Sweet Seduction (11 page)

‘Your first job of the day is to take us to St Mark’s, the back way.’

‘Your wish is my command.’

Antonio guided her though a series of lanes and alleys so small they couldn’t walk side by side.

‘I can’t believe there aren’t any people in these lanes, and yet a few streets over you can hardly move for the throng,’ Sienna said.

‘Being a local has its advantages.’

A few minutes later they emerged in the famous square. Crowds of tourists moved slowly, cameras at the ready. The queue to enter St Mark’s cathedral looked long and ragged.

‘I hope you’re not planning to take me in there,’ he said, pointing to the line of people stretching across the square.

‘Yes, but we’re taking the fast lane,’ she said.

‘Really?’

Sienna walked Antonio around to the side of the building where an official sat at a small side entrance.

‘Moretti,’ she said to the guard, who immediately opened the door and ushered them quickly inside.

‘How’d you pull that little stunt?’ Antonio asked as they entered the gloom of the ancient building.

She pulled a credit card from her wallet. ‘This and the Moretti name seems to open many doors,’ she said with a wicked smile.

‘I quite like this side of your personality,’ he said, dark eyes glittering with amusement.

‘Many a time I’ve worked the concierge’s desk at the Plaza,’ she said. ‘I’m used to giving clients what they want.’

He backed her up against a marble pillar and put his hands on the stone on either side of her face. ‘I’m not a client,’ he whispered, his face so close she was sure he would feel the heat raising in her cheeks.

Perhaps not, but I’m certainly an employee.
The thought slid from her mind as he touched his lips to her forehead, the tip of her nose and lightly to her lips.

‘Ahem.’

They turned to see a young priest looking decidedly unhappy.

‘Sorry, Father,’ Antonio said and they walked, giggling conspiratorially, further into the cathedral.

Antonio swung his arm over her shoulder. ‘This was a good idea.’ His voice held a lightness she’d never heard before.

This is going to be a great day.

The morning’s sightseeing raced by and all too soon the midday sun warmed Sienna’s skin. She’d taken Antonio to her favourite buildings and he’d seemed genuinely interested in her observations about design, and surprised at her knowledge of the history of each.

‘Is lunch included on this itinerary?’ Antonio asked.

‘Patience, patience,’ Sienna said, looking about. ‘I think I’m lost.’

‘Where to?’ he asked, taking her arm and hooking it through his own.

‘The San Martino.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Why? The original building was built in the sixteenth century and has the most incredible moulded ceiling.’

‘Yes, but it is owned by Marcella’s father.’

‘Ah.’ The thought of that nasty woman killed her appetite. ‘I’d better ring and cancel the booking.’

Antonio flicked open his phone, pressed speed dial, gave short instructions and snapped the phone shut. ‘Done,’ he said. ‘Now, let me take you to my favourite haunt.’

‘That sounds interesting,’ she said.

They walked through myriad tiny alleys. If Antonio left her now, she’d have absolutely no idea where she was. He led her into a small shop. As soon as he opened the door, the most incredible smell assailed her senses – the delicious aromas of garlic, coffee and fresh bread mingled and made her mouth water. Huge hams and salamis hung high over the counter and a display cabinet bulged with cheeses, olives and every kind of antipasto.

Antonio led her down a tight hallway and out into the brilliant sunshine. A gorgeous marble terrace perched just a few inches above a canal. Red checked tablecloths covered the tables. Two old men sat in one corner playing backgammon and sipping espresso. A couple of other tables were occupied. Sienna noticed immediately the absence of tourists.

‘Local haunt?’ she asked.

‘One of our best-kept secrets,’ he said. ‘The Gazolini family has run a restaurant here for one hundred years. Some of the wines in the cellar are as old too.’

‘No way.’

‘So the rumour goes.’

A small, stooped man led them to a table by the canal. The water lapped gently, centimetres from her feet. Antonio ordered wine and a plate of antipasto.

‘So,’ she said, looking for a menu. ‘Did you enjoy the tour?’

‘I certainly know more about Venetian architecture now than I’ll ever need to know.’

She slapped his hand playfully. ‘But did you enjoy it?’ she asked.

He took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. ‘Best day I’ve had in a long time.’ His eyes were so very dark, so very magnetic. She took a steadying breath, slipped her hand from his and looked at the menu. No wonder women fell at his feet. She needed to be careful or she risked losing her head.

‘Perhaps this time you’d let me order,’ he said.

She hesitated, then closed the menu. ‘Okay.’ Funny, this time she didn’t mind at all.

‘So which was your favourite building?’ she asked after the waiter left them alone.

‘Ca’ Rezzonico,’ he said. ‘White marble –
perfetto
.’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed you have a penchant for marble,’ she said.

‘Which did you like?’

‘There’s a building around the corner from your hotel. The doors are half rotten and it’s obviously empty.’ She picked up her water and sipped. ‘It’s probably abandoned. Each day, I’ve sat and looked at that ancient building, all sad and lonely. It needs love and attention.’ She looked out at the canal, blinking hard. Saying the words aloud produced a sense of longing in her heart. She realised she’d been describing herself.

Fortunately the waiter arrived and poured the wine.

‘You have a real eye for design,’ Antonio said when the waiter had taken his leave. ‘Perhaps you could come and visit my other hotels while we’re married. I’m refurbishing Athens, Marrakesh and Moscow this year.’

Athens. Marrakesh. Moscow.
Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d have the opportunity to visit such places. ‘I’d love that,’ she breathed.

‘You really love architecture, don’t you?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said wistfully.
And you’re the only one who’s ever noticed.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and sunny and all too soon. Sienna had barely acclimatised to Europe’s charms and here she was being laced into a wedding dress.

‘My most beautiful creation yet,’ Mario breathed as he fussed with the veil. Tears glittered in the designer’s eyes.

Sienna stared at herself in the mirror. She’d been primped and preened since early that morning. She looked like a manicured stranger. Her wedding day and she didn’t have her mother to hug or her father to walk her down the aisle. Of course, her father didn’t know the truth behind the marriage. He’d been appalled when she’d told him about Antonio and the rushed plans for marriage. He’d refused to attend. But better to suffer his disappointment than lose the Plaza.

She looked away from the mirror before the tears welled in her eyes. She’d never felt more alone in her life. Since their sightseeing tour together, Sienna had barely seen Antonio. Each night during a quick dinner, he’d profess his regret that he had to work. She’d thought they’d really connected that day, but it’d obviously been in her head. If he wanted to spend time with her, he could.

A small knock sounded at the bedroom door.

‘Yes,’ Mario called irritably as he fiddled with the long cream train.

‘Carmela from housekeeping.’

‘Enter,’ Mario commanded.

Carmela walked into the room holding a small box. ‘May I have a moment alone with Signorina Sienna?’ she asked.

‘Can’t you see I’m busy,’ Mario snapped.

Carmela stood her ground. ‘Antonio insisted.’

Mario straightened. ‘Oh . . . well.’ He walked quickly from the room.

Carmela gazed at Sienna. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ Sienna said, but her voice broke.

Carmela drew her into a tentative hug. ‘You must be nervous, but you are marrying the most wonderful man.’ She stepped back, holding Sienna’s shoulders. ‘You know that,
si
?’

Did she?

Carmela reached into her pocket. ‘He asked me to give you this.’ She placed a box and a note into Sienna’s hands. She kissed Sienna on both cheeks and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Sienna sat on the bed and opened the box. Her hands flew to her mouth. Her mother’s engagement ring lay on the rich velvet. Its small but brilliant solitaire diamond flashed in the sunlight streaming through the window. How?

She tore open the envelope and stared at the note.

When I asked your father for your hand in marriage, it was clear he didn’t approve, but he said you’d always wanted to wear something that made you feel close to your mother. He gave me her engagement ring. See you at the altar. Antonio.

She wiped her eyes, her tears threatening to ruin her carefully applied make-up. She couldn’t believe it. Antonio, the man who’d do anything to get what he wanted, had actually taken a moment to think about her. She lifted the ring from the box and placed it on her finger. Now she could face anything. She stood and walked from the bedroom.

‘I’m ready,’ she announced.

Antonio shifted on the hard wooden pew. Rich organ music filled the packed cathedral. White flowers seemed to cover every flat surface. He glanced back over the crowd. Still no sign of his aunt and uncle, although he knew they’d agreed to attend.

‘It’s the accountant,’ Brad said quietly.

He turned back to his best man. ‘The embezzler?’

Brad nodded.

Antonio had presumed as much. Often the people closest to the money committed fraud. ‘How?’

‘He’s skimming in a complicated scam,’ Brad said. ‘It’s taken me a week to work it out.’

Antonio smiled. Whenever Antonio purchased a new hotel, Brad reviewed all aspects of its operations. He missed nothing.

‘I’ve detailed everything,’ Brad said, handing Antonio a two-page report. Antonio slipped the folded pages into his jacket pocket. ‘You should talk to Sienna about it.’

‘Soon,’ Antonio said dismissively. Sienna had enough to think about at the moment.

‘She’s a good operator, you know,’ Brad said. ‘Without the fraud, the Plaza would turn a respectable profit.’

‘Hmm.’

‘And,’ Brad took a breath. ‘She’s a good person.’

Antonio turned his eye on his most trusted advisor. ‘You don’t even know her.’

‘I’ve worked with her colleagues. You get to know a lot about a person that way.’

Antonio clapped Brad on the back. ‘That must make me a saint.’

‘Be gentle with her,’ Brad muttered, not meeting Antonio’s eyes.

‘Careful,’ Antonio said in a low voice. ‘There’s a line, my friend, and you’re coming very close.’

‘I know,’ Brad said, flashing a glance back to Antonio. ‘But this is no ordinary business arrangement.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’ Antonio turned again to survey the crowd. He spotted Venice’s mayor, nodded and smiled at a gaggle of movie stars but kept scanning for the most important people.

He saw his aunt and uncle sitting at the back of the church. ‘See?’ he said standing and buttoning up his jacket. ‘The plan’s working.’ He strolled down the aisle, smiling and greeting people as he went. He reached his aging relatives. The couple looked out of place in the sea of sophistication and fame.

‘Zia, Zio, why are you sitting here? Come,’ he said, beckoning them forward. ‘Your place is at the front.’

Neither moved or stood to greet him.

‘Thank you. We are fine back here,’ his uncle answered tightly. ‘It’s appropriate because that’s where you have placed us in your life.’

‘Sergio.’ His wife whispered a rebuke.

‘We are only here because our family honour requires it. We leave straight after the service.’ The man wouldn’t even look Antonio in the eye.

‘No,’ Antonio said firmly. ‘You’ve been given a place of honour at the reception. Your absence would be noticed.’

The couple looked at each other, trading thoughts with their eyes. He knew he had them. Sergio and Rosa Moretti would never bring dishonour to the Moretti name.

The soft background music stopped and the strains of Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons
began.

‘We’ll talk later,’ Antonio said. He bent and kissed his aunt’s cheeks. He offered his uncle his hand. Reluctantly the old man shook it, but he still wouldn’t meet Antonio’s eyes.

‘Today is all about family,’ Antonio said, hoping the words would help bring Sergio around.

‘One wedding will not erase the damage you’ve caused,’ Sergio said, his face a stony mask.

Rosa placed a hand on Sergio’s arm. ‘Please. It’s Antonio’s wedding day.’ she said. ‘We will support him.’

‘Thank you, Zia.’

Antonio walked to his place at the front of the church. Brad stood next to him and held out his hand.

‘I hope this marriage brings you everything you’re looking for,’ he said.

Antonio shook his hand. ‘Villa Paradiso, Brad. That’s all I want.’

The organ swelled and the cathedral door opened. Sienna stood shimmering in the morning sunlight. He sucked in a breath. All thoughts of hotels, fraud and difficult relatives vanished.

As she moved, Sienna could smell the subtle fragrance of incense and flowers. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the muted light of the ancient church. She gripped her bouquet a little tighter. The aisle looked very long, stretching through a sea of flowers and faces.

She lifted her gaze to the man standing at the end of that long flagstone nave. Antonio stood resplendent in his morning suit. Their eyes held. He smiled a killer smile. She stood a little taller and found it easy to put one foot in front of the other. The people faded as she passed them – her future husband seemed to be the only person in the church.

As she neared, he walked towards her and held out his hand. She took it. A bolt of sensual electricity passed between them, sending a delicious shuddering heat through her body.

‘How is it possible you grow more beautiful every time I see you?’ he whispered in her ear.