Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [123]
“Paris told Stan that she was planning to take him to court and that she’d get back our mother’s money. She practically accused him of stealing it! She said she would never go out to dinner with him at some smart restaurant, paid for with Jenny’s money. Stan went out to dinner anyway. And he died, Aldo. Right there in Lasserre. Now Paris thinks that he was so upset by what she’d said that she killed him. She says she was responsible and she’ll never be able to sleep again. I don’t know what to do about her, Aldo. I’m afraid. Paris is so volatile, so unpredictable, she’s capable of … of anything….”
Aldo could guess what India meant by “anything”; she was afraid to put into words the possibility that her sister might kill herself.
“Paris shouldn’t be alone,” he said. “Is she with friends?”
“No. She’s at her studio. It’s really just a converted loft and she says now it’s full of bad memories.”
“India, why not invite her here? You know well enough that we’ve got plenty of rooms.”
India’s face lit up with pleasure and surprise. “Aldo, could I really do that?”
“Of course, I’d be delighted to have her here, and anyway, India …”
“Yes?”
“If she didn’t come here, then I know you would feel compelled to go to her. I prefer not to lose you … again.”
“To lose me?” The scent of jasmine was overwhelming in the dusky garden. Aldo bent closer to look into her dark eyes.
“I lost you once before. I’d only just met you and you ran away from me. I wouldn’t want that to happen twice.” Her mouth had been tempting him a dozen times and he couldn’t resist any longer. Aldo pulled her to him and kissed her, holding her close. India put her arms around his neck, lost in his kiss. She thought that the sweet sound was in her head until she realized it was the bell from the house, summoning them to dinner. She could feel a tremor run through Aldo’s body as he held her closer, kissing her again, and she sighed as he released her at last, reluctantly.
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since that first night,” said Aldo, dropping an extra kiss on the tip of her nose. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me why you ran away from me so abruptly?”
His arm was around her shoulders as they walked back to the house. India remembered clearly why she’d run away—because Marisa had made it clear he was to marry for money, a family duty, she’d said, and the Haven girls had no money. And because of Fabrizio. She reminded herself now of her resolve never to become a mistress again. She had no right to be kissing him, no right to be kissing any man who couldn’t count her as a part of his life and not merely as an extracurricular activity. Hadn’t she made that promise to herself? But no man who was prepared to marry just for money should be as nice as this one and, damn it, as attractive! I must have a gene missing, thought India as she paused on the terrace with Aldo’s arms around her again, a commonsense gene … but I do like it so much. How can a girl fall out of love with the wrong man and in love again with another so quickly?
India called Paris right after dinner. She was at home alone. She said she’d had a long day at Mitsoko’s and she was tired; she hadn’t felt like seeing anyone. India could sense her depression, though Paris didn’t complain. She protested at first when India suggested that she come to Italy: she couldn’t get away from work, she’d be in the way, India didn’t need her there hanging about….
“Oh, but, Paris, I do,” replied India. “I do need you. Please come.”
In the end they didn’t know who needed whom most, but she was coming. She’d arrive by train that weekend.
The Contessa di Montefiore was seventy-two years old. She had buried two sons as well as her husband, and Aldo, her last remaining, and youngest, son was the light