Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [93]
She kicked angrily at the luxurious rug with her bare foot, wondering what to do. It was obvious, she supposed, that things that couldn’t go forward came to a halt—and her romance with Fabrizio was at a halt. What Fabrizio had suggested was that they cool it a little, be discreet—just for a while, of course. Damn it! That was the problem with having an affair—it wasn’t in her nature to be discreet. When she was in love she wanted to flaunt it, and when a man loved her she expected to be shown off to his friends, to arrive at restaurants on his arm and be greeted at parties as a couple. She just wasn’t cut out to be the other woman. Damn it again, though, she just wished it had been she who had said so! God knows, she’d been thinking about it for weeks now. The high-pitched ring of the telephone trilled through the apartment, startling her from her thoughts.
“Hello,” she snapped.
“India? Are you all right?”
It was Fabrizio.
“I’m all right—just worried, that’s all.”
“India,” said Fabrizio soothingly, “I don’t want you to worry. That’s why I’m calling. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it easier for us both in the next few weeks and I remembered the Montefiore job. It’s a perfect opportunity for you to get out of town for a while.”
“Out of town? I’m not going to run away, Fabrizio, just because Marisa—”
“No, no, not run away. You don’t understand what I’m saying, cara, just listen will you? The Montefiores want to convert part of their palazzo into a hotel. They’re aiming for the up-market American tourist. Now, who would know better than you what that sort of traveler would need? The family want to preserve as much of the palazzo in its original state as possible while providing the necessary facilities. Unfortunately for them, in order to pay for this they are going to have to sell off some paintings and antiques. With your knowledge of the art market, India, you are perfect for the job. You can advise them on what they might sell and the possible prices. You can find out what they want to do, inspect the premises, and report back to me. I’ll need to know what structural alterations you consider necessary and I’ll want technical drawings of what you propose. Now, cara, what do you think? Can you handle it?”
“Handle it?” cried India, thrilled. “Fabrizio, you’re wonderful! Of course I can handle it, I can’t wait.”
“Good, cara, good. We shall meet in the morning, then, in the office, and I’ll brief you on the job. Plan to leave right after that, India. You will stay with the Montefiores at the palazzo. I think you’ll like them.”
The name sounded familiar, thought India.
“Is that Aldo Montefiore’s family?” she asked.
“Why, yes. Do you know them, then?”
India smiled, remembering Aldo’s rather battered attractive face. “Oh I met a member of the family once—a while ago.”
“Good,” said Fabrizio, satisfied that the plan was working out. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, cara. I must go now. Ciao.”
He rang off abruptly, leaving India with the receiver still cradled to her ear. She replaced it with a sigh, guessing that Marisa must have come in. It had happened before—but, she decided, her spirits rising, never again. Fabrizio had just handed her her freedom; she had a job to look forward to, her first real opportunity to do something on her own. It would be a challenge, and an exciting one. This is it, she told herself,