Irresistible You

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Oh my God! I’ve never had such an experience as your son’s house, Mrs Mortimer. I got through twenty-eight dusters and my vacuum cleaner broke – actually broke!’

  Prof shook his head. He’d avoided her for as long as he could but he just couldn’t think of another way out of this mess.

  *

  ‘You should have called me sooner, Professor Mortimer,’ Betty Beaton admonished as soon as she walked through the door – or rather squashed through the door. She was a rather portly woman and didn’t thank him for the fact that the door wasn’t able to accommodate her.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs B,’ he said. ‘But, as you can see, I need your help.’

  She nodded and ran a tentative finger along the spines of some of the books in the hallway and then tutted.

  ‘I’ll pay you double what you’re used to, of course.’

  ‘It’s not a question of money, Professor,’ she said. ‘What about my poor back? I’m not as young as he used to be, you know.’

  ‘But you’re only a girl!’ he said, ashamed of himself for stooping to flattery.

  She shook her head again and, for one terrible moment, he thought she was going to leave but she looked up at him, her mouth pursed so tightly that it was just a pink full stop, and her eyes narrowed as if to prevent herself from seeing even more unpleasantness.

  ‘Where’s your vacuum, Professor?’ she asked sternly and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  *

  It took nearly a whole day before Mrs B was satisfied with the place. Prof looked around in wonder at her work

  ‘You’re a true miracle worker,’ he said. ‘What would he have done without you?’

  ‘You’d have probably drowned in your own dust,’ she said.

  ‘I kept thinking you were going to uncover Stig,’ he laughed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stig! Stig of the Dump,’ he explained. ‘It’s a book where –’

  ‘I don’t have time to read,’ she said.

  ‘No. Of course not,’ he said. ‘Too busy keeping the nation spick and span, I dare say.’

  She glared at him as if he’d insulted her rather than given her a compliment.

  ‘Well, here’s your money,’ he said hastily, keen to get the house back to himself again.

  ‘And when do you want me to come again?’ she asked.

  He was on the verge of saying four years next Saturday, but resisted. He hadn’t planned on having a weekly cleaner but it looked as if he was stuck with her now and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  ‘How about Thursday morning?’

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Tuesday?’

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Er - ’ he scratched his head. ‘What about -’

  ‘I can fit you in on Monday afternoons between four and six,’ she said, folding her money into a voluminous purse. ‘You’ll need to get some new cloths and bath cleaner. I can’t work with the ones you use.’

  Prof nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘And you might think of investing in a new vacuum cleaner. Your one’s had it.’

  He bit his lip in an attempt to stop himself from laughing. ‘I’ll have a look this weekend,’ he said, opening the front door and trying desperately not to push her through it. ‘Thanks again, Mrs B.’

  ‘Beaton,’ she said, and he felt as if he had been.

  Chapter 10

  ‘You’re engaged?’ Rosanna exclaimed, her eyes doubling in size with what looked like horror rather than happiness. ‘But you’ve only known him for - how long is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Elena lied. ‘A few months. Anyway, it’s long enough. I feel like I’ve known him all her life.’ At least that part was true, she thought.

  ‘But do you really know him? Trust him? Have you met his family yet?’

  Elena sighed wearily. Of course, they were only talking about Mark. She hadn’t dared break the news about the Reuben or Prof yet. One fiancé at a time, she thought.

  ‘No. I haven’t met his family but I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I mean, what if he turns out to have a mother like Irma Taccani?’

  ‘Good point,’ Rosanna conceded. ‘But you have to go through these things – if you’re making a lifelong commitment to someone, you can’t get away with not meeting his family.’

  ‘I just don’t see the point in rushing. We just want to be us at the moment - is that so dreadful?’

  Rosanna chewed her lip. ‘Is he Catholic?’

  ‘Rosanna!’

  ‘Well, is he?’

  ‘No! But neither am I.’

  Rosanna tutted. ‘What a way to talk! You show such little respect.’

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  Rosanna shifted uneasily on the sofa. She didn’t look at all pleased; she looked as if she’d just discovered a porcupine in her knickers.

  ‘Look!’ she said, ‘I have to go and meet a client and, when I come back, I want you to have thought long and hard about this, Elena. This is a life-changing decision, you know? You don’t just get engaged on a whim. I know you! I know what you’re like with men but you can’t treat them just as you want. There has to be respect and truth and love.’

  Elena sat perfectly still and perfectly silent. She didn’t dare say anything, not when Rosanna was this worked up, but, boy, was Rosanna going to be furious with her when she found out the truth - that she had not only committed herself to one man but to three. What would she say then? Elena wondered, dread filling her heart.

  With a sigh the north wind would have been proud of, Rosanna got up.

  ‘Right. I’m going now. I want you to sit here and think about what you’ve just told me. Really think!’ she said, waving her hand just like their mama used to wave her wooden spoon at her.

  Elena’s mouth dropped at her words as she watched Rosanna spring up from the sofa, and she couldn’t think of anything to say in response so she simply watched as Rosanna swung her handbag over her shoulder and left the house. What a nightmare, she thought. Who did she think she was to talk to her like that? She’d forgotten how completely overbearing her sister could be.

  Elena got up from the sofa and walked through to the kitchen. It was a relief to have the apartment to herself for a while. She looked out of the kitchen window onto a communal garden which was overlooked by other apartments where washing hung out of windows to dry in the bright spring sunshine. An old woman’s hand shook a duster out into the garden but, other than her and cat-child, who Rosanna had let outside, there wasn’t a soul around. It was so unlike her flat in London which looked out onto a high street that never slept. She loved the peace of Venice. The water seemed to absorb sound and some of the back streets seemed to be in a permanent siesta. It was just what she needed.

  Elena closed her eyes to absorb the silence around her. There hadn’t been many moments like this for a while. Life had been rather noisy. Her head had slowly been filled up with so much stuff that her thoughts had had nowhere to go but round and round in circles. Mark. Reuben. Prof. Three very special men who deserved nothing but one hundred percent of her attention. But they weren’t getting that, were they?

  There has to be respect and truth and love.

  Rosanna’s words swam in front of her again. She was right, wasn’t she? Elena hadn’t really thought this through at all. There was love, of course - her own interpretation of it which was obviously something different from her sister’s - but respect and truth? Her three engagement rings showed nothing but her contempt for each of her fiancés. She had taken their tokens of love knowing that they were pledging themselves to her and her alone and, now that she thought about it, she could see how wrong it all was.

  The funny thing was, it hadn’t seemed wrong at the time. She’d thought that, by having three fiancés, she was giving more love and not less but she was sure Mark, Prof and Reuben wouldn’t see it like that. But that was getting far too philosophical for her first day in Venice. She
could allow herself at least one day off before she got down to the serious business of decision making.

  She was just pouring herself a nice big apricot juice when the door bell rang. It was probably Rosanna, she thought, coming to say, ‘and another thing …’ and Elena was ready to give her a piece of her mind this time. But it wasn’t Rosanna. It was Reuben.

  At once, Elena’s mind somersaulted into action. Reuben was in Venice. The man who wouldn’t put his brush down to make her a cup of coffee after three hours’ of her sitting for him had got on a plane and travelled a thousand miles to see her. If he had done that, then Mark and Prof were even more capable of turning up unannounced.

  Elena looked nervously passed Reuben’s shoulder in case all her fiancés were travelling together. What a horrendous thought! Elena’s Fiancés Tour Group. Discounts when three or more travel together.

  ‘Aren’t you going to welcome me?’ Reuben asked, obviously put out by Elena’s puzzled expression.

  ‘Of course!’ she said, kissing him quickly. ‘I’m just so amazed to see you! How did you find me?’

  ‘You told me where you were staying,’ he said, frowning. ‘It wasn’t that hard to find.’

  Elena’s eyes widened. So she had and, for once, he’d actually been listening to her.

  He held her tight for a moment before he came into the entrance hall and followed her up the stairs.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he said, his eyes taking in the sweeping splendour of the apartment. ‘I mean – good grief! Does all this belong to one guy?’

  Elena nodded. ‘Sandro Constantini.’

  ‘Never heard of him. Can’t be that good if I haven’t heard of him,’ Reuben said, walking right into the room as if he owned it.

  ‘Jealously will get you nowhere,’ she chided.

  ‘I’m not jealous,’ he said, his eyes scanning the canvasses on display with the cautious scrutiny of a fellow artist. ‘They’re all pretty average, anyway. He must have a benefactor or something.’

  Elena smiled. ‘Reuben?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Why are you here?’

  He turned around and grinned, walking towards her and folding his arms around her waist. ‘I came to see you,’ he said, pushing his tongue into her ear.

  She pushed him away. ‘I know.’

  He sighed. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I felt bad about before - you know?’

  She nodded, but already her mind was racing ahead to what Rosanna would say when she came back and found she’d smuggled a man into the apartment. ‘But you didn’t have to come all this way, you know. You could have just called me.’

  ‘It’s not the same though, is it? Anyway, I thought I could get a bit of painting in.’

  Ah! Elena thought. The truth was coming out.

  ‘This place is brilliant!’ he continued. ‘Do you think this Sandro guy would mind if I used his easels?’

  ‘You can’t stay, Reuben!’

  ‘What? Why the hell not?’

  ‘It’s not my place! I’m not even meant to be here.’

  ‘But who’s going to know? Who’s going to tell on us?’

  ‘Rosanna! She’s really strict about these things.’

  ‘Elena, she’s not even met me yet. I’m sure I can persuade her,’ he said, his voice dark and silky.

  Elena sighed, knowing it was going to be hard trying to convince him. ‘She’s not the sort of woman who can be wound round your little finger, you know.’

  ‘But there’s loads of bloody room here! I really don’t see what the problem is.’

  She looked at him. How could she tell him that her real worry was Prof and Mark turning up as well?

  ‘The thing is,’ she began, ‘Rosanna doesn’t know when Sandro will be back. He could turn up any day and I don’t think he’s the sort to welcome a group of strangers in his home.’

  Reuben grimaced.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but why don’t you book into a hotel somewhere?’

  ‘You’ll come with me, then?’

  She bit her lip. ‘Reuben, I came here to see Rosanna. I don’t get to spend much time with her.’

  ‘You’re staying here?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t mind, do you? You’ll get more work done without me hanging around, you know you will. And we can always meet up for lunch or dinner,’ she said, trying to be as persuasive as possible.

  ‘God!’ he sighed. ‘I don’t know why I bothered coming!’

  ‘Yes you do,’ she said, aware that she had to change his mood pretty quickly or else they’d have another scene on their hands and Rosanna was bound to walk in right in the middle of it. ‘It’s because you love me.’

  His frown eased a fraction and she wound her fingers through his hair.

  ‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll book a hotel. But, I want to see you every day. I don’t want you disappearing on me like you do back at home.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Lord Reuben!’ she smiled. His name was Reuben Lord but, with his slightly pompous nature, she’d always thought Lord Reuben far more suitable.

  ‘All right if I have a shower?’ he asked. ‘Mr high and mighty wouldn’t begrudge me that, would he?’

  ‘As long as you’re quick. There are towels under the sink, but only take one. I don’t want Rosanna having an excuse to get worked up.’

  Reuben groaned. ‘God, I’m only having a shower. I’m not throwing a wild party!’

  ‘I know. I know! It’s just – well – you don’t know what Rosanna can be like.’

  He bent down to give her a kiss. ‘And you’ll get into something slightly more attractive, okay? I’m going to take you out to dinner.’

  Elena hadn’t really brought anything suitable for dining out in as she hadn’t planned to do anything but eat pizza. She went upstairs and opened the wardrobe, whistling as she saw the collection of clothes. Rosanna had moved in good and proper.

  Elena’s hand pushed through the rich velvets and sumptuous silks. She was spoilt for choice. Besides, she reasoned, Rosanna hardly ever wore any of it which was a great shame because she could look like a movie star when she put her mind to it, but she chose to wear nothing but neutrals during the day. Elena had lost count of the number of black skirts and white shirts Rosanna owned. Occasionally, she’d break out into blue but nothing got more exciting than that, which was why Elena was so surprised to find crimsons, amethysts and golds in the wardrobe.

  She pulled out a long velvet indigo dress and held it up for inspection. It was lucky that they were the same size because Elena didn’t have the sort of money to buy such nice things at the moment.

  She was just pulling the dress over her head when she heard voices downstairs. Rosanna was back. And she was talking to Reuben.

  Elena rushed out of the room and ran down the stairs as quickly as was possible in the tight dress.

  ‘Rosanna?’ she called. ‘Is that you?’ It was a silly question but she just wanted to stop her from talking to Reuben.

  ‘Yes! Of course it’s me! Who else could it possibly be?’

  Rosanna was standing in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips and a deep frown etched across her forehead. She was staring at Reuben who was wearing nothing but a towel. And a scowl.

  He turned and glared at her, his eyes dark and full of anger.

  ‘Elena – who the hell is Mark?’

  Elena’s heart beat faster than was healthy as she stared at Reuben. ‘What’s she been saying to you?’ she asked.

  ‘Does it matter what Rosanna’s said? I want to hear what you have to say, Elena!’

  ‘He says he’s not Mark, Elena, yet he’s engaged to you!’ Rosanna cried. ‘How can this be? I don’t understand!’

  ‘Shut up a minute, Rosanna!’

  ‘Don’t you tell me to shut up! I go out for five minutes and come back to find a naked man in the apartment. A naked man who says he’s your fiancé but who says his name’s Reuben! I need to know what’s going on here!’

  ‘So
do I!’ Reuben shouted, his arms folded across his bare chest and his dark hair dripping down his shoulders.

  ‘Reuben! I think you should put some clothes on,’ Elena said, her voice incredibly calm considering she had no idea what she was going to say. ‘Put some clothes on and I’ll explain everything to you.’

  ‘Talking of clothes,’ Rosanna shouted, ‘what the hell are you doing wearing my dress?’

  Chapter 11

  Rosanna had got the shock of her life when returning to the apartment.

  ‘Elena?’ she’d called as she’d walked up the steps into the living room. ‘I hope you’ve been thinking about things whilst I’ve been out.’

  Rosanna stopped in shock at the top of the steps at the sight of a half-naked man in the living room wearing nothing but a towel. Her mouth opened wide but no sound came out. She just stared. Who the hell was he? And what was he doing in Sandro’s apartment? She’d only been out a few minutes and, as far as she knew, Elena hadn’t left the apartment at all, so this man couldn’t possibly be a burglar who just happened to have taken a shower.

  ‘Porca Madonna!’ she managed at last. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘You must be Rosanna,’ he said calmly, in perfect English.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, trying to work out who this drenched god was. And then she remembered her words of warning to Elena. How she’d explicitly told her not to go inviting anyone to stay. Of course! This must be her fiancé from England. Well, it seemed obvious to her that Elena had planned all this before she’d even come out here. She could see it all now - Elena had come on her own first and, what was the delightful English phrase she used - to butter her up? Then, her fiancé would show up and the two of them would have a fabulous free holiday at Sandro’s expense. Elena hadn’t wanted to spend time with her at all, had she? Rosanna was just part of some scheme of hers.

  ‘I’m sorry about this,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t plan this as an introduction.’

  Rosanna shook her head. There was a slight blush around his cheeks and along his throat. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her eyes slide down his chest. He was incredibly attractive: raven-dark shoulder-length hair, wet from the shower - the water droplets sparkling like jewels; eyes dark as any Italian’s but set in an alabaster face - not a sickly, pasty white like some English men’s but that aristocratic white you see in old portraits in stately homes. Whatever Rosanna suspected about Elena, she couldn’t blame him for it. He probably had no idea what he was letting himself in for by getting engaged to her.