Irresistible You

by Victoria Connelly

  Elena looked at the box stashed safely under her arm and couldn’t resist taking a quick peek. In the light of a small campo, she opened the lid and let her eyes feast on the golden face gazing up at her from out of its bedding of soft tissue. She couldn’t help but smile. What was she doing with a mask? She’d always laughed at people who’d worn them. Yet something had burned within her and she simply hadn’t been able to think about leaving the shop without it.

  She wondered why, with all the beautiful and fantastical masks at Viviana’s, she had been drawn to one of the plainest. Even though it was the most beautiful gold she’d ever seen and was edged with the most delicate of details, and boasted a fancy scroll above its left cheek, it was fairly plain compared to the rest that had been on display.

  She let her finger trace along the scroll and, for a moment, she swore her fingers took on a golden hue. Should she try it on? Stefano had seemed keen that she should. Hadn’t that been the condition of the gift - that she try it on and let him know how it went? She smiled. What on earth did he imagine would happen to her by simply putting on a mask? He was a funny man. Still, the temptation was proving too much.

  Her fingers fastened around the mask and she was just pulling it out from its bedding when a dog, no bigger than a rat, ran right between her legs. She was so startled that she almost dropped the mask in shock. Quickly replacing it and putting the lid back on the box, she couldn’t help feeling rather self-conscious as a man lumbered by in pursuit of his rat-dog. She mumbled a quick apology as if it was her fault and then decided to get her map out. It was time she found her way back.

  At least it would be nice and quiet when she got back, she thought, realising she was only a couple of streets away. She’d probably have a few more pressing questions from Rosanna but she was hoping that she’d had time to calm down by now. With any luck, she might even have thought of a way for her to get out of her prickly predicament.

  She thought of Reuben back at the Danieli. He’d wanted her to stay with him, she knew, and she was mean not to, but she had told him that she’d come away for some space and that he had to respect that. Besides, she could tell that he’d been itching to get his sketchbook out. And dear Mark. What would he be doing back in Harrow? Probably down the pub with his mates before going back home to one of his horrible microwaved meals. She couldn’t really blame him, mind. Nobody would want to cook on that disgusting cooker in his flat.

  And sweet Prof. What would he be doing now? she wondered, as she found her way into the long, thin calle that would lead her back to the apartment. He’d probably be having dinner at his favourite restaurant, a pile of essays to read next to a bottle of red wine. She hoped he wasn’t reading her latest attempt and wondering where her bibliography was because she hadn’t written one.

  Out of her three special men, Reuben was the one who’d made the effort when it counted and that meant a lot to her. But did it mean that he was the one? Did getting on a plane to Venice constitute true love? Or were his motives jealousy, lust and a realisation that, if he did some painting, it could be tax deductible? But wasn’t all that part of what she loved about Reuben? His drive, his passion, his ambition and dogged determination were so admirable. Prof had those very same traits but his were hidden under the surface. He wasn’t in-your-face like Reuben; he was subtle, silent and self-assured.

  Elena couldn’t help getting a warm feeling when she thought of Prof and her heart went out to him sitting on his own with nothing but a pile of essays for company. Digging in her handbag, she found her mobile phone. It was a well-kept secret from her fiancés as she couldn’t quite contemplate three men being able to find her wherever she went. She dialled Prof’s number and waited.

  ‘Hello,’ he said a moment later.

  ‘Prof? It’s Elena!’

  ‘Elena! How are you? Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes - fine! I’m in Venice.’

  ‘I know. I miss you!’

  She bit her lip. He missed her. ‘I miss you too. I wish you were here. You’d love it. Everything’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Have you been sight-seeing yet?’

  Her mind tumbled back to the interior of the Danieli and she could feel herself blushing with guilt. ‘Not really. Not yet. I went to Dorsoduro today and bought a mask.’

  ‘A mask?’ she heard him chuckle. ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, suddenly feeling silly for sharing that with him. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At Reggie’s,’ he said.

  ‘I had a feeling you’d be there.’

  ‘You’ve caught me in between a very fine pasta dish and tiramisu - in honour of you. I’m with you in spirit.’

  ‘And I bet you’ve got your essays with you,’ she said and then promptly wished she hadn’t. Why had she tempted fate like that?

  ‘Ah! Yes. Elena, I’m glad you mentioned that. I wanted to have a word with you about your essay.’

  ‘Pardon?’ she said.

  ‘It’s about your bibliography. You don’t appear to have-’

  ‘Sorry! I can’t hear you? There’s something wrong with the line.’

  ‘Elena?’

  ‘Prof? Look, I’ll ring you back when I can,’ she said, and hung up, turning her phone off in case he tried to ring her back. Putting it away, she headed for the apartment without any further delays.

  Letting herself in with the spare key Rosanna had given her, she could have sworn she heard voices from upstairs.

  ‘Rosanna? Is that you?’ she called.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who’s that with you?’ she asked, climbing the stairs.

  ‘Nobody,’ she said. ‘I was just laughing at something on the television.’

  Elena reached the top and she greeted her with a kiss. ‘I’m sorry I’m back so late.’

  ‘I was getting worried. I thought you’d got lost.’

  ‘I did for a bit,’ she admitted, stopping as she noticed Rosanna rolling her eyes. ‘What? What is it?’

  Rosanna jerked her head in the direction of the oak table and her face contorted in the strangest of manners.

  ‘What?’ Elena asked, puzzled by her curious behaviour.

  ‘SURPRISE!’ a voice suddenly shouted from behind the table. And she was. In fact, for a moment, she was sure her heart had stopped. It was Mark.

  ‘Rosanna!’ he chided. ‘You spoilt the surprise! What did you go and do that for?’ he asked. But Elena knew exactly why she’d done it. It was to prevent her from casually talking about Reuben.

  ‘Mark!’ It was all she could manage for a moment.

  ‘Elena!’

  Elena’s heart was thumping in her ears as he hugged her.

  ‘God, Elena! It’s so good to see you!’

  Think, Elena, think, Elena, think, think, think! She mustn’t act too surprised. She mustn’t try and throw him out at the earliest opportunity. She mustn’t mention Reuben!

  ‘This is such a surprise!’ she said.

  ‘I found this!’ Mark said, producing a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket as if it would explain everything.

  Elena took it from him and recognised her own handwriting. ‘It’s the address of this place. I wondered where it had got to!’

  ‘You must’ve dropped it on purpose, eh?’ he said with a wink.

  She smiled up at the way his mind worked. Never, in a million years, would she have dropped it on purpose. But she couldn’t tell him that - not after he’d travelled all that way and spent money she knew he didn’t have on the air fare. ‘A Freudian slip - right out of the pocket?’ she suggested to him.

  He grinned. ‘That’s what I reckon. Anyway, what man would let his fiancé get away with a trip to Venice on her own?’

  Elena didn’t dare catch Rosanna’s eye at that comment. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I should have asked you to come with me.’

  ‘Yes. You should’ve!’ he chastised, bending forward and kissing her.

  Elena felt his arms wrap around h
er and she had to admit that it felt good. This was Mark, after all. Dear, sweet Mark who would do all her photocopying for her at school so that she could nip out to buy new lipsticks during break time.

  ‘But where are you going to stay?’ she asked, practicality raising its ugly head.

  Mark’s eyebrows rose a fraction and she saw his glance take in the huge apartment. ‘Well, I was kind of hoping-’ he stopped, looking across at Rosanna.

  He was right, of course. How could they think of making him find a hotel at this time of night? Elena turned and smiled at Rosanna, hoping, for once, that she could read her mind.

  ‘It’s pretty dark out there. I wouldn’t want Mark to get lost like I did. We can find him somewhere to stay first thing tomorrow.’

  Rosanna chewed her lip and sighed. ‘Okay!’ she relented. ‘But,’ she added, holding a baton-like finger up in the air in warning, ‘if Sandro comes back, you’ll have to do the explaining.’

  ‘Thanks, Rosanna!’

  ‘There’s a single bed through there,’ she said, pointing to a door that led to the spare bedroom.

  ‘A single, eh? Won’t that be a bit of a squash?’ Mark whispered to Elena.

  ‘Mark!’

  ‘Where are you sleeping, then?’

  ‘Upstairs, with Rosanna.’

  ‘Oh!’ Mark said, looking crestfallen. ‘That’s sounds like much more fun. Can’t I share with you two?’

  Elena slapped him on the back and led him through to the spare room. It had low beams and he had to duck to avoid cracking his head, but it was cosy and he soon made himself as home, emptying out the entire contents of his rucksack even though Elena reminded him that he’d be leaving in the morning.

  ‘God, Elena, I’ve missed you,’ he said again. ‘I was going out of my head in Harrow on my own.’

  ‘You mean, you’ve only come out here because you were bored?’

  He shook his head in mock anger. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it! I missed you! I’m no good without you,’ he said, and his arms were around her again.

  Elena rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him close to her. She felt so confused. First Reuben and now Mark. What was going on here? Was she being tested? Wasn’t it enough that she’d come out here to sort things out? Why were these extra obstacles being thrown at her? Or were they here to help her? Was Prof’s absence a sure indication that he wasn’t the one for her? But hadn’t he been thinking of her - eating Italian as he’d read her essay?

  ‘You’re very pensive, aren’t you?’ Mark whispered.

  She looked up at him. ‘Not pensive,’ she lied. ‘Just happy.’

  ‘Good,’ he said.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘Rosanna will be thinking we’re up to no good.’

  When they went back through to the living room, Rosanna had cooked up some pasta and they all ate at the table as if they were one big happy family. For a few minutes, nobody said a word but concentrated on the food, although Mark made many appreciative noises as he ate. Elena had to laugh at her earlier image of him sitting in his flat eating a ghastly microwave meal when, all along, he’d been on his way to her.

  ‘It’s great to finally meet you,’ Mark told Rosanna as he all but scraped the pattern off the plate with an eager fork. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

  Rosanna looked up at him and gave the tiniest of smiles. ‘And I’ve heard all about you,’ she said with great control.

  Mark laughed. ‘I dread to think what you’ve heard!’

  Elena glared at Rosanna, making sure she didn’t elaborate. She had a devilish glint in her eyes.

  ‘So, Rosanna, what’s it like to be a model?’ Mark asked before Elena could think of anything else to say. Elena almost choked on her mouthful as she saw Rosanna flinch. Nobody asked her about her work. She was always incredibly secretive about it as if she were ashamed of what she did.

  ‘It’s - er,’ she stumbled, staring down at her empty plate, ‘good.’

  ‘Yeah? Don’t you get embarrassed? I mean, having people gawping at you all the time?’

  Elena cleared her throat. Even though Rosanna had been threatening to drop her in it since the unexpected arrival of two of her fiancés, she decided to help her out.

  ‘She only gets embarrassed when people ask her questions about it!’

  ‘Oh!’ Mark said. ‘Sorry. It’s just, I’ve never met a model before.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Rosanna assured. ‘It’s just there’s not much to say. I sit there and they paint me. It’s-’ she gazed up at the beams in the living room as if hunting for the right words, ‘calm,’ she concluded.

  Mark nodded, as if he understood perfectly. ‘That is definitely something you can’t say about teaching.’

  Elena smiled. He was right there. Teaching was as far away from calm as Venice was from London.

  ‘Anyway, the pasta was great. I haven’t been cooked for in a long time,’ he said, and Elena immediately felt like the worst fiancée in the world.

  Rosanna, suitably flattered, smiled at him and blushed as she cleared the table.

  ‘I’ll do those,’ Mark said. ‘It the least she can do.’

  ‘No, no. I wouldn’t hear of it,’ Rosanna said. ‘Why don’t you make yourself at home?’

  Mark nodded. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind a shower.’

  Elena’s mouth fell open at the shocking symmetry of the day and Rosanna caught her eye briefly but, this time, it was merriment twinkling there eyes rather than devilry.

  ‘I’m not sure we have any clean towels left,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how we get through so many.’

  ‘I’m sure we can find one,’ Elena quickly interrupted, knowing that Rosanna was enjoying her discomfort immensely. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’

  Mark followed her through to the bathroom and gave a long, low whistle.

  ‘I know. Imagine having a place like this.’

  ‘I’m imagining,’ Mark whispered, squeezing her to him and kissing her neck.

  ‘Mark! My sister’s in the next room!’

  ‘She could join us if she wants to.’

  Elena glared at him. ‘I hope you’re teasing!’

  ‘She’s very cute,’ he continued.

  ‘Cute? Cute is not a word I’d ever think of to describe Rosanna,’ she said, thinking of her sister’s scolding tongue and her tempestuous temper.

  ‘That’s because she’s your sister.’

  ‘Are you going to have this shower or not?’

  He raised his hands in defeat and began to get undressed.

  ‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  They kissed goodnight and she left him to it.

  Walking back through to the living room, Elena sat down next to Rosanna on the sofa. Rosanna looked up from her magazine and Elena was ready to receive a tirade on the appalling day she’d put her through but Rosanna surprised her.

  ‘Did you see Reuben off okay?’

  She nodded. ‘He’s in the Danieli.’

  ‘Porca Madonna! Can he afford it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘He seemed nice,’ Rosanna confessed.

  ‘He is.’

  ‘And this Mark - he seems nice too.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t think one of them a monster and the other being a prince, did you?’ Elena groaned. ‘Now do you see how difficult it is? It’s not as easy as eeny, meeny, miny mo! They’re both wonderful - in different ways.’

  Rosanna nodded. ‘But you’re still only one person. You can’t split yourself in two. I mean, how have you been coping with two fiancés?’

  Elena stifled a giggle. ‘It’s not been easy,’ she said, thinking of dear Prof and what Rosanna would say if she knew she was juggling three.

  ‘And now you’ve got me involved,’ Rosanna said. ‘I’ve never known a day like today.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Elena said because, believe it or not, she was. �
�It won’t happen again,’ she added.

  Rosanna stared at her. ‘It had better bloody not!’

  And then they both burst out laughing.

  Chapter 17

  Prof’s tiramisu tasted bland and bitter after he got cut off from Elena and he couldn’t concentrate on the next student’s essay. All he kept thinking about was Elena in Venice. It had been echoey and there’d been some street noise and he had an awful image of her wandering around the dark alleys of the city on her own. What was she doing out on her own? There was no excuse - he should have been there with her. She’d even told him that she’d wished he was there. So what was he doing eating alone in Reggie’s?

  He took one last spoonful of tiramisu, collected his essays together and asked for the bill. Leaving the restaurant, he remembered how cold it was and cursed having taken neither car nor coat. A brisk walk and thoughts of Elena would have to do their best to warm him up, he thought.

  He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of going with her before. Of course, she had made it clear to him that this wasn’t a holiday for her but he should have read between the lines. If an English professor couldn’t read between the lines then who could? She’d probably wanted him to be more forceful and he wasn’t very good at that. If a woman told him that she was happy to go alone then he believed her. He wasn’t used to being dominant and taking control but Elena had definitely said she’d wished he was out there with her.

  There was only one small problem. He didn’t actually know where Elena was staying. He’d been very lax in not making her write down the details for him but he really hadn’t considered following her so he’d let it go. All he could remember her saying was that she was in the residential area. She’d mentioned The Island of the Dead being fairly close by too. His knowledge of Venice was pretty sketchy but it couldn’t be that big, being an island, and they were bound to run into each other sooner or later if he frequented the right area, and he could always ask around. His Italian was a little rusty but he could ask if anyone had seen two stunning sisters recently.

  Reaching home, Prof opened the door and put the lights on, once again admiring his new-look home. He had to admit that Mrs B had surpassed herself. He’d never seen so many shiny surfaces in his life and, after her big clean up, he felt it only fitting that he had a big tidy up, and had collected seven boxes of books which his sister and niece were going to sell at a car boot fair. This meant that you could actually get in the front door without having to lift your arms above your head.