The Echoes of Love (18 page)

Venetia listened to Umberto in appalled disbelief. His words were like a douche of cold water that left her chilled to the core. She wet her dry lips. ‘How devastating for Paolo,' she whispered, forcing herself to sound as calm as she was trying to appear.

‘He comes to Venice to have fun.' There was a silent and menacing hostility as Umberto spoke, his tone cold and accusatory, the rancour in his eyes formidable. ‘It would have been interesting to have met him before the amnesia, but now… He's known here as
l'Amante delle Quattro Stagioni
, “the lover of four seasons”, because he changes his girlfriends every three months, with the change of season.'

Feeling almost sick, Venetia cleared her throat. ‘Is that all?' she enquired coolly, once he had finished. She lifted herself slowly out of the chair, her fingers curved rigidly. ‘May I go now?'

In two strides Umberto was next to her. ‘You're cross with me,
cara
, I can see that.'

‘I'm not cross with you, Count Umberto. I'm just amazed that you could pour out so much bile about your best friend. Presumably,
Signor
Barone had entrusted you with his secret. All I can say is, with friends like you, the poor man doesn't need enemies.'

Il Conte
's hand came down on Venetia's arm lightly, but firmly. ‘You have misunderstood my motive here,
cara
. I could not bear to see you being taken advantage of.'

‘There are other means you could have used to protect me if that's your only intention,' she retorted.

‘I have told you again and again about my feelings towards you – besides, is it not an English proverb that says all is fair in love and war?'

She ground her teeth. ‘And I have repeatedly told you that I do not love you.'

Umberto paled and drew in his breath. ‘But that's not true,' he said obstinately. ‘I know the ways of you English girls, you're just playing games.'

‘Certainly not! That isn't my style, so please once and for all…'

A muscle twitched along Umberto's sternly clenched jaw. Catching her suddenly and pulling her against him, he held her close. Before she had time to react, he was forcing her head back angrily, crushing her mouth with savage, bruising kisses; careless of hurting her. Venetia struggled wildly, but Umberto was much stronger, towering over her, his eyes blazing.

He gave a soft, cynical laugh. ‘You fight like a she-cat, my beautiful Venetia – we could have such fun together! I like my women with a bit of fire in them. It makes the conquest so much more satisfying, don't you think?' He pinned her arms even more tightly. ‘You're merely whetting my appetite with your airs of a grand lady and your apparent disdain of my caresses.'

She saw the glint of possessiveness in his eyes as his fingers ran greedily across the smooth skin of her throat and paused where her pulse was beating in time with the rapid thrumming of her terrified heart. ‘How madly runs your pulse,
cara
… Is my touch arousing you so, belying your cruel words, mmm?' His breathing was ragged as he devoured her with his piercing gaze. ‘You are ripe like a delicious fruit, yes, trembling at the edge of its branch, ready to be picked.' He pressed her against his aroused body, subjecting her with a primitive demand to the hardness of his desire.

Venetia's face was scarlet. ‘Let me go, you bastard!' she uttered through clenched teeth. With a violent effort, she pushed him off and lifted her hand to wipe away the imprint of his mouth on her lips. But Umberto caught it before she could accomplish the task.

‘I wouldn't do that,' he warned, a nasty glint in his eyes as they moved hungrily over her face. ‘No woman has ever wiped away my signature from her mouth,
cara
. I would only feel obliged to brand you again.'

Indignation flashed in Venetia's eyes. ‘You're despicable!' she hissed, and lifted her hand again, but this time to strike at him.

Swift as the wind, Umberto's agile fingers clamped down around her wrist, tightening his grip until she thought her bones would snap. Venetia's heart leapt in fear at the gathering mask of black fury that blanketed his features. Umberto's mouth curved into a cruel smile.

‘You're inflaming my senses to your own detriment,
cara
, with your unreasonable belligerence. The more you fight me, the more I want you – you are enormously appealing in this state of anger.' A distinct sneer of contempt passed over his face. ‘I could have you here and now if the pleasure took me. See what you do to me…'

Venetia cried out as, taking her by surprise, Umberto unzipped himself, the animal looking out through his eyes as he tried to pull her numb fingers down inside his trousers to fondle him. She wriggled and twisted, attempting to wrench herself from him, fighting like a wild animal in the hope of disentangling her arm from his steel-like grip. Horrified, she watched as he drew her hand closer and closer. Umberto had almost covered the fully aroused bulge in his trousers with her palm, when she was aware that his pupils had glazed over. She lunged away from him unexpectedly, jerking herself back and stumbling shakily, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears of shame and disgust.

Hurriedly, she picked up her bag, and fled from the room. Aware of Umberto's voice swearing savagely behind her, she prayed that he would not follow her and her legs would not give way, at least until she got out of the building.

Venetia didn't wait for the lift, which was too slow in coming, and ran down the stairs, hardly knowing what she was doing. She stepped out of Umberto Palermi's offices with a nervous shudder of relief. Once in the road, the dazzling light and the blue sky of Venice greeted her. The cool air, full of delightful spring scents, revitalised her, easing the hammering of her heart and her shaking limbs.

Damn all men
! she cursed, as she joined the bustle of strolling people out in the sunshine. She was feeling physically ill, not only because of Umberto's despicable behaviour – oddly enough, that was the least of it – but mainly because her brain was endeavouring to cope with the shattering revelations just thrown at her out of the blue. The shock of learning that Paolo was not only amnesic, but also that he had been married, widowed, and now had a regular mistress, heaped up in a mass of chaos in her mind.

Venetia was bewildered by his deceit, but also hurt. How could he have been so underhanded? She had always thought Paolo was an enigma, but she had been miles away from suspecting he was hiding so many devastating secrets.
L'Amante delle Quattro Stagioni
, the lover of four seasons… her mouth trembled piteously as tears of anger quivered on the edge of her lashes. It was humiliating to think she had been just another one of his conquests.

Though, even in her unhappiness, Venetia could not bring herself to hate Paolo. Her mind turned over the tragedy he had experienced – how frightening it must be to live without a past, how sad to have death ravish the one you love at the very dawn of a new life together, and so heart-wrenching to be deprived of the beautiful memories of that love. Venetia could just imagine the horror of it all.

He desired me though
. The potency of his arousal had certainly not been deceit, she reasoned; men, unlike women, couldn't fake that sort of thing – nevertheless, it had been only desire, not love. Anyway, what did it matter now? Before these revelations, despite her overwhelming attraction towards Paolo, she had already decided that he was not for her… hadn't she?

Venetia stopped in front of Ping Lü's shop. Her legs had unwittingly led her to the old Chineseman's emporium; but it seemed that this day was fated to provide her with one disturbance after another: the blinds were drawn and there was a sign in the window saying: ‘Closed until further notice'.

That's just my luck
, she thought. She would have liked to unburden herself to the wise, friendly little man. There seemed to be even more paradoxes surrounding Paolo now; maybe Ping Lü would have had some logical answers to her questions and given her his sage advice. With a sigh she turned away and started back to the office. At Bianchi e Lombardi's reception she was told that her godmother had asked to see her as soon as she got back from her appointment with Count Umberto.

Giovanna was sitting behind her desk, scrutinising the company's book of accounts, when Venetia was showed into her office by Sabina, her assistant. Looking up as her goddaughter came in, her face lit up with a tender smile.

‘Ah, there you are, Venetia. What did that so-and-so of a Count want from you,
carina
? I bet he's still hectoring you about marriage.' She spoke with the warmth and spontaneity that she reserved for her loved ones, but which was always held well in check behind an appraising coolness with strangers.

Venetia smiled lamely and sighed. ‘Yes, you could say that… Unfortunately he won't leave me in peace.'

‘Well, he'll have great difficulty in finding you when you go to Tuscany.'

Oh no!
Venetia's stomach made a strange somersault as the reason became clear why she had been called to her godmother's office with such urgency.

The alarm must have shown on her face because Giovanna burst out laughing. ‘Venetia,
cara
, don't look so horrified. I had an email this morning from
Signor
Barone, saying you had turned down the restoration assignment for his chapel, alleging that you had too much work.'

‘
Zia
Giovanna, I don't see how I can leave the workshop to Francesca. We have a couple of difficult restoration jobs which she would not be able to handle on her own, let alone finish by the handover dates agreed with the clients.'

‘Be realistic, my dear girl. The project
Signor
Barone is offering us is huge in comparison to those two small restoration jobs you've mentioned. He's not only talking about the mosaics in the chapel, but also the reconstruction and refurbishment of the entire villa,
and
the building of a resort.'

Venetia's shoulders went back and her spine stiffened. ‘Well, exactly. What he's asking for is a huge job,' she exclaimed. ‘I can't just relocate to Tuscany for a few months. Anyhow, he was talking about me living at his home, which quite frankly is unacceptable.'

‘No, no, no. You misunderstood him. We had a long conversation over the phone this morning and he explained to me that he has a separate cottage in the grounds of his property that he uses to accommodate guests, and he is proposing to have you stay there. Alternatively, he would be happy to rent a cottage in the village for you, if you would prefer. The man is bending over backwards to accommodate us.'

‘Really,
Zia
, I think it's most impractical and —'

‘Listen to me, Venetia,' Giovanna interrupted her, raising her hand firmly, ‘I don't often put my foot down, but this time I must insist. This is a sizeable commission that we simply cannot afford to turn down. I have accepted the appointment and I will not hear otherwise. I will pay for you to come back to Venice every weekend if you wish – though to be blunt,' she added, eyeing her goddaughter, ‘as you don't have anyone special in your life to come back to, you might as well explore fresher pastures – so please set aside whatever misgivings you have and be ready to leave on Monday.'

If Venetia had been the sort of woman to stamp her foot, she would have stamped it right then, but instead, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and folded her arms across her chest.

Giovanna Lombardi was quick to interpret the aggressive downturn of her godchild's mouth and the two glaring flames Venetia's amber eyes had become. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don't look at me like that, Venetia. It may intimidate others, but not me,' she said curtly. ‘If I didn't think that the firm needed this assignment, I wouldn't have forced it upon you.'

‘Can't we just get the architecture part of the job?'

‘No,
Signor
Barone insisted that it would be either all or nothing.'

‘And that didn't strike you as strange.'

‘Maybe, but you are no longer a child, and to be honest it's high time you grew up and got over this fear of men, which has been stifling you for so long. It will be good for you in every way.
Signor
Barone has a certain reputation, it's true, but I'm hardly asking you to marry him. A little fun wouldn't do you any harm, if he is interested in you. Anyhow, as your dear mother used to say, no man can get from a woman what she doesn't want to give. You are neither the first nor the last girl to have had an unhappy romantic experience.'

‘But…'

‘The matter is closed, Venetia,' her godmother told her firmly and turned her attention back to the book of accounts.

Venetia viewed Giovanna mutinously, but refrained from any untoward remark and turned on her heel to leave the room. She knew that once Giovanna had made up her mind about something, there was no leverage for discussion, especially when the decision taken had to do with the business.

‘
Signor
Barone is taking care of the travel arrangements,' Giovanna said, without looking up from her papers. ‘You'll be flying to Pisa, which is the closest airport to Porto Santo Stefano, where he has his villa. He promised to email the details before lunch. Ask Karina, she's probably received them already.'

Venetia scowled and made an impatient sound. ‘That man's a control freak! How did he think I would get around once I'm in Tuscany? I'm not flying, I'll drive – it can't be more than three or four hours. It's obvious that I'll need a car down there.'

Her godmother glanced up. ‘
Signor
Barone is only trying to be courteous, Venetia, and save you the trouble of a long and tiring journey – more like five or six hours if you're a sensible driver. He said that he would of course provide a car at your disposal, but if you prefer to drive down, suit yourself,' Giovanna retorted, returning to the scrutiny of her books, ‘but please let him know your plans and ask Karina to get in touch with his office to find out all the necessary details.'