The Italian's Seduction Page 5

  She dropped her head in her hands and moaned.

  “I got an e-mail from Melissa today,” Valentina announced as they sat down to dinner later that evening. “She’s in Philadelphia and she visited the campus of the University of Pennsylvania with her parents and she really likes it.” Charli heard the note of challenge in Valentina’s voice.

  Massimo carefully deboned the fish on his plate and didn’t look up. “Is that so?” he said evenly.

  “Yes. She’s decided she’ll go there next year.” Valentina looked at Charli. “You said you went to university there. Do you think it’s a good choice?”

  “It was for me.”

  “Melissa says that—”

  Valentina launched into an enthusiastic description, which was ignored by Massimo. Charli gritted her teeth. What was wrong with the man? Couldn’t he see how important this was for his sister? Valentina had told her Massimo had decided she should go to university in England next year and she hadn’t been able to convince him to change his mind, or to even give it another thought. By the look of it, he wasn’t giving it much thought now either.

  The girl’s voice took on a pleading tone. She wanted to go to university in Philadelphia. Surely she could get a good education there! Massimo remained calm and unperturbed. Valentina became more and more agitated. She glanced over at Charli, her eyes begging for help.

  “Were you allowed to have a choice? I mean, did your parents decide for you where you were going to study?”

  Oh, no. Charli noticed the hardening of Massimo’s features. Well, she wasn’t going to lie.

  “I discussed it with my parents, of course, but yes, I was allowed to make up my own mind.”

  “So they didn’t think you were stupid and didn’t know enough to make the right decision for your own life.” Valentina’s tone was caustic, clearly accusing her brother.

  “No, they didn’t. They believed it was important for me to make my own decisions.” She couldn’t help but add the last sentence, feeling Massimo’s anger heating the air around them.

  He shot his sister a warning look. “I know what you are doing, Valentina, and it’s not going to work.”

  “Why can’t I have something to say! Why do you have to make all the decisions about my education? It’s a very good university and there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to go there! It’s a good university, isn’t it, Charli?” she pleaded.

  “One of the best in the US,” she said truthfully.

  Massimo’s eyes were dark and dangerous. “That is not the issue. Arrangements have been made for you to attend university in England. I don’t want you across the ocean and that is the final word.”

  “You never even gave me a choice! I should have something to say about it! It’s my life!”

  “The subject is closed, Valentina.”

  Charli could feel her temperature rise. His domineering attitude rubbed her the wrong way. Still, this was not her business and she shouldn’t interfere. She bit her tongue, but it didn’t help—she simply couldn’t stay silent.

  “I think kids should be taught how to make responsible decisions,” she said, her good sense flying out into the night right along with her good manners. “If they don’t learn how, who will do it for them when they’re adults?”

  “Yes!” Valentina cried out. “If you can’t let me make decisions now, I—”

  Massimo interrupted her, his jaw tight. Charli did not know what he was saying as he had switched to Italian, shutting her out. Intentionally, no doubt.

  Face mutinous, Valentina stared down at her uneaten food, saying no more as her brother spoke.

  Massimo stopped talking. He reached for his glass and finished his wine.

  Valentina, close to tears, pushed her chair back and rushed indoors without saying a word.

  Charli put her napkin on the table and stood up, ready to follow her in.

  “I want a word with you,” Massimo said. He picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass.

  Uneasily, Charli sat back down, feeling like a child about to be reprimanded. She hated the feeling and she clenched her hands in her lap.

  “I understand you meant well,” he said, “but I am responsible for Valentina and I have made certain decisions I will not change.”

  “About her education, her life.”

  “Yes.”

  Indignation flared again. “You mean she doesn’t have any say herself about these matters?”

  “I only want what is best for her.” He came to his feet and looked down at her.

  Warning bells. Danger signals. She felt herself begin to tremble. She was ready for all out battle. Yet this was not her battle. Massimo was her host. She had no business interfering in his personal business. It took an effort, but she managed to stay silent.

  “You do not agree?”

  She clenched her hands. “It doesn’t matter whether I agree, does it? It’s not my business.”

  “No,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes. “Valentina is not your concern.” There was a warning in his tone.

  “But you are wrong.” She could not resist. She had to say something.

  He raised his brows. “Really?”

  His haughty tone infuriated her. She did not like the way he was standing there looming over her. She stood up and glared at him. Even on her feet she still had to look up at him, but it was better than sitting down.

  “Yes, really. No matter how pure your intentions, you should not make such important decisions without her input. You’re much too controlling with her.” So there, she’d said it.

  He swirled the wine in his glass and studied her for a moment. “You are angry with me,” he stated calmly, as if he were making nothing but a factual observation.

  So she was. “I do not like controlling men.” She was aware that her hands were clenched by her side. She tried to relax them, saw his gaze follow the movement of her fingers.

  “But you’re not angry with me because of Valentina, I think.” His voice was softer now, full of suggestion. His words surprised her.

  “I am not?”

  “No.” He took another drink and held her gaze over the rim of his glass. “I think,” he said slowly, “that you’re disturbed because of what happened between us last night.”

  Charli stared at him in disbelief. This had nothing to do with last night. She was angry because his authoritarian attitude toward his sister was infuriating, that was all. “That’s ridiculous,” she said.

  “Is it? I kissed you and you liked it.” He paused. “And you’re angry because you didn’t want to feel what you were feeling. Why?”

  She glared at him. “You don’t know what I was feeling!” She didn’t like his presumptions, felt an instinctive defensiveness. Who was he to analyze her emotional state?

  “I know when a woman’s body responds to me.” It was a simple statement, made without macho arrogance or conceit, which made the truth of it even more undeniable.

  She opened her mouth. Closed it again. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her thoughts floundered helplessly. What had happened here? They’d been talking about Valentina, and now suddenly they were discussing her reactions to him, Massimo. He was studying her with those dark eyes that made her feel he was looking straight into her heart. A wayward lock of hair curled carelessly over his forehead and in the night shadows he looked impossibly handsome in a pure sexual male way. She tried not to think of his kiss, tried really hard not to feel the warmth spreading through her at the mere memory of his hard body against hers, of the way she had melted into him.

  He knew when a woman’s body responded to him. Well, of course he did. She looked away, out over the sparkling town toward the dark sea. And he was right, she was angry and on edge because she didn’t want to feel what she was feeling and she’d been fighting it all day.

  “You’ve purposely been avoiding me since the day you arrived here,” he said then. “Why?”

  So he’d noticed. She shrugged. “Does that offend your eg
o?”

  “I just wonder why.”

  He was altogether too calm and self-possessed. Where was his Latin hot-bloodedness? “It seems prudent under the circumstances,” she said loftily, feeling rather proud of her rational answer.

  “What circumstances? Are you afraid of the chemistry between us? Of what we’re doing to each other?”

  “I’m not doing anything to you!”

  His mouth quirked. “Not intentionally, perhaps. But you are most certainly doing something to me.”

  Go take a cold shower, she was tempted to say, but managed to control herself. “Well, I’m sorry I—”

  “And,” he interrupted her, “I am doing something to you. Please, don’t deny it.”

  “Denial is much underrated. It suits me just fine.” Not the most intelligent of answers and she should know better. Her stint with denial in her relationship with Richard had not served her well. But right now she was not ready to admit to Massimo that he had a most disturbing effect on her. Then, of course, he already knew.

  He studied her. “I like you, Charli.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. If only he’d said something like, I want you, I ache for your body, I must have you, or something equally dramatic and flowery she’d have an answer for him. But who could object to I like you? Not that she didn’t know what he meant or what he wanted. He was simply too relentlessly courteous about it and she had little defense.

  Like Richard, came the unbidden thought. He’d been so nice, so considerate in the beginning. She’d fallen at his feet like a wet noodle. She gave a little shiver.

  Massimo put his empty glass on the table. “It’s not a terrible thing, Charli. We are two adults. I’m sure we can handle it.”

  She could well imagine how he intended to “handle” it and she had no intention of letting him. Not that it didn’t have a certain appeal to fall in love with a sexy Italian, but it was not what she needed right now. He might stir all her female hormones, but he was all wrong. He was way too bossy. He liked too much to be in control. She’d been there, done that. Not ever again.

  She took a step away from him. “I don’t want to get involved. I don’t want to handle any sort of affair. It would be a big mistake for both of us.” She took another step toward the house. “I’m going to my room now. Goodnight.” She turned and walked off calmly, trying to look dignified and not like a scared rabbit scurrying off to its hole.

  Once inside her room she let out a long, nervous sigh. This was ridiculous. She had to get out of here, away from this man. Surely on Monday she’d get that blasted key? All she had to do was survive the weekend.

  A couple of minutes later a knock came on the door and her heart leaped in her throat. Not Massimo, she pleaded silently. “Yes?” she called out.

  “It’s me, Valentina.”

  Charli opened the door and looked at the girl’s worried face.

  “Massimo was mad at you, wasn’t he? Because of what you said.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “He’s such a…I don’t know the word. He always wants to boss me around. He doesn’t think I know anything.”

  “He’s responsible for you. He tries to do what he thinks is best.” Well, that was true enough, she assumed.

  Valentina gave a frustrated sigh. “But he always thinks he knows best! Like with his work. He’s the boss, and he runs everything and what he says is law.”

  “And it looks like he’s pretty successful at it.” Which was an understatement.

  “But I’m not a business project! I can think for myself, you know! I don’t like to be…to be managed!”

  Charli stared at Valentina, feeling her heart doing a little dance of sympathy. “I know what you mean.”

  “Men!” Valentina said with heartfelt teenage disgust. “They think women are stupid or something. Well, Italian men, anyway. They’re so un-evolved! All they think we’re good for is cooking and sex, in that order!”

  Charli laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Oh, come on, Valentina. If your brother felt that way he wouldn’t find it necessary for you to get a university education, would he?”

  Valentina made a face and shrugged.

  “He’d go out and find you a ‘suitable’ husband and marry you off instead, like in the old days.”

  Valentina groaned. “Oh, puh-leeze!” She sounded so American it made Charli smile again.

  “See? It could be worse. You could be planning a wedding.”

  Valentina gave a reluctant smile. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry if he’s mad at you because of me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself. Go to sleep and forget about it.”

  “Okay. Goodnight, Charli.”

  “Buona notte.” Charli watched as Valentina crossed the hall and disappeared into her room.

  I’ve got to do something, she thought, something to help her stand up to Massimo. But what?

  Once she’d moved into her own apartment, things would be easier. She’d figure out how to help Valentina.

  A stack of papers. A bank account with lots of euros in it. Keys.

  Keys!

  They were like gold in her hand and Charli had a hard time not skipping along the cobblestoned Via Mercanti as she and Valentina made their way to the apartment. Finally!

  It was late Monday morning and the call from the lawyer’s office had come only an hour earlier.

  “This is so exciting,” said Valentina. “I can’t wait to see the place. Maybe it’s been remodeled and it’s really nice. You never know sometimes with these old palazzo buildings. Inside they can be really cool!”

  Charli smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. “It was owned by an old woman, Valentina, and it’s been empty for a year. My only hope is that it’s in good enough shape for me to stay in.”

  “Maybe it’s full of antiques! Maybe there’s a Botticelli painting nobody knows about! You’ll be rich!”

  Charli laughed. “We’ll know in about three minutes.”

  They turned the corner and passed the little vegetable market. She knew the way exactly now, and she enjoyed a sense of competence as she made her daily walks through town, exploring little shops and hidden alleys and piazzas.

  She had survived the weekend. She’d taken herself out of the house on Saturday, taking the bus-ferry to Positano and spending the day walking around and sightseeing right along with a million other tourists thronging the narrow streets. The place was beautiful, the busloads of tourists from all over Europe had been…well, overwhelming.

  Back at the villa in the early evening, she’d found Massimo out for the evening and Valentina curled up in front of the TV. Mimma was off, so the two of them had decided to have dinner in town and then go to one of the outdoor concerts near the Duomo. They’d found a table at one of the many trattorias and ordered deep-fried calamari, a favorite of Valentina’s. They’d followed it up with a pizza, finishing the meal with a bowl of gelato.

  “I want to cut my hair,” Valentina had said. “Short, like that.” She’d pointed at a girl across the street who was being kissed in a most passionate way by a young guy in jeans and a black shirt. Everywhere in public couples were kissing and hugging with happy abandon, Charli had noticed. On park benches, standing in doorways, sitting on sidewalk cafés, strolling in the streets. Love and romance blossoming all over the place. Maybe there was something in the air, or in the water. The problem was she was breathing that air and drinking that water.

  She’d looked at the girl Valentina had pointed out. “That’s very short.”

  “I know, I like it. Do you think it will look nice on me?”

  No doubt it would. With her pretty features, Valentina would look nice if she shaved her head bald and painted it purple.

  Now Charli looked sideways at Valentina, seeing the thick dark hair shining like silk in the sunlight. It would be quite a step to cut that beautiful hair off. Of course she’d done the very thing herself not long ago and she wasn’t sorry.

&nbs
p; She gripped the keys in the pocket of her capris. They were almost at the apartment and she sent up a silent prayer to the god of good fortune, whoever that was, to please have the place not be a total ruin. Maybe she could even move in right away this afternoon. Get a taxi to take her and her suitcases over. She so wanted to not be in the same house with Massimo any longer.

  Yesterday, Sunday, he’d been the perfect host. In the morning he had taken her and Valentina sailing and in the afternoon they’d gone for a drive so she could see something of the area. They’d driven through ancient seaside villages, visited the site of a Greek colony dating back to six hundred BC, and had a wonderful seafood dinner in an outdoor restaurant near the water. Valentina had been bored silly, but Charli had enjoyed sailing and exploring the countryside, and had been grateful for Valentina’s presence.

  She took the keys out of her pocket as they walked through the archway into the courtyard. The green door with its peeling paint beckoned her and she almost tripped on a loose stone as she rushed toward it.

  The key turned easily enough and Valentina gave the door an enthusiastic shove. It opened into a stairwell, the stairs made of dull gray marble steps worn down by centuries of climbing feet. Even the air smelled old, and the light coming in through a dusty window looked gray and tired.

  They rushed up several flights, past the door into another apartment and found the door marked with an old brass 2 in need of polishing. Apparently the ground floor did not count as number one.

  “This is it,” Valentina said unnecessarily.

  The stairs climbed up one more flight, and the sounds of a television floated down to them. Charli found it a comforting thought that other people lived in this building. Taking a deep breath, she stuck the key in the lock and opened the door.

  She stared, uncomprehending.

  She’d had no idea what she’d find behind that door and she’d tried to be realistic. But of all the possibilities she’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them.