A Constant Attraction (Attraction #2) (5 page)

The next ninety minutes or so whizz by as we talk about anything and everything. It did take Erin however, at least thirty minutes to say something that wasn't in a gibberish language.

Even though we are able to laugh and enjoy ourselves, I do sense that something is bothering Marc. I realise so much has gone on over the last few days, but I can't help thinking something else has happened that Marc can't tell me about just yet.

Feeling soft, smooth and refreshed, I tightly wrap a thick, large towel around myself. The aroma from the lavender bath salts, still linger in the modern, spotless bathroom and on my well scrubbed skin. The time I have just spent in the bath, was exactly the time I needed to get my thoughts straightened out in my head. I cannot have Marc Sanders ruin what I and Stefano have built up. We are so close to completion on this. No, I cannot have that happen. We have the medical supply companies lined up and the promotion side of it is coming together, we have too much to lose.

Yanking the towel from around my head, I vigorously start to dry my hair. It seems as though Marc is not the only one I have to worry about either. I have been quite surprised recently, well very surprised actually, at how strong willed Isabel is. Marc's conquests in the past have been far less of a challenge, many only wanting to hang from around his arm as a trophy girlfriend, to spend his money and enjoy the great sex I can very easily imagine, he is very good at. Isabel is different however. There has to be a chink in her armour somewhere. A weak spot
, that I can expose.

Throwing the cheaply made, cream towel on to the bed, I sit down next to it as I make my phone call.

“Mario, it is Dr Acerbi. No, not until later, I will call you again a few minutes before. You have to do something else for me in the meantime. I need you to find out what you can on an English woman named Isabel Chambers. No ora! I do not have much more detail, but do what you can. Si, ciao!”

This really is the last thing I need, but if it means a way of getting to Marc, ending this once and for all, then so be it. I really don't care who gets hurt along the way, I am long past caring about that. Just as long as we manage to finish what we have started, I will be satisfied. For the moment I shall carry on, going along with Stefano's plan. We have tomorrow to prepare for, as this is when Marc is to hand over the money.

As soon as he has made the drop, we need to be out of here, out of the country, pronto!

“Damn that man! Damn all of them!” I yell into the silent, still air.

I have even considered leaving Stefano once I have my share of the money in my hands. He'll be no use to me once we are done with all of this.

All of the legal papers have been signed and are with our Avvacato, he cannot stop me from doing anything I want. My mind starts to wander a bit, as the idea of disposing of Stefano, sounds more and more attractive. Getting up, I begin to pace around the room. Wringing my hands and fingers together, I then start to feel my heart pounding within its cage. I should feel wrong, guilty even, to experience the excitement and adrenalin rush I am getting from thinking these dark thoughts. Yet, I don't feel bad or wrong one iota. Hmm! I wonder how great Stefano's greed and need to have the money and fame is? As right now, my appetite for what I want is ever growing. The hunger growls within the depths of my stomach. The stupid and idiotic man, foolishly thinks we still have a future as man and wife. I turn sharply away from the bed and sit upon the balloon backed chair, next to the dresser.

How wrong he is. Ingannare! Turning my attention back to what I was originally doing, I prepare to get myself ready again. I seriously am beginning to have reservations about actually going through all of this with Stefano. Any love I felt for the man has long gone, he is just a leash, holding me back from achieving what I truly believe I can in life. As I apply the rich moisturising body crème to my long, slender, pale legs, the exotic aroma of the Oud Wood opens every pour within me. The blood is rushing around my body as though it has been intravenously pumped into my arteries, increasing my thought process. Seeing what lengths Stefano has gone to, already with this, who is to say that he will really want to take me with him? I don't know everything he has planned or arranged? Even worse still, he could be picturing the same scenes as I have been for the last few minutes. I start to panic ever so slightly, at the theory that he may leave me high and dry, or quite possibly dead!

Think Emelie! Think!

Massaging what remnants of lotion are left, into my arms and tense shoulders, I close my eyes so that all I can concentrate on are the idea's, some of which are wild and totally out there and are being firmly branded into my mind. My thin, twig like fingers, work their magic and it is after a couple of minutes that I furtively smile. Well, well Emelie Acerbi...I do surprise myself sometimes.

Beginning to search through my finest silk stockings and underwear, I find a hedonistic set of black silk panties and fine lace bra. They are the exact same set, that Stefano bought for me last birthday. Dropping the towel I have around me to the floor, I dress while setting my plan in motion.

*****

“Emelie, my darling, you look simply divine.” I observe Stefano's eyes taking in every single inch of me, which is exactly what I had hoped for.

The long, black figure hugging dress, with a low plunging neckline and open back, leaves little to the imagination. The material feels like a second skin as it clings deliciously to the top curve of my toned backside. Stefano scans his eyes over each slim, delicate curve and then with the back of his rough hand, he skims down my upper body. Starting at the protruding bone at my shoulders and he glides it suggestively down towards my exposed cleavage. The backs of his stubby, little fingers, skim across the sensitive area.

A wave of spine tingling shivers is transported down my back bone and I inwardly cringe, as it is not only his touch that is cold and calculated, but the way he pronounces every syllable in every sentence, slow and precise. I hope that the disgust I feel at him laying even one finger on me, doesn't shine through. I feel confident enough in myself, to think that it won't, as over time, I have developed a new skill of not displaying my true feelings and thoughts. So I should be safe enough and hopefully will get away with it.

I notice he is wearing one of his most expensive, grey tailored suits with a deep crimson tie.

He despises wearing the damn things and I am fully aware of this, but nonetheless I insisted we dine at a restaurant that I know has a strict dress code policy for both ladies and gents. Seeing how uncomfortable he looks in what he is clothed in, only pleases me more, but I need to stay focussed and controlled.

“You have had your hair cut.” His already receding hair has a shaven look about it. However, you can still see the flecks of silver that have worked their way in over the last few months. I am almost positive, his recent accelerated advancement in ageing, is all down to the stress of work and Marc.

In a reflex action, he strokes the thin carpet of hair upon his head.

“Yes, do you like?” His question is asked in such a way that he is only expecting to hear the one answer. The answer that suits him.

“Yes, my darling I do. It very much suits you.” I see that I have pleased him with my response, as his thin dry lips stretch to what is a narrow upturned line of a smile. It is a feature that I very rarely get to see. When I do, it is usually has a negative motive or reasoning behind it.

Wrapping one of his semi-muscular arms around my waist, he pulls me to him so that he can place a kiss upon the side of my neck, in the sensitive area, where I am aware of my pulse beating irregularly. Just below my ear, his lips remain there for a second or two longer than I desire or can handle and so squirm at the touch.

“You smell exquisite Emelie. Is this the perfume I bought for you from Paris a few months back?” I hear him sniff in the aroma of the scent.

“It is. I thought this evening would be the perfect opportunity to wear it. I wanted to please you my darling, in every way.” Searching his dead grey eyes, I hope that I haven't gone too far too soon for what I have planned. I am reassured and see I have nothing to worry about as yet, when he apathetically chuckles in his usual manner.

“And pleased me you have. Come, we have time for a drink here before we need to make our reservation. This evening should be one of celebration, don't you think?” His rhetorical question only requires a knowing smile from me as a reply.

Taking a hold of my arm, he protectively links it through his, never taking his hand from upon mine. Yet again, we morph into the ball and chain. As we ascend to the roof terrace, we put on yet another display of a happy, loving married couple and tonight I guarantee, it will be my best ever performance to date.

“Good evening Dr Acerbi. Do you require a table this evening?” The head barman cannot do enough for us. He knows exactly which room we are residing in and therefore knows we can afford the best service possible. Stefano is generous when it comes to tipping people, but there always seems to be an ulterior motive behind it. It all comes down to greed once again. A person only has to be handsomely rewarded for their services the one time and then they see money signs flashing before their eyes. Afterwards they tend not to stop and why would they? Once Stefano has them firmly hooked on, like a fish to bait, they can then very often be asked to go above and beyond their regular duties.

“That would be very much appreciated Christian. My wife and I shall only be staying an hour or so for drinks, so one of the sofas will be sufficient.”

“Certainly Sir. Please come this way.”

Christian dressed in his freshly washed, starched and perfectly ironed uniform leads us the way to the far side, where we have a magnificent three hundred and sixty degree view of the city. As we sit on the dark wicker outdoor furniture we have the pleasure of seeing the most spectacular sunset. The sky with its burnt orange and fiery red haze, glows as the sun descends behind the grey stoned, Victorian buildings.

Stefano proudly sits opposite me and from behind him, the tall tower of what is St. John's College Chapel, looks over its people and greenery. With its Gothic and ornate stonework, it stands out from everything else around it.

“You do look truly beautiful this evening Emelie. The evening sun does wonders for your complexion.”

I am taken aback by Stefano's observation and remark, especially as he says it in a rich Italian accent, one that he very rarely uses, unless talking with family. I cannot remember the last time he even made an effort to notice me, never mind compliment me on it and so I am slightly puzzled by the sudden change in him. It is as though, a complete opposite has replaced him, I will not deny that it unnerves me a little. I was not expecting this at all. The memories of earlier today come flooding back. Could he really be deliberating something remotely like what I have been? It does bother me, a lot. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. I had the words and action perfectly scripted out in my mind, as I had been rehearsing it for most of the early evening. So I have to redirect my train of thought slightly and alter my original plan. Brushing my hands down, over my thighs and knees; I observe my betrothed, inspect every part of me that I touch.

“Thank you Stefano. I am glad you approve of my choice in dress and look. As I said before, you know I always like to please you.”

“You appear surprised at my observation darling, don't! You look simply devine. Like a fine champagne, I appreciate and like what I see in front of me. I hope that tonight I get to taste such a fine-looking delicatezza.”

Stefano is seated with his back straight against the sofa, his legs crossed and leaning an elbow on the arm rest, he lightly strokes his bottom lip with his fingers.  I don't know if he sees how discombobulated I have become with his words, actions and body language, but I find myself sitting up rigid and start to feel totally ill at ease. Damn this man. This is not how I was expecting this evening to go. I had not seen it planned out in my mind like this. Maybe the best thing to do, is to play along with what ever game he is playing, if this is a game at all. These days I cannot tell what he is thinking or what he is going to do next and so I just hope that all of the extra unwelcome stress he has been getting, isn't sending him over the edge. I have witnessed one such occasion several years back, in our lab in Italy; a nervous relatively new employee, spoilt a specimen...just one measly specimen. Stefano blew his top, throwing and smashing the other remaining few specimens, demanding that they all be done again. The poor giovane stood stock still through fear as he stormed past her. I looked on sympathetically, but turned on my heel as soon as Stefano called me.

Not wanting a repeat of seeing his fury again if that is the case, I decide to play along to pacify what needs I think he has.

Forcing myself to relax a little more into the seat I then also cross my legs, which shows off my long slender skin to great effect. I observe Stefano licking his lips. At the same time Christian returns with a bottle of Dom Perignon 2003, in a solid silver wine cooler and proceeds to pour the ice cold bubbles into each flute. Stefano never once takes his off me and I sense he is imagining what could be happening later. I on the other hand, am starting to see a very different vision in my mind as to how the night or morning will finish off. I do applaud myself on the fact that I am quick thinking and generally manage to get out of difficult or sticky situations. I have done it often enough when Stefano has had far too much to drink at social events and becomes obnoxious in his behaviour. We have a reputation to uphold and in the past he has been very close to ruining that and what we have built up.