tomorrow.”
“I see.” His expression, when she looked over at him, was neutral.
What did he want? Would he be interested in continuing with her, or was this to be it? She still needed to clarify her own terms, but if he could just give her some hint of where he stood, then she might be a little less intimidated about broaching the subject.
“And I’ll be going back to Canada on Wednesday. So I can pack and get ready for my move,” she added after a pause, trying not to make it sound too much like a prompt.
“Of course.” Again, neutral. No hint, nothing to go on.
They lapsed into an awkward silence. Calia turned her attention to the passing scen
ery. They spoke little for the remainder of the drive.
When they arrived back at the villa, Paolo and Antonia were waiting for them. After a brief exchange of niceties, Gio and Paolo retreated to his office for their discussions. Antonia, meanwhile had made herself comfortable in the sitting room, shifting her position on one of the chairs, drink in hand. She hadn’t even bothered to rise when they arrived.
The silence between the two women stretched out into awkwardness, as Antonia sipped her drink and made little effort to disguise the insolence of her assessing stare. Calia was about to excuse herself when the other woman spoke.
“He will tire of you. Do not think otherwise. Men like Gio are not interested in creatures like you over the long term.”
The comment played perfectly into Calia’s own rising insecurities about her liaison. But she didn’t allow Antonia to see her doubts. “Don’t you think it’s past time you abandoned this sad obsession of yours, Antonia? Why don’t you move on? Gio obviously has—though from what I understand, he never actually stopped for you in the first place.”
The other woman sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Gio will come to his senses eventually. He has known me for too long and has grown blind to his own feelings.”
“Look Antonia, I’m going to do you a favour and tell you the truth: Gio doesn’t have any feelings for you. Except maybe anger, at the way you’ve used and abused Paolo.”
Antonia took a swig of her drink, her eyes flashing with a dangerous anger. But it was a movement from the open doorway behind the other woman that caught Calia’s eye. Paolo, poised to enter the room.
Antonia had already launched into a disdainful response, before Calia could speak out or voice a protest. “I admit that marrying the fool was a mistake. I thought it would give me the opportunity to see more of Gio—that it would help him to see me in a different light,” she slurred, rising unsteadily to her feet. “But do not think that I cannot end things with Paolo whenever I want. For now, it amuses me to stay.”
As she spoke, she began walking towards Calia. “And do not start getting any ideas about Gio. He is mine. He always has been and always will be. One day, he will realize it himself.”
She had come to a stop in front of Calia. The rancorous anger in her face elongated her features, making her look more like a snake than ever. She had raised her hand, but before Calia could guess at her intentions, Paolo’s voice sliced into the room, a torrent of angry Italian.
Antonia’s eyes widened, her expression registering shock as she turned. The two exchanged hard words, before she stalked from the room.
Calia heard a distant door slam as Paolo returned his attention to her, his expression still angry as he walked into the room.
“I’m sorry you overheard that, Paolo.”
“Are you?” His mouth twisted. “I am not. Gio had to make a few calls, so I thought I’d join you two…” He shook his head. “I have had it with that woman—finally. Perhaps I was just waiting to hear something like this—to have comfirmation of what I have suspected for some time now. I am only sorry that you were put in such an uncomfortable situation. She has been worse than usual this past week. Erratic and totally unreasonable.” He sank into a chair, the anger fading as he rubbed his face tiredly.
“I don’t know how you put up with it for so long.”
“I kept thinking that if I just rode it out, it would pass. She would go back to being the woman I thought she was, when we were dating. When I proposed.” Calia winced to see the pain in his expression. “But that woman, she did not exist, did she?” His voice cracked on the last word. “Except in my own imagination.”
Calia swallowed and moved to sit beside him, taking his hand in her own. “I’m sorry Paolo. I truly am. You deserve better.”
“You hardly even knew her, and yet you could see…” He let out a weary sigh. “Was I the only one blind to what she truly was?”
Calia didn’t know how to answer him, so she remained silent.
“Everyone else knew, didn’t they? They knew she was playing me for a fool. But no-one bothered to tell me. Not even Gio.” Paolo shook his head, his eyes suddenly dark. “He knew didn’t he?” When Calia didn’t answer, his mouth twisted. He gave a bitter laugh. “Of course Gio knew. That was obvious too.” He stood, his movements tight and abrupt as he began pacing. “So why did he say nothing?”
Calia saw the hurt and anger in Paolo’s expression as he paused to glare at her. Steeling herself against the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tried to justify a decision she had been arguing against from the first day she and Gio had met,
“He was going to tell you, but he was waiting. He thought he might only have one chance to convince you about the truth, and he was afraid you wouldn’t believe him without concrete evidence.” As she feared, the outrage in his expression increased at this latest revelation.
“Evidence?”
Gio’s entrance interrupted their exchange. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, frowning as his gaze swept across Paolo’s angry posture and the apologetic look Calia threw his way.
She grimaced as Paolo stood and swung around to confront his friend. Again, the Italian came hard and fast, as Calia shifted uncomfortably in the background.
After a spitting out a final, disdainful phrase, Paolo strode from the room.
Gio turned on her, his expression furious. “How dare you interfere! Blabbing to him about Antonia! I told you I would handle the situation! Your damned, female meddling has cost me the friendship of a man who is like a brother to me. I hope you are happy with the damage you have caused.”
His accusations swept away the regrets Calia had been about to express, that the truth about Antonia had emerged at such an inopportune moment. Instead, she felt the anger and hurt rising inside her. “How typical, that you should somehow turn this around on me—all because you kept putting off telling him the truth in the first place! This whole situation was a time bomb, and longer you waited to tell him, the more of a chance he had of learning about Antonia himself. Which is exactly what happened. Of course he wanted an explanation, after—“
“He as much as admitted you are the one who told him what was going on, so do not bother trying to deny it. You are no different from any of the others—I was a fool to think otherwise. To trust a woman.” He spat the word as if it were an insult. Then, he shook head. “Why the hell am I wasting my time on this? You have your credit cards. I expect you to be gone by the time I am back. I will have that contract of yours left at the reception tomorrow, with any pertinent notes from the lawyer. But I do not want to hear anything more from you.”
And with a final, contemptuous glance, he was gone, leaving Calia shaking with fury. The hurt, she knew would come later, but for the moment, she was too angry with Gio and his damned assumptions to feel the ache of his easy betrayal. Only now did she realize how much she had begun to believe that for all his superficial mistrust, he was beginning to feel she might be different.
But obviously, the lack of trust ran far deeper than that. He was ready to fall back on it and assume the worst without bothering to give her a fair hearing.
As she made her way to her room, she felt the anger begin to fade in the face of an empty, aching despair. The hurt was there now too, squeezing her heart and tightening her chest. Should she even bother staying and trying to set the record straight?
If she did, and he were persuaded, would she be able to forgive his own lack of faith? She didn’t know if she had it in her to move beyond that and trust him again. She’d always be wondering whether he would lash out at her again over some supposed indiscretion.
But some part of her rebelled at slinking quietly out of sight, without at least having her say.
By the time she had reached her room and gotten her guidebook out of her backpack, she had made up her mind. She would leave tonight. Then, tomorrow, when she went to his office to pick up the contract, she would have her confrontation and would see where it took
them. But she knew she’d need the freedom to walk away from him, if necessary—both as a bargaining chip and as a way out for her if she needed it.
That was why it had to be tomorrow—she didn’t want to be in a situation where, if she did manage to get him to believe her, he’d have a built in advantage. If she waited for him here and they ended up reconciling, it would be too easy for him to convince her to stay. She had no intention of becoming his doormat. It would take time for her to get over her hurt with him and figure out whether she wanted to trust him again.
After phoning around to several hostels, she managed to find one with a vacancy. Then, she ordered a taxi so she could get the hell out of there before Gio came back.
As she waited for it to arrive, she made her farewells to Larissa and Cosimo, thanking them for their kindness and hospitality.
The older woman gave her a worried look. “You and Gio have had words, yes? But he will be back, cara mia. And he will have calmed down. He will want to see you, to speak to you. Why not wait for him?”
But Calia shook her head. “He told me to be gone by the time he returned and I intend to keep to that.”
Despite Larissa’s further attempts to dissuade her, she refused to be budged.
She spent a restless night on a creaky, uncomfortable bed—nor were her attempts to sleep aided by the mutterings and snores of the five other occupants of the room.
The next day, she dressed for war. She chose her outfit carefully—a clingy summer dress that showed off her curvy figure to perfection. She needed to be bold and confident—and looking her absolute best would bolster her attitude.
After a meticulous application of makeup—she had no intention of allowing him to see the darkened shadows under her eyes—she stood back and surveyed the results. One of her roommates, a pretty redhead who looked like she was barely out of school, threw her an envious glance.
“You look hot! All the Italian guys are totally gonna flip.” She grinned ruefully. “I just wish I had packed a few nicer outfits—you never know who you might run into!”
Her Roman Holiday Page 14
