The Gemini Contenders by Robert Ludlum Read Free Book Online

walked in front of the white hood, absently feeling the radiator cap, and smiled at his companion, the Contessa d’Avenzo. Together they crossed to the stone steps leading up to the entrance of Villa Lario.
    “Where did you tell the servants you were off to?” asked Fontini-Cristi.
    “Treviglio. You are a horse trainer who wants to sell me an Arabian.”
    “Remind me to buy you one.”
    “And you? What did you say at your office?”
    “Nothing, really. Only my brothers might ask for me; everyone else waits patiently.”
    “But not your brothers.” The Contessa d’Avenzo smiled. “I like that. The important Vittorio is hounded in business by his brothers.”
    “Hardly! My sweet younger brothers have between them three wives and eleven children. Their problems are continuously and forever domestic. I think sometimes I’m a referee. Which is fine; they keep occupied and
away
from business.”
    They stood on the terrace outside the glass doors that ledto the lobby of Villa Lario and looked down at the enormous lake and across to the mountains beyond.
    “It’s beautiful,” said the contessa. “You’ve arranged for a room?”
    “A suite. The penthouse. The view’s magnificent.”
    “I’ve heard of it. I’ve never been up there.”
    “Few people have.”
    “I imagine you lease it by the month.”
    “That’s not really necessary,” said Fontini-Cristi, turning toward the huge glass doors. “You see, as it happens I own Villa Lario.”
    The Contessa d’Avenzo laughed. She preceded Vittorio into the lobby. “You are an
impossible, a
moral man. You get richer from your own kind. My God, you could blackmail half of Italy!”
    “Only
our
Italy, my dear.”
    “That’s enough!”
    “Hardly. But I’ve never had to, if it relieves your mind. I’m merely a guest. Wait here, please.”
    Vittorio walked over to the front desk. The tuxedoed clerk behind the marble counter greeted him. “How good of you to come to see us, Signore Fontini-Cristi.”
    “Are things going well?”
    “Extremely so. Would you care to—?”
    “No, I should not,” interrupted Vittorio. “I assume my rooms are ready.”
    “Of course,
signore
. As you requested, an early supper is being prepared. Caviar Iranian, cold pressed duck, Veuve Cliquot twenty-eight.”
    “And?”
    “There are flowers, naturally. The masseur is prepared to cancel his other appointments.”
    “And …?”
    “There are no complications for the Contessa d’Avenzo,” answered the clerk quickly, rapidly. “None of her circle is here.”
    “Thank you.” Fontini-Cristi turned, only to be stopped by the sound of the clerk’s voice.
    “Signore?”
    “Yes?”
    “I realize you do not care to be disturbed except in emergencies, but your office called.”
    “Did my office say it was an emergency?”
    “They said your father was trying to locate you.”
    “That’s not an emergency. It’s a whim.”
    “I think you may be that Arabian, after all, lamb,” mused the contessa out loud, lying beside Vittorio in the feather bed. The eiderdown quilt was pulled down to her naked waist. “You’re marvelous. And so patient.”
    “But not patient enough, I think,” replied Fontini-Cristi. He sat up against the pillow, looking down at the girl; he was smoking a cigarette.
    “Not patient enough,” agreed the Contessa d’Avenzo, turning her face and smiling up at him. “Why don’t you put out the cigarette?”
    “In a little while. Be assured of it. Some wine?” He gestured at the silver ice bucket within arm’s reach. It stood on a tripod; an open bottle draped with a linen towel was pushed into the melting crushed ice.
    The contessa stared at him, her breath coming shorter. “You pour the wine. I’ll drink my own.”
    In swift, gentle movements, the girl turned and reached under the soft quilt with both hands to Vittorio’s groin. She raised the cover and placed her face underneath, over Vittorio. The quilt fell back, covering her head as her