Читать книгу Italian Bachelors: Ruthless Propositions - Фиона Харпер, Кэтти Уильямс, Cathy Williams - Страница 16

CHAPTER SEVEN

MAX SPENT THE REST of the afternoon in the library with the door shut. He tinkered with his plans for the institute until his eyes were gritty and his brain was spinning. It didn’t help that every time he wasn’t 100 per cent immersed in what he was doing he kept having strange flashbacks.

He kept seeing Ruby’s slightly swollen and bleeding finger. Inevitably that led to memories of looking up into her eyes. He hadn’t noticed their colour before. Warm hazel. Not green. Not brown. But a unique pairing of the two that was slightly hypnotic. He hadn’t been able to look away, hadn’t been able to let go. And then he’d gone and kissed her finger. What had all that been about?

Okay, he knew exactly what that had been about. He might not have been in the mood to date since his father’s death, finding himself drawn to his own company, filling his hours with work, but he was no stranger to desire.

He stopped tweaking a design for a staircase he had up on his computer screen and deleted all the last fifteen changes he’d made. It had been better before. Now it was more boring, if that was even possible. He’d seen a hundred different staircases like it in a hundred different buildings.

He pushed back from the desk, stood up, began to pace.

He needed something different. Something unique.

Like those eyes...

No. Not like those eyes. They had nothing to do with it.

For heaven’s sake! It wasn’t even as if Ruby was anything like the kind of women he usually went out with, the kind he’d hardly noticed he’d stopped seeing: cultured, sophisticated, beautiful.

He sighed. And next to Ruby they seemed like clones churned out by a production line.

In comparison, she was strangely easy to be with. There was no game-playing. No second-guessing whether he’d accidentally said the wrong thing because he was being subjected to some secret test. If Ruby thought he’d overstepped the mark, she just told him in no uncertain terms.

There was a knock at the door and he stopped pacing and faced it, grunted his permission to enter. A moment later his travelling nanny popped her head round the door. ‘Your mother wanted me to let you know that dinner is served.’

She looked down and away, as if she was feeling awkward. When she looked up again, a faint blush stained her cheeks.

The air grew instantly thick. Max nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he managed to say. ‘I’ll be along in a minute.’

She smiled hesitantly and shut the door again.

Max ran a hand through his hair and swore softly. Was he imagining it, or had she got prettier since that afternoon?

He went over and sat back down at his desk. He clicked over to his email and read a few messages to distract himself, although what they contained he couldn’t have said. When he felt a little more his usual self, he rose and went to the dining room, lecturing himself en route.

You have no business noticing her eyes, warm hazel or otherwise. She’s your employee. Get a grip and get over it.

Thankfully, he was sitting opposite his mother this evening at dinner, and Ruby was off to one side, so he didn’t catch her gaze while they ate their...whatever it was they ate. He kept his concentration on his plate as his mother once again pounced on their guest as both willing audience and source of conversation.

‘Maybe being a nanny will be your niche after all,’ she told Ruby. ‘You’re a natural with Sofia, and she’s already very fond of you.’

Ruby smiled at her. ‘Thank you. I’m loving spending time with her, too, and spending time in Venice. This really is the most remarkable place.’

Fina’s chest puffed up with pride in her home. ‘You’ve never visited before?’ she said.

‘No. I always wanted to, though.’

Fina clapped her hands. ‘Well, then we must make sure we don’t work you too hard, so you get time to see some of the sights! But the best time of day to see the city is the hour leading up to sunset, don’t you think, Massimo?’

Max let out a weary sigh. ‘I suppose so.’

Ruby smiled and sipped her glass of water. She’d refused wine, seeing as she was still on duty. ‘I’m sure it is, but I may have to wait until my next visit for that. By the time I’ve got Sofia bathed and in bed, it’s nearly always dark.’

Fina rose from the table to go and fetch the dessert from the sideboard. ‘Then Massimo must take you before he goes back to London. Don’t worry about Sofia. I’m sure her nonna can manage bedtime alone for one night.’

They both turned to look at him.

He should say no. Make an excuse that he had too much work to do, or tell his mother to drive the boat herself, but he looked back at Ruby, her eyes large and expectant, and found himself saying, ‘Okay, but later in the week. And as long as we’re not out too long. I have work to do.’ And then he returned to attacking his vegetables.

The women went back to chatting again but a while later Ruby piped up, ‘Oh! I almost forgot. Before Sofia went to bed, she insisted I give this to you.’ She pushed a piece of paper in his direction. ‘I was going to let her do it herself, but you seemed to be so busy, so I just...didn’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, here it is, anyway.’

He reached out and pulled the scrap towards him, careful not to brush her fingers. From the thick, riotous turquoise crayon that graced the sheet of paper, he could tell the colouring was Sofia’s, but the drawing, that was all Ruby’s. He smiled as he looked at it.

She’d drawn one of the crabs they’d caught that afternoon in dark ink. The little crab hanging on the end of the fishing line looked full of personality, feisty and ready to take on the world if anyone dared try to catch him and tame him. It really was rather good.

‘I think you caught him perfectly,’ he said, and made the mistake of looking up at her. ‘You’ve got that devilish expression down pat.’

She didn’t say anything. Just smiled. And her eyes warmed further.

Max returned his attention to his plate.

He forced himself to remember the conversation that had taken place round this dinner table only a few evenings ago. It didn’t matter how nice her eyes were, or how relaxed he felt around her, it would be foolishness in the highest degree to be bewitched by that.

Ruby Lange was a drifter. She’d said so herself. She didn’t finish what she started, always tempted to run after something better and brighter and shinier.

He didn’t need a woman like that in his life. He’d seen what his mother had done to his father, hadn’t he?

He returned his gaze to his plate.

Pork. They were eating pork.

He’d do well to keep his mind on concrete things like that. On his work. On his commission, his final gift to the parent who’d stuck around to raise him.

No more distractions, no matter how tempting.

* * *

The following evening Ruby approached dinner with a plan. Max was going home in just under forty-eight hours and still he was treating his mother like the enemy.

However, he’d softened up with Sofia nicely. He no longer held her as if she were an unexploded bomb, and interacted quite easily with her now. Sofia, who maybe had been lacking a positive male role model in her life, simply adored him. It was clear a bond was forming between them.

Surely the potential was there with Fina, too? All he needed was to be thrown in the deep end a bit, as he had been with Sofia.

So Ruby deliberately decided not to natter on at dinner time this evening, hoping it would encourage mother and son to converse. But as they waded their way through the main course, the only sound in the cavernous dining room was the clinking of cutlery and the dull thud of glasses being picked up and set down again.

Fina kept looking at him, willing him to glance her way, but mostly, unless he was reaching for the salt or refilling his glass, Max refused. As the meal wore on Ruby could sense more and more nervous energy in the woman sitting beside her. Fina must sense her chance for reconciliation ticking away with the hours and seconds until Max’s flight back to London. It didn’t seem as if he’d be in a hurry to return any time soon, either.

Eventually, Fina cracked. She put down her knife and fork and stared at him for a few seconds before opening her mouth. ‘Massimo. You’ve been having such a wonderful time here with Sofia these last few days.’

Max glanced up so briefly Ruby doubted he’d even had time to focus on Fina. He grunted then turned his attention to his plate.

Fina shot a nervous look at Ruby and Ruby nodded her encouragement.

‘Ruby’s been telling me all about your crabbing expeditions.’

Another grunt. This time without eye contact.

Fina swallowed. ‘I was thinking that maybe I’d invite the whole family to visit for the festival of San Martino in November. You used to love decorated biscuits of Martino on his horse, remember?’ She laughed. ‘You once asked me if we were cousins of the saint, because our last names were so similar.’

Max carried on cutting his chicken, and only when he’d precisely severed a chunk, put it in his mouth and chewed and swallowed it thoroughly, did he answer his mother. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to spare the time from work. If this commission goes through it’ll be full steam ahead until the new year.’ And then he went back to dissecting his meal.

Fina nodded, even though her son wasn’t watching, and hung her head over her plate.

Ruby glared at him. She wanted to fish that little crab they’d met the other day out of the canal and attach it to his nose! He was being so stubborn.

Didn’t he know what a gift this was? Maybe Fina hadn’t been the perfect mother, but she was trying to make up for it now. Surely that had to mean something? And there had to be good reasons why a woman as warm and caring as Fina had walked away from her marriage. She might try and act blasé, but Ruby couldn’t believe she’d done it on a whim, whatever Max might think.

Fina rose from her seat. ‘I promised Renata upstairs that I would look in on her. She’s not been feeling very well,’ she said, and walked stiffly from the room.

Max pushed his plate away. Ruby glared at him. ‘Couldn’t you just even give her a chance?’

He lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were empty, blank like the statues topping so many of the palazzos nearby. ‘It’s not your business, Ruby. What happens in my family is my concern.’

She stared back at him, words flying round her head. But she released none of them, knowing he was speaking the truth and hating him for it. So much for the bond she’d thought they’d forged over the last few days.

She rose and followed Fina out of the room. ‘Thank you,’ she said as she reached the doorway, ‘for putting me firmly in my place.’

* * *

At least an hour passed before Max emerged from the library. The apartment was totally quiet. Sofia must be fast asleep and he hadn’t heard his mother return from visiting her neighbour.

Everything was dark—well, almost. A few of the wall sconces were lit at the far end of the corridor near the salon. His footsteps seemed loud as he walked down it and entered the large room. In here it was dark, too, with just one lamp turned on near the sofas, making the cavernous space seem smaller and more intimate. He looked for Ruby’s dark head against the cushions, for a hint of a purple streak, but there was no one there.

He was about to turn and leave the room, but then he heard a shuffling noise and noticed the doors to the balcony were open. He could just make out her petite form, leaning on the stone ledge, staring out across the water. Taking in a deep breath, he walked over to the open door and stood in the threshold.

‘I can hear voices,’ she said, her tone bland, ‘and I think it must be someone close by, but there are no windows open upstairs and no boats going by.’

‘It’s just another quirk of this city,’ he said. ‘Sounds seem oddly hushed at some times and magnified at others. Even a whisper can travel round corners.’

She nodded. Whoever had been talking had stopped now and silence grew around them.

What a pity it wasn’t silent inside Max’s head. He could hear another whispering voice now, one telling him to apologise. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that voice, but he usually managed to outrun it when it prompted him to do anything as dangerous as letting down his guard, admitting he was wrong, but Venice was amplifying this sound, too, making it impossible to ignore.

Or maybe it was Ruby who did that to him.

Sometimes she looked at him and he felt as if all the things he’d held together for so long were slowly being unlaced.

He should go, retreat back to the library, to the safety of his plans and emails. That was where he’d built the fortress of his life, after all—in his work. Just like his father before him.

Ruby didn’t ask anything of him. Didn’t demand as his mother would have done. Instead she kept staring out into the night, a faint breeze lifting her feathery fringe.

Max stepped forward. ‘I was rude earlier on,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

She kept her elbows resting on the stone balustrade and turned just her head, studied him. ‘I accept your apology, but you spoke the truth.’

She was right, he realised. That was something they always did with each other, whether they wanted to or not. ‘Even if it was, I shouldn’t have said it the way I did.’

Ruby’s cheeks softened and her smile grew. ‘Thank you.’ She straightened and looked back inside. ‘Sofia’s appetite for things to colour in is insatiable. I was going to get some outlines done to give me a head start in the morning, but I couldn’t resist slipping out here for a moment.’

She moved to go back inside, and his arm shot out across the doorway, blocking her. He didn’t know why he’d done that. He should have let her go. Ruby tipped her head and frowned at him, her delicate features full of puzzlement, her eyes asking a question. A question he didn’t know the answer to.

But other words found his lips, words he hadn’t even realised were his. ‘I find it hard to be here... This is the first time I’ve seen her since my father died.’

She looked back at him, understanding brimming in her eyes.

‘She broke him, you know, when she left. Everyone always said he was the same old Geoffrey, hard as steel, never letting anything get to him, but they didn’t know him the way I did.’

She moved a little closer, placed a hand on the arm that wasn’t blocking her exit, the one that was braced against the rough stone of the balustrade. ‘You’re angry with her,’ she said in a low voice. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. He’d been angry with her for years. It had started as a raging fire that only the indignation and passion of a teenage boy knew how to fan, and had solidified into something darker and deeper. ‘Since the day of his funeral I haven’t been able to ignore it any longer. I want to but I can’t.’

He broke away from her and walked a few steps down the balcony, away from the doors. Ruby, of course, followed him. He heard the soft pad of her ballet pumps on the stone. ‘You have to know that it’s illogical, that his death wasn’t her fault. They’ve been separated for years.’

He twisted to face her abruptly, his face contorting. ‘But that’s just it. It is her fault. You should have heard some of the things she used to scream at him.’ He shook his head. ‘And he never once lost his temper. It was the effort of living with her, then living without her, that brought on his high blood pressure.’

Ruby stepped closer. ‘Is that how he died?’

He nodded. ‘He had a stroke—a little one at first, but while he was in the hospital a bigger one struck, finishing him off.’

He felt the rage boiling inside him now. It was all so perilously close to the surface that he was scared he would punch straight through the five-hundred-year-old wall into the salon.

‘She’s hurting, too,’ Ruby said.

He forced himself to focus on her. For a moment the red haze behind his eyes had blurred his vision.

‘Can’t you forgive her?’

He shook his head, unable to articulate his answer. No, he didn’t think he could. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to contain it again, let alone quench it.

She must have seen the tension in his expression, because she stepped even closer, this time so he could smell that maddening elusive perfume. ‘You’ve got to let it go, Max. You can’t bury it all inside.’ Her eyes pleaded with him. ‘If you do it might damage you the same way it damaged him.’

He knew she was right. He just didn’t know if he knew how. Or even wanted to.

There was the tiniest noise in the back of his head, something snapping. But instead of releasing his anger he’d unleashed something else. It was also something he couldn’t keep buried any longer, and it had nothing at all to do with his mother and everything to do with the firecracker of a woman standing in front of him.

Slowly he leaned forward, and watched Ruby’s eyes widen. Darken. He slid his hand behind her neck, relishing the feel of her bare skin, the soft wisps of her hair, until he cupped her head and drew her to him. And then he unleashed the full force of all he was too weary to hold back any longer in one scorching kiss.

* * *

Ruby knew she should have frozen, knew she should have slipped out of his arms and retained some degree of decorum. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that sensible. Instead of reminding him of the barrier between them, the one that no proper nanny would cross, she let him sledgehammer through it as he ran hot kisses down the side of her neck.

She’d never been one for holding back and she certainly didn’t do so now. She ran her hands up his chest, grabbed his shirt collar and lifted herself closer, abandoning herself to the feel of his skin upon hers, his body pressed so tight against her own she felt breathless.

He slid his hands down the curve of her back to her waist, emphasising her femininity against his hard, straight masculinity. He kissed her again and she felt them both teeter on the edge of something, threatening to topple headlong into goodness knew what.

Oh, sweet heaven. She’d been right. When Max Martin let loose there was sizzle and passion and consuming fire, and all of that force was concentrated on her now, at the point where his lips were urgently seeking hers again. It was glorious.

It was also very stupid.

Max must have had an identical revelation at the same time, because he froze, his hands circling her waist, and then he stepped back, effectively dropping her back from her tiptoes onto her flat feet. She swayed, the sudden lack of solid, Max-shaped support and the cold air rushing between their bodies putting her off balance.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he almost stuttered, a look of complete horror on his face. ‘That was totally inappropriate.’

Ruby’s lips were still throbbing and her hormones still singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’. She blinked and stared back at him. Inappropriate? That was not a word a girl wanted to hear after the hottest kiss of her life.

He shook his head and strode past her and back into the salon. She watched him go, a gnawing feeling growing in her stomach. She couldn’t let him leave like this. This wasn’t his fault. She had to let him know that she’d been just as much a part of it as he had been. She heaved in a much-needed lungful of night air and ran after him. ‘Max!’

He turned as he passed through the double doors into the corridor.

‘You don’t have to... I mean, it wasn’t just...’ She trailed off, unable to find the words. He looked so thoroughly wretched. Part of her sank, but another part wanted to reach out to him, to soothe that crumpled expression from his face.

She’d pushed him too far, when he’d been feeling too raw, and he’d lost control. She got that. But maybe it was a good thing. Maybe loosening up in one area of his life would have a knock-on effect?

But it wasn’t just that. The way he’d kissed her, hard and hungry, verging on desperate. He had to feel it, too, this weird attraction, crush...whatever. She wasn’t alone in this.

She opened her mouth to speak, hardly knowing how to form the question, but at that moment Fina appeared at the top of the stairs and spotted them farther down the corridor. The atmosphere had been thick around her and Max anyway, but now it became so dense it turned brittle.

Fina walked up to them and looked at her son. Any hint of the distress she’d shown earlier was gone, replaced by a brisk and prickly demeanour. ‘It’s your last night tomorrow, Massimo.’

With what looked like supreme effort, Max dragged his gaze from Ruby and turned it to Fina. ‘I know that,’ he replied.

Ruby looked between mother and son. In an earlier century, an atmosphere like this would have been dispersed by cocking pistols and marching twenty paces in opposite directions. She hoped that Fina would say something conciliatory, forgiving her son his outburst instead of nursing her own pain into hardness.

Tell him you love him, Ruby wanted to yell. Tell him he’s everything in the world to you. Max might not see it, but she did. It was evident in every breath Fina took.

But Fina stared back at her son. It seemed she’d learned a thing or two from her buttoned-up husband about staying granite-like in the face of pain. She nodded. ‘Good. Just don’t forget you promised to take Ruby out to see the city at sunset. It’s her last chance.’

And then she turned and walked down the corridor to her bedroom.