Picture of Innocence(40)

Lucy glanced at him. ‘Yes,’ she said, equally direct.

Taking her elbow, he ushered her out of the apartment and down onto the street. ‘Get in,’ Lorenzo said, holding open the passenger door of a low-slung, lethal-looking yellow sports car.

Lucy did, and quickly fastened the seat belt. She didn’t feel safe in this monster of a car, even when it was stationary. She glanced at Lorenzo as he slid into the driving seat and was about to ask what make the car was. But one look at the determined set of his jaw made her change her mind.

There was no other way to describe it—the man drove as if he had a death wish, Lucy thought. The countryside flashed past them in a whirl, and she caught her breath as the car swung around corners.

‘Do you have to drive so fast?’ she finally demanded.

He cast her a sidelong glance and said nothing, but she noticed he did slow down a little, and she could breathe easily again.

Her first glance of Lake Garda made her catch her breath again, and as Lorenzo drove along the one road that ran around the lake she was captivated by the small villages they passed. Eventually he guided the car between two stone towers that supported massive iron gates. The drive wound steeply up through a forest of trees and then veered right. Suddenly the forest ended, and Lucy simply stared in awe at the view before her.

The house was built in pale stone, beautifully proportioned, with circular turrets on all corners and with the forest as a backdrop. The gardens swooped down in lawns and terraces to the edge of the lake, where a wooden boat house was just visible by the trees. A small boat with its sails furled was tied up at the jetty. The overall view was idyllic, and incredible to her artistic eye. Someone had planned the garden skilfully. A pergola, a summerhouse and fountains were all strategically placed to draw the eye to a perfect flow of colour and symmetry.

‘Lucy?’

It was the first word Lorenzo had spoken since they’d left Verona, and she glanced at her wristwatch. Well over an hour ago. She realised he had stopped the car. She looked out of the window, her eyes widening in admiration on the portico, a graceful structure with elegant arches and roof supported by four columns.

‘Before we go in, a word of warning.’

She turned her head and looked at him. ‘What? No stealing the silver? ‘ she quipped.

He didn’t so much as smile, just gave her a sardonic glance. ‘That is an example of what I am afraid of. You are too impulsive, Lucy—you say everything that enters your head without a second thought.’

Not everything, Lucy thought. Even locked in his arms, in the throes of passion, she resisted the impulse to tell him she loved him.

‘When you meet my mother you will be friendly and polite—no going over the top with hugs or confidences. I have the painting in the boot of the car. You will give it to her as a gift and she will be delighted. As for you and I—as far as my mother and the staff are concerned we will behave as close friends, though obviously we will not share a room. It is enough that I have brought you to the family home. Not something I ever do with the women in my life. That, along with an occasional arm around you, will confirm my mother’s opinion—thanks to the Lanza woman—that we are a couple. When I tell her it is over between us you will have an excellent reason for no further contact that she will readily accept. Understand?’

‘Perfectly. Machiavelli could not have come up with a better plan.’

The arrogance of the man confounded her. When he dumped her she was supposedly going to be so brokenhearted she would cut off all contact with the Zanelli family. The sad thing was she realised he was probably right—though he did not know it.

Forcing a smile to her face, she added, ‘You mean pretend we are lovers but no mention of casual sex? I get it.’

‘Lucy, cut out the flippant remarks. This is very straightforward. All you have to do is behave yourself in a restrained manner for a couple of days.’

‘Yes, I see.’

And she did see—all too clearly. It was in his dark, impersonal eyes, in the hard face. He could not have made it clearer that when this visit was over so was she, as far as he was concerned. She turned her head away. It was what she wanted—to be free of him, she told herself, and tried to open the car door.

Before she could, it was swung open by a man Lorenzo introduced as Gianni—the butler!

Lucy stood in the grand hall, two storeys high, with a central staircase that split into two halfway up and ended in a circular balcony. Her green eyes fixed on the lady descending the marble stairs.

His mother was nothing like she’d expected, and when Lorenzo introduced her unexpectedly Lucy was hugged and kissed on both cheeks by the elegant woman. Lorenzo should have warned his mother not to go over the top, she thought. She’d been led to believe she was a frail little woman, but nothing could be further from the truth. Anna, as she insisted Lucy call her, was about five feet six, with thick curling white hair and sparkling brown eyes, and looked a heck of a lot fitter than Lucy felt.