Reunited with Her Italian Ex

by Lucy Gordon

  At last he moved away, back to the real world, where he was a man in command. And that, he vowed, was where he would stay.

  *

  Giorgio looked up as Mario approached. ‘No luck finding her?’

  Mario shrugged. ‘I didn’t bother looking very far. Try calling her again.’

  Giorgio dialled the number, listening with a resigned face.

  ‘Looks like she still isn’t—no, wait! Natasha, is that you? Thank goodness! Where have you been? What? Don’t you know the time? All right, I’ll tell Mario. But hurry.’ He shut off the phone. ‘She says she overslept.’

  Mario shrugged. ‘Perhaps the flight tired her yesterday.’

  Giorgio gave a rich chuckle. ‘My guess is that she was entertaining someone last night. I know she’d only just arrived, but a girl as lovely as that can entertain anyone whenever she wants. I saw men looking at her as she came down those stairs. Did you expect such a beauty?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to expect,’ Mario said in a toneless voice.

  ‘Nor me. I never hoped she’d be so young and lovely. Let’s make the best of it. Juliet come to life. Oh, yes, finding her was a real stroke of luck.’

  A stroke of luck. The words clamoured in Mario’s brain, adding more bitterness to what he was already suffering. He didn’t believe that a man had been in Natasha’s room last night, but the sight of her naked had devastated him. He could almost believe she’d done it on purpose to taunt him, but the sweet, enchanting Natasha he’d known would never do that.

  But was she that Natasha any more?

  Had she ever been?

  ‘I just know what she’s doing right this minute,’ Giorgio said with relish. ‘She’s turning to the man next to her in the bed, saying, “You’ve got to go quickly so that nobody finds you here.” Perhaps we should have someone watch her door to see who comes out.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Mario growled.

  ‘With a girl as stunning as that, nothing is ever enough. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. You were fizzing from the moment you saw her.’

  ‘Drop it,’ Mario growled.

  ‘All right, you don’t want to admit she had that effect on you. After all, you’re the boss. Don’t let her guess she’s got you where she wants you—even if she has.’

  ‘I said drop it.’

  ‘Steady there. Don’t get mad at me. I was only thinking that if there’s an attraction between you, we can make use of it.’

  ‘And you’re mistaken. There’s no attraction between us.’

  ‘Pity. That could have been fun.’

  *

  Slowly, Natasha felt life returning to her as she ended the call from Giorgio.

  ‘Nine-fifteen!’ she gasped in horror. ‘I was supposed to be downstairs at nine. Oh, I should never have taken those sleeping pills.’

  The pills had plunged her into a deep slumber, which she’d needed to silence her desperate thoughts of Mario. But at the end he’d invaded her sleep, his face close to hers, regarding her with an almost fierce intensity. But he wasn’t there. It had been a dream.

  ‘I just can’t get away from him,’ she whispered. ‘Will I ever?’

  She showered in cold water, relishing the feeling of coming back to life. Dressing was a simple matter of putting on tailored trousers and a smart blazer and fixing her hair back tightly. Then she was ready to go.

  She found Giorgio and Mario downstairs at the table.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to be late but I was more tired than I realised.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ Giorgio said gallantly.

  Mario threw him a cynical look but said nothing.

  ‘Where’s that waiter?’ Giorgio asked, frowning. ‘I’ll find him and he can bring you breakfast.’

  He vanished.

  ‘I’m glad Giorgio’s gone,’ she said. ‘It gives us a chance to talk honestly. Last night you stopped me getting out of my chair, and told me to stay. But is that really what you want? Wouldn’t you be better off without me?’

  ‘If I thought that I’d have said so,’ he retorted.

  ‘But think of it, day after day, trying not to get annoyed with each other, pretending to like each other. Surely you don’t want that? I’m giving you the chance to get rid of me, Mario.’

  ‘What about you? Do you want to make a run for it?’

  ‘I can cope.’

  ‘But you think I can’t. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re business professionals and on that basis it can work.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Shake.’

  ‘Shake.’ He took her extended hand. ‘Perhaps I should warn you that Giorgio has some rather fancy ideas about you. He thinks you had a lover in your room last night and that’s why you overslept.’

  ‘What? I’d taken some herbal pills to get to sleep after a strenuous day. A lover? I’d only been here five minutes.’

  ‘Giorgio sees you as the kind of woman who can attract men as fast as that.’

  ‘Cheek!’

  ‘In his eyes it’s a compliment.’

  She scowled for a moment, then laughed. ‘I guess I’ll learn to put up with him.’

  Giorgio reappeared with her breakfast.

  ‘Eat up and we’ll get to work,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you a map of Verona.’

  ‘I’ve got one,’ she said, drawing it from her bag. ‘I bought it at the airport so that I would be ready. The more you plan, the simpler life is.’

  ‘True,’ Mario murmured, ‘but there are some things that can never be planned.’

  ‘And you can’t always anticipate what they might be,’ she agreed. ‘You can try, but—’ She shrugged.

  ‘But they always take you by surprise,’ he murmured.

  ‘Not always. Just sometimes. It’s best to be ready.’

  Giorgio looked from one to the other as if his alarm bells had sounded again.

  ‘It’s time we were making plans,’ he said. ‘I’ve called the others in the group, and they’re dying to meet you. We’re all invited to dinner tonight at the Albergo Splendido.’ He beamed at Natasha. ‘It’ll be your big night.’

  ‘Then I’d better prepare for it,’ she said. ‘I’ll look around Verona today so that I can sound knowledgeable at the dinner. Otherwise they’ll think I’m an amateur.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Giorgio said. ‘I’ll escort you, and we’ll have a great time.’

  ‘Now, here—’ Natasha pointed to a street on the map ‘—this is the Via Capello, where I can visit Juliet’s house. I’d like to go there first, then the house where the Montagues lived. Finally, I’d like to see the tomb. Then I can work out my plans.’

  ‘We’ll leave as soon as you’ve finished breakfast,’ Mario told her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE CHAUFFEUR-DRIVEN CAR was waiting for them, and soon they were on their way around the city.

  Natasha already knew a good deal about Verona, having read about it on the plane. It was an old city, much of which went back to Roman times, two thousand years ago. Several places survived from that era, including a huge arena where gladiators had once slain their victims, but now was used for musical performances.

  The streets were lined with historic buildings, many hinting at mystery and romance, all seeming to come from a more intriguing and beautiful age. She kept her eyes fixed on them as they drove through the town, trying to absorb its atmosphere.

  ‘We’re just turning into the Via Capello,’ Mario said. ‘We’ll reach Juliet’s house at any moment.’

  A few minutes later the car dropped them at the entrance to a short tunnel. They joined the crowd walking through to the courtyard at the far end, where the balcony loomed overhead. Natasha regarded it with shining eyes.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Of course I know it was put up less than a hundred years ago, but it looks right. It fits the house so perfectly that you can almost see Juliet standing there.’

  ‘She’s actually over ther
e,’ Giorgio said, pointing at a figure standing a little ahead, beneath and to the side of the balcony. It was a bronze statue of a young woman.

  ‘Juliet,’ she breathed.

  As she watched, a woman walked up to the statue and brushed her hand against its breast. She was followed by another woman, and another, then a man.

  ‘It’s a tradition,’ Mario explained. ‘Everyone does it in the hope that it will bring them good luck. That’s why that part of her is shining, because it’s touched so often. People like to make contact with Juliet because they see her as a woman who knows more about love than anyone in the world.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s true,’ Natasha murmured. ‘But she knows tragedy as well as love.’

  Intrigued, she went to stand before the statue. Juliet’s head was turned slightly to the side, gazing into the distance as though only in another world could she find what she sought.

  Natasha watched as a woman touched Juliet, closed her eyes and murmured something. At last her eyes opened and she stepped back with a smile, evidently feeling that she had received an answer.

  If only it was that simple, Natasha thought. If Juliet really could give me advice I’d ask her about the way my head is whirling, about how I’m feeling, and how I ought to be feeling. But she can’t help me because she doesn’t exist. She never really did, not the way people believe in her. That kind of love is just an illusion.

  She turned away to find Mario waiting. He moved closer, leaving Giorgio at a distance, and speaking quietly.

  ‘Were you consulting Juliet?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘She’s a fantasy. Nothing more.’

  ‘How very prosaic.’

  ‘I am prosaic, and I’m glad. It’s useful.’

  ‘But if you’re going to promote the romantic fantasy, shouldn’t you believe in it?’

  She surveyed him with her head on one side and a faint ironic smile on her face.

  ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘It isn’t necessary to believe something to persuade other people that it’s true.’

  ‘I wonder if you’re right.’

  A flash of anger made her say quickly, ‘You know I’m right. We all know it at heart.’

  ‘So—’ he hesitated ‘—you’re telling me that you’ve toughened up?’

  ‘By a mile. So beware.’

  ‘No need to tell me that.’

  ‘So I’ve got you worried already? Good.’

  For a wild moment he was tempted to tell her of the confused reactions that had rioted in him when he first saw her on the stairs. There had been an incredible moment of pleasure that the sight of her had always brought him, and which even now remained. But it had collided with a sense of alarm, as though a warning bell had sounded, letting him know that she would bring fear and darkness into his life.

  But he suppressed the impulse to speak. How satisfied she would be to know that she could still throw him into confusion.

  ‘Don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s toughened up,’ she challenged him. ‘Haven’t you?’

  ‘No doubt of it. It’s called survival.’

  She nodded. ‘Right. As long as we both understand that, there’s no problem.’

  For them there would always be a problem. But there was no need of words.

  ‘Now, I have a job to do,’ she said briskly.

  ‘Yes, let’s look around further.’

  Suddenly there was a cry from the far side of the courtyard.

  ‘Buongiorno, amici!’

  ‘Amadore!’ Giorgio exclaimed, extending his hand in welcome.

  The three men exchanged greetings in Italian, until Giorgio said, ‘Signorina, this is Amadore Finucci, a fellow member of the Comunità. Amadore, this is the Signorina Natasha Bates, who doesn’t speak Italian.’

  ‘Then it will be my pleasure to speak English,’ Amadore said, seizing her hand.

  She gave a polite response and he carried her hand to his mouth.

  ‘Miss Bates,’ he said.

  ‘Please, call me Natasha.’

  ‘Thank you—Natasha. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ Giorgio said. ‘Your father has invited us to dine at your hotel tonight.’

  ‘Yes, he told me. I must leave now, but I look forward to seeing you this evening.’

  He departed. Natasha eyed Mario curiously, puzzled to find him frowning.

  ‘You’re not pleased about this invitation?’

  ‘That’s because his hotel is one of the most luxurious in town,’ Giorgio said. ‘Mario’s jealous.’

  ‘I’m not jealous,’ Mario said firmly. ‘I admit I envy him having a bottomless pit of money to spend on the place.’

  ‘His ballroom has to be seen to be believed,’ Giorgio told her.

  ‘Ballroom,’ she echoed. ‘Romeo and Juliet met in a ballroom.’ She turned to Mario. ‘Does your hotel have a ballroom?’

  ‘No. None of the other hotels do.’

  ‘Then that gives me an idea. Can we return to the hotel now? I need to get to work.’

  ‘Aren’t we going on to Romeo’s house?’ Giorgio asked.

  ‘I’ll do that tomorrow. Today, I have urgent things to do.

  ‘Could you please provide me with a list of every member of the Comunità, and their hotels? Then I can check their locations and assess their requirements.’

  ‘I’ll see to it as soon as we arrive.’

  As they walked back to the car, Giorgio murmured to Mario, ‘A woman who knows her own mind. Perhaps we should beware.’

  ‘There’s no perhaps about it,’ Mario replied grimly.

  On the way back to the hotel Natasha took out her notebook and wrote in it swiftly and fiercely. Ideas were coming to her in cascades and she needed to capture them fast. This was the part of any project that she liked best. So absorbed did she become that she was unaware of the journey, and looked up suddenly when the car stopped.

  ‘We’re here,’ Mario said. He’d been watching her silently.

  ‘I need something to eat,’ Giorgio declared. ‘Suppose we meet downstairs in half an hour, for a feast?’

  ‘Not me, thank you,’ Natasha said. ‘Perhaps you could send something up to my room?’

  ‘But we could all celebrate together,’ Giorgio protested.

  ‘We can celebrate when I’ve made a success of this job. Let’s hope that happens.’

  ‘It’ll happen,’ Giorgio said. ‘You’re going to be just fantastic, isn’t she, Mario?’

  ‘No doubt of it,’ he said bleakly.

  ‘You’re very kind, both of you. Now, excuse me, gentlemen.’

  Giving them both a polite smile, she headed for the lift.

  Upstairs, she plunged into work, making more notes about the morning before things went out of her head. She was so immersed in her work that at first she didn’t hear the knock on the door. It had to be repeated louder to capture her attention.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, pulling it open, ‘I got so—’ She checked herself at the sight of Mario standing there with a trolley of food.

  ‘Your meal, signorina,’ he said.

  She stared at the sight of the food. Someone had taken a lot of trouble preparing this meal, which Mario laid out for her with care.

  ‘Giorgio told the kitchen to produce their best, to make sure you stay with us,’ he said. ‘So you have chicory risotto, followed by tiramisù, with Prosecco.’

  Her favourite wine. How many times had he ordered it for her in Venice? And he had remembered.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ she said politely as she ate.

  ‘I’ll tell Giorgio you approve. And I brought you this,’ he said, handing her a large file.

  It was the information she’d requested about the Comunità—hotels, owners, background information.

  ‘That man I met today seems to come from the biggest and best,’ she said, flicking through it. ‘The Albergo Splendido.’

  ‘It was a palace once. You’ll like it. You’re making a consider
able impression, you know.’

  ‘Amadore certainly seemed to think so.’

  ‘Just don’t take him too seriously. He flirts with every woman on the planet.’

  She gave a brief laugh. ‘You warned me about Giorgio; now you’re warning me about Amadore. But you don’t need to. I can recognise when a man is role-playing. He puts on a performance as the “romantic Italian” because he thinks an Englishwoman is bound to be fooled. I don’t mind. He’s charming. But don’t expect me to fall for it.’

  ‘I suppose I should have known you’d say that,’ Mario growled. ‘I wonder if you ever fall for anything.’

  ‘Not these days. Never again.’

  ‘And you think that’s admirable?’

  ‘I think it’s safe.’

  ‘And safety matters more than anything else? Never mind who you hurt.’

  She turned on him, her quick temper rising. ‘Who I hurt? Did I really hear you say that? After what you did?’

  ‘I didn’t do what you thought I did, and I could have explained. But you vanished without giving me a chance to defend myself.’

  ‘What was there to defend? I know what I saw.’

  ‘Natasha, why won’t you realise that you misunderstood what you saw? Yes, I’d been having an affair with Tania. I’m not a saint. I’ve never pretended to be. But it was only a casual relationship and I’d started to feel that it must end. Things had changed in my life. I’d met you and nothing looked the same. I had to face the fact that I wanted you, not her.

  ‘So that day I met Tania and told her we couldn’t be together any more. But I couldn’t make her believe it. When I left her she followed me, and that was how she found us together.

  ‘I went after her, trying to explain that I was sorry to hurt her, but she screamed at me and ran off. I came back to our table, hoping I could make you understand. But you were gone. I tried your phone but you’d turned it off. I went to the hotel but you’d left just a few minutes earlier. Over the next few days I tried your phone, your email, your apartment, but you’d shut off every way of contacting you. It was like you’d ceased to exist.’

  ‘Exactly. I had ceased to exist. The girl I was then—naive, slightly stupid, ready to be fooled—vanished into nothing. But now there’s another woman in her place—suspicious, awkward, ready to give as good as she gets. She exists. She’s me. She’s rather hard. You won’t like her. Be wise. Get rid of her.’