Lucy Gordon - The Rinuccis - Carlo, Ruggiero & Francesco

‘I wonder how she got that idea?’ Carlo observed, to nobody in particular.

‘But you managed?’ Della said quickly.

‘Yes—except that we came back in a cab, and I don’t have quite enough to pay the fare…’

‘All right,’ she said, taking some money from her bag. ‘Go and give him this.’

From the corridor outside came a girl’s voice, calling, ‘Solly—’

‘Coming, sweetheart,’ he called back. Then something seemed to strike him, and he tried to return the money to Della. ‘Mum, I can’t leave her alone. Would you mind—?’

‘Yes, she would,’ Carlo said crossly. ‘Your mother’s not going to get dressed just to save you a journey downstairs. Do it yourself.’

‘Hey, who are you to—?’

‘Don’t waste my time arguing,’ Carlo said, seizing his shoulders and turning Sol to face the door. ‘Go down there and pay the fare. Or else—’

‘Carlo—’ Della was plucking at his arm. ‘There’s no need—’

‘I think there’s every need. Go downstairs, Sol. Now!’

‘Look here—’

‘Clear off!’

Thrusting him out into the corridor, Carlo locked the door behind him and stood with his back to it, daring Della to object.

‘You’re not going to defend his behaviour, are you?’ he asked.

‘No, but—’

‘Expecting you to go down there to run his errands? I don’t think so. What’s so funny?’

Della controlled her laughter long enough to say, ‘But I was only going to call Reception, ask them to pay and put it on my bill. I had no intention of going downstairs.’

Carlo’s face showed his chagrin.

‘I suppose I made a clown of myself?’ he groaned.

‘No, of course not. I think it’s wonderful of you to defend me. Sometimes Sol does go a bit too far.’

‘Only sometimes?’

‘All right, I’ve spoilt him. But for a long time it was just the two of us. Still, I guess I’ve got to learn to let go. He’ll make a success of his life and he won’t need me any more.’

Carlo could have told her that she was worrying about nothing, since Sol had no intension of releasing her from his demands. But he didn’t want to discuss it now. It was better to take her into his arms and forget the world.

Toni Rinucci was waiting for his wife in the doorway of their room.

‘I hope you’re ready to come to bed now,’ he said, as she reached the top of the stairs. ‘You’ve been working all day, and tomorrow you’ll be working again, if I know you.’

‘Of course. Our sons have a birthday, and naturally I wish to celebrate. This will be a special birthday.’

‘You say that every year.’

‘But this year is different.’

‘You say that every year, too,’ he said fondly, beginning to undo her dress at the back.

‘Bringing someone like Della Hadley to a family party changes everything.’

‘Someone like? You’ve met her?’

‘No, but I have learned how to use the internet. She’s a television producer with a big reputation.’

‘But surely Carlo told us that? He said she was planning a series and wanted him to be part of it, so he was taking her around to find inspiration.’

‘He didn’t need to be with her night and day, for over a week. Does that sound like an audition?’ Hope demanded with a touch of irony. ‘You think he’s been sleeping with her to get the job?’

‘Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping with her?’ Toni suggested mildly, but backed down under his wife’s withering look.

‘This is Carlo we’re talking about,’ she reminded him.

‘True—I forgot. But surely she can’t be very young? Did you find out her age on the net?’

‘Not exactly, but it mentioned she began to make her name a full ten years ago, so she must be mid to late thirties. Toni, I just know what this woman is like. To have made such a success in a man’s world she must be a domineering, pushy careerist, who has contrived to beguile Carlo out of his senses.’

‘But all our daughters-in-law are career women,’ he protested. ‘Evie still does her translating, Olympia practically runs one of Primo’s factories here in Naples, and Minnie is a lawyer. Luke even moved to Rome to be near her rather than asking her to come here.’

‘Yes, but—’ Hope struggled to put into words her instinctive misgivings about this strange woman. ‘I don’t know—it’s just that something tells me that she will bring bad times into this house.’

‘Now you are being foolish,’ he said fondly.

‘I wish I could believe that you are right.’

‘Come to bed.’

Myra, Sol’s girlfriend, whom Della met next morning, proved to be much as expected: pretty, empty-headed, slightly grasping, but mainly good-natured. She was a native Neapolitan, and greeted the announcement that she was to go to the Villa Rinucci with a wide-eyed delight that said everything about the reputation of the Rinucci family.

As Carlo’s car only seated two, a vehicle was sent down from the villa to collect Sol and Myra, which was a relief even to Della. It gave her a chance to talk to Carlo on the drive.

She was wearing the black cocktail dress, and knew she looked her best. Carlo was smarter than she had ever seen him, in a dinner jacket and black bow tie, his shaggy locks actually reduced to some sort of order. He explained this aberration by saying that otherwise his mother would make him sorry he’d been born.

‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of her?’ Della laughed.

‘Terrified,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We all are. We were raised to be under a woman’s thumb, never to answer her back, always to let her have the last word—that sort of thing. I come “ready-made hen-pecked”. You’ll find that very useful.’

Since this was a clear reference to a future marriage, she diplomatically made no direct reply.

‘Tell me about your family,’ she said.

‘You wouldn’t be changing the subject, by any chance?’ he asked lightly.

‘I might be. Maybe a man who’s ready-made hen-pecked doesn’t appeal to me.’

‘You’d prefer to do your own hen-pecking?’

‘Any woman would. That way she can ensure that the product is customised to her personal requirements.’

‘True. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose reducing him to a state of total subjection is half the fun.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘In that case, my darling, you may find me a bit of a disappointment. I’ve been your devoted slave from the start, and I don’t think I could manage anything else.’

‘But suppose one night you come home disgracefully late and I’m waiting with a rolling pin? Surely you’re going to defend yourself?’

‘The situation would never arise. If I was out late you’d be with me, and we’d be disgraceful together.’

‘You mean you’re not going to fight me?’ she demanded in mock horror.

‘I don’t think I’d know how,’ he replied meekly. ‘I was raised not to stand up to the boss lady.’

‘So you won’t be my lord and master?’

‘Mio dio, no!’

‘Come, come! Be a man.’

‘If that’s what “being a man” means, I’ll settle for being a mouse—as long as I’m your mouse.’

There was simply no way of answering this lunatic, she thought, her lips twitching. He could make her laugh whenever he pleased, reducing her defences to nothing.

But then he added quietly, ‘I’ve never had much use for the kind of man who feels he has to bully a woman before he can feel manly.’

His answer brought her right back into the danger area from which she’d tried to escape with humour, reminding her that it was his combination of quiet strength and gentleness that she found truly irresistible. The blazing sexual attraction that united them was only a cover. If it should die, the love would live on.