The Secret That Changed Everything. Lucy GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
sentences, words that floated into the distance, but all telling the tale of people who lived expensive lives.
‘You were on that cruise, weren’t you? Wasn’t it a gorgeous ship? Everything you wanted on demand…’
‘I knew I’d met you before… you were at the opening of that new…’
‘Look at her. If she’s not wearing the latest fashion she thinks…’
Leaning back, Charlotte observed the little gathering with eyes that saw everything. Two of the women were watching Lucio like lions studying prey, but they were in alliance. She could have sworn that one murmured to the other, ‘Me first’. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could read their expressions: watchful, confident that each would have their turn with him.
She could understand their desires. It wasn’t merely his striking looks and costly clothes, but his air of being in charge, directing his own life and that of others. This was a man who’d never known doubt or fear.
She envied him. It must be good to know so certainly who you were, what you were, how others saw you and where you belonged in the world, instead of being that saddest of creatures—a woman who drank alone.
As if to emphasise the point the seat beside her was occupied by a woman gazing devotedly at her male companion, who returned the compliment with interest, then slid an arm about her shoulders, drew her close and said fervently, ‘Let’s go now.’
‘Yes, let’s,’ she breathed. And they were gone.
At once the man in the alcove rose, excused himself to his companions and swiftly claimed the empty seat before anyone else could try.
‘Can I get you another drink?’ he asked Charlotte.
‘Well, just a small one. I should be leaving.’
‘Going somewhere special?’
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Nowhere special.’
After a moment he said, ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes.’
He grinned. ‘Perhaps you’d be better off with someone to protect you from clumsy guys like me.’
‘No need. I can protect myself.’
‘I see. No man necessary, eh?’
‘Absolutely.’
A voice called, ‘Hey, Lucio! Let’s get going!’
His companions in the alcove were preparing to leave, beckoning him towards the door.
‘Afraid I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting someone here in half an hour. It was nice to meet you.’
Reluctantly they bid him goodbye and drifted away. When the door was safely closed he breathed out in obvious relief.
‘Hey, your friends are crazy about you,’ she reproved him lightly. ‘You might at least return the compliment.’
‘They’re not my friends. I only know them casually, and two I never met before today.’
‘But you were dousing them with charm.’
‘Of course. I’m planning to make money out of them.’
‘Ah! Hence the charm!’
‘What else is charm for?’
‘So now you’re girding up for your next “victim” in half an hour.’
He gave a slow smile. ‘There’s no one coming. That was just to get rid of them.’
She looked down into her glass, lest her face reveal how much this pleased her. He would be a welcome companion for a little while.
He read her exactly, offering his hand and saying, ‘Lucio—’
His last name was drowned by a merry shout from further along the bar. She raised her voice to say, ‘Charlotte.’
‘Buona sera, Charlotte.’
‘Buona sera, Lucio.’
‘Are you really Italian?’ he asked, his head slightly to one side.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I can’t quite pinpoint your accent. Venice? No, I don’t think so. Milan? Hmm. Rome—Naples?’
‘Sicily?’ Charlotte teased.
‘No, not Sicily. You sound nothing like.’
‘You said that very quickly. You must know Sicily well.’
‘Fairly well. But we were talking about you. Where do you come from?’
His bright smile was like a visor behind which he’d retreated at the mention of Sicily. Though intrigued, she was too wise to pursue the matter just yet. Later would be more interesting.
‘I’m not Italian at all,’ she said. ‘I’m American.’
‘You’re kidding me!’
‘No, I’m not. I come from New York.’
‘And you speak my language like a native. I’m impressed.’ Someone squeezed by them, forcing them to draw back uncomfortably. ‘There’s no room for us here,’ he said, taking her arm and drawing her towards the door.
Several pairs of female eyes regarded her with frank envy. It was clear that the watching women had their own ideas about how the evening would end.
Well, you’re wrong, Charlotte thought, slightly irritated. He’s a nice guy and I’ll enjoy talking to him, but that’s all. Not everything has to end in amore, even in Italy. OK, so he’s suave, sophisticated, expensively dressed and fantastically good-looking, but I won’t hold that against him.
‘So why Italian?’ he asked as they began to stroll along the Via Vittorio Veneto.
‘I was always fascinated by foreign languages. I studied several at school, but somehow it was always Italian that stood out and attracted me more than the others. So I learned it through and through. It’s such a lovely language.’
‘And in the end you got a job here, probably working at the U.S. Embassy, just up the street.’
‘No, I don’t work here. I’m a translator in New York. I do Italian editions of books, sometimes universities hire me to look over old manuscripts. And I suddenly thought, it’s about time I actually saw the country and drank in what it’s really like. So I caught the next plane out.’
‘Literally?’
‘Well, it took a couple of days to make arrangements, but that’s all. Then I was free to go.’
‘No ties? Family?’
‘I’ve got parents, siblings, but nobody who can constrain my freedom.’
‘Freedom,’ he mused. ‘That’s what it’s really about, huh?’
‘One of the things. I’ve done some mad, stupid things in my life, and most of them have been about staying free.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘It’s practically my family nickname. Ellie’s the beautiful one, Alex is the lovable one and I’m the crazy one.’
‘That sounds fascinating. I’d really like to hear about your craziness.’
‘Well, there’s the time I set my heart on marrying this guy and my parents said no. We were only seventeen, which they thought was too young.’
He considered this with an air of seriousness that had a touch of humour. ‘They could have had a point.’
‘The way I saw it they were denying me my own way. Hell would freeze over before I admitted they could be right. So we eloped.’
‘You married at seventeen?’
‘No