Читать книгу The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni: The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride - Kate Hardy - Страница 8

‘UM, MI scusi?’ Ella dredged up the little Italian she’d learned from the phrasebook as she stood at the hotel’s reception desk. ‘I think I have a sightseeing tour booked this morning?’

‘Sì, Signora Chandler. With me.’

Ella’s jaw almost dropped as she turned around to see who’d spoken. This couldn’t be her tour guide, surely? The man looked more like a model for a perfume ad. He was tall, with slightly dishevelled dark hair held back from his eyes by a pair of sunglasses, dark eyes with unfairly long lashes, and the most sinful mouth she’d ever seen.

He spoke perfect English, with the slightest, sexiest hint of an accent. And she was going to have to keep her libido on an extremely tight leash. No doubt the man was used to English tourists who were too full of hormones melting at his feet and he knew how to deal with them kindly; all the same, Ella didn’t want to make a fool of herself. She’d already done that quite enough, this past year.

‘I, um, buongiorno’ She held out her hand.

When he took it, it felt as if her temperature had just gone up five degrees.

This was crazy. How could she possibly react like this to a complete stranger—a man she’d only just met and knew nothing about, other than that he was an employee of the hotel where she was staying?

Not that he was wearing a uniform like the other staff. Instead, he wore a crisp white shirt, the neck unbuttoned far enough to show that there was a light sprinkling of hair on his chest and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, teamed with stone-coloured chinos and boat shoes that would be comfortable for a long day’s walking tour of the city. Casual, and yet utterly, utterly stylish, as only the Italians could be.

Ella’s best friend Julia would immediately dub him ‘sex on legs’. And she’d be right on the money. He was gorgeous.

‘Are you ready, Signora Chandler?’ he asked politely.

No, not in a million years. ‘Of course,’ she fibbed, forcing herself to sound as professional as she would to one of her clients.

‘I’m Rico,’ he said.

Why did her tongue feel as if someone had glued it to the roof of her mouth? ‘Uh—Ella,’ she responded, hating the fact that she sounded so pathetic and gauche.

‘Ella.’ Her name sounded like a caress, the way he said it.

Help. She really needed to remind herself that she was twenty-eight, not seventeen. And she knew only too well that charm like his was all surface and no substance. Been there, done that and worn the T-shirt to shreds.

‘Shall we go?’

‘Sure.’ She gave him her best attempt at a sensible smile.

‘So this is your first time in Rome, and you want a tour of the major sights, sì?’

‘Ancient Rome, the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain,’ she confirmed.

‘Bene. Then we’ll start with the Colosseum. Apart from the fact that it’s the nearest site to the hotel, the queues are relatively short at this time of day.’

She followed him out of the hotel and resisted the urge to pinch herself. She, Ella Chandler, was actually in Rome—The Eternal City. The place she’d wanted to visit for years, though they’d never been able to afford a holiday when she was small; by the time she was earning enough to pay her way, her friends had talked her into going somewhere else with them. This time, she was pleasing herself. Visiting the place that had captured her imagination as a child, far more than tales of princesses and castles.

‘I’ve always wanted to come to Rome, ever since I saw a picture of the Colosseum in a book as a little girl,’ she said to Rico. ‘I mean, I know it’s not one of the official Seven Wonders of the World, but to me it was.’

‘It’s the largest surviving ancient Roman building,’ he said. ‘It’s not quite as well preserved as somewhere else I’ll take you to see today, but it’s still pretty spectacular.’

He told her about the history of the place as they walked down the street, and Ella found herself relaxing with him. Then, as they reached the bottom of the street, she stopped dead and just stared.

‘Wow. I can’t believe we were just walking down a modern street with cool shops and houses—and here it is. Right in the middle of things.’ The ruin was huge and just … awesome. There was no other word for it. Up close, the Colosseum was exactly what she’d always thought it would be like, really living up to her dream.

‘That’s one of the things about Rome,’ he said with a shrug. ‘A building might look modern, but beneath it there’s likely to be the foundations of something like this.’

Clearly he was used to it; didn’t they say that familiarity bred contempt? He didn’t seem anywhere near as impressed by it as Ella was. But she was entranced by the sheer majesty of the ruin; and she was glad that Rico was sensitive enough to let her absorb the atmosphere rather than breaking it up with chatter.

She was gorgeous, Rico thought as he looked at Ella. Very much an English rose with that pale skin, golden-brown hair tied back at the nape of her neck, and blue-grey eyes. An old quote floated into Rico’s head: non Angli, sed angeli. Not English, but angels.

Ella Chandler was as beautiful as any Botticelli angel. Particularly as she didn’t seem to be the slightest bit aware of how lovely she was. And she had a natural beauty—not like half the guests in his hotels, who were manicured and spray-tanned and coiffured to within an inch of their lives.

Why was she on her own in Rome? He knew that she was booked into the honeymoon suite, but he also knew that she’d signed in as Ms Chandler rather than Mrs. So had this trip to Rome originally been planned as a honeymoon? Maybe her fiancé had let her down at the last minute, and she’d decided not to waste the booking and had come to Rome on her own. Or was there some other reason?

Rico reminded himself that it was nothing to do with him. He was her tour guide today simply as part of his ongoing review of the Rossi hotel chain, checking that they were meeting their customers’ needs with every single service they offered. Right now, that meant taking Ella Chandler through the fast-track queue to a place she’d wanted to visit for years and years and years, and making her dreams come alive.

‘I never expected to see gladiators and emperors everywhere,’ she said, smiling as she saw the characters wandering round.

‘It’s fun and adds to the atmosphere,’ he agreed. ‘But I’d say just enjoy the view, unless you want to pay through the nose for having your photograph taken with them.’

‘Oh. So they’re not official—not part of the Colosseum itself?’ She looked disappointed, and then slightly wary.

‘They’re freelance. And sometimes they can be a bit pushy. But they won’t be pushy with you, because you’re with me.’ He smiled. ‘And I’m happy to take as many photographs for you as you wish. It’s all part of the tour service.’

‘Thank you.’

Once they were through the entrance and he’d paid for the tickets, Rico took Ella through into the building, showing her where the different classes of people would have sat to enjoy the shows. He took photographs of her with the iconic arches of the Colosseum behind her and a view over the arena and the basement; even though she was wearing sunglasses in the bright Roman sunlight, he could tell that her smile reached her eyes. And her pleasure in the place was infectious. He’d grown used to thinking of it as just one of the buildings near his hotel. But seeing Ella’s reaction made him look at the building again. And he could see what she saw: a truly spectacular place, more than just the iconic symbol of the city. This was the epicentre, where emperors had held processions and entertained the entire city. Where ordinary people had seen lions and bears and elephants, creatures they would never see in their daily lives.

On the second floor, he took her through to the temporary exhibition. ‘Apart from the written sources we have, the graffiti gives us a pretty good idea of the kind of spectacles people saw here.’ He showed her a leaping wolf scratched into the stone, and a gladiator fighting with a net. Ella pushed her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head so she could take a closer look, and the expression of sheer wonder in her eyes fascinated him. How long had it been since something had enthralled him like that? Too many years to count …

At thirty, Rico was jaded way beyond his years—and he knew it.

Not that he was going to beat himself up about it. He didn’t have time. He had an empire to run.

When they left the Colosseum, Rico took Ella past Constantine’s triumphal arch. ‘This is my favourite view of the building,’ he said, stopping to give her time to turn round and admire it.

‘It’s spectacular. Everything I thought it would be,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘Hey, it’s my job,’ he said. Mainly to remind himself that she was a client, and that made her off limits. And even if she wasn’t off limits, she wasn’t his type. He always dated tall, slender, sophisticated women who knew the rules and didn’t make any emotional demands on him. In return, he gave them the lifestyle they wanted. Temporarily. Nobody had ever tempted him to make it permanent.

He forced his thoughts back to the job in hand. ‘Let me show you through the Forum next.’

‘Is this the place where Marc Antony did the speech—well, according to Shakespeare?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘Yes. Normally you can hear half the tour guides declaiming it.’ He pointed to some columns in the distance. ‘The spot where he gave the funeral oration is at the New Rostrum—over there by the Temple of Saturn.’

‘Is that what you do, as a tour guide? Declaim the speech?’

She had dimples, he noticed. The cutest, cutest dimples.

And it took Rico a real effort to concentrate on her question instead of reaching over to touch her cheek, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. What on earth was wrong with him? He never got distracted like this. Ever. ‘I can do. Unless you’d rather do it?’

‘I know it’s a bit touristy, but would you mind if I did?’

‘Sure. Do you have a video setting on your camera? I could film it for the people back home, if you like.’

‘That’s so nice of you.’

No, he most definitely wasn’t nice. His last girlfriend had said he was a machine, totally focused on his work—because he’d refused to change his rules for her. But he supposed that Rico the tour guide would be nice, at least on the surface. ‘It’s what I’m here for. To make Rome feel like home for you.’

Ella showed him how the camera worked and her fingers accidentally brushed against his. Awareness flooded through his whole body and he almost gasped. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted this strongly towards someone; and it was as much as he could do to concentrate on taking the film while she declaimed the speech.

‘You have a very clear voice, and you spoke it well,’ he said when she’d finished and he handed the camera back to her.

‘Thank you.’

She blushed. Very prettily. He couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like, all flushed and drowsy with pleasure. Pleasure that he’d just made her feel.

Enough. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Ella Chandler in sexual terms. She was a client, for pity’s sake. So what if she was the first woman to intrigue him like this in more than three years, since he’d taken over as CEO of Rossi Hotels? He knew how fleeting sexual attraction was. And he didn’t have time to let her distract him.

As they walked back up towards the Via Nova, Ella looked enchanted by the wisteria that grew along the wires, the leaves making a kind of canopy and the pale purple blooms hanging down.

‘Hand me your camera and smile,’ he directed, and took several shots of her with the wisteria framing her.

There was a secluded corner of his roof garden just like this. And he suddenly had the strongest vision of kissing her there under the night sky, her palm cupping his cheek and his hands tangled in her hair, her mouth opening underneath his to let him deepen the kiss …

Help. He needed to get back to a neutral topic. Fast. Something that didn’t make him think about sex. This was so inappropriate, it was untrue. Plus it unsettled him that she could have this sort of effect on him. He’d never found it hard to concentrate on work before.

‘What do you do at home?’ he asked.

‘My job, you mean?’ She shrugged. ‘I’m an accountant.’

‘And you enjoy it?’

‘It’s a safe job.’

He noticed she hadn’t said that she enjoyed it. Odd. Why had she gone for a safe job, rather than one that would make her happy?

As an accountant, she probably spent most of her time at her desk. She didn’t look the type to hit the gym or go running every morning. He’d already taken her on a longish walk, climbing up stairs and across uneven ground; and, since she wanted to see several other landmarks as well, they still had a fair bit of ground to cover. Exhausting his customers wasn’t a good business idea. He’d better schedule in a rest break.

‘Time to flop, I think,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have some lunch.’

He took her to a tiny osteria where he knew the food was good, and found them a table in a little courtyard with vines growing across like a canopy to protect diners from the midday sun.

‘This is fabulous,’ Ella said. ‘I can’t believe Rome’s so green.’

‘What were you expecting?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘Something like London, I guess. With a pile of ruins at the edge of the city, not in the centre of things. But this is amazing. It’s special. The fountains and the architecture and the ruins and the greenery—it’s like seeing all of history mixed together at the same time, yet nothing’s out of place.’

That hadn’t really occurred to him before, but he realised that she was right. Rome was an amazing place. How had he let his home city become just wallpaper?

‘And I loved that wisteria in the Forum.’

He knew she’d love the lilacs in the Borghese Park, too. Though it was too far to go there today, and anyway he was showing her just the highlights of the city that she’d asked to see.

A crazy idea bloomed in his head. The more he tried to ignore it, the more insistent it became. Maybe he could spin out this tour guide thing for a little longer. Ella didn’t have any trips booked for tomorrow, and he knew she was staying in Rome for three nights. He hadn’t taken a day off in months and he had nothing desperately urgent lined up for the rest of the week, so it wouldn’t take his PA long to reschedule his diary.

‘It didn’t say anything in the brochure about lunch being included,’ Ella said, looking slightly concerned. ‘I take it this is an extra? I’ll pay for both of us.’

That was the accountant in her speaking, he guessed. She’d clearly worked out that tour guides didn’t exactly earn enormous salaries, and it was kind of her to offer to pay for his lunch. Unexpected, too; he was used to being the provider, and her offer threw him slightly.

And then there was the fact that Rico wasn’t usually a tour guide. His income was more than adequate for his lifestyle. The offer had been kind, but no way would he let her pay for lunch. It went too much against the grain. He gave her his sweetest smile to forestall any arguments. ‘Absolutely not. It’s all part of the tour.’ It was a complete fabrication, but maybe it was something he should take into consideration for the future.

The problem was, he hardly ever carried cash. If he took out his credit card, his cover would be blown—because what would a humble tour guide be doing with a platinum credit card? And he was really enjoying being just an ordinary man, instead of having people bowing and scraping to him or demanding things from him. Ella was reacting to him just for himself, instead of what he stood for, and that was so refreshing. He wasn’t ready to give that up. Not just yet.

He made a mental note to have a quiet word with the waiter and ensure that he paid at the bar, where she wouldn’t be able to see his credit card.

‘If you’re sure, then thank you very much. Do you recommend anything?’ she asked.

‘It depends what kind of thing you like.’

Oh, and that had come out so wrong. It sounded sleazy. Like a come-on. His voice practically oozed sex.

Though he had to admit, he wanted things to go further with Ella Chandler. A lot further.

Luckily she didn’t seem to notice that she’d put him into such a spin.

‘Is there something traditionally Roman on the menu that I could try?’ she asked.

He scanned the menu swiftly. ‘Cacio e pepe—it’s a kind of thick spaghetti with a pecorino cheese and black pepper sauce.’

She smiled. ‘That sounds lovely. I’d like to try that.’

‘I’ll join you.’ He ordered them a salad as well, and paused. ‘Would you like some wine? Red or white?’

‘Dry white would be lovely.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very sophisticated. One glass is enough for me at lunchtime.’

‘That’s fine by me. And it’s nothing to do with sophistication—more to do with common sense. Alcohol’s dehydrating, and it’s warm today even for Rome,’ he said, wanting to put her at her ease and enjoying the grateful smile she gave him.

He ordered two glasses of pinot grigio and a jug of water. When the waiter brought their drinks, he also brought a basket of good Roman bread, flavoured with rosemary. Ella reached for the bread at the same time as Rico did, and her fingers brushed very lightly against his; it made him feel as though he’d been galvanised.

He never reacted to anyone like this. Ever.

But there was something about Ella Chandler, and he really had to make an effort to stop himself twining his fingers through hers, bringing her hand up to his mouth and tasting her skin, brushing each knuckle with his lips.

Especially as she looked completely unaffected by their brief contact. No way was he going to make a fool of himself.

‘Wow. This is fabulous,’ she said when she’d eaten her first bite of bread.

God, her mouth was beautiful. A perfect rosebud. Again, he had to hold himself back from leaning forward and touching his mouth to hers, brushing his lips against hers until they parted.

And it wasn’t just sexual attraction. There was more to it than that. Spending time with someone who enjoyed such simple pleasures … It had been way too long since he’d done that, Rico thought. His last few girlfriends had been more interested in the lifestyle he could give them. Tickets to exclusive events, the finest champagne, designer jewellery. Ella seemed very different. He wasn’t sure whether she fascinated him or unnerved him most. He didn’t have a clue what made her tick—or why she was affecting him like this. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

‘So have you done this job for very long?’ she asked.

‘A while,’ he said. It depended on what you defined as ‘this job’. He’d been running the hotel chain for three years now, but he’d worked in the business during the school holidays ever since he was fourteen, doing every single job in the company—right from cleaning the rooms through to making strategic decisions. Even now he did a stint in every role in the business during the year, to make sure he kept abreast of the issues his staff faced and could see where things could be improved for the customers.

‘Do you have family here?’ she asked.

‘Some.’ Again, it depended on how you defined family. His parents lived in Rome, but he wouldn’t class either of them as family. Not after his upbringing.

He could see her slight frown at his evasiveness, and added, ‘My grandparents live here.’ They’d rescued him from the mess of his parents’ marriage and kept him safe. They were the only ones in his life who hadn’t wanted him for what he could give them. Or maybe even that wasn’t strictly true; after all, his grandfather had groomed him to take over the business, knowing that it would be a total disaster in the hands of his only child, Rico’s father. In Rico’s hands, the business was safe. To the point where he was planning to expand it outside Italy.

Rico managed to keep the conversation light for the rest of lunch—and he was pleased to notice that Ella ate with enjoyment, rather than picking at her food and being boring about calorie and carb intake.

And then it was time for the next ace up his sleeve. He’d taken her on the route where she would see the back of the Pantheon first, a squat building with moss creeping over the patched brickwork; he could see from her face that she thought the building a little dingy and dowdy, and was expecting to be disappointed.

Until they came into the square and she saw the front, the huge triangle with its inscription commemorating Agrippa and the enormous columns supporting the porch.

‘Oh, my God—that’s just what I expected a real Roman temple to look like! And those doors are just huge,’ she said, wide-eyed.

‘Allegedly they’re the originals, though they’ve been restored so much that there isn’t actually much original material left.’

Inside, Ella looked overawed as she stared up at the dome and the enormous opening in the centre that was the building’s only source of light. ‘This is stunning. I can’t believe this building is nearly two thousand years old, and they built that huge dome without any of the equipment that construction companies take for granted nowadays. I mean, just how did they do it?’

That expression of wonder was back on her face. Although Rico had been to the monument countless times, enough to be almost immune to its beauty, seeing it with her was like seeing it with new eyes; he, too, caught the wonder, as if it were the first time he’d ever seen it. And how amazing it was. It made him want to hold her, feel a physical connection between them as well as a mental one.

Though he could see the disappointment on Ella’s face when they reached the Spanish Steps and she stared up the white marble steps to the balustrade and the obelisk, framed by the white church at the top.

‘Give it a couple of weeks for all the azaleas to come out and it’ll look a bit prettier,’ he said.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. I guess I expected the Spanish Steps to be a bit more … well …’ Her voice tailed off and she gave an apologetic grimace.

Special, he guessed. ‘They’re just steps,’ he said gently. ‘Where tourists sit to take a rest. Though the square at the top by the Trinità is pretty at weekends; it’s full of artists sketching.’

She looked up, as if imagining it.

‘Come on. You’ll love the Trevi. That definitely lives up to its reputation.’

They could hear the water gushing before they even got into the square, and when they managed to skirt the crowds he could see from the look on her face that the fountain was everything she’d expected. ‘Wow. It’s huge,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe how white it is, and how clear and blue the water is. And look at the way it’s carved.’ Her eyes glittered with delight. ‘The horses—their manes look as if they’re real, not stone, and they’re billowing in the breeze, and the water sounds like the thundering of their hooves.’

Rico normally thought of the Trevi Fountain simply as a tourist trap; but right then he could see what she saw. And he was surprised by how stunning it was.

The steps leading down to the fountain were thronged with tourists; Rico managed to shepherd Ella to the front, where she could sit on the edge of the fountain and he could take a photograph of her throwing a coin over her shoulder as a promise to herself that she’d come back to Rome.

‘Is it supposed to be three coins?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘No. If you’re thinking of the film, that’s referring to three different people throwing a coin in.’

‘I thought I read somewhere …’ She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Never mind.’

He knew exactly what she meant—he’d read it, too. Throw in one coin to return to Rome, two for a new romance, and three for a marriage. Was that what she was looking for? he wondered. Marriage or romance?

Though it was none of his business. And he definitely wasn’t looking for either marriage or romance. No way was he repeating his parents’ mistakes. He kept his relationships short and sweet, ending them before they stopped being fun.

‘The fountain was built at the end of Agrippa’s Acqua Vergine. It’s meant to have the sweetest water in Rome—though I wouldn’t try drinking it,’ he added hastily, ‘and people are definitely discouraged from trying to paddle in it.’

‘La Dolce Vita, right?’ She smiled. ‘My best friend’s an English teacher and a film buff. She told me about it.’

He could just imagine Ella standing under the fountain the way Anita Ekberg had, letting the water pour down on her. Making her T-shirt cling to her body like a second skin. And then he’d have the pleasure of peeling it off later …

Right now, he thought wryly, he could do with some cold water himself. Ella Chandler was making him seriously heated.

Officially, this was the end of what she’d asked to see. He knew he ought to ask her if she wanted him to escort her back to the hotel or put her in a taxi; but he found himself reluctant to let her go. Weirder still, he found himself actually giving into the impulse to keep her with him a little longer. What the hell had happened to his self-control?

‘Time for a rest,’ he said, and found them a quiet table at one of the little caffès in the nearby streets. When she’d chosen what she wanted from the menu, he ordered her a glass of spremuta, freshly squeezed ruby orange juice, and an espresso for himself. He gulped it down in one mouthful, then gave a rueful smile as he caught her raised eyebrows. ‘Sorry. It’s one of my bad habits.’

There was a tiny glitter of teasing in her eyes when she said, ‘Dare I ask what the others are?’

‘No.’ But the coffee hadn’t restored his common sense. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. ‘Do you have plans for tonight?’

‘Why?’ She sounded wary.

‘I wondered if you might have dinner with me. If you weren’t doing anything else?’

She blinked. ‘Dinner?’

‘Something simple. Traditionally Roman.’ Or maybe he could cook for her. He knew the perfect place to set a table. Even the swishest restaurant in Rome didn’t have a view as good as where he had in mind.

Dinner.

A date.

Part of Ella was surprised and pleased that such a gorgeous man was asking her out; yet part of her wanted to run as far away as she could. She might be over Michael now, but it didn’t mean she wanted to repeat the experience. To get involved with someone, even briefly. To make herself vulnerable.

And yet this was Rome. The Eternal City. How lovely it would be to share her first proper evening in Rome with someone. And Rico was only asking her out to dinner, after all. It wasn’t as if there were any future in this.

Would it really be so wrong to say yes, or to enjoy the attention? A bit of harmless flirtation might give her back some of her confidence in herself after Michael’s betrayal.

Though thinking about Michael meant that she needed to ask Rico something. It was going to be embarrassing, but no way was she going to do to someone else what Michael’s lover had done to her. ‘I’m assuming you don’t have a wife or a girlfriend?’

‘No. I’m single.’

‘Me, too.’ Just so it was clear. And she intended to stay that way. She wasn’t giving anyone else the chance to let her down, the way all the men in her life so far had let her down. Her father, her fiancé …

She was tempted to make an excuse, however flimsy. Tell him she was tired. That way, she wouldn’t risk getting closer to him.

Yet there was something about Rico that drew her. She enjoyed his company. And these three nights in Rome were meant to be fun. Given that neither of them had any ties, then maybe she should take the risk. Say yes.

‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘It’d be nice to have dinner with you.’

‘Are you vegetarian, or is there anything you don’t like to eat?’

‘No. And I don’t have any food allergies, either.’

‘Good. Then I’ll meet you at the hotel,’ he said. ‘I’ll call for you at eight.’