AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But Stacey had barely stirred from her rapt preoccupation with a TV programme about a family who seemed to be inexplicably cutting all ties with their English life to go and live in remote Spain. ‘What sort of surprise?’
‘Ah!’ Nicola had waggled her finger in the manner of a cartoon fairy godmother. ‘If I tell you now, it won’t be a surprise, will it?’
For once, Stacey had turned away from the screen, a flicker of interest shining briefly in her eyes. ‘Okay. I’m cool with that.’
And that was the trouble with money, Nicola decided. It had a power all of its own. It could change the way you felt and the way you reacted. Now she’d envisaged getting the life-changing amount Alessio had promised her she couldn’t countenancenotgetting it. The thought of going back to the Masquerade club and dealing with all those leering punters filled her with dread.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
She was a fighter, not a quitter. She was going to make this weekend work, no matter what they—or he—threw at her.
‘We’re here,’ Alessio drawled as the car slowed in front of a giant set of wrought-iron gates and Nicola stared ahead. As the gates opened she saw a long path, which led to an enormous cream mansion. Manicured lawns were dotted with bronze statues which glinted in the afternoon sun, and there were flowerbeds bright with roses and daisies. In the distance she could see a walkway edged with the purple haze of lavender and imagined all the bees buzzing contentedly there. But it was the house itself which dominated everything. Flanked by the dark spears of cypress trees, it was tall and statuesque, its soaring marble columns only adding to its majestic beauty.
‘Oh,’ she said, a little breathlessly.
He shot her a glance. ‘Like it?’
On one level, yes, of course she did, for who could fail to like such a magnificent pile? But she found herself thinking it looked more like a palace than a home. ‘It’s very impressive.’
‘I think that’s the whole point,’ he said drily.
As the car drew closer Nicola could see an older woman standing in the porticoed doorway, her black dress chic and her hair neatly styled. ‘Is that your mother?’ she questioned nervously.
‘Actually, it’s my stepfather’s French housekeeper, Genevieve.’
Inside, something in Nicola died. Gaffe number one. Tick. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought—’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ He switched off the engine and passed the car keys through the open window to a young valet who had appeared from the back of the property. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make. Who could blame you for thinking that the welcoming committee might actually be a member of my family? No doubt my mother will be inside.’ His lips curved. ‘With her husband.’
Did Nicola imagine the scorn in his voice? She thought about her own mother, who had a catalogue of defects as long as your arm. But Nicola couldn’t imagine her not running out to greet her in person. Whathadshe let herself in for? she wondered as the housekeeper inclined her head deferentially towards Alessio, before shaking Nicola by the hand.
‘Your mother has asked would you please wait in the south sitting room,’ said Genevieve, in her soft French accent. ‘She and Lord Bonner will be with you shortly.’
They followed the housekeeper up the short flight of steps into the house and an entrance hall of breathtaking dimensions, where the air was thick with the scent of lilies. But Nicola didn’t get the chance to study any of the priceless artworks which would have usually made her drool, because they were being led into a vast sitting room.
She glanced around the room, taking in the enormous marble fireplace, the floor-to-ceiling nineteenth-century portraits, and several sets of French windows, which overlooked a stunning garden. At Genevieve’s suggestion, Nicola perched nervously on the edge of a velvet chair, but Alessio was pacing the room like a caged lion. As the minutes ticked by it became impossible to ignore the increasingly stony set of his features and implacable line of his unsmiling mouth, and although conversation was the last thing she wanted to engage in, she couldn’t hold back the question any longer.
‘Is everything...okay?’
Electric-blue eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.’
Why was he doing that remote thing, which made her feel so inadequate? ‘I’m just not sure why we’re being made to wait like this. I mean...surely your mother must be anxious to see you? I’m sorry,’ she amended quickly when she saw his face darken. ‘It’s probably none of my business.’
‘You’re right, it’s not,’ he snapped, then seemed to relent. ‘Don’t worry about it, Nicola. It’s a power thing.’
But before she could ask any more—which he obviously didn’t want her to—they were disturbed by the arrival of the couple and Nicola scrambled to her feet, a little unsteady in the new pink espadrilles which matched her dress. Introductions were made and her first impression was that Alessio’s mother, Rosetta, must have been an absolute stunner in her time because she was still a startlingly beautiful woman. She was petite and slim, her dark hair was threaded with silver and her bone structure was amazing. It was easy to see where Alessio had got his looks from, Nicola thought, even though his eyes were blue, not brown. But she thought the greeting between mother and son was decidedly subdued. From the lack of warmth in their embrace, they might have been casual acquaintances meeting at a cocktail party.
Rosetta’s husband, Edward, was at least twenty years older than his wife, his upright stance suggesting a career in the military. But his faded grey eyes were calculating as they looked Nicola up and down and she wondered if he could see right through her. Did he realise that she’d been born in one of the roughest parts of London and that her early years had been total chaos? That she was the last person who Alessio wouldgenuinelyhave dated?
‘Please. Sit down. Let’s have some refreshment.’ Lord Bonner waved his hand and, as if it had been timed to the second—which it probably had—Genevieve appeared with a young maid, bringing in all the accoutrements for afternoon tea, which they proceeded to lay out on a beautifully polished mahogany table.
It felt strange to be offered scones and cake in the centre of Italy, but Nicola accepted only a cup of milkless tea, terrified of ladling cream and jam on the scone in the wrong order, which people seemed to get really exercised about in certain parts of England. She sat back while Alessio and his mother chatted about the family dinner that night, which would be followed by the bigger birthday party the following evening—all beneath the oddly unsettling and watchful stare of Lord Bonner. Nicola wondered if she was imagining the inexplicable undercurrents which were making the atmosphere around the small table feel so tense.
‘So...’ Rosetta plucked at her linen napkin nervously. ‘Have you and my son been together very long, Nicola?’
Momentarily, Nicola froze.
Why on earth hadn’t they rehearsed the answer to this?
