Far From Perfect (12 page)

She got another pleasant surprise when Nick thumbed the ignition button. Expecting a deafening ten-cylinder engine roar, the sound filtering through into the luxurious vehicle from under the bonnet was little more than a gentle rumble.

The deceptively casual tone of Nick’s voice was infinitely more intimidating than any amount of high revs.

“So, why did you think I might not turn up?”

Because I saw you with that woman, and she was draped all over you like a second skin, and I was so jealous I wanted to scratch her eyes out.

For a moment, Anna had a hideous feeling she’d spoken out loud, but in the face of Nick’s continued, pressuring silence, it seemed she hadn’t.

“I saw you on the television,” she blurted out at last, “You were with Maria Rossi, and you were getting into a car together…and it was today.”

Nick’s gear change was as smooth as silk, but there was underlying aggression.

“Yes, I saw Maria today.” The words were cool and throwaway, as if escorting one of the world’s most beautiful women was nothing unusual, “But that’s no reason to believe I wouldn’t keep my date with you. Surely you know that I’d have contacted you if there were a problem?”

Why did Nick always have the knack of making her feel as if she were an envious, nagging harpy? And why had he called this evening a
date
, when that was the last thing it was?

“Yes, I do know that,” she conceded, feeling the inner brat surge up again and disliking her intensely. “But you and she looked awfully…um…friendly. I…I thought you might want to be together tonight.”

Nick flashed her a fleeting glance out of the corner of his eye, without losing one iota of his concentration on the road. “Are my ears deceiving me? It sounds to me as if you’re jealous,
cara
,” he said softly.

Of course I am!

She wanted to rage at him, but that would only induce another of those arrogant, sexy smiles of his. The ones so infuriating that she was driven to thoughts of petty violence sometimes.

All men liked to imagine scores of women were vying jealously for their attention, and Nick was clearly no exception.

Again came that sudden inner flash. The vision of Nick in bed with Maria, the two of them making love, their bodies matched and mated. It was all Anna could do not to groan out loud.

But instead, she summoned a monumental effort of composure. “Of course I’m not jealous,” she fibbed lightly, “I have Martin. You have Maria…and any others you’ve got on the go at the moment.”

Nick said nothing, but she could still hear that laugh of his. Low, husky and mocking. He knew she
was
jealous. She was giving herself away with everything she said and everything she did, despite her best efforts not to.

As the silence between them stretched on and on, the urge to fill it seemed to grow like a gathering weight. Anna decided she simply had to speak, even if it meant giving herself away again.

“This is a fabulous car. I heard tell that you had some input into the design?” Her voice sounded unnaturally bright in the enclosed space.

“A little only. AL has a superb design team. They don’t need the boss’s son interfering, but they’re all tactful enough to listen to my suggestions.”

But it wasn’t just tact. For all their differences, Anna couldn’t deny that Nick was a Renaissance man. He had an awesome business brain, and yet he had the soul of an artist and an adventurer too. In addition to his design skills, he’d actually driven for Automotivo Lisitano in competition, in touring cars and even briefly in F1. He’d never won a race, as he’d never been able to commit completely to the sport, but he’d always acquitted himself with daring and panache and had once even been on the podium.

She glanced at those beautiful hands resting so lightly yet commandingly on the steering wheel and imagined them wrestling with the controls of a much more volatile race car. He was so strong, so deft, so sure of himself. In all things.

Suddenly the car’s cockpit closed in on her like a movie special effect. The sounds, the scents and the sensations grew almost touchable. She fancied she could feel the air move against her skin as Nick changed gear again, and the waft of it brought the smell of his spicy cologne to her nostrils. The unique scent of him intoxicated her, blended as it was with the expensive aroma of fine leather upholstery and the fugitive machine tang of the powerful engine block.

Beneath the automotive music of the Vampiro’s voracious engine, she imagined she could hear Nick breathing, and hear the strong, steady thud of his heart as it drove blood through his potent, masculine body. She had never felt so connected to another human being in her whole life. Not even, she admitted, that night when she’d been in Nick’s bed with her body entwined with his.

It was only when Nick enquired, “Are you sure you’re all right, Anna?” that she realized she’d gasped aloud from sensation-overload.

“I’m fine.” Her answer was too quick, too sharp. “Don’t fuss, Nick. I’ve got the tiniest bit of a headache, but it’s nothing. I’m sure it’ll disappear once I get a bit of air.”

“I’ll stop. We can get out for a while and take a little walk. There’s no hurry.”

Anna was just about to tell Nick not to worry, when she realized they’d already left the sprawling metropolis behind and were now cruising through an elite, gracious residential area where large, beautifully maintained and very desirable properties bordered the gliding, evening-gilded river. Without further consultation, Nick slowed the mighty car to a halt.

“But Martin will be waiting,” Anna protested as Nick slipped out of the car, strode round to the passenger side and flipped up the dramatic door for her. He muttered something succinct and expressively profane in Italian and reached for her hand to assist her from the low-slung seat.

Anna knew she should make a stand, but she couldn’t summon the energy. Resisting Nick, even in the most trivial way, was like trying to surf against a riptide. He was simply too big a personality to hold out against.

Looking around, she found that they were on a broad, tree-lined road leading down towards the river. They probably weren’t all that far from their destination, the exclusive Thames-side restaurant, La Girandole, yet suddenly that was the last place she wanted to be.

Walking with Nick on this quiet golden evening was infinitely preferable to facing the awkward confrontation ahead. The cool, rainy conditions of yesterday had been replaced by the brighter flags of early summer. Even the birds were singing, she noticed, and as she turned to Nick, realizing that he showed no intention of letting loose her hand, she accepted that being free of him was last thing she wanted.

“Let’s walk a while,” he suggested, “Let’s pretend we’re making the
passeggiata
around the piazza at Fontazone, and I’m showing you off and every male in sight is envious.”

With a pang, Anna clearly remembered evenings spent that way, although at the time she’d not been aware of the showing-her-off element. Back then, they’d been easy and comfortable with each other—until she’d screwed up their relationship with her foolish infatuation and her even more idiotic actions. She’d never felt prouder than during those evening perambulations around that small, pretty square, with its busy cafes and shops and cozy family restaurants. Life had been sweet, strolling on the arm of one of the most handsome men in Italy, and to her, the most handsome in the entire world.

“What about the car?” she asked, almost overwhelmed by the poignant recollections. But Nick simply clicked the alarm button on his key fob.

“If anyone so much as breathes on it, we’ll hear the alarm from about a mile away.” He gave a confident nod. “Not to mention the fact that the glass is bullet-proof and the security system probably the most sophisticated in the world.”

“Impressive,” she murmured, not so much bothered about the car and its advanced technology, as the painful twist of nostalgia when he tucked her arm in his and smiled at her, just as he had done back in Fontazone.

They walked for a while in silence, each seemingly lost in thought. Anna wondered if Nick had Maria Rossi on his mind. The Italian actress kept stealing into her own thoughts too, along with images of how close, how intimately close Maria and Nick had looked on the television. How much simpler everything would be if Carlo had taken a shine to Maria instead? That way Nick and his gorgeous actress could be engaged for real now, while she could go her own way and set about finding a nice, steady relationship with someone safe and unremarkable.

“No!”

The thought stopped her in her tracks, both literally and figuratively. Her footsteps faltered and she felt Nick pause beside her, even though she didn’t dare look at him.

I don’t want a nice, steady relationship with someone unremarkable.

The words rang in her head so loudly she could almost hear them. She didn’t want that kind of relationship. She’d never really wanted it. What she did want was wild, turbulent passion, complete with its frantic lows and its transcendent, ecstatic heights. She wanted to dare to dream that such a relationship could last.

There was only one man she’d ever take that gamble with. And that was the one who was at her side right now, with his warm hand closed around hers in a silent question. A question he was going to ask if she didn’t look at him soon.

“What’s wrong, Anna?”

Too late.

“Is it your headache? Do you want to go home?”

Anna tried to think fast, even though the headache in question was niggling at her. What could she say that wouldn’t sound like a lie or evasion? She forced a bright smile.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She kept her voice level, and as unwavering as the fixed, tense smile that was already making her face ache. “Just something I should have done at work today. No big deal, really. I can see to it tomorrow.”

Nick tilted his head, his fine blue eyes narrowing. “Are you sure? We can go back to your office right now, if you want?”

He didn’t believe her—that much was obvious. Throughout all the time she’d known him, he’d always exhibited a sixth sense about being deceived, and Anna had no doubt that uncanny power was working now. And yet still, for his own reasons, he was playing along with her.

“No. Thanks. It’s okay, really.” She tried to sound unconcerned, “Let’s just walk on for a few minutes, shall we? Then we’d better be getting to the restaurant. We don’t want to keep Martin waiting.”

At the sound of Martin’s name, Nick’s mouth and jaw tightened.

What? This meeting is your idea, and now you’re the one exhibiting reluctance?

Nevertheless, Nick inclined his gilded head in agreement. Re-tucking her hand under his arm, he urged her forward along the road without speaking.

It should have been an idyllic stroll, but it was tension, tension, tension. Every nerve in Anna’s body felt as if it was strung out to breaking point. Every emotion surging through her mind seemed to be in conflict with a dozen others. Every moment that passed, she seemed to be sinking further into a pit of emotional deception and the avoidances of issues.

And then she glanced to her right and saw something lovely, something distracting. It didn’t take her attention completely from the tall, powerful figure at her side, but it certainly claimed a little bit of it.

It was a house. A long, sprawling, rather odd-looking house, built from pink-tinted brick that seemed to glow rosy in the sinking sun. Poignant nostalgia gripped her again even though she’d never set eyes on the place before—because she realized in an instant it reminded her of Villa Rosa.

Villa Rosa, Nick’s favorite of all his several homes across the world—the modest, unpretentious farmhouse near Fontazone in Liguria. It too had that rambling, relaxed, almost shambolic feel about it, despite the fact that it was in fact furnished with every modern convenience. And the ruddy tint of its weathered brick walls was uncannily similar to that of this Thames-side residence.

Unable to stop herself, she glanced at Nick and saw that he too was staring fixedly at the large, but homely pink house with an expression of surprised recognition on his face.

Even as she watched him, his attention flitted from point to point. The red-tiled roof, the climbing wisteria, the light glinting off the not quite symmetrical windows, and especially on the one on the second floor, at the far end of the building, which just might have been the window to his old room at Villa Rosa.

The room where they’d slept together for the first, and probably the last ever time.

“
Ché bella casa.
”

The sound of his own voice almost surprised him. The unconventional pink house had produced the strangest effect, its odd familiarity and resemblance to Villa Rosa flooding him with instant homesickness.

And more than that. He experienced an odd sensation in the region of his heart, a kind of nostalgia, a physical yearning for a past that had never happened.

Just like Villa Rosa, this quintessentially English “villa” was obviously a family home. The gardens were lush already, and as shambling in their own way as the house itself. He saw a swing, a sandpit, even a set of goalposts, and the faint sparkle of water, possibly a pool. Images leapt instantly into his mind, pictures of a life he’d never even considered before. A life he’d long ago forsworn in the bitter aftermath of his parents’ volcanic marriage.

He imagined pushing a small boy on that swing. He pictured a bold, sturdy little child, full of heart and spirit, shrieking with glee and demanding that
Papà
push him higher and higher, the evening sunlight glinting on his golden hair.

Nearby, a chubby girl child played contentedly in the sandpit, flinging the grains high into the air with a spade and laughing with the same inhibited joy as her brother. The tiny girl’s hair was darker than her brother’s, tawny like his own, and as she seemed to fix on him, cooing with pleasure, he observed, in shock and awe, that her twinkling eyes were the most intense shade of green.

And even as the impact of this revelation rocked him in his handmade shoes, he saw beyond the cherubic child, and his eyes locked with the equally green gaze of the little girl’s mother. She was sitting on a spread blanket, relaxed and serene as she raised a slender, elegant hand and flicked her short blonde hair out her eyes and smiled back towards him…