Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [120]
“I see,” replied India. So then it hadn’t been Fabrizio’s idea to send her here, it had been Marisa’s method of getting her out of the way!
“Well, then.” She gathered her papers together briskly. “That’s basically what I have in mind. If you have the time, we can go through everything in more detail this afternoon.”
Aldo wondered what he could have said to turn off her enthusiasm. They walked together toward their parked cars.
“I shall be back around four,” he said, “if that’s convenient for you.”
Damn, thought India, why did his eyes smile so nicely? Aldo wasn’t handsome in the way Fabrizio was, but close to her in his shirt-sleeves under the early summer sunshine, she felt the same attraction she had when she had met him at that party. India pulled herself together. She wasn’t going to be turned on by Aldo’s romantic brown eyes; she’d had enough of romantic Italians! “Fine. I’ll see you then.”
“Thanks for the drink.” He waved as she backed up her car. “I’ll see you at four.” He grinned as he watched her drive off. India Haven’s American energy would turn a few Montefiores in their graves, but this Montefiore was certainly going to enjoy it.
Marisa watched Fabrizio playing with the children. Five-year-old Giorgio, dressed in bright yellow pajamas and his favorite cowboy boots, from which he refused to be parted until after he’d fallen asleep, clambered up the elaborate red tubular frame Fabrizio had designed for him and swung by his hands from the topmost rung. He had Marisa’s long slender face and Fabrizio’s blue eyes and a devilish sense of humor that made them both laugh. Fabiola at six was a chubby-cheeked feminine replica of Fabrizio, the same curling blond hair and Florentine nose, and a more solemn personality. Fabiola was a cuddler; if there was a lap free she’d climb onto it, if there was an arm doing nothing, she’d snuggle into it. She leaned against Fabrizio now, hugging his knees with her plump little arms. It was the perfect family scene, thought Marisa, and maybe the perfect moment to suggest her next move.
She still couldn’t decide whether it had been annoying or satisfying that Mario Tomasetti had found nothing incriminating in the movements of India and Fabrizio. He’d had them both followed for two weeks and had presented her with a typed report detailing their exact movements in every twenty-four-hour period. They had been in the office together but of course nothing could go on there, it was too busy, too many people coming and going. There had been no long intimate lunches together—in fact no lunches together at all, not even a drink or a cup of coffee. India seemed to live a very quiet life; she’d eaten alone most evenings in a trattoria near her apartment and then gone straight home. She hadn’t emerged again until the next day. Fabrizio had been out a good deal in the evenings, but that was quite usual—he often attended receptions and dinners without her when it was for business, and these were no exception. Most evenings he’d managed to get home to play with the children before they went to bed—just as he was now.
Marisa sighed in exasperation. She didn’t want to believe that her husband was unfaithful to her—especially with India Haven—but since Renata had put the idea in her mind, and despite Tomasetti’s innocent report, she had a sneaking suspicion that he was unfaithful. That was why she had decided to suggest—more than suggest, to state—that it would be a good idea if Fabrizio offered India the job at the Palazzo di Montefiore. She had been quite surprised, though, when Fabrizio had agreed so readily to her suggestion; in fact, he had seemed almost happy about it. It was all very strange. India had been gone almost two months