Falling for Italy (2 page)

“Why should it matter? To me it makes absolutely no difference, as long as you pay your training fee. I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”

She had to press herself against his chest to manage to open her door and get inside, before he could say anything else. She started the engine, feeling her hands cold and not very steady. He continued to stand next to his car, following her with that unnerving gaze as she drove away.

She barely noticed the London streets covered in sleet, the rushing headlights, and the crowds of pedestrians hunched in defense against the cold. Her thoughts had remained in the parking lot of the firing range, circling around the mysterious Italian guy with a hot body and smoldering eyes. She wondered what his story was.

Poster Boy, she decided, or tried to. Probably nothing but a shallow, rich stud looking for adventure, for something to fill his time with. Get a grip, will you? she admonished herself, shivering in the bloody fashionable, but impractical coat.

When she reached her small flat, she immediately turned up the thermostat. London could be a white, freezing version of hell in winter. She’d always wanted to live someplace warm, but couldn’t yet afford it. Her trainer’s salary was more than decent, and she was left with a good bank account when her parents had died in a car crash, more than ten years ago, when she was only nineteen. Even now she missed them. She guessed the heartache would never go away, but she managed to live with it. It had been hard, getting through college on her own, then getting her degree and trainer’s license. A big chunk of the money she’d collected from selling her parents’ house had been spent on her education. What was left had been just enough to put aside for rainy days and to buy the flat.

It was small, perfectly suited for her needs and beautifully furnished. She especially liked her living room, which she’d decorated after her own visions. One wall was entirely made from clear glass, revealing a breathtaking view of the city. Around the room were bookshelves, all loaded to full capacity. She loved books, loved curling up on her massive sofa between soft cushions, with a good book and a hot mug of chocolate.

Her feet sank pleasantly in the thick plush rug as she went about her business, undressing, while heat enveloped her in a rapturous embrace. She peeled off her clothes slowly, aware of a strange sensation on and under her skin—a deep yearning coming from within her entire being. And all the while, she thought of the Italian stranger, of his strong hands gripping the gun. She remembered the feel of his warm palm when he’d clasped hers and shivered slightly, her skin blooming slowly into sensitive goose bumps. She tried to put it all down to hormones, but she knew better.

Although she wasn’t shy around men—hell, around anybody—Giovanni had managed to make her feel uneasy, perhaps even timid. God help her, she was getting old. She’d had very few lovers, and none of them had made her touch the stars and the moon, or reach that incandescent passion that some skilled romance writers managed to create through words. She’d come to think that kind of attraction was only a commercial gig, but now she wasn’t sure.

She didn’t understand the whole domesticity thing, long-term relationships, the routine of waking up next to the same guy for years and years. It was a mystery to her. She didn’t even have the courage to take responsibility for a pet. True, she had a plant, which she’d nearly drowned and mummified by turns. The poor thing was still alive, but had no flowers, only a few stingy leaves, though the flower girl had told her it was supposed to have purple ones. If the plant continued to live in the obscure future, perhaps she’d take a pet. Never a husband though. She couldn’t understand the need for that kind of commitment.

However, she understood the concept of passion. As long as she could remember, a terrible, longing need had resided in her heart and body, waiting for awakening and fulfillment. Yet no one had succeeded in helping her discover those things.

Lost in thoughts and reveries, a mug of cocoa forgotten between her palms, she gazed almost sightlessly at the big snowflakes falling endlessly beyond the huge shield of glass.

* * * *

Giovanni drove carefully, keeping an eye on the GPS, since he wasn’t familiar with the streets of London. However, his thoughts lingered back to his encounter with Sonia Galsworthy. For some reason, the woman was stuck on his brain and he looked forward to their shooting session the next day. There was something about her, both striking and attractive. As he’d watched her training, handling her gun with such self-confidence and attitude, he thought she was sexy as hell. She had the body of a goddess, outlined in tight jeans and a dark blue sweater that kept slipping off her shoulder, leaving it bare and making it obvious she didn’t wear anything underneath it. He nearly ached to explore the subtle curves hinted under the clinging material. He usually liked long hair on a woman, but her short bob suited her perfectly. He imagined sliding his fingers through that shiny dark hair, which left the soft, creamy-looking skin of her neck and back exposed.

She was quite a package, Miss Sonia Galsworthy. As she’d watched him with those bold brown eyes in the parking lot, he’d wanted to yank her to him and kiss her until her ears rang. His too, for that matter. But he’d learned that romance was an art. He’d learned to bide his time, to exert finesse and patience when pursuing a woman. Building anticipation made the capitulation much sweeter and more satisfying.

At thirty, he had never been married, nor did he have any thoughts of such commitment. He liked his independence too much. Just like his sister had before she’d found the guy who spellbound her to him.

He smiled affectionately, thinking of Linda. She was a well-known sculptress and had moved to London at the beginning of the year. Part of her motivation to relocate was her involvement with Hope, a clinic for children’s cancer treatment and research. For years, she had made donations there and to other such facilities, as he did himself back in Italy. But Linda had taken a special interest in Hope. Fortunately it seemed, because there she had met her soon-to-be husband, Gerard Leon, a researcher and physician.

Giovanni truly liked the man his sister had chosen the second time. Her first marriage had been a disaster, with a bully named Tony—the Italian
Mafioso
type. Giovanni had never trusted the slick bastard, but he had awed Linda for a while. She’d come to her senses soon enough though. Seven months after the wedding she had her lawyer draw the divorce papers. This time she was going to have a husband worthy of her. He hoped after their tumultuous love story, things would brighten for his sister and Gerard.

Gerard was very dedicated, a brilliant doctor, and was about to revolutionize the entire medical world with a couple of unconventional treatments for cancer. Unfortunately, the progress of his work seemed to always be impeded by one thing or another. Bureaucracy and red tape were always a pain in the ass, but these delays were costing lives. As such, they were unforgivable and incomprehensible.

Carried by thoughts and the purring engine, he reached Linda and Gerard’s house, his temporary residence while he was in London—a big, rust-colored building in a select neighborhood. He’d wanted to stay at a hotel, but his sister and brother-in-law—he already considered Gerard as such—wouldn’t hear of it.

He stopped the car in front of the massive gate, climbed out and inserted the alarm code Linda had given him. The gate glided open, then closed automatically after he drove past, on the short lane leading to the house. He parked his car on the side of the driveway, as the garage was small and already occupied by Linda’s and Gerard’s cars. He didn’t mind. He felt really good here, almost like home.

When he opened the front door, a smell of fresh cookies and scented candles caressed his senses. He’d almost forgotten what an exceptional cook his sister was. He found her in the kitchen, just putting in the oven another batch of cookie dough. She wore black sweatpants and a T-shirt, a pink apron and pink, fluffy house slippers. Her long, dark-blonde hair was carelessly knotted at the nape of her neck. In all honesty, she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever known. At least, until he’d met Sonia. They were as different as the sun and moon, but both beautiful, attractive women.

“
Ciao, bellezza,”
he said and lifted her off her feet in a bear hug, while she squirmed in delight, wiggling her legs. She was just two years younger than him, but felt like a child in his arms. Ever since she was born, she’d been the love of his life, and they’d become even closer when their parents’ marriage had broken.

“Put me down, you clown! My oven’s getting cold,” she protested, and then looked disapprovingly with slanted blue eyes as he snatched a cookie and quickly popped it into his mouth.

“Don’t do that,” she scolded him. “You’ll ruin your appetite. Pirata already stole a handful when he thought I couldn’t see him.”

The offender—Linda’s cat—sat placidly on a chair, delicately washing his paws. His soft fur was white, except for some black spots on his paws that looked like cat shoes, and a dark patch around his left eye. That particular black patch had brought him the name Pirata and lent him a prankish look.

Giovanni scratched the cat’s ears and chin, being repaid with a generous purring sound as Pirata rubbed against him, leaving white hairs all over his suit. He didn’t mind that either. The whole scene had a domesticity he sometimes envied, since the few days he’d been living in their house.

“Is Gerard home yet?” he asked Linda, as she fussed around the kitchen, clinking bowls and pans while she prepared dinner.

“Yeah, he’s in the living room, watching the news or something. Go and keep him company until I get dinner ready.”

He went into the living room, where his brother-in-law sat sprawled on the couch, a beer in his hand. Giovanni knew him well enough to notice he very rarely drank alcohol, and only when he needed it to relax after a particularly nasty day. He punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Gerard lifted his head to look at him. His handsome face was unshaven, wearing traces of tiredness. Circles of fatigue shadowed his green eyes and his sandy-blond hair looked as though he’d been ruthlessly dragging his fingers through it.

“Hey back. How was your shooting session?” he asked in his abrasive voice, which wore an unmistakable native French accent.

“It was great. I’m having another one tomorrow.”

“Is Sonia Galsworthy as good as they say?”

“Oh, yeah…She’s good all right.”

Catching the double meaning in his voice, Gerard laughed lightly.

“I can imagine. You’re all but drooling,
amico.
”

Giovanni laughed too, shoving his hands into his pockets. In spite of the men jokes they exchanged, he sensed something was on his brother-in-law’s mind. He delayed his plan to go and change first, and sat on the couch instead.

“So, how was your day? Not as good as mine?”

Gerard stared at the screen for a long while, then propped his elbows on his knees, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Not well, Giovanni. Not well at all. I lost another patient today. A ten-year-old little boy. I’m almost positive I could’ve saved him using my snake venom serum, but the clinic’s manager was ordered not to allow this treatment until it’s been approved higher.”

Giovanni put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“It’s not your fault, man. I know it doesn’t make it easy at all, but you’re doing everything that’s humanly possible. What the hell is wrong with those people?” he demanded, furious and puzzled. “What was their excuse this time?” he went on, referring to the numerous pretexts that were thrown in Gerard’s way to prevent him from patenting his cancer cures—one based on the Mohave rattlesnake venom, and the other one on hellebore.

Gerard sighed.

“The usual. That we don’t have enough conclusive results, that it needs to be tested on animals before anything further can be done . . . That I need to fill in this paper, ask for that approval . . . Fucking criminals, that’s what they are! And they use us, doctors, as their murder weapons.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Gerard broke the silence.

“I haven’t told Linda. I don’t want her to worry, so don’t mention it, okay?”

“Okay,” Giovanni consented. “But you’ve got to promise me something. That you’ll stop blaming yourself. I know—actually, I don’t know, but I can imagine—how demanding and hard your job is. You’re taking it too much to heart, and that makes you so good at what you do. But don’t let it destroy you, Gerard.”

He looked in the direction of the kitchen, where they could hear Linda talking to Pirata.

“Listen, when I get back to Italy I’m going to pull all my strings to help you out with this, to find out who and why is trying to hinder your progress in this matter. We’re going to put your treatments on the market, I promise you that. If you can’t manage it here, we’ll do it in Italy. You know I have connections to the best clinics. We’ll find a way. Hang in there and stop beating yourself over this, okay?”

Gerard raised his head to glance at him, and then his teeth flashed white in the semi-darkness.

“Hey, I’m soon to be married to a famous sculptress, my brother-in-law has a computers empire, how can I not trust you?” he joked. Sobering, he added, “Thanks, G. It really helped just talking to someone.”