The Italian Girl (25 page)

Eventually, it had been Rosanna who had begged him to make love to her. Yesterday, for the first time, they’d actually left their suite and enjoyed a leisurely lunch at Le Caprice.

Last night, Rosanna felt sure she had sung Violetta better than ever, her inner feelings mirroring the words she sang. Their performance had earned them both an extraordinary standing ovation.

‘
Cara
.’ An arm snaked round her waist and she saw the frown on Roberto’s face reflected in the mirror. ‘I woke and you weren’t there.’

‘I’m sorry. I left you to sleep.’

He turned her round. ‘Don’t ever leave me without telling me where you’re going. I want to know everything you do, everything you think.’

‘Everything?’ she teased.

‘Of course.’

‘Well, at this moment I am thinking I would like you to leave the bathroom so I can use it in private.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Roberto began to retreat. ‘Don’t be too long.’

‘I won’t, and please order some breakfast. I’m starving.’

‘Never did I see a woman who eats so much!’ he laughed as the bathroom door closed. He crossed the sitting room, telephoned room service and ordered a full English breakfast for them both. Then he padded to the door of the suite, opened it and retrieved the pile of newspapers lying outside. He sat on the sofa and flicked through a tabloid.

OPERA STARS ENJOY A LOVE SONG OF THEIR OWN

A photograph showed him and Rosanna walking out of Le Caprice hand in hand. She was looking up at him with undisguised love. Roberto read the passage underneath.

Handsome opera star Roberto Rossini was caught outside one of London’s finest restaurants yesterday holding hands with his co-star, the beautiful young Italian soprano Rosanna Menici. The two of them are singing
La Traviata
to packed houses at Covent Garden.

Mr Rossini is well known for his amorous pursuits and, from this photograph, it looks as though he’s caught another exquisite butterfly in his net . . .

Roberto closed the newspaper quickly and hid it under the sofa. Until this moment, he’d been so wrapped up in his new-found pleasure that he’d rarely thought beyond the next hour. Even though this was an English paper, he knew the media. A titbit of gossip about him in London would very soon be front-page news in Milan. Their secret was out. By tonight, the story would be sweeping Covent Garden and, by tomorrow, La Scala and Paolo . . .

‘Damn!’ he cursed. He hated the gossip columnist for belittling what he felt for Rosanna. The presumption that she should be compared to his former lovers made his blood boil. But then, the reaction was only to be expected. There was no reason for anyone to think his affair with Rosanna was any different to those that preceded it.

But it
was
different.
She
was different. Roberto knew without any doubt in his mind that he’d found what he’d been searching for. Rosanna had filled the empty spaces, made him whole. When he was with her, he liked himself. She brought out the best in him. The thought of her ever leaving him, of him going back to the way he’d lived until only a few days ago, produced a shiver of horror.

But, he mused, she was still so young. There was an age gap of seventeen years between them. He knew he was her first love. What if she used him the way
he’d
used others and moved on?

Roberto sat back on the sofa and sighed. He knew there would be many, many people who would try to dissuade Rosanna from continuing their affair once they knew of it. Paolo de Vito in particular would be mortified. Rosanna was his protégée. He behaved like a possessive father towards her and the thought that Roberto might have taken advantage of her would fill him with anger.

‘God, please, help me keep her,’ he whispered.

And then it came to him: the way to convince Rosanna that this was forever, as well as silence his detractors.

He was going to marry her.

Later that morning, Roberto and Rosanna took a taxi to Mayfair.

‘Please, where are we going?’ Rosanna asked. She sounded like a child, full of eagerness and excitement, and in her simple pink cotton dress, Roberto thought she looked little older than one.

‘Have patience,
principessa
.’

‘I’m trying, but—’

‘We’re here,’ announced Roberto as the taxi drew to a halt in New Bond Street.

‘Where?’ she asked as he paid the driver.

‘Cartier, one of the finest jewellers in the world. I’m going to buy you a present,’ Roberto replied as he ushered her out of the taxi and into the shop.

Rosanna stood on the threshold and stared apprehensively at the banks of glass cabinets that housed a glittering array of spectacular jewels. A dark-suited, elderly gentleman appeared beside them.

‘Sir, madam, may I be of assistance?’

‘Yes. We’re looking for a special piece of jewellery for my lovely lady.’ Roberto nodded gallantly in Rosanna’s direction.

‘I see. Is there anything you particularly had in mind?’

‘Could we see a selection of rings, necklaces and earrings?’

‘Of course, sir.’

He unlocked the back of several cabinets and placed velvet-lined trays displaying four necklaces and a selection of rings and earrings on the table.

‘Point if you see anything you like,
principessa
,’ said Roberto, as he picked out an elaborate gold necklace encrusted with sapphires and diamonds.

‘But, Roberto, I don’t need a—’

‘Hush.’ Roberto put a finger to her lips. ‘It’s impolite to complain when a man wishes to buy you a token of his affection.’

The necklace was fastened around Rosanna’s neck. She glanced at herself in the mirror. ‘It feels so heavy,’ she said, twisting her head uncomfortably.

‘May I suggest this? It’s more delicate and therefore perhaps more suited to madam.’ The sales assistant was holding another gold necklace, its feather-light chain supporting a single beautifully set diamond.

Rosanna tried it on.

‘Oh!’ she breathed, turning her shoulders from side to side as she studied the way the diamond sat snugly between her collarbones.

‘That looks quite exquisite, if I may say so, madam. May I also show you these?’ The manager held forward a tiny pair of matching earrings and a beautiful solitaire diamond ring.

Rosanna turned to Roberto questioningly. ‘Yes, try the earrings.’

She did so.

‘Perfect,’ Roberto smiled. Then he slid the diamond ring onto the third finger of her left hand. It was far too big.

‘A pity, it is much too large,’ sighed Roberto. ‘It matches so well. Do you like it?’

Rosanna held her hand out in front of her and admired how the stone sparkled under the lights. ‘It’s beautiful, as are the necklace and the earrings. But Roberto . . .’

‘I told you before, to complain is impolite.’ He turned to address the manager. ‘We’ll take the earrings and the necklace.’

‘Very good, sir,’ he said. ‘Allow me to help you remove the jewellery, then I shall have it packed for you.’

‘Rosanna, why don’t you visit the shoe shop next door while I pay for these? You said you needed some new ones.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you there. Thank you, Roberto.’ She kissed him on the cheek and left the shop.

Roberto emerged from Cartier ten minutes later and twenty thousand pounds poorer, but feeling happy that he’d managed to accomplish his aim without arousing Rosanna’s suspicions. The ring was to be properly sized and all the jewellery delivered to the Savoy later that day.

As he pushed open the door of the neighbouring shop, Rosanna was trying on a pair of elegant high-heeled evening shoes. She stood up and wobbled across the thick carpet to meet him.

‘What do you think?’

‘I think they make your legs even longer. You look almost grown-up,’ he teased. ‘We’ll take those,’ he instructed the assistant.

They left the shop arm in arm. ‘Oh Roberto, I’ve never had such presents before. Thank you so much!’ She threw her arms round him and showered him with kisses.

‘Now, you need some new clothes. We’ll go to Harrods.’ Roberto hailed a taxi and they climbed in. ‘Your wardrobe is a disgrace and I can’t be seen with a tramp. It’s not good for my image,’ he teased her as he hailed a taxi.

‘You think I dress badly?’

‘No, I don’t think you dress badly, I merely think that you don’t care
how
you dress. It is a different thing all together. At the risk of you becoming vain, you must learn. You have a public image now and must live up to it.’

‘But I’m not interested in clothes,’ said Rosanna defensively.

‘
Principessa
, you are a very beautiful girl. You have lovely long legs’ – Roberto ran his hand along her thigh – ‘a slim waist’ – his hands circled her middle – ‘and wonderful high breasts . . .’

‘Stop it,’ giggled Rosanna.

‘. . . and an oh-so-beautiful face.’ He kissed her on the lips. ‘You must learn to do your assets justice, for yourself and for the man who loves you. Ah, we are here.’

Roberto paid the driver and guided Rosanna inside the store.

For the following hour Rosanna paraded in front of Roberto in a variety of day and evening clothes, as he sat on a gilt chair and pronounced on each outfit.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘it makes you look like my beloved nonna, my sainted grandmama.’

Rosanna lifted a hat off a display and put it on her head. It was so big that it covered her face down to her chin.

‘Aha, it is the headless woman,’ laughed Roberto as she stretched out her hands and walked towards him. ‘Go away, you silly girl, and find something that is as lovely as you are.’ He pulled the hat off her head and kissed her playfully.

Eventually, Rosanna found five outfits that met with Roberto’s approval. He paid for them and then took her into the lingerie department.

‘Having witnessed the state of your undergarments, I believe I must truly love you to still find you attractive,’ he teased. ‘So now we’ll buy you lingerie that befits your delectable body.’ His hand caressed the slender curve of her hip as they moved together along the racks, picking out delicate strips of silk for her to try on.

Finally, laden with bags and boxes, they made their way down from the upper floors. On the ground floor, Roberto stopped to admire a paisley silk scarf. ‘So very English,’ he mused.

‘Do you like it?’ asked Rosanna.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Then I shall buy it for you.’

She hurried towards a till before he could stop her.

‘There,’ she said as she returned and triumphantly tied the scarf round his neck.

He fingered it gently. ‘It’s the best present I have ever had. Thank you,
cara
.’

After a long lunch in the Grill Room at the Savoy, they spent the afternoon lazing on a grassy slope in Victoria Embankment Gardens overlooking the Thames, arms entwined just like the other couples around them.

‘Will you wait here for five minutes?’ Roberto asked. ‘I have to return to my suite to make a telephone call.’

Rosanna nodded, closing her eyes against the bright sun. ‘Yes, of course, it’s so beautiful here.’

‘Don’t move,’ he ordered before dashing off in the direction of the Savoy.

Rosanna lay back, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin and the texture of newly mown grass beneath her fingers. She wished it was possible to hold this moment, encapsulate it forever. Whatever happened in the future, Rosanna knew she would always remember lying here in the sunshine, waiting for Roberto to return to her.

A few minutes later, she felt his fingers brush her cheek, smelt his familiar aftershave.

‘Rosanna, please don’t open your eyes. I have something to say to you and I don’t want you to see anything else while I say it. I love you, Rosanna Menici. I don’t understand what has happened to both of us since we arrived here in London. All I know is that I’ve changed. I’m like a different person. I am not just happy, I’m ecstatic. I never want you to leave me.’ Roberto paused, drinking in her beautiful face, the long lashes of her closed eyes fanned out across the top of her cheekbones. ‘
Cara
, I want you to be my wife.’

Rosanna felt him take her third finger and slip a ring onto it.

‘If you refuse me, I shall go back to my suite and drown myself in the bath,’ he announced. ‘Now, you can open your eyes.’

Rosanna looked first at Roberto, then at the diamond on her finger. She let out a small gasp.

‘But how . . . ?’

‘The kind gentleman at Cartier altered it to fit your finger. Rosanna, please, forget the ring – I am a man in turmoil. Do you say yes?’

She studied the ring silently, watching the way the sun glinted off the diamond. Conflicting emotions ran round her head. On the one hand, she felt euphoric at his proposal. On the other, would she be mad to accept, given his chequered past?

Roberto read her thoughts. ‘
Cara
, believe me, I have never felt like this,’ he persisted. ‘To know deep in your soul that something is right, that it must happen. I’ve realised that spending our lives together is our best chance for happiness. And asking you to be my wife is my way of showing you and the world that this love we have for each other is permanent.’

Rosanna did not look at him and continued to study the ring. ‘You think that, Roberto? You don’t believe you will change your mind? As you have with all your other women?’

‘I understand that you must ask these questions because of my wicked past, but love has changed me.
You
have changed me. Will you have me beg you, Rosanna?’

‘I told you I once wrote in my diary that I would marry you,’ she whispered, finally meeting his eyes. ‘I must be a clever girl. It’s my prophecy coming true.’

‘Does that mean you are accepting my proposal?’

‘Yes, I’ll be your wife, but only if you swear to me now there will never be any other women.’

‘No, never, never, please believe me.’

‘Roberto’ – Rosanna’s eyes glittered with sudden pain – ‘I warn you, if there are,
ever
, I will leave you and never return.’