Chapter Six
‘Signor Bastoni, how good to see you this evening,’ the ma?tre d’ murmured as he ushered them to their table.
At Sanzio’s side, Eleanora was looking about her.
The Falcone, he’d told her, had once been a private mansion up in the hills above Rome and the restaurant was the former dining room, extended into an orangery beyond, overlooking the hotel’s extensive gardens.
The restaurant was not crowded, and Sanzio was glad, nor did he spot anyone he knew, which was what he’d counted on.
He wanted the least pressure on Eleanora, if possible.
His eyes went to her as she cautiously looked about her, flicking her linen napkin across her lap.
Triumph went through him. The commessa had been right—that softly draped knee-length dress, its warm shade flattering, combined with the understated but skilfully applied make-up and chic, low-set, elegant hairstyle that accentuated her fine-boned features, drew out the Oloroso sherry colour of her eyes.
She really is so very lovely.
His gaze rested on her appreciatively. And then he went on looking at her with something that was more than just objective appreciation—something that he should not be allowing. It was not why he’d wrought this transformation in her—
He drew his gaze away, mouth tightening unconsciously, glad that menus were being bestowed, drinks orders taken.
Decisively, he opted for a glass of champagne each, then discussed the speciality dishes for that evening, making his selection with Eleanora, before the sommelier arrived to discuss wines.
It all took a while and Sanzio was glad of it. It was giving Eleanora time to settle. Finally, choices made from the menu and the wine list, two glasses of gently beading champagne placed in front of them, they were left alone. Sanzio picked up his flute. Tilted it to Eleanora.
‘To our evening,’ he said.
But as he smiled at her, he was conscious of veiling his gaze. This evening was for her, not him. Yet for a moment, a dangerous moment, he wished it were otherwise.
Because then—
But that was a path he must not take, however tempting.
* * *
Carefully, Eleanora sipped her champagne, her eyes unconsciously going to a gilt-framed mirror on the wall near their table. She could see her reflection again, and yet again it made her catch her breath, forcing thoughts into her head she’d never had before.
She wasn’t dark and dramatic like Tonia, she wasn’t sultry and voluptuous.
Her dress wasn’t cerise or scarlet or peacock-blue, the vivid jewel colours that Tonia adored, and the neckline didn’t plunge to expose an opulent cleavage like Tonia’s, and her hair wasn’t piled up on her head in raven tresses, and her eyes were not deep-set and long-lashed, or her mouth crimson, her lips lush and pouting…
No, she wasn’t any of that. And yet—
‘Yes, it’s you.’ Sanzio’s low voice penetrated her abstraction and her eyes snapped to his. ‘It’s you, Eleanora—the new you. The you that you can always be now.’
He lifted his glass to her, toasted her. For a moment, just a moment, he held her wondering gaze, and for a moment, just the fraction of a moment, she thought she saw something move within his. Something that would have quickened her pulse had it lasted a fraction longer.
But it was no longer there. Instead, he was smiling his warm, familiar smile, with nothing in it but friendliness and encouragement.
Then he set down the glass on the table and talked about something else.
* * *
‘Sanzio—I saw your name on the register.’
Sanzio looked up at the tall figure at his shoulder greeting him—Nicolò Falcone.
‘Nic,’ he acknowledged. He hadn’t expected the owner of the hotel—of all the Falcone hotels worldwide—to be here tonight, and he hoped the exchange would be brief.
He didn’t want to unnerve Eleanora. She had done well all through their meal, her tension gradually dissipating, and he’d deliberately kept the flow of conversation steady and light.
That suited him too, kept other thoughts at bay.
Thoughts he must not indulge. This evening was for Eleanora, only for her, and he wanted her to feel at ease, be comfortable socialising with him like this.
Not facing scrutiny or questions she might find awkward.
But someone else was approaching, a tall and very beautiful blonde—Nic Falcone’s wife, Francesca. Sanzio got to his feet, prepared to make the inevitable introductions all round, but she was looking past him to Eleanora, who was also looking up at her, recognition in both faces.
‘It’s Eleanora, isn’t it?’ Nic Falcone’s wife said, and belatedly, Sanzio remembered that she came from the same aristocratic background and she, like Eleanora, was also a donna.
‘Yes—’ Eleanora was smiling ‘—and you’re Adrietta’s big sister—we last met at her wedding.’
‘Of course!’ Francesca’s smile widened. ‘You were there with your father and sister. How are they, these days? I think the last time I saw Tonia—’ Abruptly, she stopped.
‘Bad timing,’ Nic Falcone murmured to his wife in a dry voice.
‘It’s quite all right,’ Sanzio said smoothly. ‘Tonia and I went our separate ways. She found her marquis, and I—’ deliberately, he took Eleanora’s hand ‘—thankfully, found Eleanora.’
Francesca Falcone’s face lit up. ‘I’m so glad!’ she said warmly. Her eyes dropped to Eleanora’s hand—and widened. The wedding band on Eleanora’s hand glinted in the candlelight.
‘Oh, my goodness! When did that happen? Nic and I have only just got back from the States.’
‘Very quietly,’ Eleanora said. ‘I didn’t want to clash with Tonia’s wedding.’
Francesca laughed. ‘Ditto for Nic and me—we bolted to the Caribbean and let Adrietta have the three-ring circus wedding, so I sympathise! Speaking of Adrietta, she’s in Rome at the moment. Let’s all have a girls’ lunch together.’
The Falcones took their leave, taking their places at the table where they were dining. Sanzio resumed his seat. ‘You know Donna Francesca’s sister, I take it?’ he posed.
‘Yes, we’re the same age. But I haven’t seen her since her wedding.’
‘Then it will be good to get back in touch,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure…’ Eleanora began uncertainly.
‘It would be good for you,’ Sanzio told her. He paused. ‘There’s no reason now to live the life of a recluse. And besides, why turn down an invitation you’d enjoy?’
‘Maybe it would be nice to see Adrietta again,’ Eleanora said wistfully. ‘If she wants to, of course.’
Sanzio’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why shouldn’t she?
’ He held her eyes deliberately. ‘Tonia,’ he said, ‘was…is…a man’s woman.
She doesn’t see women as friends, only rivals.
You,’ he emphasised, ‘are not like that. I could see Nic’s wife warming to you.
People do. You’re very likeable, Eleanora.
Just because—’ he went on holding her eyes ‘—neither your father nor your sister value you does not mean others don’t.
’ He paused again. This was important for her to hear.
‘Even your mother, you know, when we were at the estancia, had praise for you. She told me that even though you don’t like horses—well, not to centre your life on them! —she was proud of you.’
‘Did she? That…that was kind of her.’ He could hear the diffidence in Eleanora’s voice.
‘You’re an easy person to be kind to,’ he said dryly.
Her eyes held his. ‘You’ve been so kind to me, Sanzio. First the Palazzo—now this…’ She took a breath. ‘Going to the trouble you have over me—this evening…’
Sanzio stilled. Had kindness anything to do with either? Marrying her had been in his best interests. He hadn’t done it out of kindness. He’d got out of it just what he’d told her from the off that he would. As for tonight—
A waiter was gliding up, proffering dessert menus to follow the delicious main course they’d just consumed. Sanzio was glad of the interruption, dispelling any questions he didn’t want to answer.
Not tonight.
No, definitely not tonight…
His eyes went back to the woman he’d married instead of Tonia, the woman who could not be more different from her, whose own, so-long-denied-and-hidden beauty he had now revealed. Revealed to her.
To him.
He let his gaze rest on her as Eleanora dropped her gaze to the menu card, allowing him the luxury of looking at her. Drinking her in, in all her newly revealed beauty.
He felt something quicken inside him. He silenced it. He had wanted Eleanora’s hidden beauty revealed for one very clear purpose.
He must allow no other.
Whatever the temptation.
* * *
Eleanora sank back into the car’s deep leather seat, Sanzio beside her, as the driver, behind his screen, set off from the Falcone.
‘So,’ Sanzio asked, turning to her, ‘did you enjoy the evening?’
Her smile was warm, and grateful. ‘How can you ask? After all my nerves, I did enjoy it!’
She had too. It had been nice to encounter Adrietta’s sister, and if she was invited to lunch, she would accept; Sanzio was right to urge it. He had been so kind all evening, as considerate as she had become used to, as easygoing and companionable. But only that.
Just because she was so dressed up—glammed up—made no difference between them.
Not to him.
That was what she had to stick to as well, and determinedly she had done just that all evening.
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he said. ‘Now we can socialise as much as we like! Especially,’ he added dryly, ‘once word gets out, via the Falcones, that we’re married. You know what a fishbowl Rome is!’
She frowned. ‘Do…do you mind? People knowing?’
‘It’s exactly what I want,’ he replied. Was there a bite in his voice?
Then it was gone. ‘Anyway, with or without the Falcones, it would become known via your father. He’s more than keen for his creditors to know I’m his son-in-law.
As well as the very-usefully-rich Marquis, of course. ’ His cynicism was clear.
Eleanora’s frown deepened. ‘Is he trying to get money off you, my father?’ she asked.