you were.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It was obvious from your apartment and your clothes that you earned good money, but I took it you were in some management job at the hotel. I had no idea that you owned it.’
‘I do not own it. The hotel belongs to the Forli Group, of which I am a part because I am family,’ he said, with the air of one explaining to a child. ‘I am in charge in Venice now because my father has retired.’ He threw out his expressive hands. ‘What difference does this make?’
‘Quite a lot to me. You live among the pillars and frescoes of the Palazzo Forli or in your smart San Marco apartment overlooking the Grand Canal.’ She waved a hand at the small, crowded room. ‘I live here, or in my tiny flat in London.’
‘So? I do not understand the problem.’
Her chin went up. ‘It’s not a problem any more. When we parted that last night I was moonstruck enough to think that a relationship of some kind was possible. But now I know the facts it’s out of the question. You lied to me, Domenico.’
He sighed impatiently. ‘I did not lie, exactly. It was so good to be with someone who seemed to like me for myself, I did not tell you—’
‘That’s not the lie I’m talking about. You said there was no woman in your life, yet according to Fen’s sister, Jess Forli, there is.’ Laura’s eyes stabbed his accusingly. ‘Admit it, Domenico, you said all that nonsense about falling in love just to get me into bed. And like a fool I fell for it.’
The translucent eyes narrowed to glittering shards of ice. ‘There is no other woman in my life. And I did not lie about my feelings for you.’ He got slowly to his feet and picked up his jacket, controlled fury in every move. ‘But if you can believe such things of me you are right, Laura. There is no possibility of a relationship between us.’
‘So why did you come here today?’
He smiled scornfully. ‘Do not imagine it was to discuss this boring subject of relationships. My visit is courtesy only, because you are injured.’
‘How very kind of you,’ she managed, when she could trust her voice.
He put on his jacket, suddenly a remote, elegant stranger. ‘Allora, I must go back to the Dysart home to wish the bride and groom well before they leave for their honeymoon.’
Laura led the way into the hall to open the front door. ‘Goodbye, then. Thank you for taking time to visit me.’
‘Prego,’ he said, shrugging.
‘Wait—I almost forgot. I have something for you.’ She went back into the sitting room to search in her handbag, then returned to him, holding out an envelope.
Domenico opened it, his face stony as he saw money. ‘Grazie,’ he said savagely, and thrust the envelope in his pocket. ‘Now you owe me nothing and you can be happy, yes? But tell me, Laura, if you had such harsh things to say, why did you not accuse me of these things at once and send me away?’
She smiled at him sweetly. ‘I was bored. Your company was better than none.’
His eyes glittered with outrage for an instant, then with a graceful, insolent bow he strode off through the rain to his hired car. An Italian model, Laura noted dully. Domenico liked to maintain his image at all times and in all places.
Chapter Eight
LAURA rescued the champagne flutes, washed them and put them away, emptied the leftover wine down the kitchen sink, took some rubber boots and an umbrella from the closet, then, knowing her mother wouldn’t be long, sat slumped at the table in a cagoule to wait. When she heard the car she limped down the path as fast as she could and managed to reach it just as Isabel switched off the ignition.
‘Mother, put these boots on and leave your shoes in the car with your hat,’ ordered Laura. ‘You take the umbrella; I’ve got my hood up.’
Isabel followed her into the kitchen soon afterwards and thrust the dripping umbrella into the sink. ‘Why did Domenico leave?’
‘To speed the bride and groom on their way.’
‘He could have stayed with you a lot longer. The happy couple are dancing the night away in the marquee with everyone else. Fenny won’t leave until the band does.’
‘Of course she won’t. They’re going back to Joe’s house tonight. The real travelling starts tomorrow.’ Laura smiled bleakly. ‘Domenico was just making an excuse to get away, Mother.’
‘From you?’
‘Right.’
‘You had a quarrel?’
‘Not exactly. I just cleared the air a bit.’
Isabel dispensed with the boots and sat down at the table, motioning Laura to do the same. ‘I like Domenico.’
‘He likes you, too.’
‘He was appalled when I told him what had happened to you.’
Laura glowered. ‘Even more so when he actually laid eyes on my face!’
‘Ah. I see,’ said Isabel, enlightened.
‘I was dozing in the garden, and he woke me up. But the Prince lost the plot. He stared at Sleeping Beauty in horror instead of kissing her awake.’ Laura shrugged. ‘Only for a split second, but long enough.’
Her mother sighed. ‘So you sent him packing?’
‘Not right away. He’d brought champagne to toast Fen and Joe, and I was tired of my own company by that time, so we sat in the garden until the rain started.’
‘What went wrong?’
‘I told him a relationship between us wasn’t possible due to the difference in our circumstances—’
‘What?’
Laura quailed at the look her mother gave her. ‘Well, it isn’t, is it?’ she said defensively. ‘You should see his apartment, not to mention the Forli Palace—’
‘Stop right there. I’ve never heard such rubbish!’ Isabel jumped up to fill the kettle. ‘It’s an insult to your father and me to say you’re not good enough for Domenico Chiesa—or any other man, for that matter.’
Laura stared at her mother in dismay. ‘I didn’t mean it like that!’
‘Then how did you mean it? This is the twenty-first century, Laura Green—do you want some tea?’
‘No, thanks.’
Isabel sat down at the table again, a relentless look in her eye. ‘Once you hit your teens you got this bee in your bonnet about charity. But I had no idea you felt inferior to people who possessed more in life than we do. Was that your reaction when Frances Dysart gave you generous presents for your birthday, or included you in outings with Fenny?’
