Читать книгу Modern Romance March 2019 5-8 - Ким Лоренс, Dani Collins - Страница 14

IGNORING THE COLD clutch of fear in her stomach, she dealt him a cool, ‘over my dead body’ glare.

‘I thought I made it quite clear to your grandfather’s lawyer that I am not about to hand over Jamie. Or,’ she challenged, injecting her words with withering scorn, ‘are you going to tell me you being here has nothing to do with that at all?’

‘I am here on my own behalf.’

Not an exactly comforting statement when made by a man who looked a lot more ruthless than any legal letter—a man who seemed to have inherited the same lack of moral scruples that had been noticeable from her communications with his grandfather.

Her lips twisted into a bitter, contemptuous smile. ‘Oh, well, I suppose you could say better late than never. Still, Bruno had plenty of people who did care for him and love him to say goodbye—just no one called Greco.’

He responded with a shrug. His expression gave nothing away, certainly not guilt.

‘Why didn’t you just tell me who you were last night?’ she challenged in an accent thickened by the antagonism that shone in her sea-blue eyes. ‘You lied. And save me the semantics—lying by omission is still a lie!’ Arms folded across her chest, she lifted her chin and dared him with angry eyes to deny this.

He didn’t try, neither did he make any attempt to defend himself, which was a shame because she’d have loved to tell him what she thought about him. She might anyway, she brooded, glaring with dislike at the too-good-looking imposter.

Actually, he seemed content to let her talk, just as he had last night. And that turned out so well, Flora, she reminded herself. She had told him things because he was a stranger with no connection to her; she’d revealed weakness, her fears and guilty secrets—she was a bad mother.

Would those words cost her—cost Jamie? she wondered. By the time the feelings of vulnerability in her mind translated into words they were angry and directed at the person responsible for her feeling this way.

Flora had never been of the ‘don’t get mad, get even’ school of thought, she just got mad, though she liked to think it wasn’t any stereotypical red-headed short fuse. She reserved her ire for people who really deserved it.

And Ivo Greco did!

This brother was as bad as his grandfather who had sent her the vile letter via his lawyer. The cold, subtly threatening wording had stayed with her, as had the thoughts of the blood money he had wanted to throw her way.

Hands planted on the table, ignoring the pool of milk and shattered crockery around her feet, fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists, she glared at him, hating the fact that her body hummed with awareness when she looked at him.

‘Forget the bill, you’re family,’ she drawled. Turning away, she tossed her last words over her shoulder. ‘But we just closed for the season.’

‘I’d say you have another, what, two months before you close permanently.’

Shock froze her to the spot for a moment before, eyes flashing, she spun back, stamped up to the table and glared down at him.

‘It may not seem much to you!’ she charged, trying hard not to think of the Greco billions and the mountains that that much money could move. The wills it could find loopholes in. ‘This place is Jamie’s inheritance. I won’t let that happen.’

He nodded. ‘Good to know. Look, you’re annoyed—I get that!’

Her eyes flew wide; this man was unbelievable. Annoyed! ‘How incredibly reasonable of you,’ she gritted with teeth-clenching insincerity. ‘I’m not annoyed. I’m absolutely furious!’

And it suited her, he decided, allowing his eyes to linger a moment too long on her slightly parted pink lips.

‘And don’t tell me I’ve no right to be... Now,’ she added with an addition of dark understanding, ‘your prowling the house last night makes sense. Were you looking for ammunition to use against me in court? You may have money—’ she choked ‘—but I have right...’

His dark brows lifted, forging a dark bar above his nose as he cut across her in an amused scornful drawl. ‘You must be more naive than I thought if you think right always wins.’

She felt a chill run down her spine. ‘Is that a threat?’

He didn’t say a word, just held her eyes, the dark implacability in those still obsidian depths more threat than any words. Flora felt a shudder of visceral fear trace a cold path up her spine and fought against the panic she could feel building. She needed to stay calm and show him she wasn’t intimidated...even if she was!

‘Sorry I didn’t oblige you by being drunk in charge of a baby or enjoying an orgy.’

The mental images of a private orgy with the gorgeous fiery redhead delayed his response for several moments. ‘It might speed things along if you cut down on the histrionics.’

Her eyes narrowed on his face with dislike. ‘You know, your family’s sudden interest in Jamie seems just a little bit perverse. You’ve shown no interest in him before.’

‘I didn’t know he existed.’

She blinked and tossed out a scornful, ‘You expect me to believe that?’

He shrugged, his attitude oozing the sort of arrogant hauteur guaranteed to raise her hackles as he informed her in a bored-sounding drawl, ‘You can, and I’m sure will, believe whatever you wish. I have no intention of supplying you with documented proof.’

‘You let me tell you about Sami and Bruno and you didn’t say anything...’ Her voice quivered when she thought about the other things she’d told him, thinking he was a stranger she would never see again. ‘It was a cruel thing to do.’

For the first time he looked slightly, not guilty, but, at least, disconcerted, but she held tight to her anger. She had offered an olive branch to Salvatore Greco and got an insult back.

She had to assume Ivo was here because the legal intimidation and bribery hadn’t worked. And on that premise, he was the physical equivalent of a legal threat.

She threw up her hands in an attitude of weary disgust and walked stiff-backed across the room before spinning back. Arms folded across her chest, where the tight knot of swirling emotions made her respirations uneven and painful, she fixed him with a tight-lipped glare, finally letting go a soft resigned sigh.

‘Fine, say what you have come here to say and just go away.’ She adopted an expression of determined uninterest and waited.

‘My grandfather is dying.’ He watched her uncompromising stance disintegrate as she tumbled from an attitude of righteous indignation to shock, before he saw her expression soften into compassion.

Had the situations been reversed, had Salvatore learnt that the woman who stood between him and what he wanted had been given a death sentence, well, his eyes would not be softening with sympathy, that was certain.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

The thing was they were not just words; he believed her. She was making this too easy and making him feel guilty—as if he weren’t carrying around enough of that! Her soft-hearted vulnerability was her problem, not his, he reminded himself, and if he took advantage she only had herself to blame.

‘Is there much pain?’

He blinked, realising he hadn’t asked. ‘I don’t know. He doesn’t...confide.’

She nodded as if she understood, but of course she couldn’t. Flora Henderson still believed in the basic goodness of humanity, which was where her greatest vulnerability lay. She had never really accepted that good was the exception, the norm was selfishness and avarice and basic ‘walk all over your fellow man to claw your way to the top’.

It was inevitable that one day something would wipe the idealistic glow from her beautiful eyes. Ivo was glad that he wouldn’t be around to see it...unless he was the catalyst?

‘So you came.’ Her slender shoulders lifted in enquiry. ‘Because?’

‘He wants to see his great-grandson.’

‘That was never a problem,’ she pointed out. ‘He didn’t want to see Jamie, he wanted to buy him. He wanted me to give up any rights at all. I used to wonder what his family did that was so bad to make Bruno walk away, now I know.’ But this man hadn’t walked away; he was one of them. A fact that, for Jamie’s sake, she couldn’t allow herself to forget.

‘Sami and Bruno wanted me to...’ Her eyes fell, then lifted, blazing with defiance as they fixed on his face, daring him to throw last night’s admission back at her as she said in a voice that shook with sincerity, ‘I may not be the world’s best mother, but I love Jamie, and I’m not about to hand him over for any amount of money. I’m sorry your grandfather is ill but it’s not going to happen.’

Dio. Fair play seemed to be this woman’s middle name, so why the hell did he feel so bad about using this to his own advantage?

‘Sure, I get that.’

Her eyes widened before fluttering in confusion. ‘You do?’

His gaze moved around the room before it landed on her face. ‘This place means a lot to you?’

‘They built it...for Jamie.’

The quiver in her voice made his jaw clench. ‘Is it the life you wanted?’

She gave him a blank look and shook her head, looking at him as though he were talking a foreign language.

‘You’re what? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?’ He was genuinely curious; had it ever crossed her mind to refuse the burden that had been gifted her?

‘You tell me, you seem to know everything,’ she retorted snappily. ‘I suppose you have some creepy file on my life.’

He shrugged, the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth mocking. ‘It’s a very thin file.’ He demonstrated the point by extending his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger almost touching and watched her eyes widen with horror.

‘I wasn’t being serious!’ she squeaked.

Welcome to my world, he thought. It was one she wouldn’t fit into. ‘Don’t worry, there was nothing Salvatore could use for leverage, or he already would have.’

He sounded so chillingly casual that all Flora could do was stare.

‘I didn’t come here to blackmail you or bribe you or propose...’

‘What?’

‘My grandfather’s favoured option is we marry, and somewhere down the line divorce, at which point I will gain full custody of Jamie.’

Her laugh was the result of nerves, not any appreciation of the joke. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘I’m not.’ But you had to hand it to Salvatore, there was a certain attractive simplicity to the plan. Not that he had for one moment considered the proposition any more than he would have considered allowing a vulnerable baby to be moulded into adulthood by Salvatore. His lips twisted into a self-derisory grimace as his glance flickered downward over himself. Look how well you turned out!

Her teeth clenched as she watched one corner of his mouth twitch into a lazy half-smile. ‘Sorry, the amusing part has just passed me by. Care to share?’ she tossed out sarcastically.

‘Would it hurt to go along with a dying man’s last wishes?’ he asked, watching through the skein of his lashes as uncertainty swamped the anger in her blue eyes; followed a moment later by compassion, just as he’d known it would be.

Damping an inconvenient stab of conscience, he reminded himself that it was not his task to protect her from her own kind heart, it was hers to toughen up. The alternative was going through life being used—he wasn’t the only unscrupulous bastard out there.

It had been obvious to him within five minutes of meeting her that one of Flora Henderson’s flaws was that she would always do the right thing, even if that right thing made her miserable. She possessed the thing that made her one of life’s victims—a tender heart!

He knew that she would not hesitate to sacrifice her own happiness if it was the right thing to do. All he had to do was convince her it was the right thing and he really didn’t think it would take an awful lot of effort on his part. Not once he actually got her back to Italy—the rest was inevitable. Once she saw the sort of life the baby could have being brought up as a Greco, the sort of advantages that he could give the child, she wouldn’t be able to help herself doing the right thing.

‘Obviously, I’m sorry.’

He arched a brow. ‘Really? You’re not just a tiniest bit glad?’

Insulted by the suggestion, she stared stonily back at him.

‘You’re going to lose this place, you know.’

She clamped her mouth closed over a denial that she knew would be a lie.

‘And then what will happen—you both move in with your mother?’ He arched a brow and watched her face. ‘You’ve thought of that, but I suppose you’re also thinking she’s not getting any younger, and she’s already brought up her children. She needs a rest, but what option will you have? And, of course, there is no work here for an up-and-coming architect so you’ll move back to Edinburgh or Glasgow?’

She fought the urge to cover her ears and shut out the horribly insidious voice putting her worst unacknowledged fears into words. ‘I’ve not thought—’

‘That far ahead?’ he inserted smoothly. ‘I get that, but you’re going to have to when you stop thinking some sort of miracle is going to happen. Will you take Jamie with you and farm him out to a nursery?’ he pressed, as he relentlessly continued to paint a picture of the future that Flora didn’t want to see. ‘Or leave him here with your mother? Do you think that your sister and Bruno would want any of that for their son? Do you think that was what they had in mind when they made you his guardian?’

‘My mum is too old to...’ Biting her lip as she felt the press of tears behind her eyes, she shook her head. ‘You don’t know what is best for Jamie.’

‘Do you?’

Unable to respond, she turned her head away, closing her eyes to shut out his dark, relentless stare.

He saw the doubts in her face and pressed home his advantage, reminding the guilty whisper in his head that nothing he was saying was not the truth. ‘How hard do you think that it will be a few months down the line, after you’re late a few times to pick up the baby from nursery, or get the sack because you take too much time off when the baby is sick? How hard will it be then to convince a court that I’d be a better guardian?’

‘There is such a thing as employment law and State help. Working single parents cope—’

Each word was a direct hit at his pride, but when she said cope as though that were a good thing, he couldn’t hold his outrage in. He surged to his feet, swearing under his breath; the fact that she took an involuntary step back only increased his outrage. What the hell did she think he was going to do?

‘I do not want my nephew to cope! He is a Greco, he will not cope on government handouts and charity!’

Wow...when he shrugged off urbane and reasonable he did it big time! ‘Half a Greco.’

The provocation earned her a killer glare.

‘And if you think you can intimidate me—’

‘I’m not trying to intimidate you!’

She let out a weak laugh; if this was him not trying, she wouldn’t like to see him put any effort in.

‘Has it occurred to you that I might be the miracle you are waiting for?’ he remarked in a conversational tone.

‘I do not think miracle when I look at you.’

He sketched a quick smile. ‘I’m being serious.’

She viewed the change of tack with deep suspicion and rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, and I suppose you want me to keep Jamie.’

He shook his head in a negative motion. ‘I think you could be Aunt Flora who Jamie has holidays with on Skye and who gives him nice birthday presents.’

‘Well, at least you’re honest.’

In this instance honesty worked, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have lied through his teeth if it suited him in order to achieve what he wanted.

* * *

He nodded. ‘I may disagree with Salvatore’s methods but I do believe that Jamie should be brought up in Italy. I came here to offer a compromise of sorts that would mean your financial problems are over and my grandfather will die a happy man.’ For Salvatore, happy meant getting his own way.

Flora didn’t relax. She reminded herself that this brother hadn’t rejected his heritage, his position of privilege; he was as dangerous as the grandfather.

‘Unless of course you’re not interested in Jamie’s future.’

Her chin went up at the suggestion as she glared at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Jamie’s future is here.’

‘Here or a bedsit in Edinburgh with no garden and noisy neighbours. And what sort of schooling would he receive? You would really deprive Jamie of everything I can give him?’

Nothing he said was wrong or even exaggerated. Flora pushed down the choking tide of panic she could feel building.

‘You have a problem; I have a solution. One that isn’t marry me and live unhappily ever after.’

She gave a tense nod and thought, I’m probably going to regret this. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I suggest you and Jamie come back to Italy with me—think of it as a holiday.’

‘To Italy! What would that solve? Anyway,’ she said, shaking her head from side to side, ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

He dug a hand into his pocket, catching the velvet pouch that held the ring in his fingers. ‘How about you hear me out?’

She responded to the sardonic request with a slow reluctant nod of her head.

‘Come back to Italy with me as my fiancée.’

For at least ten seconds she managed to keep her mouth shut, until the pressure of the low heavy thud in her head got too much to resist. ‘An interesting suggestion, which, in case you were wondering, is a polite way of say you’re insane. Utterly mad!’ she croaked with deep conviction.

‘Calm down!’

‘I’m perfectly calm.’ The strange thing was she actually was. Her heart had slowed to a low, regular thud.

His lips twisted into a smile. She made him think of a spooked horse ready to run for the hills. One false word or move and she’d be gone.

‘I have no wish to be married, though I would like to know my brother’s child and have him know his heritage. He will one day inherit a great deal.’

‘Jamie will...?’

‘Of course, hadn’t that occurred to you?’

She shook her head, recalling a couple of comments her sister had made...but seriously rich? Bruno had been so normal, his brother was not. It was not difficult to imagine this man occupying the weird world of the uber-rich—he was a man who made his own rules.

‘My grandfather is too old to change and I see no reason he shouldn’t die a happy man. Let him think we’re getting married.’

‘What on earth made him think I’d agree to marry you, that we’d...’ her eyes fell as she felt a flush of embarrassment wash over her skin before tacking on an awkward ‘...fall in love?’

‘He cares little about the how—it is a means to an end. And you can relax, my grandfather knows that I do not fall in love.’

The air of utter confidence he delivered this statement with, as if it were a fact as indisputable as the chemical formula of water, dragged a strangled laugh from Flora’s throat, as for a brief moment her sense of humour reasserted itself.

‘Sorry, you just sounded so ridiculous...’ Her voice trailed off. She was guessing from his expression that he had little experience of being called ridiculous. ‘Well, I suppose it is good to know I won’t be expected to act loved up for his benefit.’

What did she look like loved up? he wondered, seeing those pink lips parted and swollen from kisses. The blue eyes glazed with passion. The effort of ignoring the flash of scalding, body-hardening heat gave his voice a throaty, abrasive quality as he explained.

‘Salvatore is only interested in the parental rights marriage brings, not the merging of souls.’ He tilted his head a little as he studied her face. ‘Was that a yes...?’

The acrid mockery in his statement made her wince. ‘Not even a maybe.’ Though it was and they both knew it. The knowledge, the lack of alternatives, felt like walls closing in around her.

‘Look, the deal I’m suggesting is come out with me, pretend to be my fiancée. Let Salvatore meet his great-grandson and for that I will clear the debts on this place, which will give the option of staying on or selling it as a profitable going concern. The alternative, we both know, is foreclosure.’

His fingers interwoven, he watched her, the internal struggle being waged in her head visible in the expressive, fine-boned face.

‘What will I tell people...my mother?’ She reacted to the flicker in his hooded eyes and added quickly, ‘Not that I’m agreeing to anything.’

‘That is, would be, up to you.’ His smile said he knew as well as she did that she was just playing for time. ‘The truth or maybe a version of it that suits you.’

‘You’re probably better than me with versions of the truth.’

‘My grandfather’s dying wish is to see his great-grandson and you are taking Jamie out there—surely she would understand that? You need a holiday, some sun.’

He was right, her mum would accept that. She began to feel panicky as her legitimate reasons to resist continued to vanish.

‘As for the financial problems resolving—’

‘She doesn’t know... Nobody—’ Her long lashes lifted and he was on the receiving end of the full resentful glare of her cerulean-blue eyes. ‘I thought nobody knew.’

‘It never crossed your mind to ask for help?’ Stupid question, he realised—she was too stubborn and independent to ask for a sticking plaster if she was bleeding out! ‘Has anyone ever mentioned the downsides of sticking your head in the sand?’

The sarcasm brought an angry flush to her cheeks. ‘If I did go along with this, this...arrangement...’ not a bad word for insanity ‘... I’d need some guarantees,’ she said, resisting the feeling that she was just being swept along.

He arched a sable brow. ‘Such as?’

‘I will need my own...space.’

His mouth quirked. ‘Space is not a problem, but you’re not talking about space, are you, cara?’ he drawled, his smile deepening as she flushed like some sort of virgin. ‘You’re talking about beds. You will have your own private suite, and rest assured I never enter a lady’s room without an invitation.’

There would be no shortage of those coming his way, she thought with a scowl. ‘Like a vampire.’ There was nothing even vaguely undead about his vibrant colouring. Flora found the vitality he oozed exhausting at close quarters.

‘A creature of the night, hmm?’ he drawled, rubbing his chin. ‘I’ve been called worse.’

‘Of that,’ she retorted tartly, ‘I have no doubt.’

‘So, any other demands?’

‘I’d say common courtesy but I’m a realist.’

His deep, warm, appreciative chuckle tickled her nerve endings in a not entirely unpleasant way.

‘So when I decide to return home there will be no attempt to prevent me...and Jamie.’

‘Your decision every step of the way.’

She frowned, for some reason worried about how easy he was making this. ‘I suppose...’

‘So that’s a yes, then, you agree.’

‘But how—?’

His voice, implacably cool, cut across her protests. ‘Agree or not? Leave the how to me.’

‘I agree,’ she said, turning a deaf ear to the voice in her head that said she had just signed away her soul for security.