Читать книгу The Chatsfield: Series 2 - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 36
ОглавлениеKEELIN WAS ACTUALLY relieved that Gianni had cut her off. She’d been ready to scream and had just been wondering what the hell she could witter on about next. But now she registered what he’d just said and suddenly air was in short supply. She forced a bright vacuous smile. ‘Okay.’
He looked at her and she felt acutely self-conscious in the ridiculous outfit she was wearing. Her skin felt tight, sensitive. She was aware of her bare breasts brushing against the material of her dress or the material that called itself a dress. Her nipples were as hard as bullets and Keelin’s frustration mounted.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I won’t lie. I want this deal with your father and if that means marrying you, then I’m willing to do it, but I’m not such an ogre that I’ll force someone into a marriage they don’t want.’
The fact that he was actually being reasonable barely impacted. Keelin thought fast. If she fessed up now, then Gianni would walk away but tell her father that she’d called it off. And her father would never give her a chance to prove herself. It would be seen as one more rebellion, even though she’d stopped rebelling long ago.
No. She needed it to look like Gianni had rejected her, and at least that way she’d have proved her devotion to the company and her father would have to give her a chance.
Crossing everything she could, Keelin said breathily, ‘My father loves me and I know he would only choose someone he really respected and trusted to marry me.’ She widened her eyes. ‘I only want what’s best for O’Connor Foods and if I can help Daddy by doing this, then I’m happy.’ She almost choked on the word Daddy.
Gianni’s face was utterly expressionless and it made Keelin nervous. She couldn’t read him. Was she overacting? Underacting?
He spoke slowly. ‘You need to know this will only ever be a marriage born out of a business arrangement. This will never be about hearts and flowers, Keelin. Any children will be heirs to both our family legacies, keeping the names alive. That’s why we’re doing this. And if you think you can live with those circumstances, then I’ll be happy to let your father know we’ll marry in two weeks.’
Gianni’s words resonated deep inside her. This will never be about hearts and flowers. The thought of falling in love with a ruthless businessman like Gianni made Keelin go cold all over. It would be the worst kind of repetition of a lesson she’d already learnt too well. It would never happen. She felt vulnerable just thinking about it and repressed a shudder.
She pushed that revelation down deep and giggled girlishly. ‘After the way you’ve been looking after me already? I just know I’m going to love it here.’
A muscle in his jaw popped slightly at that and Keelin felt a rush of satisfaction. He couldn’t be as sanguine as he looked. He would have a breaking point as to what kind of a wife he’d accept and she intended to find it.
Gianni put down his napkin. ‘Very well then, I’ll let your father know the good news.’
Keelin was already relishing the chance to get out of this man’s disturbing orbit so she could think of her next move, but then he said, ‘I have something for you.’
She looked at him, and then at the small velvet box he’d taken out of his jacket pocket. Damn. A ring.
Gianni opened the box and Keelin was almost dazzled by a huge square-cut diamond. It was a beautiful ring but not remotely original. Impersonal. Which was fitting. So why did something deep inside her feel ever so slightly disappointed at this evidence of Gianni’s lack of consideration. She should be rejoicing!
‘It’s lovely.’ She commented dutifully, and with what she hoped was a suitably dazzled smile.
‘See if it fits.’ Gianni plucked it out of the box and held it out.
Keelin slid the glittering ring onto her finger. It fit like a glove. As if the universe was conspiring with Gianni and her father to trap her. She dutifully moved her hand this way and that and thought to herself how far removed it was from the kind of ring she’d choose for herself.
Gianni was looking at his watch now and Keelin had a clear sense that she and the ring were on a checklist of things to do and she didn’t like the old sensation of resentment that surged up like bile.
He looked back at her. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’d like to get some rest. I’ll call the wedding planner in the morning to arrange a meeting.’
Keelin smiled sweetly and let Gianni guide her back out of the hotel restaurant even as she realised that she needed to up her game if she was going to really ruffle this man’s incredible sense of complacency.
He turned to her at the lifts and smiled and for a second Keelin forgot everything as she registered his sheer charisma and good looks. The lift doors opened and he held them back while she stepped in. His scent wound around her, making her feel a little hazy.
‘Buonanotte, Keelin. Till tomorrow.’
She smiled when she wanted to grimace, hating his effect on her. ‘Goodnight, Gianni.’
The lift doors closed on that far too distracting and darkly handsome face and Keelin sagged back against the mirrored wall. Delucca was about to learn that the meek and biddable wife he believed he’d acquired was anything but. And why did that suddenly feel like such an uphill battle?
For all of his apparent civility, Keelin had seen something hard in the depths of those dark eyes. Something immovable. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tangle with it, no matter how determined she was.
* * *
It was the following evening before Keelin got to see Gianni again. He’d called her that morning and made his apologies but something had come up and he was going to be unavoidably detained in meetings all day.
Keelin had sweetly said not to worry about it. She was used to that treatment and couldn’t let it get to her now. It wasn’t as if she was actually going to have to deal with it after all.
In any case she had been busy all day, too, with the enthusiastic wedding planner and very obsequious Harrington Hotel PR manager. She’d almost felt sorry for them both, knowing that she was likely to make this wedding more infamous than famous.
Keelin checked her reflection in the mirror now and grimaced. She was wearing a glittery all-in-one black jumpsuit, complete with gold belt and slits up the side of each leg, visible when she walked. Together with vertiginous heels and copious amounts of gold jewellery, she was blingtastic.
When the knock came on her suite door she took a deep breath, not liking the flutters in her belly at the thought of seeing Gianni again. What was that about?
She opened the door and her hand tightened around the knob reflexively. He was even more devastating than she remembered. A dark shadow of stubble on his jaw. Shirt and tie, dark suit. A picture of casual Italian elegance yet with a masculine edge that was all too raw.
‘Buonasera, Keelin, are you ready?’
Keelin nodded and noticed that his eyes dropped over her attire but he didn’t compliment her. Because he couldn’t bring himself to? She hoped so, because she guessed with another kind of woman compliments would roll off his tongue. A rogue part of her shivered to think of standing before him in something far more her, and wanting his compliments. On the way down to the lobby he apologised again for being detained and she waved it aside, smiling. ‘Please don’t worry. I had a hectic day too.’
As he led her out of the hotel, she managed to keep up an inconsequential but hopefully very annoying chatter about all the minutiae of the wedding preparations, knowing how men in general detested anything like that.
She was still chattering while Gianni led her outside to a low-slung silver bullet of a sports car and then started again as soon as he sat into the driver’s seat. Only the flicker of that muscle in his jaw told her she was hitting any kind of mark.
When she was drawing breath for another round of the most uninteresting conversation ever, Gianni interjected smoothly, ‘I thought you might like to have dinner at my apartment? I have a view overlooking the Colosseum.’
Dammit. Those flutters were back at the prospect of being alone with this man. She made a small pout. ‘I do love to people-watch but I suppose we have lots to discuss.’
He slid her a dark glance—and was that a hint of irritation she could see around his mouth? She hoped so.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘we do have lots to talk about. I thought a quieter location might be more suitable.’
In any other instance Keelin would have appreciated his consideration but not now. But was she already going so far that he was reluctant to show her off in public? That had to be a good thing. It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside a formidable-looking building. Very old, but with an interesting architectural twist of lots of glass. Keelin liked it and found herself asking without thinking, ‘Is this where you live?’
Gianni nodded as he parked the car with effortlessly sexy skill. ‘It houses my offices too. I own the whole building.’
Keelin watched, a little dumbfounded by his admission, as he unfolded his tall powerful frame from the car and came around to her side to let her out. She had to put out a hand for his help and when his strong fingers closed around hers she felt the blood pulse between her legs.
No! Everything in her rejected this attraction.
He drew her up and they were so close they were almost touching. Keelin saw his eyes track down to the top of her jumpsuit and saw them flare. Panic gripped her. She was meant to be turning him off, not on. And that went for herself too.
Something resolute crossed his face as if he was fighting a similar battle in his own head. He stepped back and let her hand go. Keelin’s blood was pumping so fast that she felt a little light-headed.
A doorman opened the door for them and Gianni introduced him as Lorenzo. Keelin smiled politely, and then they were ascending in the lift and the confined steel box was doing little to make her less aware of him. He seemed to take up a ridiculous amount of space.
When the doors slid open, there was a small plush corridor and Gianni was opening the door into the most stunning apartment Keelin had ever seen. She tried not to be impressed, to affect a blasé response, but it was a challenge not to let her jaw drop.
It was enormous, obviously the length and width of the building. Open plan but broken up by seriously luxurious discreet furnishings. Everything from the art on the walls to the rugs on the floors was perfectly pitched and placed. Seriously impressive.
She’d been facing away from Gianni and now he walked around in front of her. She quickly schooled her features into something more disinterested and said, ‘This is your only home in Rome?’
Gianni nodded. ‘What did you expect, cara? A palatial villa on one of Rome’s most exclusive hills overlooking gardens that belonged to emperors?’
Keelin made a small shrug and said, ‘I wasn’t sure what to expect.’ Hoping to project disappointment.
Gianni said dryly, ‘I do also own a villa in Umbria.’
Keelin feigned delight. ‘I believe it’s beautiful there.’
‘It is. I expect it’s where you’ll spend a lot of time once we’re married, but of course you’ll be welcome in the city whenever you need diversion.’
Gianni walked over to a phone, saying, ‘I’ll call the chef and let him know we’re ready to eat.’
It was just as well he was facing away from her because Keelin was glaring at his back. He expected that she’d be happy to be farmed out to some crumbling Italian villa so that he could get on with his own, obviously far more important, life?
Maybe he saw her out there with a brood of dark-haired sons, grooming them to be the perfect heirs. For a second though, Keelin’s anger was pierced by something very scary to think of a miniature Gianni running around.
She crushed that image ruthlessly. This is exactly what her parents had done. Left her alone in their cavernous house for long months at a time. It was time to push Gianni off his complacent perch.
Within seconds of him making the call, discreet staff were preparing the dining room and he led her into the glass-walled space. Keelin did her best not to notice the stunning decor and assured herself she wouldn’t be coming here for diversions.
Staff opened some champagne and she pushed down the queasiness, saying brightly, ‘We should probably discuss the important stuff, like children.’
Gianni looked at her, cheeks flaring slightly with colour—because she was talking about this in front of his staff? He waited until they were alone and he lifted his glass of sparkling wine. ‘You want to discuss that now?’
Keelin took a sip of the champagne and tried not to let her aversion to it show on her face. When she put her glass down she tried to look serious. ‘Better now than never.’
She leant forward a little and said conspiratorially, ‘Honestly? I didn’t imagine even contemplating children until I’m in my thirties. But obviously in light of this engagement I’ve been thinking about it.’
She bit her lip as if this pained her to say. ‘To be perfectly frank, the idea of labour and being pregnant is a serious downer. But I’d be open to adopting.’
She sat back again and elaborated as their starters were delivered. ‘A friend of mine adopted a baby from Africa and she’s so cute! All the big designers have kids’ collections now, and naturally she has a nanny to take care of the day-to-day stuff.’
‘You mean the child rearing.’
Keelin took a bite of food and pretended to be distracted. ‘What? Oh, yes, that’s what I mean.’
She risked a glance and Gianni was looking at her with a hard expression and Keelin feigned surprise and put her fork down. ‘Oh, had you intended on having children, for real? Like, your own?’
His jaw was tight, he wasn’t touching his food. ‘Call me old-fashioned but yes, I had anticipated having children of my own.’
Keelin’s anger flared again at the way he’d obviously decided he’d have no problem with children resulting from a cold and clinical union. She forced her irritation down and said pseudo-sympathetically, ‘And you’d imagined your wife bringing them up in the villa?’
‘Something like that. My mother was my main carer, not a nanny.’
Keelin rolled her eyes. ‘Lucky you. I had a veritable parade of nannies.’ She made a faint grimace. ‘I wasn’t the easiest child apparently, but I’m sure it’s not hereditary.’
Gianni seemed prepared to let that little nugget go and frowned. ‘Where was your mother?’
Keelin pushed down the old bitterness and said airily as if it hadn’t mattered a jot, ‘Oh, you know, with Daddy on trips, or away on holidays, or shopping. I was in boarding school most of the time.’
She looked at him after eating more of her starter and washing it down with champagne. ‘You should probably hear it from me that I was expelled from four schools, including my last one, a finishing school in Switzerland.’
Gianni hadn’t touched his starter and when the staff returned he let them take it. His eyes were hooded, dangerous. ‘Hear it from you?’
Keelin shrugged. ‘In case the papers pick up on it when they find out we’re getting married.’
Gianni went rigid. He hadn’t thought about that. ‘You were expelled from all your schools?’
Keelin pouted. ‘Well, not all. Not my primary one. Just the later ones, you know how teenage rebellion is.’
She continued chummily, ‘But I can see how good that discipline was for me so I’d be a big advocate of boarding school—the earlier, the better. There are lots of great schools in Ireland.’
* * *
Gianni fought down the urge to stand up and pace up and down. Keelin was not painting a good picture, and dammit, he hated feeling as if he was being made a fool of. Her father hadn’t hinted at any of this. She was practically a delinquent! And yet she’d be only too happy to send any children they had down the same route! He’d always thought of boarding schools as upper-class nonsense.
Once again he forced himself to remain civil. ‘May I ask what your transgressions were?’
Keelin ticked off her fingers. ‘Being caught in a local bar, smoking, being caught with boys in the dorm, running away...’
Gianni felt disgust rise, not because they were serious crimes since they weren’t especially, but he hated that evidence of someone from a life of privilege taking it so much for granted, exuding a kind of supercilious confidence that said she could do whatever she liked and get away with it.
And clearly she had the idea that her life would be going in the same direction as her mother’s—that of leaving the care of her children to strangers or to a school. And they wouldn’t even be their own children if she had her way! This conversation was also making a completely hitherto unexplored sense of protectiveness at the thought of a child of his own rise up within him.
It was too much. Gianni was feeling seriously claustrophobic. But then the main course arrived and he absently picked a suitable wine to go with the meat. Only to see Keelin wrinkle up her nose and say, ‘I’ll stick to the champagne, if that’s okay. I can’t abide wine.’
Gianni took a deep calming breath and tried not to dwell on that image of Keelin at important functions insisting on champagne when everyone else was drinking wine. He made a gesture to the chef’s waiter and said urbanely, ‘Of course, have what you like.’
Blissfully, for a moment as they ate, there was silence. And once Keelin wasn’t talking and saying anything that was guaranteed to wind him up, he became uncomfortably aware of her.
In spite of the bling jewellery, big hair, lots of make-up and fake tan, she was clearly a beauty. Those eyes, especially when she widened them, threatened to distract him every time. And those lush lips. And the curves underneath the provocative silk of the jumpsuit, not to mention the flash of long shapely legs every time she moved. One thing was very clear—his body would marry this woman in a second, his head though was another matter.
When their plates had been cleared, Gianni’s eyes narrowed on Keelin. For a moment she wasn’t looking at him, or looking vacant, or chattering nonsensically, and he had the strangest notion that this was all some kind of elaborate—what? Was she deliberately sending him crazy? Making him doubt himself? Maybe he was being too hasty? Surely they could talk about these things, and if they had children, then perhaps she could be persuaded that a nanny was sufficient, and not necessarily a boarding school in the remote reaches of Ireland?
But just then she looked at him again, and a small frown marred her smooth forehead. ‘There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.’
Gianni tried not to let his eyes drop to the voluptuous swell of her breasts. ‘Yes?’
Keelin looked exceedingly uncomfortable; a faint blush stained her cheeks. ‘I wanted to talk to you about sex.’
Gianni blanched a little. Had he been so obvious?
‘You see,’ she said hesitantly, ‘the thing is that it’s not for me.’
Gianni reacted on a deeply primal level. The strength of the rejection he felt at that statement was surprising. ‘Not for you?’
Keelin shook her head and looked pained. ‘No. It’s just—I hate it, to be honest.’
She shuddered delicately. ‘All that fuss over nothing. All that sweatiness and bodily fluids. Ugh.’
She must have seen something on his face because she said with a kind of dawning comprehension, ‘You didn’t expect me to be innocent, did you? Because I’ve been with, like, tons of guys. Which is how I know I hate it.’
She just wouldn’t want to be with him? The thought was like a red flag to a highly sexed male like Gianni. His jaw clenched. ‘Of course I didn’t expect you to be innocent.’
She continued in a conversational tone, ‘I’ve thought about this a lot and while I’m not willing to have sex, I don’t mind if you want to, you know, keep a mistress. You see,’ she said hurriedly, ‘that’s really why I’d prefer to adopt.’
She sighed a big sigh of relief and smiled, as if she hadn’t just landed a bomb between them. ‘I’m glad I got that out there. I was worried.’
Then she put her hand on his and said, ‘You’re a good listener, Gianni. I’m so lucky to be marrying you.’
Her smile almost dazzled him. He was beginning to feel slightly ill. And then that anger surged again to think of her father giving him an impression of a mature, intelligent woman. He took his hand out from under hers, not liking how those cool fingers had felt on his skin.
He put down his napkin, finally tipping over the edge of his patience. ‘I have no intention of taking a mistress during our marriage and I refuse to partake in the dubious exploitation of children and babies from third-world countries.’
He leant forward and tried to ignore those widening luminous green eyes. ‘And as for sex? Maybe you don’t like it because you haven’t been doing it right?’
He had a sudden urge to take Keelin’s face between his hands and stop that mouth from saying any more in the most effective way possible. His blood was pumping and he was afraid he might say something he’d regret, so he stood up abruptly. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment?’
Gianni barely waited for an answer; he strode out of the room, cursing the day Liam O’Connor had added the condition of a marriage of convenience to their contract.
He found himself pacing in his study, no less calm now that a few walls separated him and Keelin O’Connor. He could almost see her vacuous look of surprise.
Merda!
The woman was insufferable. The prospect of marrying her was unconscionable. She didn’t want children? And any children they did have or adopt she wanted to put in some stuffy boarding school? And she didn’t like sex? Well, right now, he had no desire to prove her wrong no matter how rogue his physical reactions to her were. He cursed again.
He took his mobile out of his pocket and dialled. As soon as his friend answered he instructed him curtly to do some digging into Keelin O’Connor. Something he should have done from the very start, instead of taking her father’s word that she would make him the perfect wife and partner as they went forward in business together.
He’d been so caught up with work and clearing his schedule for the merger and the wedding that he’d told himself he’d give Keelin the benefit of meeting her face to face to get to know her. He felt wrong-footed now.
He also had that persistent niggling sensation that something was amiss and he didn’t like not knowing what it was. He wanted to go back into the dining room and tell Keelin that he’d made a mistake but even now something was stopping him. The prospect of letting the deal of a lifetime go. Wasn’t there some way he could handle her? Women were usually the least of his worries!
But when Gianni did go back, something made him stop in his tracks just where he could see through a crack in the doorway to the room beyond. Keelin was looking around surreptitiously before pouring the contents of her champagne glass into a nearby plant. He kept watching, feeling a rush of shock and anger along with something else—a kind of relief, as he saw Keelin check her watch and sigh heavily.
A mix of irritation, boredom and weariness crossed her face. Nothing close to the vaguely surprised expression when he’d walked out moments ago. She could be a different person.
Gianni was glad he’d just called his friend, because it was no longer a niggling suspicion that something was off about his fiancée’s behaviour. It was a fact and he was determined to play her at her own game until he knew exactly what was going on.
* * *
About two hours later Gianni was standing back at the window of his study in his Rome apartment. He’d just seen Keelin back to her hotel, more distracted than he cared to admit by her wide pouting mouth and slightly tipsy demeanour. When he’d returned to the dining room she’d smiled brightly at him and for a second he’d almost wondered if he’d imagined what he’d seen through the crack in the door.
But then, when he’d put his hand over hers, and promised that he would do his utmost to make their marriage work, he’d seen the panic flare in her eyes.
And now he burned with anger. No one took him by surprise. His life had been full enough of surprises and danger already. He’d carefully cultivated an existence that was as far removed from all that as possible.
But Keelin O’Connor had almost taken him in. A second conversation with his friend Davide just now had told him enough to know for sure that she’d been playing him.
For one thing, his supposedly vacuous fiancée had recently graduated from one of Dublin’s most prestigious universities with the highest marks in her class, and a degree in business and economics. Not a degree in reality-TV trends, or the retail industry.
His mobile rang then and he answered curtly. His expression darkened as he bit out, ‘Which club?’
Gianni terminated the call and picked up the jacket he’d discarded earlier, his face grim. Anger turned to rage. Apparently his tipsy dizzy fiancée was not done with her sham act for the evening; she was now in one of Rome’s most exclusive nightclubs making a spectacle of herself on the dance floor while paparazzi congregated outside, tipped off that Giancarlo Delucca’s new fiancée was inside.
And tipped off by whom exactly? Gianni suspected he already knew exactly who and now he wanted to know why she was going to these lengths.
