A Venetian Affair

‘Come esta, Laura,’ Domenico said gently.

She pulled herself together, trying to breathe normally. ‘Not at my best, I’m afraid,’ she said unevenly, and thrust her hair behind her ears to display the full effect of her bruises. ‘This is a surprise.’

He drew the other chair close and with a familiar ‘Permesso?’ sat down. ‘Ah, Laura!’ His voice was husky with compassion as his eyes travelled over her face. ‘Your mother told me of your fall, but I did not imagine—’

‘That I looked so scary?’

‘That you had been hurt so very badly,’ he contradicted. ‘Are you in pain still?’

‘Not pain, exactly. My face is just sore and throbs a bit. So does my ankle.’ She smiled coldly. ‘If I’d expected to frighten anyone I would have worn a mask. I bought one in Venice, remember.’

‘I do remember. And you did not frighten me,’ he assured her. ‘I feel only sympathy for your injury.’

She found that hard to swallow. ‘The worst part was missing Fen’s wedding. How did it go?’

‘It was very beautiful. But to my great disappointment you were not in the bridal party.’

‘You can see why now.’ She smiled politely. ‘It’s very kind of you to take time to visit me, but shouldn’t you be up at Friars Wood with the other guests?’

He shook his head. ‘I have been there already. I congratulated the radiant bride and her proud husband, and introduced myself to your mother.’ Domenico smiled warmly. ‘She is so much like you. I recognised her immediately.’

‘She looks good, doesn’t she?’ said Laura, thawing slightly.

‘Molto elegante,’ he agreed, and eyed her warily. ‘Mrs Dysart consulted with your mother and made a suggestion.’

Laura raised her good eyebrow. ‘What is it?’

‘She gave me champagne so that you and I may toast the bride and groom together.’ He smiled. ‘The bride thought this was an excellent idea.’

‘Did you come to the wedding alone, then?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, surprised. ‘I have rung you twice since Thursday to say I was arriving today, but your number was unobtainable.’

‘I broke my phone when I fell.’ She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Domenico, are you here because you feel sorry for me?’

‘No.’ His chin lifted. ‘But if you do not want me here I will leave the champagne and go.’

She turned her face away, fighting sudden tears, but after a moment she was pulled to her feet and into Domenico’s arms with her good cheek pressed to his crisp shirtfront.

‘You took off your jacket,’ she muttered, breathing in the male scent that was so bone-meltingly familiar she almost forgot she was furious with him.

‘My suit is new,’ he explained. ‘The shirt will wash.’

‘And I thought I was the practical one!’ She tried a laugh, which sounded so much more like a sob his arms tightened.

‘Piangi!’ he commanded, but having been told to cry Laura lost all desire to, and pushed him away.

‘Sorry. My emotions are a bit near the surface since the fall.’

He winced, and touched a finger to her uninjured cheek. ‘You could have done yourself such serious injury, Laura.’ He paused. ‘So. Shall I stay?’

She lifted a shoulder. ‘If you like.’

‘Then I shall fetch the champagne from the car.’

‘I’ll get some glasses.’ Laura limped into the house, and for pride’s sake took time to tie her hair back before collecting a couple of champagne flutes.

‘I feel happier with my hair under control,’ she told Domenico as she rejoined him.

He smiled a little. ‘Bene. I like you to feel happy.’

She raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘Really? You were pretty cutting on the phone!’

Heat flared in his eyes. ‘You hurt me so much, Laura.’

‘You or your pride?’ she said, unmoved.

He shrugged. ‘Both. To help you I paid a very little part of your hotel bill, and in return you accuse me of paying for your body. I believed we had made beautiful love together,’ he added angrily. ‘So, yes, my pride was hurt.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘So was mine, Domenico, when I found out you’d been having a little joke with me.’

‘I have given you my reasons for that,’ he reminded her, and without spilling a drop removed the cork from the champagne, filled two glasses and handed one of them to her. ‘Now we make the toast,’ he said.

‘To Fen and Joe,’ said Laura, raising her glass.

‘To the bride and groom,’ he agreed, and raised his own. ‘Also a toast to you, Laura, with the wish that your beautiful face will soon be whole again.’

‘I’ll drink to that!’ she said dryly. ‘Though even at its best my face is hardly beautiful.’

‘It is to me,’ he said softly.

But Laura couldn’t forget Domenico’s knee-jerk reaction at first sight of it, nor the lady back in Venice somewhere. ‘It was kind of you to come,’ she said politely. ‘I was feeling pretty blue earlier on.’

‘It is very sad that you could not be at your friend’s wedding,’ he agreed. ‘When I learned that you were hurt I wanted to come here at once to see you. But I had to wait while many photographs were taken, then drive to the Dysart home to congratulate the bride and groom, also to ask your mother her permission to visit you.’ Domenico smiled. ‘She is a charming lady.’

‘That she is,’ agreed Laura. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘At an inn called the Forrester’s Arms. You know it?’

‘Yes, it’s a nice country pub with good food, but a far cry from the Forli Palace.’

‘Non importa. A change is good, yes?’

‘It will certainly be that—’ She broke off as the phone rang, and excused herself to go inside to answer it. ‘Hi, Mother.’

‘Are you all right, darling?’ asked Isabel anxiously.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Is Domenico still with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long is he staying?’

‘I don’t know. Are you ready to come home, then?’

‘Actually, Frances wants me to stay on for a while, so if you’ve still got company maybe I will.’

‘Stay as long as you like. Have fun. I’ll see you later.’ Laura put the phone down and went back to Domenico. ‘That was my mother, asking how long you’re likely to stay.’ She smiled coolly. ‘But you can go now, if you like. I’ll be fine on my own until she comes home.’

His face darkened. ‘You wish me to go?’

‘Not quite yet. First there are one or two things I want to say. As you said, it’s difficult over the phone—’ She broke off as rain began to fall and reached for the tape-player. ‘Grab your jacket and leave the rest. We’d better go inside.’

In the small sitting room Laura switched on lamps, waved Domenico to a chair and sat down on the sofa with her feet up.

‘So tell me these one or two things,’ he commanded, tearing his eyes from the length of bare brown leg on display.

‘First,’ began Laura, ‘when we became lovers I didn’t know who, or what, you were.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It was obvious from your apartment and your clothes that you earned good money, but I took it you were in some management job at the hotel. I had no idea that you owned it.’

‘I do not own it. The hotel belongs to the Forli Group, of which I am a part because I am family,’ he said, with the air of one explaining to a child. ‘I am in charge in Venice now because my father has retired.’ He threw out his expressive hands. ‘What difference does this make?’

‘Quite a lot to me. You live among the pillars and frescoes of the Palazzo Forli or in your smart San Marco apartment overlooking the Grand Canal.’ She waved a hand at the small, crowded room. ‘I live here, or in my tiny flat in London.’

‘So? I do not understand the problem.’

Her chin went up. ‘It’s not a problem any more. When we parted that last night I was moonstruck enough to think that a relationship of some kind was possible. But now I know the facts it’s out of the question. You lied to me, Domenico.’

He sighed impatiently. ‘I did not lie, exactly. It was so good to be with someone who seemed to like me for myself, I did not tell you—’

‘That’s not the lie I’m talking about. You said there was no woman in your life, yet according to Fen’s sister, Jess Forli, there is.’ Laura’s eyes stabbed his accusingly. ‘Admit it, Domenico, you said all that nonsense about falling in love just to get me into bed. And like a fool I fell for it.’

The translucent eyes narrowed to glittering shards of ice. ‘There is no other woman in my life. And I did not lie about my feelings for you.’ He got slowly to his feet and picked up his jacket, controlled fury in every move. ‘But if you can believe such things of me you are right, Laura. There is no possibility of a relationship between us.’

‘So why did you come here today?’

He smiled scornfully. ‘Do not imagine it was to discuss this boring subject of relationships. My visit is courtesy only, because you are injured.’

‘How very kind of you,’ she managed, when she could trust her voice.

He put on his jacket, suddenly a remote, elegant stranger. ‘Allora, I must go back to the Dysart home to wish the bride and groom well before they leave for their honeymoon.’

Laura led the way into the hall to open the front door. ‘Goodbye, then. Thank you for taking time to visit me.’

‘Prego,’ he said, shrugging.

‘Wait—I almost forgot. I have something for you.’ She went back into the sitting room to search in her handbag, then returned to him, holding out an envelope.

Domenico opened it, his face stony as he saw money. ‘Grazie,’ he said savagely, and thrust the envelope in his pocket. ‘Now you owe me nothing and you can be happy, yes? But tell me, Laura, if you had such harsh things to say, why did you not accuse me of these things at once and send me away?’

She smiled at him sweetly. ‘I was bored. Your company was better than none.’

His eyes glittered with outrage for an instant, then with a graceful, insolent bow he strode off through the rain to his hired car. An Italian model, Laura noted dully. Domenico liked to maintain his image at all times and in all places.

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