Читать книгу The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni - Kate Hardy - Страница 15

‘WHERE do we go from here?’ Ella blew out a breath. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

‘Let’s start with what we know. Neither of us wants a relationship. Neither of us has time for one.’ He paused.

‘But.’

‘But?’

‘It’s good between us. Physically.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I’m going to be in London for a while. Maybe we can see something of each other while I’m here.’ He paused. ‘Kind of friends with benefits.’

‘We’re not friends. We barely know each other,’ she pointed out.

‘Acquaintances with benefits, then.’

‘You’re really compartmentalised, aren’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘It tends to make life easier.’

‘So what you’re offering me is sex. Just while you’re in London.’

‘That sounds tacky.’

‘But that’s what it boils down to.’

‘I guess. We’re both busy and neither of us wants to get involved.’ Honesty compelled him to add, ‘But there’s something between us.’ Ever since she’d left Rome, he’d told himself that she was nothing special. Seeing her again was supposed to prove that.

Except it hadn’t.

Not that he was prepared to admit quite that much to her.

And maybe seeing more of her would make this thing burn itself out. He’d get bored, the way he always did. And it would end before it stopped being fun. Before it started being serious.

‘What do you want, Rico?’ she asked.

He wasn’t sure he could answer that. He knew what he’d always thought he wanted—to be in sole charge of the business. Which he was. And the fact that it wasn’t enough for him any more, that expanding into London excited him less than the thought of seeing her, made him antsy. He threw the question back at her. ‘What do you want?’

‘You’re not supposed to answer a question with a question.’

‘What do you want?’ he repeated.

She sighed. ‘I don’t know. I thought I’d got you out of my system. Tonight was supposed to be closure. And look what happened. I’m naked and in your bed.’

He already knew she felt bad about that. Which made it easier for him to admit, ‘It was completely mutual.’

‘So do we walk away from each other now?’

His head was telling him to run like hell. His heart was telling him to stick around. ‘Do you want to walk away?’

‘It would be the sensible thing to do.’

The ‘but’ was loud and clear. She felt the same way he did. Mixed up and torn between the options. Safe and not safe.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you right from the start,’ he said.

‘I guess you had your reasons for what you did. I think they’re ridiculous reasons, but I suppose you weren’t doing it out of a sense of meanness.’

‘No, I wasn’t. It’s the way people are with me—they see me in terms of what I can do for them. With you, it felt different. I didn’t want that to change.’ She looked so cute, and he was so, so tempted just to lean forward and steal a kiss. But he held himself back. Just. ‘I really ought to go and find your clothes, let you get dressed, and take you down to dinner. But I have a feeling that they’re going to be pretty crumpled—just as mine are.’

‘I didn’t think of that.’ She bit her lip. ‘Everyone’s going to look at us in the restaurant when we walk in and jump to conclusions. Worst of all, they’re going to be right.’

‘Let’s order room service. We can eat in the other room. And it means we can try talking again, without an audience.’

‘OK. That sounds good.’

He handed her the menu. ‘Have a look through and choose what you want.’

He disappeared into the living room, then came back a few moments later with her clothes neatly stacked in a pile, which he placed on the chair. Shortly afterwards, she heard the shower running. He emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped round his hips; she wasn’t sure whether it was his near-naked body or his smile that made her heart skip a beat.

‘Help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘By the way, I had a word with Reception. The hotel laundry service can press your stuff for you while we’re having dinner.’

Ella felt the colour bloom in her face. ‘Oh, God. So they know what we’ve—’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he cut in softly. ‘We’re not the first people who’ve got a bit carried away and we won’t be the last. Anyway, for all they know, you spilled something over your jacket and skirt and had to sponge your suit down.’

She knew he was trying to make her feel better. But it didn’t quite work. ‘Mmm,’ she said.

‘Look, there’s a robe behind the bathroom door. You’re very welcome to use that until your suit’s ready. Have you decided what you’d like from the menu?’

‘The salmon, please. And can I be greedy and have the chocolate-dipped strawberries for pudding?’

‘Great idea.’ Though the suddenly heated expression in his eyes told her that he had ideas about the strawberries. Ideas that involved her.

Ella almost, almost climbed out of bed, removed his towel and dragged him into the shower with her. But sense prevailed—just—and she waited until he’d left the bedroom before heading for the bathroom.

The hotel toiletries were gorgeous, citrus-scented, and the towels were large and super-soft. When she came out of the shower, she noticed that her suit and shirt had gone. So he’d kept his word about the laundry service, then.

Dressed in the soft, fluffy bathrobe, she padded barefoot back out to the living room where Rico was waiting for her.

‘Thank you for sorting out the laundry.’

‘Prego,’ he said, giving her a tiny bow.

He was fully dressed in a clean white shirt and chinos.

‘You’re pretty high maintenance, aren’t you?’ she asked.

‘How do you mean?’

‘You always wear a white shirt and it’s always pristine. I hate to think what your laundry bill’s like.’

‘Don’t you think I do them myself?’

‘No. Because I think you’ve costed out how much that time’s worth to you and you’d rather use that time in a more productive way,’ she said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that you talking as an accountant, or are you giving me the reason why you use a laundry service?’

‘I do my own laundry, actually. Ironing time is good thinking time. And I’m an ex-accountant for the time being.’

‘I’ll try to remember that,’ he said dryly.

‘So you’re thinking of buying this hotel?’

‘It’s a possibility, yes.’

‘Why London?’

‘Because we already have four hotels in Rome, and to have any more would mean we’d be competing against ourselves.’

‘Expanding your empire into another country. Veni, vidi, vici. Maybe I should start calling you Julius,’ she teased.

He laughed. ‘London, Paris, then maybe Vienna or Barcelona. I have plans.’

‘So that’s your dream. To be a hotel tycoon.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Actually, I like this hotel. There are a few tweaks I’d want to make, but I can see it fitting in with the rest of the Rossi chain. It’s big enough to have every comfort, but it’s not so big that it’s impersonal. The staff care about the guests, and the facilities are good. And the figures stack up. It doesn’t need much work to bring it in line with the rest of my hotels.’

‘What if the figures didn’t stack up?’

‘Then I would’ve looked at other hotels.’ He smiled. ‘Like you, I have back-up plans. And, talking of your business, I meant to ask—how was your first day, post-launch?’

‘Busy,’ she said. ‘I have a few orders for celebration cakes to take me into the next six weeks, and some regular cupcake orders from a couple of local cafés that will keep me ticking over in between.’

‘If you’re experimenting with different frostings, I’d be happy to lend my services as a taste-tester. You make the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten.’

‘Thank you for the compliment.’ She smiled. ‘And I might take you up on that taste-testing thing. Provided you’re totally honest with me.’

‘I’m not going to lie to you again, Ella.’

‘I don’t mean that—I mean, being polite. Fudging the issue so you don’t hurt my feelings. I need to know if something works or not. If it doesn’t, then I can tweak the recipe until it does work.’

‘Honest feedback’s important. It’s what I want from my guests, too,’ he said. ‘OK. It’s a deal.’

Room service arrived, and the waiter served their meal at the table that Ella guessed Rico used as a desk during the day. The food was excellent, and by the end of the meal she’d lost her residual shyness and was totally relaxed in Rico’s company. It really didn’t matter any more that he was properly dressed and she was only wearing a bathrobe.

All the same, she was glad when her suit and shirt arrived, neatly pressed, along with their coffee.

‘Don’t change back into your clothes just yet. Come and sit with me,’ Rico said, shepherding her over to the sofa.

She curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the warmth of his body against hers.

‘Tell me about Julia,’ he said.

‘She’s my best friend. I’ve known her since we were ten.’

‘And she’s an English teacher and film buff.’

‘Yes.’ Ella was surprised he’d remembered that; then again, to do what he did, Rico needed a keen eye for detail.

‘You seemed very close.’

Mmm, and he’d called Julia her guard dog. ‘Ju’s like the sister I never had.’

‘You don’t have a brother, either? Your mum didn’t remarry?’

‘I’m an only child. And Mum didn’t marry my father in the first place.’ Ella pulled away from him. Well, he might as well know what he was getting into if he planned to start seeing more of her. Even if it was supposed to be acquaintances with benefits and no emotional entanglement. ‘He was already married to someone else. Mum didn’t have a clue that he wasn’t single until she fell pregnant with me. Then, when she told him she was expecting me, he told her that she’d have to deal with it.’ She lifted her chin. ‘In other words, get rid of me. Which she refused to do. So he dumped her.’

‘That’s appalling.’ Rico winced. ‘I’m beginning to see why you have a thing about lies.’

‘It wasn’t just Mum he lied to. It was his wife, too. And I’d bet Mum wasn’t the first to fall for him—or the last.’ She sighed. ‘My grandparents didn’t react very well to the news that she was expecting me and the baby’s father didn’t want to know. She was an only child—a very late baby—and they were more like her grandparents than her parents, with an older generation’s views on morality.’

Rico sucked in a breath. ‘Please tell me they got over it and supported her.’

‘Far from it. They said they were ashamed of her. They, too, wanted her to get rid of me. When she refused, they threw her out,’ Ella said grimly. ‘But Mum managed to find a flat, and when I was growing up she worked three jobs to make sure she could put food on the table for both of us.’

‘Which is why you wanted a safe job when you grew up.’

‘Financial security.’ She nodded. ‘And it was fine. I could do my cakes in my spare time. I’ve just been incredibly lucky and now I have a chance to do what I really love and make a living from it.’ She blinked away the threatening tears. ‘I just wish I’d won that money when Mum was still here, so I could’ve treated her and made some of her dreams come true, too. And I would’ve bought her a flat, given her the security she always wanted and never really had.’

He frowned. ‘Didn’t your father have to pay her maintenance?’

‘Mum wouldn’t have taken it, even if he’d offered. It wasn’t about the money, for her. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t offer in any case. What I found when I was going through her things last year, after she died …’ She grimaced. ‘When I was a kid, I used to feel it that I didn’t have a dad—I really envied my friends who had two parents to go home to, and who talked about their dads teaching them to swim or ride a bike. I didn’t even have an uncle. But now I’m glad he’s never been part of my life. I don’t think he’s the kind of man I’d want to know.’

‘What did you find?’ Rico asked softly.

‘Thirty-six envelopes. Each one contained a photograph of me on my birthday or at Christmas, for every single year since I was born. And every one was marked “return to sender”.’ Ella tried not to grind her teeth. ‘Her letters never asked him for a thing. She was only writing to let him know how I was getting on. She told him about me, and she really tried to build some kind of connection between us—but he threw it back in her face every single time. She even sent the letters to his office rather than to his home, so it wouldn’t be like rubbing his wife’s face in it. But he just didn’t want to know.’

‘Thirty-six envelopes. And you’re twenty-eight?’

‘Yes.’

‘So he must’ve kept some?’

Ella shook her head. ‘Mum gave up sending them when I turned eighteen. So now you know why I don’t have a family. I probably have half-siblings somewhere out there—who knows how many other women fell for the same lies that my mum did?—but they’ve never tried to find me, and I don’t need them. I have good friends, and that makes me luckier than a lot of people.’

‘Did your grandparents soften once they met you?’

‘No. Mum tried to stay in touch with them, but they refused to see us. And it’s too late for any reconciliation now—they both passed away, some years back.’

‘It was their loss, not yours.’ Rico pulled her onto his lap and held her close.

For a moment Ella thought that she saw something in his expression—something that told her he understood how she felt because he’d been badly let down himself—but he masked it so quickly that she couldn’t be sure.

Sitting so close with him like this made her feel so warm, so secure. And the question slipped out before she realised what she was going to say. ‘So do I get to see you tomorrow?’

‘Maybe. What time do you finish?’

‘I’m not sure. Late afternoon, I guess.’ She thought about it. ‘I have two celebration cakes to make and flat-ice, and then I need to do some of the sugar work for them, as well as make the cupcakes for the two local cafés who’ve agreed to stock my cakes. And there’s the business admin stuff. If I keep on top of it, then it won’t take long. If I leave it to pile up, it’ll be a chore.’

‘So the cupcakes have to be ready before the cafés open. Does this mean a really early start?’

She smiled. ‘That rather depends on whether you call six a.m. early.’

‘I’d better get you home, then. It’s not fair to make you burn the candle at both ends. If you want to get dressed in my bedroom, I’ll call a taxi.’

‘Thank you.’

The phone rang as she walked back into the living room. Rico answered it. ‘That’s great. Thank you very much.’ He turned to Ella. ‘That was Reception. They’re very efficient—the taxi’s here already.’

‘Thank you. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

‘I’ll see you home. I would’ve driven you myself, but I haven’t sorted out a car yet.’

Outside her flat, he kissed her lingeringly in her doorway.

‘What time do you finish tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘That depends on how my meetings go.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Plus I have a pile of paperwork to get through and a few phone calls to make to Rome.’

‘Call me when you’re free,’ she said.

‘I’ll do that.’ He kissed her again. ‘Goodnight, Ella bellezza. Sweet dreams.’