When the Siren Calls (22 page)

“So, Jay, even if your business is solvent, which it may or may not be, you cannot afford to have your creditors petition to close down your company. And that is what I am here to help you with!” he concluded, resting his hands in satisfaction on his large stomach.

It was one of the times in his life that Jay wished he was a smoker. So that he could hold his adversary in expectation as he nonchalantly lit up a cigarette, like Humphrey Bogart in some film noir or other. By way of substitute, he transferred his phone from one pocket to another, glancing at the screen as he did so. Mancini, well versed in courtroom theatrics, scowled at the posturing arrogance of his opponent.

“So, while we are in this hypothetical world, where I assume you can pull your usual strings and silence the usual voices, what would you seek in return for your kindness?” Jay inquired, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Only a small thing, and not a very expensive one,” he replied. “You have met my granddaughter Carla. As you have seen, she is a very beautiful girl, very bright and very intelligent. And she speaks excellent English.”

Jay could see where the conversation was leading. “All that is true, Signor Mancini, but I must tell you that I am already married.”

“You have much humour, Jay,” he assented, his face deadpan, “which is why I understand you are so good at what you do. And I am sure Carla could learn great things from working alongside you. You do not speak Italian and have, I suspect, no plans to learn it. I believe an excellent role would be as your personal assistant.”

Jay opened his mouth to refute this wholeheartedly, unable to imagine anything worse than a Mancini under his tutelage. But Mancini continued before he could formulate an excuse.

“Carla would be a great asset to you, Jay. She does not require a permanent position. Six months might be sufficient, so that she has the experience on her resume. And also, when she returns to university, she must submit a marketing case study as part of her course work. What better than a glowing account of what you have achieved here, and how you have achieved it. You might even be famous.”

Jay waved these temptations aside with a sweep of his hand and leant forward across the table to fix his eyes on Franco’s. “So, if I understand you, you would like me to hire Carla for six months?”

“Yes, Jay, starting next week. I will leave the salary decision to you, but something on the same level as your other sales people would seem fair. But that is, of course, not for me to dictate.” He started to stand up, signalling their audience at an end. But his rival was far from done and his fixed gaze brought Mancini back into the seat of his chair with a thump.

“Unfortunately,” Jay said, “it is not my decision. Much as I would like to help, the company that Carla would be working for is not my own but that of Mr. Andrew Skinner. And whilst I am happy to ask him to employ her, I can tell you now that he will refuse. Only yesterday he was insisting on staff cuts to the operation here. I am sorry about that.” He rose from his chair as he concluded, pressing his hands into the arm rests until they creaked from the force. Mancini was visibly taken aback and all but leapt from his chair, moving his bulk with surprising speed in front of the door.

“Mr. Brooke, maybe I have not made myself fully clear. What I am asking is for my granddaughter, not myself. But it is very, very important to me. Much more important than any of the things we have discussed in the past. If you know what is good for your business, then I urge you to reconsider.” He grasped Jay by the forearm and stared him straight in the eyes, his lips quivering and nostrils flaring with ill-concealed rage. “I will give you twenty-four hours to reflect. Tomorrow I expect you to come back to me with the right decision. If you do not, then it is you who will be responsible for the consequences.” He gave one final withering stare and moved away from the door, bidding Jay a loud and disingenuous ‘arrivederci.’

As the recently anointed marketing maestro stepped out into the Tuscan breeze, Jay felt renewed and free, the freedom of a man whose execution has been rearranged for a later date.

As he wandered back to reception, a welcome figure turned the corner of the old stone villa, the gold of the brick glowing against her skin like honey.

“The guest list, Signor Jay,” Gina reminded him. “I thought perhaps we could review it here.”

“Sure, Gina, let me take up a seat.” He pulled up wooden chairs for both of them.

“I think, Signor, this is not a good time? Perhaps your mind is still on the meeting with Signor Mancini?” she asked, her face full of interest and compassion.

“Yes,” he admitted, “but what better way to take my mind off it than sitting here with you. And going through the guest list, of course.” He gave her one of his broadest smiles, and moved his chair around to her side of the table. Today he would live like a free man. “Gina, the dinner you mentioned, is that offer still available?” he asked, his hand inches from hers.

“But of course, Signor Jay, but I thought perhaps you were too busy?”

“Hmm, yes, I do have a lot going on, and I need to get back to England later this week. And next week is going to be very difficult too,” he remembered aloud as he ran his fingers through his hair.

He looked into her dark brown eyes, looking back at him so familiarly, so openly, so ready to give him everything that they could have been Lucy’s. An idea struck him like lightning and lit up his whole countenance. “But it so happens, Gina, if it is not too short notice, I have no commitments this evening. And I can think of nothing better than dinner with a stunning young lady. Will this evening work for you?”

She nodded automatically and he covered her smooth, tapered fingers with his hand, his wedding ring cool against her warm skin.Twenty-six

The phone call that Isobel received over dinner in Lucca was neither a declaration of love nor a frank admission of sexual desire; it was a short and business-like message. Jay informed her warmly but otherwise without emotion that a decision might have been made on the Visconti suite, and issued a polite invitation that she come to Castello di Capadelli to find out.

The conflicting possibilities of secrecy or rejection battled in her mind, trampling across her brain and marauding through her heart. Maria’s judgement favoured secrecy, convinced that he was simply exercising caution, and it was with her forceful urgency that Isobel was driven to Castello di Capadelli.

A smiling Gina met them at reception, her eyes jet black with birdlike limpidity. “Good afternoon, Signora Roberts, Signor Brooke has asked me to greet you and to show your friend around if she wishes it,” she acknowledged Maria with a quick and unyielding smile, “as he is currently with a client.”

“I think a long cool drink is what I need right now,” said Maria, determined to meet the mysterious Jay and see for herself the chemistry between him and her friend.

“As you wish, Signora.”

They followed her to the wine bar in the inner courtyard as she led them to a table spotlighted by the sun and called for some sparkling water, bidding them goodbye as the bottles arrived with a smiling waiter.

“Just one thing, Gina,” said Isobel, as the girl turned away. “Maria and I would like to go horse riding tomorrow afternoon. Is that something you can arrange for us?”

Gina twirled back to meet her gaze.

“Yes, I think I can arrange that, Signora. Is there anything special you need?”

“Maria is able to lend me everything, except the riding boots. Would it be possible for you to find a pair for me, size thirtynine?”

Gina nodded in acquiescence. “That, Signora, is also my size. If you are happy to use my boots, it will be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, Gina, you are very kind.” The girl smiled and walked away, her movement poised and delicate.

The two friends basked in the sun and the silence as her footsteps faded, Isobel closing her eyes like a cat whilst Maria looked around in interest at the place that had captured so sensible a heart.

“Do you like it then?” Isobel asked, her eyes still shut, her eyelids faint blue in the sunlight.

“I can see why you like it,” Maria said, wrinkling her perfect skislope nose. “The views are stunning, the staff are obliging, and the whole place glows with money.”

“B-u-u-t?” said Isobel, opening one eye in cheeky acknowledgement of Maria’s notoriously candid opinions.

“But,” Maria grinned, “it’s not quite the same as having your own place. For me and for Angelo, we like to swim and to lie naked by the pool. They probably have a rule here against that sort of thing.”

“Splashing in the pool naked is not quite mine and Peter’s thing,” she replied with a laugh. “The last time we were in a spa we were the only people wearing anything. It was in Austria and someone asked Peter to close the door to the sauna when we went in. The woman spoke English in a German accent, and Peter couldn’t understand how she knew our nationality.”

Maria snorted with laughter. “Well, let’s just hope your new friend doesn’t want to do things with the lights on. Have you thought about that, Isobel? And talking of new friends, is that hunk coming towards us Jay?”

It was, and he strode across the courtyard like a king, tall and magnificent, imbued with strength by his kingdom. Isobel stood to greet him, filled with a sense of pride at his powerful presence, and introduced Maria who, with typical disregard for inhibition, launched into conversation.

“An interesting spot you have here, a hideaway on top of the hill,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you. Yes, it was quite a find,” he said, turning to Isobel, seemingly to escape Maria’s eyes. “Isobel mentioned she is staying with you in Lucca?”

“Just outside Lucca, a converted farmhouse. We love it there,” said Maria.

“So how much time are you able to spend here?” he asked.

“As much as I can, at least in the summer, it depends of course on when my boyfriend can join me.”

Jay nodded, his eyes resting on her wedding ring. Her openness did not surprise him; everything in her manner seemed an infidelity. Seeing Isobel next to her, innocent and contained, made him doubt everything he had supposed.

“And I hope that we will be seeing you here often, Isobel?” he asked, seeking answers in her face. “Everyone who met you yesterday was quite struck by you, particularly the Italians. It’s quite rare for our English clients to speak such fluent Italian and, Gina tells me, with almost no trace of an accent. You must have spent quite some time in Italy?”

She smiled, her face alight from the compliment. “Thank you, but I’m a little rusty. Though getting my Italian back up to speed is something I’m looking forward to.”

He agreed with enthusiasm, trying not to watch her with too much intensity.

“You said you might have an update from Andy Skinner?” she asked, unable to read him.

“Yes, I spoke with Andy again earlier. He isn’t quite decided I’m afraid; he has to talk things over with his wife Kate. But I should be able to let you know in the next few days.” He crinkled his eyes in apology and changed the subject, turning the conversation to their plans for the next few days.

“Tomorrow we thought it might be nice to spend a couple of hours in the morning by the sea. And then maybe to come horse riding here,” said Isobel, buoyed by his interest.

“Yes, Gina told me about your visit to the paddock yesterday. Do you think you might use the local facility? Gina says the old boy there took quite a shine to you.” He looked at her as if waiting for a reason to like her more.

“I don’t know about that, I think he was just a very sweet man. But, yes, we hope we can go back there. Gina is seeing what she can sort out for us.” Her words trailed off, she was unsure what else to say and happy to end the subject, which she thought was probably a boring one for a man with so much.

Maria, however, was unrelenting in her curiosity.

“Is horse-riding something you have done much of, Jay?”

“The last time I was on a horse was on a beach in Thailand. It was quite a few years ago. I thought I did ok...” He ruffled his hair in thought.

“Well, perhaps you can join us tomorrow. Isobel is an excellent horsewoman, much more experienced than me, so I am sure you will be in safe hands.”

Jay murmured in thought before replying. “That sounds fun, and tomorrow I have a quiet day. But I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

“But that is exactly what I need tomorrow,” Maria exclaimed, “someone to slow Isobel down, so she doesn’t race ahead as if she is at Aintree. I think it’s a super idea, if you are able to join us.”

“And you promise you won’t laugh when I make a fool of myself?”

“Of course we will, that is half the fun of having you along,” said Maria, as Isobel looked on in awe.

“I would hate to disappoint you,” he said with a grin. His laugh was deep and genuine as he pledged his agreement and he watched Maria in admiration as the two women walked back to the car.

“Maria, that was somewhat forward of you, don’t you think?” whispered Isobel as they walked away.

“Maybe yes, but once you mentioned horse-riding, I think your man Jay was playing for the invitation to join us.”

Isobel nodded in defeat. “Well, I suppose I’d better stop at reception and let Gina know we need three horses now.”

Maria held her gaze for a split second, the knowledge of all womankind behind her eyes.