Struggling through the Italian prose, Alysa managed to understand that Drago had climbed high on some scaffolding, intent on examining a carved stone to make sure that it was perfect, had missed his footing and had plunged down to the ground.
It was dated five days ago. He could be dead by now.
Frantically she searched through the following days, terrified lest she find the fatal announcement. There was nothing, but she searched again, and this time she spotted a small item saying that he’d regained consciousness and seemed better. She read it over and over, terrified that she’d misread it.
To her relief there had been no mistake, but she couldn’t rest until she knew more. After a few minutes, summoning up her courage, she lifted the phone and dialled his home.
Who would answer? she wondered. The housekeeper? Or perhaps Elena was there again? She was still running through the possibilities when Drago’s voice said,
At first she was too startled to speak and he had to say it again before she answered.
‘It’s me.’
She wondered if she should identify herself properly, but he recognised ‘me’ at once.
Trying to pull herself together, she blurted out, ‘What are you doing there? You’re supposed to be at death’s door.’
‘Is that disappointment I hear in your voice?’ He sounded amused.
‘Of course not. They said you’d had a terrible fall and took days to regain consciousness.’
‘As usual, the press exaggerates. My fall was broken by a ledge. I had a slight concussion and a couple of cracked ribs, but that’s all. I left hospital yesterday. Tomorrow I’ll go back to work.’
‘With cracked ribs?’ she echoed, aghast.
‘Why not? They’re painful, but I can still bark orders and be generally overbearing.’
‘And climb scaffolding?’
‘No, not that. I’ll be careful, but I have to be there to make sure that everything is done the way I want.’
‘That sounds like you,’ she said, feeling her heart slow to a more normal rhythm.
‘Slave-driver?’
‘Perfectionist. Everyone says you’re doing a wonderful job on that church.’
‘I hope so. It must be finished soon. I’ve made so many changes recently that it held things up, but we’re nearly there. Tell me, how did you know what had happened?’
‘The internet. I can access the local Florence paper, and it was all there.’
She paused, embarrassed by what she had just revealed.
For a few moments there was silence from the other end. Then he said, ‘You’re not so easy to trace. There’s your firm’s website, which has just a little about you. And a picture of you at some official dinner last week. That’s all.’
So he’d been watching her from a distance too. She smiled.
‘What kind of a function was it?’ he asked casually.
‘Like you said, official. Accountants, lawyers, businessmen, a few politicians, lots of boring speeches.’
‘You didn’t seem bored by the man sitting next to you. You were sharing a laugh.’
‘That’s my boss, Brian. He thinks he’s a wit, so I guess I play up.’
‘Ah, the one who can make you a partner?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then you were right to laugh. Was the joke any good?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘That’s handy. You’ll be able to laugh again next time he tells it.’
His voice was warm, turning the remark into a friendly joke, so that she could say, ‘I might just do that.’
‘You’ve grown your hair. It’s nicer this way.’
‘I wonder why I did,’ she said lightly. ‘Someone may have suggested it, but I can’t remember who.’
He laughed but stopped at once.
‘Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.’
‘Please, Drago, I wish you wouldn’t go back to work yet. Give yourself a few more days.’
‘All right. Just a couple more days. Because you say so.’
‘Thank you.’
Then his voice changed, becoming gentler. ‘Alysa-how are things with you?’
‘I’m managing better now.’
‘So am I. Thank you.’
Silence. She felt awkward, and she could sense that he did too.
‘Am I forgiven?’ he asked at last.
‘There’s nothing to forgive. You know that.’
‘I didn’t. But I hoped.’
‘Goodbye, Drago.’
‘Goodbye.’
The line went dead. Alysa hung up and sat looking at the phone, wondering at the strange feeling that had overtaken her. It was disturbingly like happiness.
So he’d seen her with Brian, and had wondered. But there was nothing romantic in their association, even though he was an outrageously handsome man. A well-preserved fifty-three, he’d been married three times and now determinedly ‘avoided shackles’.
He both worked and played hard, but the pleasure was strictly out of office hours. None of his female employees had anything to fear from him, which had caused one of them to mutter that this was because ‘the old goat’ preferred women who were too stupid to spell, never mind add.
He’d invited Alysa to the dinner as a professional courtesy, introducing her to a lot of influential people, congratulating her on her networking skills, showing the road that led to a partnership. Afterwards he’d taken her home, kissed her on the cheek, and had gone to spend the rest of the night with a lady whose talents were as legendary as her prices.
She wondered if Drago would call her back, or write, but a month passed with no word from him. Then a large gold envelope came through her door. Opening it, she found an invitation to the ceremonies that would accompany the reopening of the church he’d been restoring.
The card was practically a work of art in itself, elaborately embossed, the wording formal with nothing personal about it. He’d included a brief note, saying he would book a hotel for her, and inviting her to join him and his other guests at his home the night before the dedication, and again the following evening. It could have been written to almost any guest, but she knew better than to attach importance to its formality.
The true message was that, like her, he longed for another meeting but, also like her, he was cautious. Across the miles his heart and mind reached out to her, as perfectly in harmony as before.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE went to see Brian to ask for a week off.
‘I know I’ve already had a week this year-’ she began.
‘Hey, don’t make me sound like a slave-driver. A week is nothing, and you’re due for some time off. Planning anything special?’ He looked suddenly alarmed. ‘I need you in the firm. You haven’t got a lover trying to take you away from us, have you?’
‘No, I leave that kind of thing to you,’ she teased. ‘I’m pursuing business. I met a well-known architect in Italy, and he’s invited me to the opening of a church he’s just finished restoring.’
‘Drago di Luca,’ Brian mused, looking at the card. ‘I’ve heard of him. Even in this country he’s beginning to be talked about. Well done. If he accepts commissions over here, his business could be valuable.’
She murmured a reply and escaped. He could think she was making a cool move, but the truth was she felt
