Italian Marriage: In Name Only (11 page)

But his tone wasn’t one to argue with.

Antonio moved towards the table and flicked through some correspondence that he needed to deal with when he got into work.

But out of the corner of his eye he found himself watching her as she moved around the kitchen.

‘There.’ She put the steaming mug of coffee down onto the table for him next to a jug of cream and sugar. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and get dressed.’

Her cool manner irritated him. And impulsively he reached out and caught hold of her arm before she could move past him. ‘No, I don’t think I will excuse you,’ he grated huskily.

Immediately he saw the colour flow up into her cheekbones like a rose-washed tide.

He liked the way her skin flushed, liked her fire laced with her fragility…and that in turn bothered him.

Frowning, he let go of her. ‘Before you go rushing off, there are a few engagements we need to discuss.’

‘Engagements?’ She looked at him numbly. All she wanted to do was escape. What the hell was he talking about? ‘What kind of engagements?’

‘Dinner engagements—you know the kind of thing. Mostly business functions, but I’ll need you to attend them with me.’

‘Why?’ She stared up at him, horrified by the suggestion, and he smiled.

‘Because that’s the kind of thing wives do. And for the time being as you
are
my wife, Victoria, your presence will be expected.’ He tossed down a few of the invitations that he had just opened.

With trepidation she reached and picked one of the gold-embossed cards up. The invitation was in Italian, but judging by the beautifully drawn illustration of a man and woman, the dress code was formal black tie. ‘This is for tomorrow evening!’ she noticed in consternation. ‘And it’s in Venice!’

‘Yes, I’ve already accepted that one a few weeks ago.’ Antonio told her. ‘It’s for a charity ball, and as I’m one of the main benefactors and giving a speech I have to attend.’

‘But surely you don’t need me there?’ She looked up at him almost pleadingly. ‘I mean, you must go to these functions on your own all the time.’

‘No, I usually have a partner with me.’ He flicked her a sardonic look and her skin burnt with embarrassment.

What was she thinking! Of course Antonio Cavelli probably always had a glamorous woman on his arm.

‘And I’ve accepted the invitation plus one,’ he continued. ‘So you will have to come with me.’

‘I can’t! I’ve no one to look after Nathan—’

‘Sarah will look after him.’

She shook her head. ‘You could just make my apologies,’ she told him gruffly. ‘You could say that I’m ill or something!’

He reached out and tipped her chin upwards so that she was forced to look at him. ‘But you’re not ill, are you?’ he said softly. ‘So what are you so afraid of, Victoria?’

The question and the touch of his hand made her skin burn fiercely.

He was standing far too close to her. She could see the hazel flecks in the darkness of his eyes—eyes that were so…so sexy. And she noticed suddenly how his gaze had moved towards her lips.

Hastily she wrenched herself away from him.
She was
afraid of allowing herself to even think about that kiss again! Of having her heart broken…of making a fool of herself with someone who was far beyond her reach!

‘I just don’t want to go!’ she told him fiercely. ‘And I don’t remember agreeing to such a thing. You didn’t tell me that our…business arrangement was going to include things like this!’

‘I’m telling you now,’ he replied calmly.

‘You’ll just have to take someone else!’ she suggested in desperation.

‘Like a girlfriend?’ His eyes narrowed on her and there was a tense silence. ‘I am not my father, Victoria. That is out of the question.’

The angry words swirled uncomfortably between them and she looked away. It was crazy but there was a little place in her heart that was relieved he had turned down that suggestion. And that made her cross with herself. He was not hers, and he never would be. Once this was all over and he filed for divorce or an
annulment
she would never see him again. And he would be back to dating whoever he wanted.

He closed his briefcase and reached for his coffee. ‘Now run along and get dressed,’ he told her firmly. ‘I’ll take you into Verona with me so you can buy yourself some new clothes.’

She felt totally panic-stricken now. ‘But I have Nathan to see to and he’s still asleep.’

‘Sarah will look after him. She’ll be down in a moment and I’ll clear it with her.’ He held up a hand before she could say anything. ‘I’d trust Sarah with my life,’ he told her succinctly. ‘She’s the most capable person I know—now stop arguing with me and do as you are told.’

She wanted to argue some more but she was fast running out of reasons to give him…well, reasons she could voice anyway…

All she knew was that spending too much time with Antonio was a dangerous mistake. She couldn’t allow herself to get too close.

But she could hardly tell him that!

So after a moment’s hesitation Victoria headed for the door. It seemed she had no alternative but go along with this charade for now.

Half an hour later they were driving down beside the crystal clear waters of Lake Garda and then through lush mountainous scenery laced with vineyards and olive groves.

Antonio had the top down on his red sports car and the warmth of the autumn morning was gentle against her skin.

She wished she could relax. There really was nothing to worry about, she told herself sternly. Nathan had seemed happily contented in Sarah’s arms when they left. And Sarah had been more than willing to look after him. Had volunteered her babysitting services quite happily for anytime they wanted to go out.

Victoria wished she hadn’t done that.

‘Is this your first visit to Italy?’ Antonio broke the silence suddenly.

She nodded. ‘When I was younger and lived in England, my parents never had the money for holidays. That’s not to say they weren’t happy,’ she added hastily, ‘because they were. They loved each other very much.’

‘And what about you—were you happy?’

The question caught her by surprise. ‘Yes, when they were together I was. We used to go for days out to Brighton.’ She smiled. ‘I remember Dad buying me ice cream, and letting me have a ride at the funfair.’

‘You miss him.’

‘Yes, I suppose I still do. Everything sort of fell apart when he died. Mum missed him so much. He was the love of her life.’ She blushed suddenly. ‘That’s if you believe in that sort of thing.’

‘Not really.’ Antonio smiled. ‘Although I know I should—we Italians have a reputation for being romantics, so…’ He shrugged. ‘I’m letting the side down, but there it is.’

‘You’re a realist.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Me too.’ It felt good telling him that…
especially after that kiss last night.

He smiled and put the car into top gear and they roared over the lanes and hills, until in the distance below the fields of poppies and vines she could see the city of Verona shimmering in the sunshine.

‘It looks so beautiful,’ she murmured.

‘And forever linked with love and romance.’ Antonio told her. ‘There is a house at the heart of the city known as the
Casa di Giulietta
, which is reputed to be the house of Juliet—as in Romeo and Juliet. Apparently the building was once home to the Cappello family and folklore has it that Shakespeare drew his inspiration from them. The famous balcony is probably one of the most popular tourist attractions in this town.’

‘I’ll have to take a look.’

‘Indeed.’ His dark eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Not that you are a romantic or anything.’

‘No.’ She frowned, wondering if he was teasing her now. ‘Certainly not.’

Silence fell between them again; he glanced over and saw the rapt expression on her face as they drove into the city. ‘It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?’ he said softly.

‘Yes, I didn’t expect it to be so lovely, and it feels so Mediterranean with the surrounding hills covered in olive groves and vineyards.’

He nodded. ‘The hills are home to the Valpolicella wine region and the famous Amarone wine of Veneto.’

‘I don’t think I’ve tried the Amarone wine,’ she said with a frown.

He looked at her with mock horror. ‘We will have to put that right over lunch.’

‘No, I can’t stay to have lunch. I shall have to get back home to Nathan before then!’ she told him hastily. ‘I can’t leave him with Sarah for too long!’

‘Sarah has had four children of her own and she has six grandchildren, Victoria. I think she is more than capable of looking after one little boy for the day.’

She knew he was right, knew she could trust Sarah. But the thought of having lunch with Antonio was ringing alarm bells inside of her.

‘Has anyone ever told you that you are very bossy?’ she muttered, not knowing what else to say.

‘No. Has anyone ever told you that you are very stubborn?’ he countered with a teasing glance.

She shook her head but couldn’t help but smile and capitulate. ‘You always have the last word, don’t you?’

‘Absolutely.’

They were driving around beside what looked like an old Roman arena now. The place looked fascinating. Opposite there was a wide road lined with sophisticated pavement cafés and restaurants.

‘Unfortunately I have to go straight into the office,’ Antonio continued. ‘But after you’ve done your shopping we can meet back here.’

She felt tremendously relieved that he wasn’t going to accompany her into shops. That would have been too horrendously embarrassing.

As he turned the car down a side street, he pointed out to her where she should walk and where they would meet, and then he drove across and down into an underground private car park that bore the gold emblem of Cavelli Enterprises.

‘This is my company headquarters,’ he told her as he parked in the private space that bore his name. ‘Any problems and you can come back here to find me. Just take the lift up to my office on the top floor.’ He nodded towards a doorway opposite. ‘Tell the security guard that you are my wife and he’ll show you the way.’

Tell the security guard that you are my wife…
For some
reason the words played tantalizingly through her mind, before she swiftly dismissed them. She wasn’t his wife…not in any real or meaningful way.

‘I won’t have a problem,’ she told him quickly.

‘Good.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his wallet. ‘But maybe you better take my business card anyway with my telephone number…oh, and your credit card, of course.’ He pulled a gold card out. ‘I’ve set up an account for you in your married name.’

She looked at the card, suddenly completely stricken. She had no intention of being beholden to him in that way! ‘I can buy my own clothes!’

‘Victoria how much cash have you got on you?’

She glared at him furiously. ‘I have enough to buy a dress.’

‘You also need to buy accessories and a few cocktail dresses for the other engagements coming up. And you don’t want to be skimping on quality.’

He thought she would be buying bargain basement clothes. She felt herself heat up with embarrassment. Because in all honesty she probably would—she didn’t have enough money to buy the kind of designer quality he was talking about. But she still wasn’t going to take his money; she had her pride! ‘It’s OK…I’ll manage!’

He shook his head. ‘I’ve never come across a woman like you! Never met a woman who seemed insulted by my offering to buy her a dress…and the fact that we are married makes it all the more bizarre!’

‘But…it’s not a real marriage.’ She looked away from him out at the car park. ‘So let’s not get carried away with this.’

‘No…let’s not.’ For a second there was silence, and she could feel the tension between them twisting in the air. ‘But you still have a part to play, Victoria.’

She looked around at him. ‘Are you worried that I’m going to ruin your reputation for only being seen with the world’s most beautiful and well-dressed women?’

‘No, don’t be absurd!’ His eyes held with hers. ‘And I’m sure you will look lovely no matter what you choose to wear.’

‘Liar…’ The whispered word trembled in the air between them.

Victoria felt hot inside at the way his gaze travelled down over the grey suit she was wearing.

There was nothing wrong with it, he thought drily—it was just rather staid…and it hid any curves she had. His eyes lingered on the way the buttons of her white blouse were fastened up almost to her chin and he smiled.

‘Sometimes I get the feeling that you like to hide yourself away…but as a matter of fact your prim sense of style is starting to grow on me.’

Her skin was awash with colour now. How patronizing could you get! How dare he say something like that to her!

‘I don’t hide myself away! I’ll have you know that I dress in a businesslike way for businesslike occasions! Our so-called wedding day being one of them!’

‘And that’s fine.’ He shrugged. ‘But you can’t wear a businesslike suit to a Venetian ball, can you?’ He reached out and took hold of her hand and the touch of his skin against hers made her tremble inside.

‘But it does mean that you can accept this in the same businesslike spirit with which I am offering it.’ Before she realized what he was doing he had placed the card into her hand and was curling her fingers over it with firm insistence. ‘Call it my investment in the commodities market,’ he grated sardonically.

‘Ha, ha, very funny.’ Her voice felt a little raw.

‘You’ve got three hours to buy about three outfits—cocktail dresses, and a suitable dress for the ball. Now go.’

J
UST
who did Antonio Cavelli think he was? Victoria asked herself angrily as she strode along the pedestrian Via Mazzini shopping area.

How dare he talk to her like that!

And how dare he accuse her of hiding herself away! She wasn’t hiding away from anything or anyone; she dressed to please herself, not to please any man, and certainly not to try and please him!

Just because she wasn’t swooning every time he looked at her, like all the other women he met, he obviously thought there was something wrong with her! The man was arrogant and conceited beyond words….

Realizing suddenly that she was marching past all of the shops without even glancing in the windows she came to an abrupt halt. She needed to calm down and focus.

She needed to buy three good outfits and show Antonio that she did know a thing or two about fashion despite his patronizing opinion!

The man had a damn nerve.

She went across to the window opposite and looked in. It was a designer shop; the clothes were exquisite and probably very expensive because there didn’t appear to be a price on anything. One maxi dress in particular caught her eye; it was
a halter neck. The material was the softest shimmering silk in a shade of turquoise shot through with midnight blue.

For a long moment she stood admiring it, then she frowned at herself. Who was she kidding—she’d look hideous in that dress; it would be far too clingy and the neckline was far too revealing for her!

Impatiently she moved on to the next shop. The Italian styles were beautiful, the leather the most superb quality, the shoes…sexy beyond belief. It felt slightly surreal wandering around these sophisticated boutiques, looking at clothes that would normally have been not only out of her price bracket but also out of her lifestyle bracket back home.

She didn’t go anywhere to warrant them; most of her evenings were either spent working, or in with Nathan. And even as the proud owner of a stylish new restaurant, the clothes she was looking at here would still not be sensible. She was too hands-on; more often than not she worked in the kitchen, rather than front of house.

Frowning, she suddenly realized that she was being her usual practical self.

And that was almost certainly what Antonio was expecting. He probably thought she wouldn’t have a clue what to buy. Was doubtless expecting her to look bad no matter what! What was it he had said so condescendingly?
‘Your prim sense of style is starting to grow on me.’

She bit down on her lip. How dare he mock her like that!

A sales assistant came over and spoke to her in Italian, bringing her out of her reverie.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…’

The woman smiled politely. ‘Would you like to try that dress on?’ she asked in beautifully accented English. ‘Can I be of any assistance?’

Victoria looked down at the provocative little dress she had in her hand.

She didn’t have to be practical today, she reminded
herself fiercely—she was in Italy shopping for outfits for exclusive parties and summer balls. And the gold card that Antonio had insisted she have was still burning a hole in her purse.

For once in her life she could afford to be frivolous.

She was fifteen minutes late. Antonio sat in the sunshine and perused the menu lazily. He wasn’t used to being kept waiting. Women were usually eagerly waiting for him. He’d give her another five minutes, then he’d phone to see if she’d got lost.

He had to get back to work in just under an hour—there was a mountain of paperwork that needed sorting out after his trip to Australia. In reality he shouldn’t have taken time off for lunch today—he couldn’t quite work out why he had. Maybe because he’d felt sympathy for Victoria—it couldn’t be easy for her coming here and not speaking the language, and being dragged to functions she really didn’t want to attend. Lord alone knew what she was buying to wear for their evening out tomorrow! He smiled to himself. Maybe he should have got one of his women friends to go shopping with her.

The waiter appeared at his table and he ordered a bottle of Amarone and two glasses. Then as he was left alone again, he watched the people walking by on the pavement. There was a sleepy heat to the afternoon—not much traffic on the road now, just a few horse-drawn carriages giving tourists a ride around the town.

The gentle murmur of Italian voices from the other diners in the restaurant was relaxing, the smell of roasted coffee floated in the air.

A beautiful woman smiled provocatively as she walked past him to get a table. But Antonio hardly registered her; his gaze flicked impatiently to his watch again.

Then he saw Victoria turning around the corner heading towards him. She was laden down with bags, but she was walking with a breezy confidence that made him smile. She
seemed young and carefree, her head held high. He hadn’t seen her look like that before.

She noticed him as she got closer and she smiled. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘That’s OK, I’ll forgive you.’ He stood politely and waited for her to take the chair opposite him before reclaiming his seat.

He was so urbane, so lazily attractive, that she could feel her heart speeding up a little. Desperately she tried to look unfazed, as if she were used to meeting sharp-suited handsome Italian men for lunch.

‘I take it your shopping trip was successful, judging by all those bags?’ he enquired.

‘Yes, it was…thank you.’ She reached for the glass of wine that he had poured for her. ‘It was great.’

‘It’s a good city for shopping,’ he acknowledged.

‘Yes, a fabulous city. And I’ve decided that I adore Italy,’ she added impulsively. ‘Everything is so stylish here…even the pavements!’

Her enthusiasm was infectious and he laughed. ‘Some are made from the local marble, Rosa Verona.’

‘Very pleasing to the eye.’ She smiled at him. It was strange but she felt on a high after her shopping spree and more relaxed than she could remember in a long time.

‘I’m glad you are so enamoured.’ He regarded her with a steady dark gaze. ‘So…does this mean that despite your reservations about coming to Italy, it won’t be such a chore for you to live here for a while…hmm?’

The question made her pause. ‘No, it won’t be a chore,’ she told him honestly. ‘I’m sure I could be more than happy to live here…for a while.’ She added the proviso just as he had, conscious that whatever her feelings, her time here would only ever be fleeting

Their eyes held for a moment and then she looked swiftly away.

‘The arena looks interesting.’ She glanced across the road towards the large Roman amphitheatre.

‘Yes, it’s about two thousand years old and is like the one in Rome only smaller and more complete. Nowadays, however, instead of gladiators battling we have opera festivals.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Some of the world’s leading artists have sung there. It’s a great venue and one of the largest open-air stages in the world.’

‘It must be a fabulous experience to attend.’

‘It is. But you have the world-famous opera house in Sydney that is a great venue also.’

‘I’m sure it is.’

‘You haven’t been?’

‘Well…I’ve stood on the steps outside…but I don’t think that counts, does it?’ She smiled shyly. ‘Maybe when I go back I’ll have a night out there.’ Awkwardly she reached for her wine and took a sip. Part of her didn’t want to think about going home and the other part of her was telling her to think of nothing else. ‘Is this the famous Amarone that you were telling me about?’ She found herself changing the subject swiftly. ‘It’s very good. I’ll have to look into stocking it at the restaurant.’

‘Definitely not a wine to be overlooked,’ he agreed easily. ‘How are things going with the restaurant, by the way? I didn’t have time to look in on it before we left Sydney.’

‘Things are running pretty much to schedule. The kitchen units have been stripped and waxed, the new carpets and wood flooring are down. I’m just waiting for delivery now of the new tables and chairs that I’ve ordered. Oh, and Claire is waiting for me to make a decision on work tops.’ She smiled. ‘I have several brochures to look through.’

‘If you want to phone her, or use the computer in my office at home, then feel free.’

‘Thanks, that would be a help.’

‘I’ve set up a bank account for you here and paid an al
lowance which should help with your expenses. Also you must use that card I gave you for anything you need.’

The casual words made her body heat up in consternation. ‘We’ve had this conversation earlier! I don’t feel comfortable with you bankrolling me—’

‘As you say, we’ve had the conversation.’ He looked at her pointedly. ‘There is no point arguing with me, Victoria.’

Antonio signalled for the waiter to come over. ‘Now we should order,’ he told her. ‘Regretfully, I haven’t got much time as I have to get back to work.’

Victoria picked up the menu and tried to switch off the cold subject of money. ‘What would you recommend?’ she asked, turning her attention to the food.

‘The
bigoli
here is good. It’s a kind of large spaghetti. Also the
gnocchi
.’

She read through his suggestions and then ordered the
bigoli
with white sea bream to follow.

As the waiter retreated she continued to study the menu with interest for several moments. And Antonio allowed his gaze to travel over her.

A few of the buttons on her blouse hadn’t been fastened up. She’d probably been in a rush to get dressed again after trying clothes on. He could see the top of her white lacy bra. It was somehow very sexy, which he found somewhat curious because she wasn’t dressed in any way provocatively. In fact, of all the women he had ever dined with she was probably the most covered up.

The last woman he’d taken out had been wearing a dress with a plunging neckline that had left nothing to the imagination—and he hadn’t found that nearly as alluring as that tantalizing piece of lace right now.

Very strange, he thought deprecatingly, his eyes moving higher.

She’d caught the sun a little today; her skin looked radiant.
And her hair had worked its way to the side and lay over her shoulder in a thick glossy plait.

She looked up and caught him watching her, caught the gleam of male interest in his eye. Then as he smiled she looked away in confusion. She must have been mistaken; there was no way Antonio would be looking at her with any real interest. He’d made it more than clear that this was business and she just wasn’t his type.

‘The…the menu is very interesting,’ she told him, trying to focus on something else.

‘Is it?’ He sounded lazily amused by the observation.

‘Yes…the selection of dishes are…’ She trailed away as she noticed how one of his eyebrows lifted. ‘Sorry, I can get a bit carried away with food issues, it’s an—’

‘Occupational hazard.’ He finished the words for her with a smile. ‘Don’t worry, we Italians are also very passionate about our food.’

‘I’ve heard that you Italians are very passionate about a lot of things,’ she said with a laugh.

‘Have you now?’ There was teasing warmth in his eyes that made her blush.

‘Yes, I believe as a nation you are very passionate about football.’

‘We certainly are.’ He smiled at her. ‘Amongst other things…’

The waiter brought some cold antipasto and put it in the centre of the table, along with some freshly baked bread. There was prosciutto ham and luscious green and black olives, and some roasted vegetables with goat’s cheese.

‘Now, if you are interested in new dishes for your restaurant you should try the chef’s special twist on
giardinara
,’ Antonio told her, indicating the small serving of food that she had been wondering about.

‘What is it?’’ She leaned forward with interest.

‘Fresh vegetables in a tart marinade. Try a little.’ He cut a
piece of the warm bread and spooned some of the dish on, then held it out to her.

She was going to take it from him but he placed the bite-size portion to her lips. There was something very intimate about the gesture and it made her heart speed up, made her breathing slow down—it was the weirdest feeling.

‘What do you think?’ he asked with a smile.

‘Delicious.’

‘Food should be like life, don’t you think? It should excite the senses…’

Her eyes met with his.

‘You blush beautifully, do you know that?’ he asked softly.

For a moment she felt the warmth of his eyes almost like the sun beating down on them. With difficulty she gathered herself together. ‘I know that you are a flirt, Antonio! But I suppose it comes naturally to Italians, like breathing?’

He laughed. ‘For a woman who has never been to Italy you come to the table with a lot of preconceived ideas.’

‘Most of them are right though, aren’t they?’ she countered, angling her chin up.

‘Some of them are right,’ he corrected her with a smile. ‘I’ll leave you to discover which in your own time.’

She tried not to like him—she tried really hard not to surrender to the magnetic personality, the dark sexy eyes—but the warmth of the day and the mellow flow of the conversation started to invade her senses.

By the time they had finished their main courses and the waiter stopped by their table to ask if they wanted anything else, she realized that they had been talking about nothing in particular with complete enjoyment for the past hour.

Antonio glanced at his watch. ‘I will have to be getting back, I’m afraid.’

‘Yes…me too, otherwise Nathan will be wondering where I am.’

Antonio asked the waiter for the bill and they were left alone again.

‘I’ll get my chauffeur to pick you up and take you home,’ Antonio told her briskly.

‘There’s no need—isn’t there a bus or taxi or something?’

He laughed. ‘Why would the wife of a multimillionaire take the bus home?’ There was no conceit about the statement, just a teasing quality that made her shrug awkwardly.

‘Because she
likes
to be independent?’

He smiled. ‘Sorry! You will have to put up with Alberto,’ he said as he flipped open his phone and made a swift call in Italian. ‘The car will be here in five minutes.’