The American Contessa (6 page)

Luca
went quiet and looked away.
 
Of course,
she was right to be furious, but no-one had ever criticized him over of his
behaviour. Not to his face anyway.
  
This
woman provoked feelings in him like no other.
 
Why was it so vital that he make her forgive him his
transgressions?
 

Taking
a steadying breath, all he knew was he needed to placate her any which way that
worked.
 
“Please Gaby.
 
Forgive me.
 
I acted stupidly.”

Gaby
held her hand, palm up at him. “Don’t bother apologizing, because quite
frankly, it’s just not convincing.”

“You
don’t believe that I’m sorry?” he frowned at her.

“No
I don’t,” she answered frostily.

Luca
didn’t know what to say.
 
He could usually
get around most women, but this one was different.
 
She was not affected by him at all.
  
In fact, he had the horrible feeling she
didn’t like him.
 
He could tell, she was,
for a moment or two, attracted to him.
 
But
she didn’t like him.
 
Why was that so
surprising? Was he even likeable?
 
If not
for the title or the money, he probably wouldn’t have a friend in the world.
 
Hell, if truth be known, he didn’t even like
himself.
 

He
sighed loudly.
 
“Carmina asked me to bring
you to the restaurant.
 
I won’t stay for
dinner if that makes you feel better,” he stated seriously.
 

Gaby
didn’t answer.

“I
promise to take you straight there.
 
No
speeding, no talking, if that’s what you want?” he said grumpily.
 
His ire was rising.

Gaby
frowned. She imagined that the silent treatment was not popular in Italy.
 
When people got mad they waved their arms around,
yelled and showed it in no uncertain terms.
 

“So,
are you coming with me or not?” he snapped. She may not like him, but he
wouldn’t accept being ignored.

“Not,”
Gaby replied formally.
 

Luca
grimaced. “Why do you dislike me so?” he whispered, almost to himself.

She
looked away from the pain that showed so clearly in his eyes.
 
Why did she want to punish this man so
badly?
 
He was trying to apologize to
her, but she didn’t want to hear it.
 
Was
it because he’d hurt her feelings at the party?
 
Was that reason enough?
 
It seemed
to run a little deeper than that.
 

Gaby
had the sneaking suspicion that if she let herself be vulnerable to Count Luca
Manetti, she could find herself in big emotional trouble.
 
It was crucial to keep him at arm’s
length.
 
It was lucky that he had the
natural tendency to annoy her.

“Please
Gaby.
 
Please come to dinner?”
Odio,
did she want him to beg?

Gaby
steeled herself.
 
“I must say Count
Manetti, I’m surprised that you would want to be in the same restaurant, let
alone at the same table as a classless, tasteless, social climbing American
such as myself.
 
Maybe
your
taste is slipping.”

Recognising
his own words thrown back at him, Luca’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes,”
she said slowly.
 
“I understand
Italian.
 
And I heard exactly what you
think about Americans and… what you think about …me.”
 
Her voice faded away.

The
urge to reach out to her was immense.
 
The fact that he actually cared what she thought of him was
mystifying.
 
He’d hurt her, and he
cared.
 
And he had no idea how to handle
a situation such as this.
 
This hunger
for her was something that would not be easily sated but it had nothing to do
with caring.
 
He wanted her, badly.
 
But he didn’t want to want her.
 

She
was an American.
 
And he didn’t like or
trust Americans.
 
Didn’t she conceal the
fact that she’d heard his comments, only to now use them as a weapon against
him?
 
An Italian woman would have
confronted him at the party.
 
And he
probably would have received a smack upside the head for his insults!
 

No.
 
As much as he wanted her, he had to keep his
distance.
  
She would leave Italy shortly
and things would get back to normal.
 
His
libido included.
 
In the meantime,
keeping up her distaste for him was imperative.
 
If she softened towards him, he wouldn’t be able to resist her.

He
exhaled indignantly. “Do you make it a habit of eavesdropping at parties?” he
callously retorted.
 

Gaby
gasped loudly.
 
“What else would you
expect from a tacky American?” she declared furiously.

Luca
smirked at her.
 
“Very little.
 
I expect very little.
 
Except for the obvious of course.”
 
His eyes raked over her body with contempt.

Gaby
looked to the ground and could feel the tears stinging the back of her
eyes.
 
She choked it back. She couldn’t let
it deter her from saying her piece.
 
He’d
had this coming since the moment she’d encountered him at the party.
 
Reigning in her distress and antagonism, she
spoke calmly and quietly. “I feel truly sorry for you Count Manetti.
 
For all intents and purposes you possess
everything most women are looking for in a man.
 
Power.
 
Wealth.
 
Good looks.
 
Most women would think you lack nothing.
 
But I’m not most women.
 
You said at the party you weren’t
desperate.
 
Well, neither am I.”

“Really?”
 
He smiled insolently, crossing his arms over
his chest.
 
“If you’re so discerning, how
do you explain your relationship with Whittaker?
 
He’s hardly brimming with character.”
 

Gaby
raised her chin at him.
 
“Easy.
 
There is no relationship,” she continued,
hands on hips. “Your party was my first and last date with him.
 
David Whittaker is a complete jerk.”

Luca
chuckled.

“Oh,
you find that funny Count Manetti?” she smiled.
 
“I’ll have you know that America doesn’t hold the monopoly on
jerks.
 
In fact, there are some rather
fine specimens here in Italy!”

Luca
glared, his hands fisting at his sides.
 
The smile dropped from his face.
 
“You’re likening me to that … that …. Whittaker!”

“If
the shoe fits, or should I say, if the Gucci shoe fits,” she threw back.

Gaby
turned and crossed the street, eager to leave him in the dust.
 
She’d busted him, good and proper!
 
And the look on his face when he’d found out
she understood Italian was more than retribution.
 
It was a frigging Kodak moment!
 

Walking
quickly away, her anger cooled after a few blocks and she took in her
surroundings.
 
The architecture of
Florence was so beautiful that Gaby marvelled at the local inhabitants, gaily
filling the streets with laughter, seemingly oblivious to the history
encircling them.
 
The teacher in Gaby was
enthralled as she read the dates above antique wooden doors that led to the
courtyards of, what were now, apartment buildings.
 

The
night was warm and Gaby decided to walk back to the hotel.
 
Passing outdoor bars and restaurants, she was
aware of the amorous glances and catcalls from the male patrons.
 
The Count’s words came back to haunt her.
“Pretty enough,” he’d said.
 
Maybe in his
world of rail-thin supermodels and debutantes she wasn’t considered an alluring
woman.
  
But walking down the cobblestone
street tonight she felt like Monica Belluci and Claudia Cardinale rolled into
one.
  
She felt confident and sexy.
 
Who needed the approval of some conceited,
emotionally immature nobleman to make a girl feel fabulous?
 
Not her.

She
hoped Carmina wouldn’t be too upset with her not showing up for dinner. If only
she’d brought her cell phone with her.
 
But she’d left her hotel room in such a panic when confronted by Count
tall, dark and arrogant, that it completely slipped her mind.
 
As it was, they were meeting for coffee
tomorrow morning anyway, so she’d make her apologies then.
 
She wondered if Luca would inform his sister
of what happened or just tell her some lie or another.
 

 
By nine o’clock Gaby had started to rethink
her foolish endeavour to walk back.
 
Luca
had certainly covered some ground when speeding through the streets.
 
Her feet hurt.
 
She was hardly wearing the appropriate shoes
for walking.
 
Hobbling along she waved
madly at the next taxi she saw. She bet Monica Belluci’s feet never hurt!

The
taxi took no time at all getting back to her hotel.
 
She was exhausted.
 
Emotionally and physically.
 
The elevator door chimed its arrival at her
floor and Gaby sighed in relief.
 
A nice
long soak in her room’s humungous bath tub was definitely in order.
 
Digging around in her handbag for her key,
she walked down the hallway towards her room, anxiously wanting to get inside
and take off her shoes.

A
familiar figure stood leaning against her door.
 
His jacket and tie were off and his hair looked like he’d spent the last
hour or so raking his hand through it.

Gaby
stopped in her tracks midway down the corridor.
 
She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to go another round with the infuriating
Luca Manetti.
 

As
she cautiously approached, he smiled guiltily at her.
 
For some reason, it thoroughly annoyed her that
he thought he could weasel himself so easily out of any situation; with a smile
or a compliment.
 

Using
her best schoolmarm voice, Gaby admonished him. “If you don’t mind Count
Manetti, it’s late and I’ve had rather a trying night.
 
So I’m asking you nicely.
 
Leave.”

He
didn’t move or answer her.
 
Gaby
continued down the hall and stood before him. Sighing, she tried again.
 
“You’re blocking my door.
 
Please.
 
Go.
 
Home.”

His
smile fell and his dark brown eyes searched hers intently.
   
The look in his gaze was that of a wounded,
unloved animal and cut Gaby to the core.
 
It wasn’t possible to fake a look like that.
 
He was clearly remorseful over his behaviour
that evening.
 
Would he still be
regretful in the light of day?
 
Well, the
jury was still out on that, as far as Gaby was concerned.

“What
do you want?” she whispered.

Luca
raised his hand as if about to caress her cheek.
 
“Gaby, I want…. I want…,”

Gaby
stepped back from his reach.
 
“Yeah.
Okay.
 
I get it.
 
I know what you want,” she said, rolling her
eyes.
 
He’d spoken with such undisguised
longing she had to put a stop to this, if only for her own sanity.
 
So much for keeping her guard up.
 
Her guard was not just sleeping on duty, but
had possibly gone AWOL.

She
tried another tactic.
 
“Look Luca, I’m
only going to be in Italy for a short time, so I think its best that we spend
as little of that time in each other’s company.”

“You’re
right,” he nodded, finally finding his voice.
 

“I’m
glad you agree,” Gaby said quietly, a little disappointed that he’d so readily
concurred.
 

“I
called Carmina.
 
She cancelled the
restaurant reservation.”

“Okay
… thanks,” she scowled at him.

Luca
looked away and bit his lip.
  
“I just
wanted to make sure you got back safely,” he said softly.
  
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he
silently walked away towards the elevator.