Reunited with Her Italian Ex Page 11

  ‘It’s all yours,’ Mario said. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye for now.’

  She worked contentedly, sending her material to a dozen different sources. Then she felt the need for a short break, and crossed the room to switch on the television. But on the way her heel tangled in the carpet and she pitched forward. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of some small shelves, which promptly disgorged their contents onto the floor. With an exclamation, she dropped down and began gathering them up.

  Then she stopped suddenly, as though something had grabbed her in a vice. An envelope had opened, spilling out several sheets of pale blue notepaper. On one of them she saw what was written at the bottom: Your loving Tania.

  Her whole being was consumed by a silent howl of anguish. Tania was still communicating with Mario. After all his promises, his assurances that he had broken with her, that she meant nothing to him, the truth was that he had been in contact with her.

  When she thought of how close she had come to trusting him she wanted to bang her head against the wall.

  ‘Fool!’ she murmured. ‘Fool! You were so wise in the beginning. You should have listened to your suspicions.’

  Was he still in touch with her? Or was it an old letter? If so, why had he kept it so long?

  Because he’s still involved with her, she told herself. He’s been lying all this time.

  With frenzied hands she pulled the letter open and began to read it. As she read she grew still. When she got to the end she went back and read it again. And then again, trying to believe the incredible words Tania had written.

  Don’t keep me at a distance. I know you told me it was over because you wanted to be with that English girl, but look what she did when she found out about me. She wouldn’t have vanished if she’d really loved you. I thought you’d realise that and come back to me. Why won’t you take my calls or answer my emails?

  Don’t keep rejecting me, Mario. Natasha can’t possibly mean that much to you.

  Your loving Tania

  She read it again, murmuring the words aloud, as though in this way she could manage to convince herself that they were real.

  Everything Mario had told her was true. He had broken with Tania, as he’d vowed. She had refused to accept it and kept hounding him, but it seemed that nothing would make him take her back.

  ‘I should have believed you,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, my love, I should have trusted you. But why didn’t you show me this? Then I would have known the truth.’

  She noticed that the letter was written in English, and remembered how Tania had spoken mostly in English with the odd Italian word thrown in. Doubtless, English was her native language, and perhaps her closeness to Mario had helped his mastery of English.

  Which is lucky, she thought. If Tania had written in Italian I couldn’t have understood, and I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

  A noise outside warned her that Mario was coming. Swiftly she gathered up the papers and thrust them back onto the shelf, except for the Tania letter, which she thrust into her pocket. She would want to read that again, many times.

  Natasha was back in front of the computer when he came in.

  ‘Did you manage to sort the plumbing problem?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s all taken care of. It’ll be a couple of days before you can move back in but, thanks to you, I was alerted in time to avoid total disaster. How are you getting on?’

  ‘I’ve managed to do quite a lot of work. Now I feel like taking the evening off. I think I’ll have a stroll by the river.’

  ‘Am I allowed to come with you?’

  ‘Why not?’

  It was a joy to have his company now that she could see him in a new light. All the pain and tension of the past two years had vanished, leaving only happiness and hope.

  The light was fading as they left the building and crossed the street to the river. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she stretched hers about his waist. Clinging together, they strolled along the bank until they reached a café by the water, and he indicated for her to sit down. Waving a waiter over, Mario spoke to him quickly in Italian and moments later the waiter returned with a bottle of wine.

  ‘I have a reason for bringing you here,’ Mario said. ‘This place buys all its wine from a shop that stocks products from my vineyard.’

  ‘The best, naturally,’ she said.

  ‘Naturally. Everyone knows about Verona’s romantic reputation, but its fame as a great wine centre tends to get blocked out.’

  ‘I’ve been reading a little about it recently,’ she said. ‘There are wine tours, aren’t there? We might do a little publicity for them too.’

  ‘Good idea. You can turn your talents on to Vinitaly. That’s a wine festival that happens every year in spring.’ He grinned. ‘There’s a lot more to Verona than you think.’

  ‘I’m sure there is. I look forward to discovering all its secrets.’

  He raised his glass to her, saying, ‘Ti vol un altro goto de vin?’

  ‘Is that Venetian?’

  ‘You know about Venetian?’

  ‘Giorgio told me. The more I know, the better.’

  ‘It means would you like some more wine?’

  ‘Yes, please. It’s delicious.’

  She sipped the wine, enjoying its excellent taste and the feeling that things might be going well at last.

  He watched her, wondering at the smile on her face, unwilling to ask about it. There might be more pleasure in wondering.

  When at last they rose and walked on he put an arm around her shoulder, saying, ‘Are you all right? Not too cold?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said, looking up. ‘Not too cold, not too anything. Everything’s perfect.’

  He gave a soft chuckle. ‘Does that mean I haven’t offended you recently?’

  She looked up at him teasingly. ‘Not that I can think of.’

  ‘You can usually think of something.’

  They smiled and moved on.

  She barely noticed where they were going. It was like being in a new world. Nothing was the same. His voice had a note of warmth that she had never noticed before, and his eyes held a gleam that promised much.

  ‘It’s lovely out here,’ she sighed.

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘It’s lovely, and you’re lovely.’

  ‘You have to feel sorry for Romeo and Juliet, who could never take this kind of walk, just enjoying being together and letting the world drift by.’

  ‘I guess we’re luckier than they were.’

  She turned to look up into his face. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We’re lucky. We were always lucky, if only we’d known it.’

  His fingertips brushed her face gently. ‘I always knew it,’ he said. ‘Now I know it even more since I had to endure life without you. I thought I’d never see you again, and the future was nothing but a terrible blank. But then you were there again and I had my life back. Suddenly, there was something to hope for.’

  ‘Yes, for me too,’ she said. ‘But sometimes I can be afraid to hope.’

  ‘Better not to hope at all, than hope and have it destroyed,’ he said.

  ‘No, I don’t believe that. Wonderful things can happen when you least expect it. You have to be ready for the best as well as the worst, and then— Oh, Mario, Mario!’

  She was silenced by his mouth over hers.

  ‘Be mine,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me that you’re mine.’

  ‘I always was. I always will be.’

  ‘Do you really mean that?’

  ‘Yes—yes—’

  ‘Say it again. Make me believe it.’

  ‘I’m yours—all yours—yours—’

  ‘For ever. I won’t let you go. I warn you, I’m possessive.’

  ‘You couldn’t be too possessive for me,’ she assured him.

  His answer was another kiss which she returned with fervour.

  A group of young people passed by, cheering and clapping at the sight of them.


  ‘It’s too public out here,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, let’s go home.’

  They slipped back into the hotel without being seen. She was glad. What was happening now was for them alone.

  He came with her as far as the apartment, then stopped at the door, regarding her uncertainly.

  ‘Don’t go,’ she said, holding him in a gentle but determined hug. ‘Stay with me.’

  ‘Natasha, do you mean that?’

  ‘Yes, I mean it.’

  ‘But don’t you realise that—if I stay—no, you don’t realise. I mustn’t stay.’

  ‘Yes, you must,’ she whispered. ‘I say you must, and I won’t let you refuse me.’

  It hurt her to see how tense and vulnerable he seemed. After all the hostility that had simmered between them he couldn’t believe that she was really opening her arms to him; even perhaps opening her heart. It was what he wanted but something he couldn’t dare believe too easily, and she longed to reach out from her heart and reassure him.

  ‘Trust me,’ she murmured. ‘Things move on. Nothing stays the same for ever.’

  ‘Are you telling me that something really has changed?’ he asked.

  ‘In a way. I’ve learned to be more understanding. I was always so sure I was right, but now—now I feel like a different person. I have so much still to learn.’

  She took a step back through the door, holding out her hand.

  ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Come with me—stay with me.’

  He still could not understand her, but he put his hand in hers and followed her in perfect trust.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Take me with you. Let me stay.’

  His mouth was on hers, making her rejoice with heart, mind and body equally. There was pleasure but there was also a fierce possessiveness. She wanted him and she was determined to have him. She had waited as long as she could endure and now she was determined to enjoy her conquest.

  With the door safely closed against the outside world, Mario felt able to yield to his longing and take her in his arms. Yet doubts and confusion still whirled about him.

  ‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve dreamed of it so often, so hopelessly.’

  ‘Not hopelessly,’ she told him. ‘I’ve dreamed too. Dreams can come true. Let us believe that.’

  ‘Yes, while I have you in my arms I can believe it.’

  She drew his head down, kissing him with fervour and passion, rejoicing in his response. Gradually he began to move towards the bed, easing her down onto it so that they lay together. When she felt him start to undo her clothes she was there before him, pulling open buttons, inviting him to explore her.

  He accepted the invitation, tentatively at first, caressing her gently, almost uncertainly. But as his hands discovered the soft smoothness of her skin their touch became more fervent, more intense, sending tremors through her. She reached out to him, now working on his buttons so that his shirt fell open and she could explore him in her turn.

  Once, long ago in Venice, she had dreamed of this. But fate had denied her dream, banishing her into a wilderness where there was no love, no hope, no Mario.

  Now, at last, the moment had come and it was everything she’d wanted. His caress was tentative, almost as though he feared to touch her.

  She understood. In the depths of her heart joy was warring with disbelief, scared that this might not really be true, that she would wake to find it a delusion. And it was the same with him. Instinct too deep for thought told her this was true. After so long their hearts and minds were as one, just as their bodies would soon unite.

  He laid his face against her. She drew him closer, wanting this moment to last.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes,’ he echoed. ‘Natasha—are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure of everything—sure that I want you—’

  He gave a faint smile. ‘Are you sure I want you? Or shall I try to convince you?’

  ‘I don’t need convincing.’ She returned his smile in full measure. ‘But don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘Whatever you please, ma’am,’ he murmured, intensifying his caresses.

  Her pleasure rioted, but more than pleasure was the joy of knowing that they were close again. The man she had loved long ago had been stolen from her, but now she had him back. And she would never let him go again. The world might turn upside down. The heavens might fall, the seas overflow, but she would never release him from her arms and her heart. On that she was resolved.

  He worked eagerly on her clothes until nothing was left. Then he removed his own garments and they were naked together. He took her into his arms, kissing her mouth, her face, her neck, then going lower to smother her breasts in kisses. She took long breaths of delight at the storm growing within her, longing for the moment when he would claim her completely. When it came, it was everything she’d hoped.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AS THE FIERCE excitement died they lay quietly, holding each other, coming to terms with the new world in which they found themselves. Gradually they fell into peaceful sleep, lying motionless together until the room grew lighter and the new day had come.

  Mario was lying with his face hidden against her neck, but then he raised it and looked down at her.

  She met his eyes, seeing in them a look of loving possessiveness that made her heart skip a beat.

  ‘Natasha,’ he murmured, almost as though trying to believe that it was really her. She knew how he felt, for she was feeling the same herself. She had told him they must believe that dreams could come true.

  ‘I’ve wanted this from the first moment,’ he whispered. ‘But I’d given up hope. And then suddenly—beyond my wildest dreams—why?’

  ‘The time was right,’ she whispered. ‘Couldn’t you feel that?’

  ‘I’ve often felt it, but I was always wrong before. Suddenly—everything became different between us.’

  ‘Everything became as it should be,’ she said. ‘This is how it was always meant to be.’

  ‘You really mean that? Natasha, I’m not deluding myself, am I? Things are really all right between us?’

  ‘How can you ask me that? After the way we’ve spent the last night, don’t you think everything is all right?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘But I didn’t mean that. I meant the other things that have come between us and separated us in the past. You didn’t believe what I told you about Tania, that I’d broken with her because I’d met you and you were the one I wanted. Please, please say that you believe me, that you trust me at last.’

  ‘I trust you, my darling. I should have trusted you long ago, but I was blind. It was like being lost in a maze. Every time I thought I’d found a way out it just led to more confusion.’

  She promised herself that one day soon she would tell him about Tania’s letter, and the way it had confirmed everything he said. But she didn’t want thoughts of Tania to intrude just now. She wanted only Mario, the warmth, beauty and contentment they could find together.

  ‘You trust me,’ he echoed as though trying to believe it. ‘And you’re mine.’

  ‘I’m yours.’

  ‘For always?’

  ‘Always and for ever.’

  ‘Then everything’s perfect.’

  ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘Don’t you have an “always and for ever” promise to make me?’

  ‘Of course. I just didn’t think you needed to hear it said. I’m so completely yours that—’

  He was interrupted by the sound of his mobile phone. Sighing, he answered it, speaking in Italian. Natasha didn’t understand the language, but she understood that the caller was Mario’s brother, Damiano.

  ‘Come stai, fratello?’ Mario said cheerfully. ‘Come è Sally e il bambino?’

  After listening a moment he gave Natasha a thumbs-up sign.

  ‘They’ve set the christening for this weekend,’ he told her. ‘I’m going and they want me to take you.’

&
nbsp; ‘They want me? But how—?’

  ‘Yes or no?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes.’

  ‘Damiano—Natasha dice di sì. Va bene!’ He hung up.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘How did they even think of inviting me?’

  ‘You mean how did they know you were here, and we’d found each other again?’ He became a little awkward. ‘When I went there for the birth a while ago I may have mentioned you briefly.’

  She gave him a glance of wicked humour. ‘Yes, I can imagine what you said. “That pesky woman has turned up again, when I thought I’d got rid of her.”’

  ‘Something like that,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘I’d give a lot to have been a fly on the wall.’

  ‘You’d probably have had a good laugh. I talked about you non-stop. When I told them how amazed I was when our publicist turned out to be you, Damiano roared with laughter. And Sally wanted to know everything. She thinks it’s a great joke to see me conquered by a woman.’

  ‘But I haven’t tried to conquer you.’

  ‘Of course. If you had tried I’d have fought back and we wouldn’t be talking like this now. But you caught me unaware, and I was finished before I knew it.’

  And before I knew it, she thought. His words struck a disturbing chord within her.

  ‘I remember everything so vividly,’ he said. ‘Our first meeting—you were sitting in the restaurant of Damiano’s hotel when I came in. You were so lovely I just stopped and stared at you. Suddenly you looked up and saw me. And you smiled. Such a lovely smile, as though I was the only person in the room—in the world.

  ‘I didn’t understand straight away what had happened to me. But I did know that suddenly the world was focused on you.’

  ‘And you came and sat down at the table,’ she remembered. ‘You said that you worked in the hotel and were offering your services—’

  ‘That was just an excuse to talk to you, find out all I could about you. Were you married, was a man coming to join you? I hung on your every answer as though my life depended on it. And now I realise that my life did depend on it. And then—’

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, for he suddenly seemed troubled.