The Boselli Bride. Susanne James

sort of protective film around her persona which seemed to exclude him. So why didn’t he stick with his own kind? he asked himself. It wouldn’t take long for that young receptionist to respond to his male ego!

      Emily looked up at him now and he smiled, thinking that there was a little time to go before the manager turned up. Time to find things out.

      ‘So,’ he said smoothly, finishing the last of his beer, ‘are there any more like you at home, Emily? Or are you an only child?’

      ‘I have a brother,’ Emily replied, folding her napkin and sitting back contentedly. ‘He’s a lawyer, and slightly older than me.’ She paused. ‘Although we both live and work in London, we don’t see as much of each other as we’d like—there never seems enough time, somehow.’

      ‘One must always make time for relationships,’ Giovanni said, his expression darkening momentarily.

      ‘Are your parents alive?’ Emily wanted to know.

      ‘I still have my mother with me,’ he replied, ‘but my father died ten years ago.’

      So, Emily thought, they were both semi-orphans. ‘Does your mother live in Rome with you?’ she asked.

      ‘No, we have a family home in the country, a few miles outside,’ he said. ‘She is happy there—though she sometimes comes into the city and stays at my flat when she feels like it.’ He paused. ‘And your father? You told me that he is alone now, but where does he live?’

      ‘In the same house in Hampshire where my parents lived all their married life,’ Emily replied, wishing that she hadn’t had that small glass of white wine.

      There was silence for a few moments, then he said casually, ‘And what about your love life, Emily—you have a partner longing for your return?’

      Emily was a bit taken aback at the way he’d put the question—she didn’t usually discuss her ‘love life’ with anyone! ‘No, I do not have a partner—at the moment,’ she said coolly, and he looked at her quizzically. There was a fleeting expression on her face which he couldn’t interpret, didn’t understand…Surely there must be a long queue of men lusting for her? he thought.

      And Emily, looking out of the window thoughtfully, would not be telling him about Marcus—that was all in the past. And she was surviving life without specific male company too, she thought. Life was blissfully uncomplicated now. Life was OK, wasn’t it? She swallowed. It was time to talk of other things.

      Just then a murmuring of voices coming from the reception area made them both glance up as three men, dressed formally, entered. Immediately, Giovanni stood up—he’d obviously seen someone he knew, Emily thought, and almost at once the taller one of the trio came over to them. He was about forty-five or so, Emily guessed, and extremely good-looking.

      ‘Giovanni,’ he began, his hand outstretched in greeting, and there followed a rapid exchange of Italian between the two of them. Then Giovanni looked down at Emily.

      ‘Um…allow me to introduce you, Emily,’ he said. ‘This is…Aldo.’ And to the man he added, ‘The young lady is Emily. She is here on business.’

      Aldo took Emily’s hand in his and looked down at her, his searching Italian eyes seeming to unwrap every bit of her at a single glance. ‘I am charmed to meet you, Emily,’ he said smoothly, not letting her go, but turning his head to Giovanni. ‘Another delightful creature to add to your list, my friend?’ he said, and the remark seemed almost sinister to Emily. It held a definite touch of spite. She looked uncertainly at Giovanni—whose expression was non-committal, but there was suddenly a very cool atmosphere—and it seemed obvious that there was no love lost between these two.

      After some more rather stilted discussion between them, Aldo made his gracious departure and joined his friends at a table at the opposite end of the room. Giovanni looked across at Emily as he sat down again.

      ‘Well, I did not expect that,’ he said, ‘and I must apologize that we did not speak in English.’

      Emily shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘Is he—is Aldo—a friend? You’ve known him a long time?’

      Giovanni grimaced briefly. ‘Too long,’ he said.

      ‘You don’t like him?’ she asked.

      He shrugged. ‘I neither like nor dislike him,’ he replied casually. He paused. ‘The more important point is that he resents me…He does not like me.’

      No, Emily thought—she’d seen that straight away. ‘Well, sometimes certain…friends…just don’t fit somehow, do they?’ she said. ‘It’s impossible to get on with each and every one of them.’

      Giovanni nodded. ‘Oh, I do OK with friends,’ he said. ‘They’re no problem. Families are different.’ He glanced over at the three men, who were giving the waiter their order for drinks. ‘Aldo is family, unfortunately,’ he said, a note of resignation in his voice. ‘He’s my uncle. My father’s younger brother.’

      ‘Oh,’ Emily said, wondering why Giovanni hadn’t mentioned that when they’d been introduced. Then she shrugged inwardly. She knew that Italians were known to be great family people, but even in the best of families there’d be bound to be friction now and then. She glanced at her watch. It must surely be time for the manager to return, she thought.

      ‘You speak wonderful English, Gio,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘You’ve obviously spent a lot of time in the UK.’

      ‘Explained by the fact that I was educated mostly there,’ he said briefly.

      Now, why did it surprise her, Emily asked herself, that he’d gone to school in England? ‘Where did you go?’ she asked him.

      ‘Boarding school in Surrey, then Marlborough College in Wiltshire, followed by London University. And, before you ask, I gained a Masters in Business Law.’

      Emily was almost bowled over by all this information! Despite being born in Italy, and in appearance and attitude being a perfect example of typical Latin charm, he was nearly as English as she was herself! She almost laughed out loud at the thought.

      ‘So,’ she said, ‘if you only help out at the shop, and at your friend’s bar when you’re in Rome, where else do you work?’ she asked. ‘Where has all that education led you?’

      He waited a moment before reaching into his pocket and handing her a small business card. ‘Oh, I help my mother with a…um…family concern in Rome,’ he said. ‘Which means I have to come to the UK every now and again,’ he added briefly.

      Emily looked down at the card he’d handed her. Giovanni Boselli, she read. Financial Consultant, followed by his qualifications and the telephone number and address of the London office he apparently used. An address which was just a few streets away from her own office in Mayfair!