Juliet. Anne Fortier

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ impression that he could see far more of me than I could see of him. ‘Maybe she doesn’t want our protection.’ From the way he said it I knew it was a challenge, and I also knew that, despite his accent, he was eminently at home in my language. Which meant that he had other reasons for being monosyllabic with me.

      ‘I really appreciate this ride,’ I said, deploying my cutest smile. ‘But I am sure Siena is very safe.’

      He acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. ‘What brings you over here? Business or pleasure?’

      ‘Well…pleasure, I suppose.’

      Eva Maria clapped her hands excitedly. ‘Then we will have to make sure you are not disappointed! Alessandro knows all the secrets of Siena. Don’t you, caro? He will show you places, wonderful places that you would never find on your own. Oh, you will have fun!’

      I opened my mouth, but had no idea what to say. So I closed it again. It was quite evident from his frown that showing me around Siena would rank very low on Alessandro’s agenda for the week.

      ‘Sandro!’ Eva Maria went on, her voice turning sharp. ‘You will make sure Giulietta has fun, no?’

      ‘I can imagine no greater felicity,’ replied Alessandro, turning on the car radio.

      ‘See?’ Eva Maria pinched my flushed cheek. ‘What did Shakespeare know? Now we are friends.’

      Outside, the world was a vineyard, and the sky was suspended over the landscape like a protective, blue cape. It was where I was born, and yet I suddenly felt like a stranger–an intruder–who had crept in through the back door to find and claim something that had never belonged to me.

      

      It was a relief when we finally pulled up in front of Hotel Chiusarelli. Eva Maria had been more than kind throughout the trip, telling me this and that about Siena, but you can only make so much polite conversation after losing a night’s sleep and all your luggage in one fell swoop.

      Everything I owned had been in those two suitcases. I had basically packed up my entire childhood right after Aunt Rose’s funeral, and had left the house in a taxi around midnight with Janice’s triumphant laughter still ringing in my ears. There had been all sorts of clothes, books, and silly knickknacks, but now they were in Verona, and I was here, stuck in Siena with little more than a toothbrush, half a granola bar, and a pair of earplugs.

      After pulling up at the curb in front of the hotel and dutifully opening the car door for me, Alessandro escorted me all the way into the vestibule. He obviously didn’t want to, and I obviously didn’t appreciate the gesture, but Eva Maria was watching us both from the backseat of the car, and by now I knew that she was a woman who was used to having things her way.

      ‘Please,’ said Alessandro, holding the door open. ‘After you.’

      There was nothing else to do but enter Hotel Chiusarelli. The building greeted me with cool serenity, its ceiling supported by high marble columns, and only very faintly, from somewhere below us, could I discern the sound of people singing while throwing pots and pans around.

      ‘‘Buongiorno!’ An august man in a three-piece suit rose behind the reception counter, a brass name-tag informing me that his name was Direttore Rossini. ‘Benvenu–ah!’ He interrupted himself when he saw Alessandro. ‘Benvenuto, Capitano.’

      I placed my hands flat on the green marble with what I hoped was a winning smile. ‘Hi. I am Giulietta Tolomei. I have a reservation. Excuse me for a second.’ I turned towards Alessandro. ‘So, this is it. I am safely here.’

      ‘I am very sorry, Signorina,’ said Direttore Rossini, ‘but I do not have a reservation in your name.’

      ‘Oh! I was sure…is that a problem?’

      ‘It is the Palio!’ He threw up his arms in exasperation. ‘The hotel is complete! But’–he tapped at the computer screen–‘I have here a credit card number with the name Julie Jacobs. Reservation for one person for one week. To arrive today from America. Can this be you?’

      I glanced at Alessandro. He returned my stare with perfect indifference. ‘Yes, that’s me,’ I said.

      Direttore Rossini looked surprised. ‘You are Julie Jacobs? And Giulietta Tolomei?’

      ‘Well…yes.’

      ‘But…’ Direttore Rossini took a little sidestep better to see Alessandro, his eyebrows describing a polite question mark. ‘C’è un problema?’

      ‘‘Nessun problema,’ replied Alessandro, looking at us both with what could only be a deliberate non-expression. ‘Miss Jacobs. Enjoy your stay in Siena.’

      Within the blink of an eye Eva Maria’s godson was gone, and I was left with Direttore Rossini and an uncomfortable silence. Only when I had filled out every single form he put in front of me did the hotel director finally allow himself to smile. ‘So…you are a friend of Captain Santini?’

      I looked behind me. ‘You mean, the man who was just here? No, we’re not friends. Is that his name? Santini?’

      Direttore Rossini clearly found me lacking in understanding. ‘His name is Captain Santini. He is the–what do you say–Head of Security at Monte dei Paschi. In Palazzo Salimbeni.’

      I must have looked stricken, because Direttore Rossini hastened to comfort me. ‘Don’t worry, we don’t have criminals in Siena. She is a very peaceful city. Once there was a criminal here’–he chuckled to himself as he rang for the bellboy–‘but we took care of him!’

      For hours I had looked forward to collapsing on a bed. But now, when I finally could, rather than lying down I found myself pacing up and down the floor of my hotel room, chewing on the possibility that Alessandro Santini would run a search on my name and truffle out my dark past. The very last thing I needed now was for someone in Siena to pull up the old Julie Jacobs file, discover my Roman debacle, and put an untimely end to my treasure hunt.

      A bit later, when I called Umberto to tell him I had arrived safely, he must have heard it in my voice, because he instantly knew something had gone wrong.

      ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I said. ‘Just some Armani stiff who discovered I have two names.’

      ‘But he is an Italian,’ was Umberto’s sensible reply. ‘He doesn’t care if you break some law a little bit, as long as you wear beautiful shoes. Are you wearing beautiful shoes? Are you wearing the shoes I gave you?…Principessa?’

      I looked down at my flip-flops. ‘Looks like I’ve had it.’

      

      Crawling into bed that night, I slipped right into a recurring dream that I had not had for several months, but which had been a part of my life since childhood. The dream had me walking through a magnificent castle with mosaic floors and cathedral ceilings held up by massive marble pillars, pushing open one gilded door after another and wondering where everyone was. The only light came from narrow stained-glass windows high, high over my head, and the coloured beams did little to illuminate the dark corners around me.

      As I walked through those vast rooms, I felt like a child lost in the woods. It frustrated me that I could sense the presence of others, but they СКАЧАТЬ