sank into a chair.
‘Shall we order?’
‘You were able to sort everything out with the bridal boutique?’
It was easier to agree. Afterwards she could go into detail, but right now, here, she didn’t want Teresa to launch into a long diatribe. ‘Yes.’
‘Bene.’ Her mother paused sufficiently long for the waiter to take their order. ‘You managed to collect everything?’
‘Except shoes, and I’m sure I’ll find something I like in one of the shops here.’ Double Bay held a number of exclusive shops and boutiques. ‘I’ll have a look when we’ve finished lunch.’
It was almost two when they emerged onto the pavement, and Aysha left both women to complete their shopping while she tended to the last few items on her list.
A rueful smile played at the edges of her mouth. In a little over a weeek all the planning, the shopping, the organising... it would all be over. Life could begin to return to normal. She’d be Aysha Santangelo, mistress of her own home, with a husband’s needs to care for.
Just thinking about those needs was enough to send warmth coursing through her veins, and put wickedly sensuous thoughts in her head.
During the next two hours she added to the number of carry-bags filling the boot of her car. The envelope Nina had slid into one of them drew her attention, and she pulled it free, examined it, then, curious as to its contents, she undid the flap.
Not papers, she discovered. Photographs. Several of them. She looked at the first, and saw a man and a woman embracing in the foyer of a hotel.
Not any man. Carlo. And the woman was Nina.
Aysha’s insides twisted and began to churn as she put it aside and looked at the next one, depicting the exterior and name of a Melbourne hotel, the one where Carlo had stayed three weeks ago when he’d been there for a few days on business. Supposedly business, for the following shot showed Carlo and Nina entering a lift together.
Aysha’s fingers shook as she kept flipping the photographs over, one by one. Nina and Carlo pausing outside a numbered door. About to embrace. Kissing.
The evidence was clear enough. Carlo was having an affair... with Nina.
Her legs suddenly felt boneless, and her limbs began to shake. How dared he abuse her trust, her love... everything she’d entrusted in him?
If he thought she’d condone a mistress, he had another think coming!
Anger rose like newly ignited flame, and she thrust the photographs back into the envelope, closed the boot, then slid in behind the wheel of her car.
There were many ways to hurt someone, but betrayal was right up there. She wanted to march into his office and instigate a confrontation. Now.
Except she knew she’d yell, and say things it would be preferable for no one else to overhear.
Wait, an inner voice cautioned as she negotiated peak hour traffic travelling the main east suburban road leading towards Vaucluse.
The car in front braked suddenly, and only a split-second reaction saved her from running into the back of it.
All her fine anger erupted in a stream of language that was both graphic and unladylike. Horns blared in rapid succession, car doors slammed, and there were voices raised in conflict.
Traffic banked up behind her, and it was ten minutes before she could ease her car forward and slowly clear an intersection clogged with police car, ambulance, tow-truck.
Consequently it was after five when she parked the car out front of her parents’ home, and she’d no sooner entered the house than Teresa called her into the kitchen.
‘I’ll be there in a few minutes,’ Aysha responded. ‘After I’ve taken everything up to my room.’
A momentary stay of execution, she reflected as she made her way up the curved staircase. The carry-bags could be unpacked later. The photographs were private, very private, and she tucked them beneath her pillow.
She took a few minutes to freshen up, then she retraced her steps to the foyer. The kitchen was redolent with the smell of herbs and garlic, and a small saucepan held simmering contents on the ceramic hotplate.
Teresa stood, spoon in hand, as she added a little wine, a little water, before turning to face her daughter.
‘You didn’t tell me what happened at the bridal boutique.’
Aysha relayed the details, then waited for her mother’s anticipated reaction. She wasn’t disappointed.
‘Why weren’t they couriered out? Why weren’t we told before this there might be a problem? I’ll never use that boutique again!’
‘You won’t have to,’ Aysha said drily. ‘Believe me, I’ve no intention of doing a repeat performance in this lifetime.’
‘We should have used someone else.’
‘As most of the bridal boutiques get all their supplies from the same source, I doubt it would have made a difference.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Teresa responded sharply. ‘I should have dealt with it myself. Can’t they get anything right? Now we learn the wedding lingerie doesn’t match.’
‘I’m sure Carlo won’t even notice.’
Teresa gave her a look which spoke volumes. ‘It doesn’t matter whether he notices or not. You’ll know. I’ll know. And so will everyone else when you lift your dress and he removes the garter.’ The volume of her voice increased. ‘We spent hours selecting each individual item. Now nothing matches.’
‘Mother.’ Mother was bad. Its use forewarned of frazzled nerves, and a temper stretched close to breaking point. ‘Calm down.’ One look at Teresa’s face was sufficient to tell a verbal explosion was imminent, and she took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘I’m just as disappointed as you are, but we have to be practical.’ Assertiveness probably wasn’t a good option at this precise moment. ‘I’ve already chosen something I’m happy with and they’ve guaranteed delivery within days.’
‘I’ll check it out in the morning.’
‘There’s no need to do that.’
‘Of course there is, Aysha.’ Teresa was adamant. ‘We’ve put a great deal of business their way.’
If she stayed another minute, she’d spit the dummy and they’d have a full-scale row. ‘I haven’t got time to discuss it now. I have to shower and change, and meet Carlo in less than an hour.’
It was a cop-out, albeit a diplomatic one, she decided as she quickly ascended the stairs. Differences of opinion were one thing. All-out war was another. Teresa was Teresa, and she was unlikely to change.
Damn Nina and her Mission. She was a bitch of the first order. Desperate, and dangerous.
The worst kind, Aysha determined viciously as she stripped off her clothes and stepped
