exactly the sort of dress that Jan would have worn. She snatched up
the black velvet purse she had found wrapped in tissue on one of
the wardrobe shelves and went towards the door.
Santino Vallone was sitting on one of the sofas glancing through a
magazine as she came along the gallery, and for a moment she was
afraid. Suppose it was one of the magazines that used Jan for their
fashion spreads? From what she knew of her sister, she would be
quite narcissistic enough to have them lying round the apartment.
She hesitated slightly as she reached the top of the steps, wondering
whether he would jump to his feet, his face grim and accusing, and
what she would be able to salvage from the wreck if he did, but he
merely laid the magazine aside and got to his feet. He stood looking
at her for a long moment, and there was an odd expression deep in
the tawny eyes. Then he strolled forward, pausing to break off one
of the deep crimson roses as he came.
He walked slowly up the steps, his eyes effortlessly holding hers.
She found herself thinking desperately that it was as if she had been
mesmerised. She could not look away, and she felt that betraying
blush rising again. He reached her side and before she could guess
his intention, he leaned forward and slipped the rose into the
revealing vee of the deeply slashed lace bodice, between the
shadowy cleft of her breasts, and for one heart-stopping moment
she felt his fingers brush against her flesh.
Then he stood back critically to view his handiwork, a faint smile
lifting the corners of his mouth.
'An enchanting contrast in textures,' he remarked with a coolness
she was not capable of emulating. 'The velvet of the rose against the
silk of your skin. You are worth waiting for, Janina mia?
And while she was still breathlessly taking in what he had said,
including his last enigmatic remark, he put his hand under her arm,
and led her to the door.
CHAPTER THREE
He was an expert driver, but then naturally he would be, Juliet
thought crossly as the low-slung sports car purred its way almost
noiselessly through the evening traffic.
She wanted to ask where they were going, but felt it was better to
pretend that she knew, and she tried not to look too eagerly around
her as they drove through part of the city she had never seen before.
Jan, she was sure, would take her surroundings very much for
granted.
Her companion seemed silent as they drove and she was thankful
for it. All sorts of snags which she had not previously taken into
consideration were now beginning to occur to her-the major one
being that she would probably be expected to be quite conversant
with any number of intimate details about Mario and his immediate
family, not to mention his friends. What on earth was she going to
say if Santino began to question her on the subject? She would be
bound to make all sorts of glaring errors, and his suspicions would
be aroused at once. He was no doubt already thinking that it was
odd that a girl who worked in Rome should .have next to no
knowledge of the Italian language, unless he had simply concluded
that she was too lazy to learn it.
Juliet found herself wishing that she had made her identity known at
the very start, and steadfastly denied all knowledge of Mario and
his involvement with her sister. She could have pretended that Jan
had sub-let the apartment to her-all kinds of explanations and
excuses, some more convincing than others, were coming to mind.
Anything, she thought ruefully, would probably have been better
than the web of deceit she had started to spin. It would only take a
little judicious probing from the brooding man beside her, and her
whole fragile fabrication would come tumbling down.
She hoped apprehensively that the restaurant would not be too
fashionable. The fewer people she was seen by the better. And the
darker the restaurant was the better too, she told herself. By
candlelight, in a secluded corner, she might just be able to pass for
Jan if she was seen at a distance by someone who actually knew her
sister.
But her hopes were dashed when they finally reached their
destination. Santino had chosen a restaurant right on the outskirts of
the city. It was large, popular and quite clearly expensive, and their
table, far from being hidden in some dark corner, was almost in the
centre of an enormous terrace, overlooking exquisite formal
gardens, and with a panoramic view of the city itself.
Juliet found herself the cynosure of all eyes as she walked to the
table, and she had not been in Rome long enough to be untroubled
by the frankness of some of the masculine glances and sotto voce
remarks which pursued her. She sank rather thankfully into the
chair the waiter was holding for her, and hoped she had managed to
mask her embarrassment at the small ordeal. It was the kind of
situation that Jan would have revelled in, she supposed, being
escorted by someone as dark and devastating as Santino Vallone. It
was quite a relief to shelter from prying glances behind the huge
menu that she was handed. She wondered with dismay if she was
supposed to appear knowledgeable about the choice of food being
offered, and heard her companion give a low-voiced order to the
waiter for two dry Martinis to be brought to them.
He leaned back in his chair and gave her an enquiring look. 'What
do you wish to eat, Janina? A simple steak and a salad, perhaps?'
'Certainly not,' she denied indignantly, her eye focussing on a
magnificent trolley laden with hors d'oeuvres which a waiter was
steering between the tables.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. 'You do not fret perpetually about
your weight? Meraviglioso!'
Juliet suddenly found herself thinking of the idle remark she had
made to Jan-a lifetime ago, it seemed. Could it really be only
twenty-four hours? She flushed a little.
'No,' she said with constraint, 'not at the moment.' She glanced
about her, casting round for a change of subject, wanting to get
away from any personal element. 'What a magnificent view!'
'Have you never been here before?'
She lifted one shoulder casually. 'I don't think so. I don't
remember...'
'One goes to so many places,' he finished for her, rather mockingly.
'You are a true Roman, Janina. I am surprised that you still find the
skyline romantic.'
'I didn't say that,' she said stiffly.
'No,' he agreed. 'You said "magnificent", but I saw a dream in your
eyes.'
She looked down embarrassed at the polished wood of the table in
front of them. It seemed she would have to guard her eyes now, as
well as her tongue.
He went on rather drily, 'I see what you see, and yet my vision is
filled with roofs and towers and domes. They do not belong to my
own concept of magnificence.'
'Which is?' The drinks arrived, and it was in some ways a relief to
have the coolness of the glass in her hand and be able to run her
fingers down the slender stem.
He shrugged. 'Many things, but none of them to do with cities.
Perhaps-a fortress, half in ruins oh the edge of a cliff, looking
across a violet sea to an island all greens and amethyst in the
evening light.'
'A particular place?'
'A particular place,' he agreed. He lifted his glance. 'To what shall
we drink?'
Juliet was emboldened by this sudden unexpected glimpse behind
the mask of worldly arrogance. 'To our better understanding?' she
suggested shyly.
'I think not.' His voice was cool and edged again. 'I understand you
quite well enough as it is, cara.'
She felt quite absurdly hurt, although what more had she expected,
for heaven's sake? She lifted her glass in turn. 'Very well, signore.
To-absent friends.'
'You said that with a certain relish, mia.' He was watching her
through half-closed eyes. 'I presume, however, that you refer to
Mario. Perhaps it is as well that he is absent. What would he say,
do you suppose, if he knew we were here together?'
She sipped her drink and set the glass down before answering. 'This
is hardly a private rendezvous,' she said. 'He wouldn't object.'
'You imagine not?' He smiled unpleasantly. 'You seem to forget that
Mario is from the South as I am. We may pay lip service to
present-day manners and morals, but it is a veneer, nothing more. In
our hearts is an older, more savage tradition, as you may find out to
your cost, cara. We Southern men can be jealous, both of our own
honour and that of our women.'
'But that can't apply here and now. You're his brother,' she said.
'And that gives you some kind of immunity?' His mouth twisted.
'You deceive yourself, mia. But Mario would not be deceived.' He
gave her a long look. 'Perhaps you, should remember that.'
Jan had spoken of threats, she thought, and she had been right. His
whole attitude was a threat. She had been quite mad ever to get
involved with such a man. She could flounder irretrievably at any
time, and it would be no good then to protest that she had meant
well.
Her voice was subdued as she told him what she wanted to eat, and
she sat gazing down at her clasped hands as he gave the waiter their
order.