Читать книгу The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni: The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride - Kate Hardy - Страница 15

WHEN Ella’s alarm clock went off at five-thirty the next morning, she woke with a smile on her face. This was everything she’d wanted: being her own boss, organising her own work and being responsible for everything. And she didn’t mind the early starts, because she loved what she was doing.

And she loved the way her schedule was coming together. The way she was able to work at a pace to suit her, to music she enjoyed listening to, and she didn’t have to change things to suit other people. Perfect.

She baked the cupcake orders for the two local cafés; while the cakes were cooling, she made the fruit cakes and put them in the oven. Once she’d iced the cupcakes, she dropped off the boxes to her clients, then came back to check on the fruit cakes and start making the sugar roses. The Madeira cake was next; finally, when all the large cakes had cooled, she flat-iced them, ready for decorating.

She’d just washed up and put the icing bowls away when her mobile phone rang.

‘Hi. You asked me to call you when I was done,’ Rico said.

And how crazy it was that hearing his voice made her heart beat faster. This wasn’t good. ‘Uh-huh.’ If she had any sense left, she’d tell him she was too busy to see him. But her mouth had other ideas. ‘Are you coming over now?’

‘It’s a good time?’

Tell him no, her common sense urged.

‘It’s fine. See you when you get here.’

‘I’m on my way. Ciao, bellezza.’

Ella had just about finished tidying her kitchen when he arrived.

‘Wow, you made these?’ he said, looking at the sugar roses. ‘They’re incredibly delicate. And very realistic.’

‘They’re for a wedding cake—though it’s one that was booked in weeks ago. Normally people book cakes like this at least six weeks in advance.’

‘How fast can you do a celebration cake?’

‘If it’s just a normal-sized cake and I don’t have to do carving or armature or lots of intricate sugar-paste work, I can do one in a day—baking it, flat-icing it and basic decoration.’

‘Carving and armature?’ Rico asked, looking puzzled.

‘Shaped cakes. Some of them need support so they don’t collapse—that’s the armature bit.’ She took her display book from the shelf and flicked through it until she found the page she wanted. ‘Like my dinosaur.’

‘This is a million miles away from what I do in my job,’ Rico said. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start, making something like that. And how do you get the colours on the icing?’

‘I hand-paint it. It’s pretty labour-intensive, but I love doing it. Creating someone’s dream out of sugar, butter, eggs and flour.’ She smiled at him, ‘So what do you want to do this evening?’

‘Are we talking acquaintances or benefits?’

To her annoyance, she actually blushed. ‘Acquaintances. Rico, I hope you realise I don’t sleep around.’

‘Neither do I. Don’t believe everything you read in the press.’

She stared at him, shocked. ‘The press follow you about?’

‘In Italy, sometimes. It depends who I’m seeing.’

‘I’m a nobody, so you should be safe,’ she said dryly.

‘That wasn’t what I meant. But the press blow things up out of proportion and twist a story to suit themselves. If everything they said about me was true, there’d be so many notches I wouldn’t actually have a bedpost left. Dating someone doesn’t necessarily mean sleeping with them.’ He leaned forward and stole a kiss. ‘Let’s start again. What do you want to do this evening?’

Her mouth was tingling—and that kiss had been the lightest and sweetest of touches. He tempted her so badly that she could barely resist him. ‘Do you want to come upstairs for a mug of coffee while we think about it?’

‘Sure.’ He followed her up to her flat. ‘What sort of thing do you normally do in the evenings?’

‘It depends what kind of day I’ve had.’ She switched on the kettle and shook grounds into a cafetière. ‘I might go to the cinema or out for a drink with friends; I might just go for a walk by the river; or I might collapse on the sofa in front of the telly.’ She gave him a wary look. ‘I should perhaps warn you I’m really not into clubbing.’

‘Good. Me, neither.’ He looked at the photographs pinned with magnets to her fridge. ‘That must be your mum.’

‘Yes.’ She had to swallow hard. Even now, a year later, she still missed her mother badly. Missed her smile, her gentle calmness, her common sense.

‘She’s very like you,’ he commented.

‘I hope so.’ She definitely hoped she hadn’t inherited any of her father’s genes. Pushing the thought away, she suggested, ‘Maybe we can go for a walk by the river? It’s really pretty here in Greenwich.’

‘I’d like that. And I’d like to see more of London while I’m here. What’s the epitome of London?’

She thought about it. ‘I guess it’d be something like the Changing of the Guard outside Buckingham Palace. Mind you, you need to be there early to get a decent spot to see it, so it’ll have to be a weekend.’

‘We’ll leave that for Saturday, then.’

She gave him a regretful smile. ‘Sorry, I can’t make it. I’m working.’

‘You’re working six days a week?’ Rico looked concerned. ‘You’re risking burnout if you keep up that kind of pace.’

‘Unless I have a really big celebration cake to sort out, it’s only half a morning on Saturdays, enough to keep the cafés stocked with cupcakes. They’re closed on Sundays, so I can take Sundays off,’ she explained.

‘Let’s do the Changing of the Guard on Sunday, then.’

He hadn’t given her any idea about his schedule; she didn’t have a clue when he was going back to Rome. ‘Are you in London for very long?’

‘Possibly.’

Which served her right for asking a closed question. Then again, she had the feeling that Rico could turn the most open question into a closed one.

‘We should make a list of places we’re going to see.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such a control freak, Rico.’

‘You work with lists,’ he pointed out, gesturing to the lists held to her fridge door by magnets.

‘I like being organised.’

‘Now who’s the control freak?’ he teased, and kissed her.

If he kept this up, she’d forget all about making acquaintances and go straight for benefits. ‘Busted,’ she said, and moved away from him to make the coffee—while she still could. ‘With you coming from Rome, I guess we should do a tour of Roman London. We can start with the Roman Wall; plus there’s a Roman bath near the Strand, and an amphitheatre under the Guildhall. And guide books are bound to list other stuff I don’t know about.’

‘So you’re going to be my personal tour guide of London?’

‘Ironic, considering how I met you.’ She coughed. ‘Except I’m not pretending to be a guide.’

‘I wasn’t pretending. I was doing the job—and I didn’t hear any complaints from you,’ he reminded her.

‘No. You really made the Colosseum come alive for me. You know a lot about your home city.’

‘Because I love Rome,’ he said simply. ‘It’s the only place I ever want to live.’

So this thing between them, she thought, had definite limits. She had no intention of moving to Rome, and he had no intention of moving here. Not permanently. So she’d take the warning as read. This was a fling, until his interest waned. She’d enjoy it while it lasted, but she wouldn’t expect anything more from him.

He took a mouthful of the coffee she gave him. ‘This is good. Thanks.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘Let’s make that list. Do you have a laptop?’

She fetched it and placed it on the kitchen table between them. He scooped her onto his lap and wrapped his arms round her waist. ‘Now we can both see the screen,’ he said.

‘We could both see it perfectly well from where we were sitting,’ she pointed out.

‘Yes, but this way is more comfortable.’ He kissed the curve of her neck.

He was right; it felt good to be held close to him like this. Not that she was going to tell him. She didn’t want him thinking that all he had to do was whistle and she’d sit up and beg.

Between them, and with the help of a few websites, they came up with a mixture of the famous sights and some quirky, out-of-the-way places to visit.

‘Enough for now. It’s a nice evening. Let’s go for that walk by the river,’ he said.

The sky was streaked with pink feathery clouds as they wandered hand in hand along the path by the Thames.

‘Since I’m being your personal tour guide, I should tell you that that’s the Royal Naval College,’ she said, pointing out the complex of beautiful white buildings and the twin grey domes with their gold clocks and weather vanes. ‘It was designed by Christopher Wren.’

‘Like St Paul’s. Which we need to add to our list,’ he said. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

They carried on down the Thames Path until they reached a waterfront pub. ‘I sometimes stop here for a drink with Ju,’ Ella said. ‘Apparently Dickens used to drink here. And the food’s OK, too, if you fancy something to eat?’

‘Sure.’ They had a drink on one of the wrought-iron balconies, then headed back inside when their food was ready; the waiter had found them a table overlooking the Thames.

When they came back out, the sky was midnight blue, fading almost to white and then deep orange at the horizon, and the buildings of London were all lit up. ‘That’s the Millennium Dome over there,’ she said, pointing out the white dome with its yellow, blue and red spikes. ‘It always reminds me of a birthday cake with candles on it.’

‘London’s beautiful by night,’ Rico said. He leaned down to kiss her. ‘And so are you.’

‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t just the words that touched Ella. Rico made her feel beautiful in the way he touched her, the way he listened to her. And he really had seemed interested in her job, not just as if he were being polite.

They walked hand in hand back to her flat.

‘Do you want to come in for coffee?’ she asked, unlocking the door.

‘Not coffee,’ he said, and dipped his head to kiss her.

By the time he broke the kiss, Ella was shaking with need. She made no protest when Rico scooped her up, pulled the door closed behind him, and carried her up the stairs to her bed. She wanted this every bit as much as he did, matching him touch for touch and kiss for kiss. And it shocked her how quickly he could make her climax. She’d never, ever experienced that kind of intensity before.

When he came back from the bathroom fully dressed, she blinked in surprise. Wasn’t he going to stay?

‘Not a good idea,’ he said softly, as if her thoughts had been written all over her face.

‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ she asked, hating herself for sounding needy but wanting to know the answer.

‘No. I’m up to my eyes. But I’ll call you. And I’ll see you on Saturday.’

‘Sure.’ Acquaintances with benefits. That was what they’d agreed. And she’d be a fool to want more. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Although Ella was busy on Friday, she was surprised to discover that she missed not seeing Rico, and the highlight of her day was when he called her.

Which was utterly ridiculous. She didn’t need a man to make her life complete. Especially one who clearly wasn’t going to give anything of himself.

On Saturday, Rico arrived at Ella’s kitchen at half-past eight, just when she was putting cupcakes in a box. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, going over to the plate where a single cupcake sat. Then he laughed, seeing his name piped on top of the icing. ‘Now that’s cute.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You were supposed to ask if any of those cakes were going begging. And then I was going to tell you that, actually, one of them had your name on it, and present you with that one.’

He wrapped his arms round her waist and kissed her. ‘I like your sense of humour, bellezza. Are you done, or is there anything I can do to help?’

‘I’m just dropping these off at the cafés. You can be my delivery boy and carry the boxes, if you like.’

‘Delivery boy, hmm? I assume the payment is in cake. But I should ask before accepting the job what the benefits package is.’

Oh, the ideas that put in her head. ‘Cake,’ she said firmly. She wrapped catering film over his cupcake and put it in the fridge.

He laughed and stole a kiss. ‘OK. Today’s “acquaintances”, too. I get it. Give me the boxes, bellezza.’

Once they’d dropped off the cakes, they caught the Tube to Trafalgar Square. ‘I used to come here with my mum to feed the pigeons when I was a little girl,’ she said, ‘but people are banned from feeding them now.’

‘I can see why. Their droppings do a lot of damage to stonework, and they’re a health hazard. I don’t encourage them at any of my hotels, either,’ Rico said. He gazed round the square. ‘So this is the famous fountain—the one everyone jumps into on New Year’s Eve?’

‘Well, not everyone. And I imagine this probably feels a bit plain and small to you, after all the gorgeous ones in Rome, but it’s had a makeover recently, so it’s lit up by coloured lights at night. And the water goes higher now than I ever remember it being when I was a child,’ she said.

‘No, it’s charming,’ he said.

They wandered along to see the bronze Landseer lions guarding Nelson’s Column. ‘I like these, too. Very stately,’ he said with a smile.

‘We could go to the National, as we’re here,’ she said. ‘Or, as it’s a nice day, maybe we can walk by the river. There are usually street performers on the South Bank at weekends.’

‘It’s too nice to go indoors,’ he agreed.

Over on the South Bank, there were indeed the street performers she’d promised: living statues, jugglers, a contortionist, a man making balloon animals for children, and a string quartet in full evening dress playing Mozart.

There were also a crowd of artists, sketching caricatures and portraits of willing punters. He smiled. ‘They’re like the ones at the top of the Spanish Steps. Rome isn’t so very different from London.’ He gazed up at the London Eye. ‘That’s on our list, yes?’

‘Yes. I’m not sure whether to take you there by day or by night.’

‘We’ll do both.’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘Seeing as I’m such a spoiled rich kid.’

She sighed. ‘I did apologise for that.’

‘I know. I’m angling for a kiss better.’

‘Oh, you fraud.’

‘Please?’ He batted his eyelashes at her. ‘Pretty please with sugar on it?’

How could she resist? This was a different side of Rico. A playboy, but not a selfish one. And she really, really liked this side of him. Though at the same time it made her nervous. Was this the real Rico? She couldn’t tell; and it worried her how easy it would be to let herself fall for him. How could she fall for him when she wasn’t sure she could trust him?

When he saw the children playing in the fountain installation, jumping the boundaries between each ‘room’ made from the fountain jets when they died down, he tugged at her hand. ‘Come on. That looks like fun.’

‘I’m not sure if there’s a set rotation of the walls or if it’s random,’ she said.

He watched the walls of water for a while. ‘Random. Which is more fun. Your choice which way we jump—now!’

She picked the wrong one, and they both got soaked as the water rose up between the grids. Rico simply laughed and kissed her.

‘Typical Roman boy—can’t resist the fountains,’ she teased.

They lay on the grass in Jubilee Gardens to dry out, enjoying the early summer sunshine. ‘Do you like Chinese food?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Good—we’ll eat in Chinatown tonight.’

He smiled. ‘I love it when you go all bossy on me.’

She coughed. ‘Isn’t that a bit pots and kettles?’

‘A bit what?’

‘Pots and kettles.’ She flapped an apologetic hand at him. ‘Sorry, your English is so good that I forget you might not know all the idioms. It’s a saying, “the pot calling the kettle black”—because they were both covered in soot. Or were, in the days when people cooked over an open fire,’ she explained.

‘Hypocritical, you mean. As in me calling you bossy when I’m just as bad.’

‘Yes.’

He leaned over and kissed her until she was dizzy. ‘If we weren’t in a public place, I’d show you just how bossy I can be,’ he whispered.

He’d actually made her forget where they were. And that people were all round them—people who could see him kissing her so passionately, and the way she responded to him. Colour rushed into her face, and he laughed. ‘I love the way you blush. You’re so cute, Ella bellezza. And you’re like nobody else I’ve ever met.’

‘I hope that’s meant in a nice way.’

‘Yes.’ And Rico was surprised by how much he was enjoying Ella’s company. He could relax with her, be himself, act on crazy impulses and play in a fountain with her—and she didn’t complain that her hair was ruined or sulk about getting splashed. He was enjoying himself more than he had in years.

Yet, at the same time, it made him panic. It would be, oh, so easy to fall for Ella Chandler. To be hers for the taking.

But what if, once he let her that close, he wasn’t enough for her? Just as he hadn’t been enough for his parents. Just as he wasn’t enough for his grandparents.

He’d never really loved anyone. And maybe he never would be able to love someone the way that Ella would want to be loved. Maybe it just wasn’t in him.

‘Come on, bellezza. You’re supposed to be showing me round London.’ And he needed serious distraction from his thoughts. The best way to distract himself would be to carry Ella to his bed—sex always worked—but he’d promised not to rush her. And he had a nasty feeling that sex was different with Ella because she was something special.

Exactly the opposite of what he’d been trying to prove to himself.

They continued their tour of London; in the evening, she took him to a restaurant in Chinatown. The incredibly abrupt waiter waved them downstairs, where another waiter sat them on a large table with several complete strangers, then banged down a pot of jasmine tea and two handleless cups in front of them.

‘The service here won’t have the finesse you’re used to,’ she said, ‘but I promise the food makes up for it. They do the best crispy duck in London.’

‘It’s an experience, I’ll give you that,’ Rico said with a grin.

‘And we’re going halves on the bill. Equals, remember.’

‘Sì, signorina.’ He dipped his head and gave her a deferential look. She rolled her eyes and punched his arm, and he just laughed.

After their meal, they wandered back through Leicester Square.

‘I don’t know if I dare suggest stopping here for an ice cream. Not when Italian ice cream is the best in the world,’ Ella said, looking longingly in the window of one of the ice-cream shops.

‘If you want an ice cream, bellezza, that’s fine. Though I’ll pass, because I happen to know there’s a cupcake with my name on it in your fridge and I want to make sure I can do it justice.’

They caught the DLR back to Greenwich, and she produced the cupcake from the fridge. ‘Enjoy.’

He savoured every mouthful. ‘I’m seriously thinking about kidnapping you and making you my personal pastry chef.’

‘So I’d cook at your whim?’

‘No. You can cook whatever and whenever you like. Your pleasure will be mine.’

It was suddenly hard to breathe, because she knew he wasn’t just talking about food. And he had a point. She got a real kick out of pleasing him; and it was entirely mutual.

As if he guessed at her thoughts, he drew her towards him. He kissed her until she forgot what day it was, then brought her to an incredibly intense climax before taking it much more slowly and doing it all over again.

Curled up in bed beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, she asked softly, ‘So are you staying tonight?’

Stay.

Rico was shocked by how much he wanted to take her up on that offer.

But this really wasn’t a good idea. Sex was one thing, but intimacy was quite another. Dangerous. He still didn’t want his heart involved. And she was vulnerable; he was pretty sure that most of her assertions were utter bravado and what she really wanted was a family. Something he’d never be able to give her.

Gently, he disengaged himself from her. ‘Sorry. I’ve skived off all day, so I’ll have a pile of emails waiting for me when I get back to the hotel,’ he said. He knew he was using his business as an excuse, but he didn’t want to hurt her. ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He smiled to soften his words. ‘My personal tour guide promised me the Changing of the Guard.’

‘Buckingham Palace is nearer you than me, so I’ll meet you at The Fountain,’ she said.

‘Fine. What time?’

‘Is nine o’clock too early?’

‘Nine o’clock is fine. I’ll see you then.’

Ella hid her disappointment that Rico didn’t stay. This was a fling and nothing more. So why did she feel so empty as soon as he was gone …?

On Sunday, Rico was waiting in the reception area of The Fountain when Ella walked in. ‘Buongiorno, Ella bellezza,’ he said.

‘Good morning. Are you ready to play tourist?’

‘Absolutely.’ He gave her a wide smile.

They were near enough to walk to the palace from his hotel, and eventually joined the queue of people waiting outside Buckingham Palace. At last, the soldiers in their red tunics and tall bearskin hats marched onto the forecourt outside the palace, and he enjoyed watching the spectacle. Though he had a nasty feeling that, more than that, what he was really enjoying was being with her.

She smiled at him when it was over. ‘So there you have it. One very British tradition.’

‘Nothing like you’d see in Rome. You might get the odd Roman legion and a bunch of senators in the Circus Maximus on a weekend—usually re-enactment groups—but I’ve not seen anything like this before.’

‘I’m glad I’ve shown you something new.’ She laced her fingers through his as the old guard marched away. ‘You showed me the grisly bits of Rome. It’s time I returned the favour—we’ll go and see the Tower of London.’

‘So is this the oldest building in London?’ he asked as they walked inside the complex.

‘Just about,’ she said. ‘Though your Colosseum’s a thousand years older. William the Conqueror started it with the White Tower, and various kings extended the buildings over the years. I remember my mum taking me here when I was small; I was fascinated by the Beefeaters and their hats. And the ravens.’

‘Let’s go and see the ravens,’ he said.

The ravens stalked across a patch of ground by the Wakefield Tower. ‘According to legend, the kingdom and the tower will fall if the ravens fly away, so their wings are clipped to make sure they don’t,’ Ella told him.

‘Poor things. They’re trapped.’ Which was how he’d felt at university. He’d been groomed to take over Rossi Hotels, so he knew that choosing any other career would mean letting his family down; his father was totally useless, and Rico was the only grandchild. The only one who could continue the business. Without him, hundreds of jobs would be at risk, and that wasn’t fair on the staff who’d worked for Rossi Hotels for years.

Yet it wasn’t fair on him, either, to have all his choices taken away. Frustration at being hemmed in had nearly sent him off the rails; and then his best friend had pointed out that, actually, the world was at his feet because he could take the business in any direction he liked and he didn’t have to follow his grandfather’s lead.

Which was precisely why his next hotel was going to be in London rather than in Italy. He was in charge, and he was putting his stamp on the firm. And this deal was going to be a lot bigger than the last one he’d made. He was branching out, in more ways than one—and he already knew his grandfather had reservations about it. Well, tough. Rico didn’t have reservations. He was going to make this work. And then maybe his grandfather would be forced to admit that Rico was doing just fine.

‘The ravens’ wings are almost the same colour as your hair,’ she said, ruffling it.

He caught her round the waist, spun her round and kissed her; she was pink and laughing by the time he’d finished.

‘Now, now. You’re not supposed to distract the tour guide,’ she scolded, but she was laughing as she spoke.

‘How long is it since you’ve been here?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure. Years. But I loved it as a child. The crown jewels, Henry VIII’s armour …’

‘What’s the significance of the polar bear?’ Rico asked, gesturing to the sculpture.

‘There used to be a menagerie here. Actually, there’s sort of a Roman connection, because the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II sent Henry III three leopards when Henry married Frederick’s sister Eleanor. It really snowballed from there; the King of Norway sent Henry a polar bear.’ She smiled. ‘My mum told me how the bear was kept on a long leash so he could swim in the Thames and catch fish. And then the King of France sent Henry an elephant. Apparently it came up the Thames by boat. Mum and I made up a song together about elephants in the tower, but I can’t remember how it goes now.’