‘Oh, don’t worry about them,’ Tore urged with a sardonic curl of his lips. ‘They’ll be quite content to relax and walk along the beach. They will thoroughly enjoy the concept of me celebrating my birthday in a nightclub. They adore surprises. In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked if they put someone here up to the idea of this outing tonight.’
‘I have to do my makeup.’ Violet walked into the bathroom with a downcurved mouth. He didn’t like dancing, clubs or surprises. Well, he could just put up with his disappointment, she thought in exasperation. He was only twenty-nine years old, not ninety-five. When did Tore celebrate still being young?
Thirty minutes later, Tore appeared in the doorway as she was slipping on her very high pearlized leather sandals. He was still wearing a suit, she noted but it was a very fashionable, fitted suit that simply accentuated his big, powerful physique and made him look utterly gorgeous and cool. She smiled at him.
Tore gritted his teeth after only one good look at her. Although she was eager to tell him what not to wear, he had been denied the chance to express his opinion about what she wore. There wasn’t enough of the dress as far as he was concerned. It showed off her fabulous legs, outlined her curves and bared a certain amount of cleavage. Sandro would be all over her like a rash. Although not while Tore was around, he reminded himself.
‘I have a gift for you,’ Tore recalled, stepping back into the bedroom.
‘You can’t give me a gift onyourbirthday!’ Violet objected in astonishment as she followed him. ‘Particularly when all I’ve done for you is bake you a cake!’
‘Don’t be a party pooper,mialucciola,’ Tore urged, extending a jewellery box stamped with the logo of a famous designer.
Violet backed towards the bed and sat down to open the gift. A cobweb-fine diamond collar and matching earrings lay on a bed of satin. She blinked in amazement. ‘I can’t accept something this valuable from you.’
‘Of course you can…you’re my wife and you have no jewellery aside of your wedding ring. That looks strange.’
Violet reddened at that bold, unapologetic statement. ‘Does it?’
Tore strode forward and lifted the collar to thread it deftly round her slender neck and fasten it. ‘It’s pretty,’ he pronounced. ‘It suits you…’
Violet darted over to the mirror and studied the rainbow effect of the sparkling ribbon of diamonds catching the lights at her throat. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she muttered tautly as she extracted the earrings and carefully attached them. ‘I suppose I can’t say no if you think I look odd without any jewellery, but I can always leave them behind when we split up.’
Tore tensed. ‘I can’t understand why you would want to do that. It’s not as though I’m likely to give them to anyone else when I specifically chose them for you.’
Violet tensed at that assurance, discomfiture feathering through her slight frame. ‘You’ve been very generous,’ she said uncomfortably, knowing that much like the clothes he had purchased for her and Belle, there was no way she could ever repay him for such gifts. ‘Thank you.’
When we split up, Violet had said casually as if both phrase and action referred to the utmost trivia, Tore mused. Was their relationship that unimportant to her? And why was he worrying about that? Shouldn’t he be relieved to see her display that attitude? Did they even have a relationship? He supposed there was no escaping the fact that they definitely did. Tore frowned, still unsure as to why he was annoyed that she should take their eventual divorce for granted. Shouldn’t that be what he wanted? Why was he feeling as though she had stolen his momentum? He was very logical. Why did it offend his pride and even annoy him on some level that she was already calmly referring to their future parting?
They headed down to dinner with Violet pausing on the way to check on Belle, who was fast asleep, snug in her cot. They were about to enter the dining room when Sofia hurried past them, addressing Tore in a surge of Italian.
‘My grandparents have arrived,’ he translated.
‘Oh my goodness, where are they going to sleep?’ Violet hissed at him.
‘Is that really your first thought?’ Tore asked in wonderment.
‘Of course. Every bedroom is occupied until tomorrow morning before the next batch arrives in the evening.’
‘Evidently, Sofia has you brainwashed into the perfect hostess. I should imagine they will be staying at the farm in the guest suite there tonight, at least,’ he suggested as Sofia opened the front doors and two smiling people bustled into the hall.
Violet only vaguely recalled Aldo Renzetti from that scene at their wedding when Tore had questioned the name she signed. She hadn’t registered quite how much smaller he was than Tore at that first glimpse. But the two men could not have been more different. Aldo was a stockily built man in his fifties with greying hair and lively brown eyes. His wife, of a similar age, was elegantly dressed in a designer frock and some very sparkly jewellery. She was a slim brunette, a little taller than her husband, and she had warm eyes.
‘I’m Matilde. I’m sorry we’ve been so last minute about this,’ she began to say in easy English as the dining room door opened and the relatives flooded out to greet the older couple. Much hugging and back patting took place.
Two more places were set at the dining table and there was no getting a word in edgeways as catching-up chatter in Italian crossed back and forth between the different parties. Coffee was finally served and Violet’s cake was brought in complete with burning candles. The cake resembled a man’s business jacket with a collar and tie and there was much laughter at that apt, if irreverent choice. As Tore ate a slice and pronounced it the best he had ever tasted, Violet leant closer to say, ‘If I had stayed out of the kitchen as you wanted, you wouldn’t be enjoying that.’
Small gifts were produced and then Aldo slipped out and reappeared carting what was obviously a wrapped painting to present to Tore. ‘For your collection,’ he said, beaming a bright smile at Violet. ‘One of your father’s creations. A true, traditional Sam Blessington from the days before he decided to become more cutting edge.’
Violet froze and lost colour as the picture was revealed. ‘That’s my grandfather’s home,’ she proffered shakily and in an effort to be polite and suitably grateful, added, ‘What a wonderful find!’
It was a relief when some minutes later, their younger guests began to make their apologies and bid the senior Renzettis good-night as they rose from the table.
‘Taking Tore to a nightclub?’ Matilde commented to Violet in a tone of delighted approval. ‘You’re going to be so good for him!’
‘They think I work too hard,’ Tore remarked apologetically on the way out the door as she donned a short jacket that matched her dress.
‘You do,’ Violet confirmed.
