Gambler's Folly (Bookstrand Publishing Romance) (10 page)

While the selection was limited, she found a soprano and an alto recorder, both in natural wood, for a price which wasn’t too spendy. Along with the two instruments, she bought a book similar to one she’d owned previously, with a selection of the more popular music of the time.

“You’re sure he’s not going to be angry?” she asked Marco yet again.

“Signora,” he said, shaking his head. “He says to go with you and buy what you want. He didn’t say anything about what to get or how much to spend. And the price was nothing, really. He will be happy for you.”

It was only lunchtime when they got back to the suite, so after a quick bite to eat, Karianna got out the instruments and music. She hadn’t played in quite a while, so the extreme lower ranges of the recorders were difficult to control. But after all the exercise she’d been getting, her breath control was marvelous.

She worked on a couple pieces for most of the afternoon, stopping when Marco called to inquire about dinner. “When will Damiano be home?” she asked.

“Probably much later, closer to midnight,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll go ahead and eat now then.” Placing her order, she cleaned the instruments and put them away. Getting ready for a quiet evening, she found a film she’d been wanting to see, changed into comfortable clothes and waited for her dinner to arrive.

“Just a minute,” she said when the bell chimed. She opened the door and turned away from it, to show the waiter where to put the tray.

“
Attraente
!
Mi sono innamorato
,” she heard behind her. “I am in love.” Turning, startled, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Damiano was putting the tray on the table. With a loud shriek, she ran to him and flung her arms tightly around his neck.

“Cara, I must breathe,” he said, smiling at her. Marco stood by the door with a big smile on his face.

“You lied to me, Marco! How dare you?” she accused.

“Signora, Signor Leone told me to keep quiet. He wanted to surprise you, so what could I do?”

“What you can do now is leave,” she said, pointing at the door. Reaching back up to Damiano, she gave him a very warm welcome-home kiss.

“Mmm, am I right in thinking you’d like dessert before dinner?” he asked, beginning to unbutton her blouse. He never did hear the answer, but dinner was decidedly cold when they finally got around to it.

Pouring coffee in the living room, Damiano asked, “So how did your shopping go?”

“Oh! It was fine. I found a couple small recorders which weren’t too awfully expensive. And I got a book of some music which was familiar, so I practiced a little this afternoon.”

“Wonderful, cara. Maybe when you’ve had some time, you can play something for me.”

“I don’t know. I’m not really very good,” she complained.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be tomorrow, but I would like to hear you sometime. If you’re never going to perform, why practice?”

“Do you like old music?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I like music. How old do you mean?”

“Many centuries, Dam, like nearly a millennium ago.”

“First Renaissance, something like that?”

“Yes. I mean
really
old music,” she explained

“I’m sure that some of the church music qualifies, and I like that, the chants and things. So I suppose I would like it.”

“Once I’ve practiced, I’ll try. Okay?”

“
Va bene
, cara. Alright, but you don’t need to be nervous.”

“We’ll see.”

“And are these your little decorations?” he asked, pointing to the small arrangement of purple silk flowers and butterflies.

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind. They just looked so lovely and happy, I had to have them.”

Damiano’s suite was very minimal, all in shades of cream, black, and charcoal in stone, glass, and metalwork. The little spot of color on the table drew the eye.

“Very nice, cara. Like a little ray of sunshine lighting up the room. And the little butterflies, so pretty, cara. You should get some like these for your hair.”

“But you just went away last week,” Karianna complained. “Why do you have to go this week, too?”

“I’m going to a different place, cara,
per affari
, for business. And I won’t say any more about it. I won’t be gone long. When I come back, we will go someplace special, just us, bene? So decide where you’d like to go.”

“I don’t know where I’d like to go, Damiano. How would I know that?” she insisted. “I don’t know anything about this world.”

“If you were back on Earth, what would you like to do? There is probably something similar here, cara,” he explained patiently. “So you decide, and then we’ll go.”

“Alright, but I’ll miss you anyway.” Pulling him close, she gave him a kiss. “Does it have to be all week?”

“Yes, cara, I have to make a quick trip off-world. I will be fine and I will come back. Capisce?”

“Yes, Dam, I understand. I just don’t like it.”

“You have no reason to be jealous, Karianna. There is no other woman, just business.”

“Well, business must be a woman. And she’s a bitch.”

“Cara mia. Such language.”

She walked to the lift with him, gave him one final kiss goodbye, and then went to sulk in the bathtub. She wasn’t worried about another woman. He’d shown no inclination in that direction. And it wasn’t like theirs was a long-term arrangement. At this point, there was only about a year and a half to go before their contract was up. She could go back to Earth, or stay here, find a new mate—anything she wanted.

As for Damiano, since she was stuck with him anyway, she was just taking what pleasure she could from the situation. The fact that he was handsome, rich, and good in bed was great, but it wasn’t like either one of them had chosen to be together, really.

Well, maybe he could have arranged things differently. What he’d felt when he’d made his decision couldn’t be called love, unless you believed in love at first sight. She supposed she might have begun to care for him a little, but doubted seriously if what he felt for her was much more than possession. She was his to show off in his clubs and restaurants.

She suddenly had a disturbing thought. What if he wouldn’t let her leave after their contract was up? If he thought she knew too much about his affairs, he might decide she’d have to stay with him, or…She didn’t want to think about the other options. His was a dangerous world, and he one of its most dangerous players. Better to go along and hope for the best.

Finished with her bath, Karianna called down for some lunch. Still moody, what she ordered was rather off her diet, but she didn’t care. One day wouldn’t make that much difference. The deep-fried vegetable crisps, hot and crunchy, were marvelous, and an indulgence she hadn’t had in months. And the first bite of the thick meaty sandwich was pure heaven.

She ate about half of it and suddenly felt as if she’d eaten molten stone. It was the feeling she got when she’d seriously overeaten heavy holiday foods, only growing worse by the second. Nauseous and about to be quite ill, she threw the rest of the sandwich in the disposal and fixed a cup of tea to help settle her stomach.

Oh well, it was great while it lasted, but even the tea didn’t help. Still nauseous after emptying her stomach, she called the resident doctor.

“What did you eat, Mrs. Leone?” he inquired after he’d given her a quick once-over, Marco looking on. She told him what she’d eaten and how it had affected her.

“Is this something you’ve eaten before?”

“Yes, though not for some time. I’ve been trying to watch my diet, so I’ve been eating more vegetables and lean meats instead. But it’s one of my favorites.”

“Hm, it could just be that it was heavier than you’re used to eating, but I wouldn’t expect it to affect you so much so quickly. Is there any of it left? I could have it analyzed.”

“Analyzed? Why?” she asked.

“Perhaps the meat was bad, too old, improperly stored before it came here.”

“You might be able to get some of it back out of the disposal, but I don’t know. The tray is still over there on the table, with the plate on it.”

He made a call and a maintenance man came up to take apart the disposal unit. Down inside, but not yet destroyed, the remains of the sandwich were retrieved and put into a container.

“In the meantime,” the doctor told her, “stick to fluids for the next 12 hours, and then bland foods until your stomach has a chance to calm down. After that, I’d advise light foods, fruits, and vegetables. No red meat for a few days and no fried foods. If your stomach keeps bothering you, take 15mm of this every four hours,” he said, handing her a small bottle of liquid. “It should help.”

“Thank you, Dr. Martin,” she told him as he left. Marco asked if he could bring her anything. “I don’t think so. I’m going to have some more tea and lie down for a while. If I need anything, I’ll call.”

It was past dinnertime when she finally woke up. Her stomach felt better, but she figured the doctor was probably right. She called upstairs for some soup and a small pot of coffee, no milk tonight. Then she called Marco, to let him know she was awake and feeling a bit better.

“The lab called just a little while ago,” he told her. “The meat was not bad, but something else is not right. What else did you eat?”

She told him that she’d had the vegetable crisps first.

“Was there any sauce or coating on them?” he asked.

“Let me think. There was no sauce, but there was a little bit of seasoning on them. It tasted like salt and pepper, maybe a few spices. They tasted fine.”

He rang off and told her he would contact the lab. In the meantime, he asked her to let him know if anything at all felt wrong. Even if she just felt worried for no reason, let him know.

The soup came up via Marco and one of the waiters from the restaurant, who looked worried. “I’m so sorry Madam was ill. It can’t have been the kitchen. Everything is prepared to the highest standards. Signor Leone insists on the best.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it is nothing, just a fussy stomach,” she answered. Marco raised an eyebrow and dismissed the man.

“It might not have been the kitchen, but someone tampered with the food,” he told her.

“What do you mean, Marco?” she demanded.

“The substance they found, in the seasoning on your plate, was not poison in the strictest sense of the word,” he explained. “But it was something which would make you ill enough to vomit and ruin your meal. We’re not sure who or why it was done yet, but trust me, we will find out. Signor Leone is not happy.”

“You spoke to Damiano?” she asked, surprised.

“Of course. I am here to make sure you have protection, and I have failed. He had to know.”

“But who would do such a thing?”

“Signora, can you tell me who brought up your meal?” he asked.

“Well, let me think,” she said, trying to remember what he had looked like. “I didn’t get a real good look at him, but I don’t remember seeing him before. Of course, I don’t know everyone who works here, and I didn’t pay much attention.”

“If you saw him again, would you know him?”

“Maybe, Marco. I don’t know. He was here for only a minute or two. I just signed the ticket and gave it back to him.”

“Was he wearing gloves?” Marco demanded.

“Well, no, of course not. Why would he wear gloves?”

Marco was on his communicator before she finished. After a short conversation in rapid Italian, he asked her, “When did you order your meal?”

“It must have been around 1130h. After Damiano left, I took a bath, and then I ordered lunch. He left around 1030h and I spent quite a while in the bath. I was upset. So, by the time I ordered lunch, it must have been around then. Maybe a little earlier, but not much.”

He passed this information on to whomever was on the other end of the conversation. “The kitchen has no record of your order, Signora, or any order from 1000h to 1300h. It isn’t in the computer, and there is no ticket, signed or otherwise.”

“Well, I know I ordered it.”

“Yes, and we know you ate it. But where did it come from, Signora, if not the kitchen?”

After another quick exchange with the kitchen, Marco looked at the tray which had just been sent up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“There is also no record of this order, though it came from the kitchen. I saw it put on the tray, saw the waiter pick it up, and it came with him from the kitchen to the suite. And yet the kitchen has no record of the order.”

“Marco, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but you’re not eating this,” he told her. “It’s going to the lab.”

“But I’m hungry!” she complained.

“Better hungry than sick or dead, Signora. I’ll bring something up as soon as I can,” he said. “
Scusi
, Signora. I must make some arrangements. Open the door to no one. I have a pass key.” He left quickly and she checked the door before sitting down to think about what was happening.

Before too long, Marco was back with some more soup and some fresh bread. Carrying the tray was a young man she’d never seen before, but who looked more confident than a waiter should. Tall, dark, and slim, he could have been Damiano’s baby brother.

“Signora, this is Dante. He will bring everything you need from the kitchen,” Marco told her. “He will take your orders, watch them prepared and bring them up to you.”

“Have you found out what has been happening with my food?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, Signora. It will not happen again,” he assured her. “It is fixed.”

Karianna thought it best not to know how it had been fixed. She locked the door behind Marco and Dante, and was finally able to have her soup. She was famished and was glad that Dante had brought the bread with it. Even though it wasn’t strictly doctor’s orders, it tasted marvelous.

When Damiano called, she could see the worry on his face as he asked how she was. “I’m alright now, Dam. I don’t know what happened, and Marco just said they had it figured out.”

“Don’t worry, cara. Have you been able to eat?” he asked.