Latin Lovers. Helen BianchinЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER SIX

      AYSHA was hardly aware of the night, the flash of headlights from nearby vehicles, as she traversed the streets and negotiated the Harbour Bridge. She handled the car with the movements of an automaton, and it was something of a minor miracle she reached suburban Clontarf.

      Celestial guidance, she decided wryly as she activated the wrought-iron gates guarding. entrance to the architectural masterpiece Carlo had built

      Remote-controlled lights sprang on as she reached the garage doors, and she checked the alarm system before entering the house.

      It was so quiet, so still, and she crossed into the lounge to switch on the television, then cast a glance around the perfectly furnished room.

      Beautiful home, luxuriously appointed, every detail perfect, she reflected; except for the relationship of the man and woman who were to due to inhabit it.

      A weary sigh escaped her lips. Was she being foolish seeking a temporary escape? What, after all, was it going to achieve?

      Damn. Damn Nina and the seeds she’d deliberately planted.

      A slight shiver shook her slender frame, and she resolutely made her way to the linen closet. It was late, she was tired, and all she had to do was fetch fresh linen, make up the bed, and slip between the sheets.

      She looked at the array of linen in their neat piles, and her fingers hovered, then shifted to a nearby stack.

      Not the main bedroom. The bed was too large, and she couldn’t face the thought of sleeping in it alone.

      A guest bedroom? Heaven knew there were enough of them! She determinedly made her way towards the first of four, and within minutes she’d completed the task.

      In a bid to court sleep she opted for a leisurely warm shower. Towelled dry, she caught up a cotton nightshirt and slid into bed to lie staring into the darkness as her mind swayed every which way but loose.

      Carlo. Was he in bed, unable to sleep? Or had he opted to attend the ballet, after all?

      What if Nina was also there? The wretched woman would be in her element when she discovered Carlo alone. Oh, for heaven’s sake! Be sensible.

      Except she didn’t feel sensible. And sleep was never more distant.

      Perhaps she did fall into a fitful doze, although it seemed as if she’d been awake all night when dawn filtered through the drapes and gradually lightened the room.

      She lifted her left wrist and checked the time. A few minutes past six. There was no reason for her to rise this early, but she couldn’t just lie in bed.

      Aysha thrust aside the covers and padded barefoot to the kitchen. The refrigerator held a half-empty bottle of fruit juice, a partly eaten sandwich, and an apple.

      Not exactly required sustenance to jump-start the day, she decided wryly. So, she’d go shopping, stop off at a café for breakfast, then come back, change, and prepare to meet Teresa at ten. Meantime she’d try out the pool.

      It was almost seven when she emerged, and she blotted off the excess moisture, then wrapped the towel sarong-wise and re-entered the house.

      Within minutes the phone rang, and she reached for it automatically.

      ‘You slept well?’

      Aysha drew in a deep breath at the sound of that familiar voice. ‘Did you expect me not to?’

      There was a faint pause. ‘Don’t push it too far, cara,’ Carlo drawled in husky warning.

      ‘I’m trembling,’ she evinced sweetly.

      ‘So you should be.’ His voice tightened, and acquired a depth that sent goosebumps scudding over the surface of her skin.

      ‘Intimidation isn’t on my list.’

      ‘Nor is false accusation on mine.’

      With just the slightest lack of care, this could easily digress into something they both might regret.

      With considerable effort she banked down the anger, and aimed for politeness. ‘Is there a purpose to your call, other than to enquire if I got any sleep?’ She thought she managed quite well. ‘I have a host of things to do.’

      ‘Grazie.’

      She winced at the intended sarcasm. ‘Prego,’ she concluded graciously, and disconnected the phone.

      On reflection, it wasn’t the best of days, but nor was it the worst. Teresa was in fine form, and so consumed with her list of Things to Do, Aysha doubted her own preoccupation was even noticed. Which was just as well, for she couldn’t have borne the string of inevitable questions her mother would deem it necessary to ask.

      ‘You’re looking a little peaky, darling. You’re not coming down with something, are you?’

      ‘A headache, Mamma.’ It wasn’t too far from the truth.

      Teresa frowned with concern. ‘Take some tablets, and get some rest.’

      As if rest was the panacea for everything! ‘Carlo and I are attending the sculpture exhibition at the Gallery tonight.’

      ‘It’s just as well Carlo is whisking you away to the Coast for the weekend. The break will do you good.’

      Somehow Aysha doubted it.

      The Gallery held a diverse mix of invited guests, some of whom attended solely to be seen and hopefully make the social pages. Others came to admire, with a view to adding to their collection.

      Carlo and Aysha fell into a separate category. A close friend was one of the exhibiting artists and they wanted to add their support.

      ‘Ciao, bella,’ a male voice greeted, and Aysha turned to face the extraordinarily handsome young man who’d sent his personal invitation.

      ‘Bruno!’ She flung her arms wide and gave him an enthusiastic hug. ‘How are you?’

      ‘The better for seeing you.’ He lowered his head and bestowed a kiss to each cheek in turn. ‘Damn Carlo for snaring you first.’ He withdrew gently and looked deeply into those smoky grey eyes, then he turned towards Carlo and lifted one eyebrow in silent query. ‘Carlo, amici. Come stai?’

      Something passed between both men. Aysha glimpsed it, and sought to avert any swing in the territorial parameters by tucking one hand through Carlo’s arm.

      ‘Come show us your exhibits.’

      For the next half-hour they wandered the large room, pausing to examine and comment, or converse with a few of the fellow guests.

      Aysha moved towards a neighbouring exhibit as Carlo was temporarily waylaid by a business acquaintance.

      ‘Your lips curve wide with a generous smile, yet your eyes are sad,’ said Bruno. ‘Why?’

      The wedding is a week tomorrow.’ She gave a graceful shrug. ‘Teresa and I have been shopping together every day, and nearly every night Carlo and I have been out.’

      ‘Sad, cara,’ Bruno reiterated. ‘I didn’t say tired. If Carlo isn’t taking care of you, he will answer to me.’

      She summoned a wicked smile and her eyes sparkled with hidden laughter. ‘Swords at dawn? Or should that be pistols?’

      ‘I would take pleasure in breaking his nose.’