The Italian's Perfect Lover (18 page)

“And that’s my problem.”

She looked at his frown, now lowered even
further. “Why?”

“You don’t get it do you?”

“No, cara, I rather think I do ‘get it’. You
want more than I’m prepared to give. I’ve never told you anything
different. I am only interested in the pleasures of the moment.
That
, is all I have to offer.”

She took a mouthful of dinner, almost
abstractedly, tricked by its aroma and the needs of her body. She
could feel his eyes watching her closely.

“There, that is what I am talking about.
Listen to your body, close off that clever mind of yours. Follow
the desires of your body and we will be good together.”

She dropped her fork immediately. “I can’t
live like that, Alessandro. There’s more to me, more to what I want
than what my body desires.”

He came and stood behind her, his fingers
splaying over her shoulders. She closed her eyes as her body
responded automatically to his touch. She could do what he said,
she could suspend her mind, it was so easy at that moment. She
could give herself to him and to pleasure.

But what then? What happens when they awoke
from their pleasure? Nothing? To be dropped when the present became
less pleasurable?

He dipped down and kissed her neck. “Good.
Tell me about yourself. Tell me about your future plans if you care
to. I will listen. Tell me about your past. What happened to your
parents?”

She shrugged. It wasn’t exactly the
conversation she’d envisaged, but it was a start.

“They died. End of story.”

“Not for you it wasn’t.”

“I had no other close relatives that wanted
me and I wasn’t the most obliging, amenable little girl in the
world.”

He laughed. “I can imagine. And your foster
families?”

“Most were nice. All were poor. East London
housing estates. The local comprehensive. And the library. That was
my salvation. The place I’d run to.”

“Which led you to archaeology. And to me. So
what next? What about your future?”

“Alessandro! You’re talking about the future.
Are you feeling well?”

“I’m talking about your future, not
mine.”

She smiled. “After I’ve finished with the
Aphrodite Mosaic I’ll return to the university briefly and then on
to Antioch.”

“Antioch? And when will this happen?” His
touch on her shoulders hesitated briefly.

“At the end of the summer, after I’ve
finished up here.”

“Ah.” The word was uttered briefly as if he
were suddenly aware that he was betraying a sense of relief. Gone
by the end of summer. No need for unpleasant scenes; the affair
would come to a natural end.

“Well, that brief run down of my history and
future plans seems to have satisfied you.”

She felt his fingers relax on her shoulders
and slowly draw away. She almost held up her hand to keep him
there—his withdrawal leaving her feeling naked. But she stopped
herself in time and dropped her knife and fork onto the plate. She
rubbed her forehead.

“And is that why you think I asked you, in
order to satisfy myself?”

“Whatever. You’re relieved that I’m going.
That much is obvious.”

He shrugged, cold and grim. “I am neither
relieved nor sad. Why do women always try to read so much into
something. Why do they not take the pleasure as it comes?”

“Well,” her voice was quietly angry, “either
you choose the wrong women, or perhaps pleasure, to them, is not a
fleeting thing of the present. Perhaps their needs are greater than
yours.”

“It’s a theory.”

“An inconvenient one, no doubt, but probably
true.”

“Is that true for you?”

She stood up. “Confessional over for one day,
I think. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I will be with you shortly.”

She hesitated. She should go now, while she
had a scrap of self-respect left, before she got in any deeper. She
should leave immediately.

But then she looked at him, at the heat in
his eyes. And he touched her, his hands running around her
shoulders as he dropped a kiss onto her neck. She felt him inhale
her like a favorite perfume. And her resolve fled.

“Umm,” he muttered. “A change of plan. I
think it would be ungentlemanly of me to leave you to go to bed by
yourself.”

“How unselfish of you.”

“Exactly. A man must look after his
woman.”

She closed her eyes briefly at the pain that
his words induced. Knowing them for the truth and knowing their
ephemeral quality. He meant it now, in this moment only.

And that should have been enough for her. But
it wasn’t just about her any more.

Emily gripped the sides of the hand basin and
studied the pregnancy test that was propped up under the
mirror.

Nothing.

She was too impatient. She waited, watching
to see if the thin blue line would appear. Her mind wandered to
Alessandro. If she weren’t pregnant, they would have more time
together. She smiled to herself. What did the future matter if the
present just went right on moving up into the future, without
anyone noticing? She’d found her home—with him. Everything could be
perfect.

She checked the pregnancy test again. No
sign. Her heart leapt. She checked her watch. Not sufficient time
had elapsed. She sighed, denying the wave of nausea that swept her.
Too much rich food perhaps.

Antioch could wait. There was heaps of work
she could do on the estate. Getting Alessandro’s permission to go
ahead would surely be a formality. To be with him, night after
night, day after day, in his arms, being teased by him, being loved
by him, was all she wanted. She caught sight of herself in the
mirror, soft smile, dreamy eyes. It wasn’t a face she’d ever known
before. Her smile broadened. She’d simply have to get used to it.
Because being with Alessandro, loving him as she did, had changed
her.

Still smiling, she looked back down at the
test.

The thin blue line had crept into place from
nowhere, silently bringing with it changes that Emily couldn’t
begin to comprehend. All she knew was that the vision of her home
with Alessandro had just evaporated like a mirage: something
created out of a distortion of reality, fading just when it
appeared to be within reach.

She looked back into the mirror. Her face was
blank, disengaged, distanced.

Time had just run out.

The late afternoon was still hot but, out on
the deck overlooking the glittering sea, the breeze kept her
cool.

She knew when he’d joined her on the deck.
There was no sound. But she could sense his presence.

“You’re late.” Her voice no longer even
sounded like hers. It was flat, unemotional.

“How do you do that? Know that I’m here when
you haven’t turned around?”

“It’s a gift I have. It means that you can
never find me unless I wish to be found.” She turned around and
looked at him like she might observe a beautiful film: interested,
appreciative, but essentially untouched.

She watched his eyes narrow as he registered
that something was different.

“Drink?” Without waiting for his answer she
rose and walked to the table.

“Si.” He sat down on the seat opposite. Not
next to her, weaving his arm around her shoulders like he usually
did. “It’s been a difficult day.”

Emily poured Alessandro his usual whisky and
ice and gave it to him. His eyes hadn’t left hers. She noticed that
he wasn’t asking her what was wrong, wasn’t showing concern or
sympathy. His eyes appeared to express a resigned
inevitability.

She sat back down. “So, tell me about your
difficult day.”

“Small talk, Emily? I thought you hated
it.”

“Sometimes it’s useful.”

He took a sip of his drink, his eyes hard on
hers. “Useful if you don’t want to say what you are really thinking
or feeling.”

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head
in acknowledgement of the truth of his statement. She focussed on
her drink, swirling her tonic water around in the glass, hearing
the chinks of ice hit the sides of its cut glass in a rhythmic
sound that cut through the silence.

He put his glass carefully on the table and
sat forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes still focussed on
her. “You want to discuss it?”

She shook her head. “No. Tell me about your
day instead.” She looked up at him then, over her swirling glass of
effervescent liquid, willing herself to relax and smile. “Really. I
want to know.”

He sighed and his mouth pulled into a line of
resignation. “My day? The road to the estate has been dug through.
It’s passable for cars now.”

“And that’s what’s made your day so
difficult?”

“You don’t understand. The valuers can now
access the site.”

“What valuers?”

“Your job is to excavate the site. Mine is to
develop it.”

“Not my site you don’t.” She jumped up. “What
the hell are you talking about? Valuers? First I’ve heard. Why do
you want the estate, the dig, valued for God’s sake?” She spun
suddenly on the spot. “Are you going to sell it?”

“No. Of course not. It’s just for the
paperwork. That’s all.”

“Well that’s something. But I can tell you
this for nothing. No valuer is going to set foot on my dig.”

“Emily. It’s not yours. Look, forget about it
tonight. We have to attend my nephew’s birthday party. My brother
and his wife are expecting us.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do? Come
along quietly when you’ve just dropped a bombshell like that?”

“Yes, I do. Be reasonable. There are
developments and then there are developments. I’m not going to do
anything to jeopardize the current excavations. It’s a large
estate. And it needs to pay its way. But I’m not unreasonable. I
believe in what you’re doing. You’ll just have to trust me on this
one.”

“No valuers, no developers are going to set
foot inside the estate while I’m in charge of excavations.”

“You are my employee, may I remind you. You
will do as I require.”

“And what about my proposals for further
excavations?”

He looked at her briefly and raked his
fingers through his hair. “We’ll talk about it later. I’m sorry.
It’s been difficult, as I say. I didn’t mean to be high-handed with
you. Come. I’ve had enough business for one day. We have a weekend
of pleasure ahead of us and I, for one, intend to make the most of
it.”

She hesitated before standing up.

“I’ll come.” How could she not? She knew it
would be their last evening together. And then tomorrow? The
divisions she could feel rending their relationship would widen
further as they fought over the land. But, for tonight, she’d be
his lover first and foremost.

“Good.” He smiled ruefully, as if worried
that she wouldn’t come.

“I wouldn’t miss a birthday party: balloons,
clowns, cakes, games.”

He touched her then. Swept back the hair from
her face with a wistful look. “Unlike you, I doubt my nephew has
ever had a party like that.”

And nor have I, she thought to herself.

Emily caught sight of herself in the floor to
ceiling mirror windows as they entered the grand foyer of
Alessandro’s brother’s house. She hardly recognized herself. She
appeared to have lost weight, her face looked more angular, her
hair and clothes a glossy contrast to her old self.

The person in the reflection looked right at
home in the austere, modernist building, with its concrete floor,
sheets of glass, chrome and stainless steel. She could see that
kids’ birthday parties wouldn’t exactly fit in a house like this.
Her old self wouldn’t have either. She’d changed: become someone
she didn’t recognize.

The interior was straight from the pages of a
glossy magazine, more built for style than living. No clutter, no
disorder anywhere. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to
be so confident of one’s future, so in control, as the inhabitants
of this house obviously were.

She looked around the beautifully dressed
adults, that clustered in groups around the reception room, for
children.

There was only one. A slight boy of around
ten years old stood nervously by his father as the sophisticated
chatter flowed around him.

He looked as out of place as she felt. Poor
kid.

She looked out to the garden. The sole relief
to the house was the setting. Beyond the reception room whose wall
of windows had been retracted to make a seamless transition to the
outdoors, the terrazza and pool gave way to a lush, semi-tropical
garden. With Alessandro soon claimed by relatives and friends,
Emily slipped her hand from his as soon as the introductions and
polite interest were over, despite his remonstrances, and went
outside.

The cooler air of the hills was refreshing
after the heat of the city and, feeling suddenly tired, she sat on
a concrete bench under a grandiflora magnolia whose white flowers
filled the air with their lemon scent. She felt hidden and able to
observe, unnoticed.

There were few people outside. Most were
watching Alessandro’s nephew receiving his presents. He opened them
more with a look of duty than enjoyment: certainly more dutifully
than she would have done, given the fact that there was scarcely an
interesting one amongst them. The only gift that made the boy’s
eyes brighten was the present she and Alessandro had given him—a
set of remote-controlled stunt vehicles. From the look on his
mother’s face, she didn’t share the same enthusiasm for vehicles
that could careen around the floor and flip from one side to
another.

Then she shifted her gaze to Alessandro.
She’d thought she was hidden here but he was looking at her,
oblivious to the fact that someone was talking to him. He always
seemed to know where she was. Just as she did him.

She watched him walk over towards her and she
felt the same buzz of attraction as the first time she saw him. She
wondered if it would always be that way.