Chapter Five
Eleanora stared. ‘What do you mean, pack a bag? What for?’
‘For Rome.’
‘Rome?’ She looked at Sanzio in consternation.
‘Yes, I need to put in some time there again for work, and you can get the art dealers and auction houses to start tracking down the artwork that was sold,’ Sanzio replied over the breakfast table.
‘I can do that over the internet, and then by phone,’ she objected.
He waved it away. ‘In person is much better. Set up appointments with them. Once they know I’m bankrolling it—’ his voice turned cynical, she could hear it ‘—they’ll fall over themselves to help you!’
Deep reluctance filled her. Not about calling on the dealers and auction houses, but about being in Rome with Sanzio.
Then she made herself rally. Whatever socialising he wanted to do didn’t have to involve her.
And why would he want to drag her around with him anyway?
She’d be happy to spend the evenings at his apartment, while he went out.
It was certainly, she discovered, when they arrived in the early evening, a spectacular apartment to spend time in.
It was the penthouse of a high-rise block in a district to the south of Rome, popular, she knew, with new money, and it afforded panoramic views over the city from its wide wraparound terrace.
Her bedroom, the guest suite, was huge, with patio doors opening on to the terrace, and a bathroom that was palatial.
After freshening up, she slid open the patio door, emerging on to the terrace.
At the far end she could see Sanzio relaxed on a rattan sofa.
‘Coffee, or something stronger?’ he called as she approached.
She settled for coffee and a non-alcoholic spritzer, settling down on a wide rattan armchair opposite Sanzio.
‘This place is spectacular!’ she said, stirring her coffee as Sanzio opened a beer for himself.
‘That was the intention. Something completely unlike the social housing apartment I grew up in.’
There was no edge to his voice, only honesty, and Eleanora liked him for it.
But then she liked him for a lot of reasons.
Not just because he was saving the Palazzo she loved so much, but because of the man he was.
His pride—quite justified—in what he’d achieved in his life, the hard work he’d put in to get where he was today, his straightforwardness, his directness, his openness.
His sense of humour, his ready smile. His consideration for her.
She returned it as best she could, even if that was just in ways she could, like putting tasty meals on the table, baking fresh bread. And on that subject—
‘What were you intending about this evening?’ she put to him. ‘Are you eating out?’
He shook his head. ‘Tell me, could you face pizza? If so, I happen to know a great pizza place that delivers. I helped the owner financially to build the business, so I like to give him my custom.’
She gave a ready smile, glad she would have Sanzio’s company this evening—though reminding herself she must not expect it every night.
He was bound to want to socialise while they were in Rome.
An uncomfortable thought struck her. Rome was used to seeing him out and about with Tonia. Her expression faltered.
Did he bring her here? Spend nights here with her?
Then she rallied. Tonia had made it blisteringly clear she had kept Sanzio at a physical distance until she safely had his wedding ring on her finger.
It was a reassuring realisation. Even though she also knew, with a sad acknowledgement, that whether her oh-so-alluring sister had or had not spent the nights here, it made no difference at all to herself. How could it?
For me, it will only ever be the guest suite.
She knew it for the truth, yet, for all that, she felt a pang go through her.
She was glad when Sanzio diverted pointless thoughts by showing her the pizza options on his phone.
The pizzas proved as good as he’d promised, and they washed them down with wine he’d selected from a climate-controlled cabinet in the fearsomely appointed kitchen and which was, Eleanora could tell, way, way above the pay grade of pizza.
But it was convivial and cosy to eat pizza and drink vintage wine on the sofa in the apartment’s huge reception room, watching TV on the massive wall-hung TV screen, and for dessert they pigged out on ice-cream from the freezer.
Then Sanzio cleared everything away and made coffee for them both, despite Eleanora offering to do so.
‘You sit still,’ he told her. ‘I am not,’ he reminded her, ‘your father or sister with their mile-high sense of entitlement. You’ve been put upon by them long enough!’ He threw a glance at her, holding her gaze. ‘Your time is coming,’ he said. ‘Starting,’ he added, ‘tomorrow.’
He disappeared into the kitchen to attend to the coffee machine, and Eleanora wondered what he’d meant.
She found out at breakfast the next day.
And when she did, dismay filled her.
* * *
Sanzio could see instant rejection in Eleanora’s face—and panic.
‘It’s completely unnecessary! I can wear my grey suit—’ she began.
He cut ruthlessly across her. ‘If you think you can turn up at Rome’s poshest art dealers and auction houses wearing that badly fitting, rubbish outfit you wore when you came to my office, think again!
You wouldn’t even be taken for my secretary—believe me, Gina wouldn’t be seen dead in it!
—let alone my wife! Let alone—’ he spelt out for emphasis ‘—Donna Eleanora da Verano Bastoni, intending to buy back the artworks sold by her father and forebears. You need to look the part. So—’ he took a breath, kept his eyes on hers across the breakfast bar ‘—that’s why we’re going shopping this morning. ’
She was still reluctant, he could see, deeply so, but she seemed to be giving in.
That was exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to give in to him completely. It was all part of his plan for her. The plan he was determined on.
To become the woman I know she can be.
His eyes glinted with anticipation…
* * *
Trepidation filled Eleanora from head to toe as she walked into the elegant shop in the fashionable Via Condotti.
This was going to be a disaster, she knew it was.
The best that would happen was that she would look exactly the same as she had in the grey suit he’d condemned so roundly, but a more expensive version.
Because it wasn’t the clothes that were the problem.
It’s me—me that’s the problem.
She’d learnt that lesson under the lash of Tonia’s mocking derision.
Now, as a well-dressed, beautifully coiffed commessa sailed up to them, Eleanora could see the woman’s eyes go straight to Sanzio, appreciatively—and then flicker to her, unappreciatively.
But her smile was professional, her glance swiftly sizing up Eleanora’s figure.
As she went off to find something that might suit the requirements Sanzio had issued, he wandered off, leafing through racks, while Eleanora stood, feeling like a lemon, totally out of place.
If only Sanzio had let her go shopping on her own, she’d have grabbed the first thing that fitted and got the hell out of there in minutes.
But her ordeal was destined to take a lot, lot longer than mere minutes…
* * *
Sanzio sat back, satisfaction on his face.
‘Well, we’ve made a good start,’ he said, sitting back with his beer.
He’d deliberately chosen a tourist restaurant for their late lunch because he knew Eleanora would balk at anywhere expensive lest she be seen with him by anyone likely to know either of them.
She had a morbid fear of that, but at the moment he was prepared to pander to it.
For now—
‘Start?’ Eleanora rejoined predictably. ‘Sanzio, that’s the end!
I only needed this one outfit!’ She patted the solitary carrier bag at her feet containing the calf-length navy blue plissé skirt and high-necked top, together with navy court shoes, which he’d agreed would be suitable for calling on art dealers and auction houses.
‘There was absolutely no point having me try on everything else you and the saleswoman kept handing me!’
He didn’t reply, looking about him instead, wanting to divert Eleanora from the morning’s expedition. For her it had been an ordeal, he could see. But for him—
A revelation! Proving to me exactly what I’d suspected all along—
And soon, very soon now, and his eyes glinted, it would be revealed to her, too…
But not right now.
‘This place reminds me of where I once worked,’ he mused. ‘I did two jobs. A construction site by day, waiting tables by night. Saving every penny. Then I took some night school sessions in business and finance, started to get ideas about how to make money.’
The diversionary tactic worked.
‘It sounds tough,’ Eleanora said. Her voice was sympathetic, and Sanzio liked her for it. Yet another thing he liked her for.
My humble origins don’t bother her—
Not as they’d bothered her sister. The sister he’d originally thought to marry, but now had very different plans for. Plans that would be so very satisfying to achieve. And this morning’s work had already set them in motion.
‘It was tough,’ he picked up. ‘I never lived it up when I was young—everything went into building my resources. Only when I was making serious money did I start indulging myself.’ His voice turned wry.
‘Once you have money, it’s easy to make more of it—well, easier at least. Just as—’ his mouth twisted ‘—once you start spending too much, it’s hard to stop. ’
Eleanora’s lips compressed. ‘My father,’ she said.
‘When you’ve always had money, you take high living for granted, expect it as your right,’ Sanzio said. ‘Just as,’ he went on, letting his eyes rest on Eleanora, ‘your sister expects to get everything she wants because of her looks. Whereas you, Eleanora, expect nothing, do you?’
She looked uncertainly at him. ‘I’m realistic,’ she answered. ‘I accept—I always have—that Tonia is beautiful and I, well, I’m not.’