Читать книгу The Chatsfield: Series 2 - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 38
ОглавлениеTHAT EVENING GIANNI was still struggling to control his temper. When Keelin had mentioned his father and Mafia he’d seen red. For some reason the fact that she’d levelled that accusation at him had stung more than most. Enough to want to silence her by putting his mouth over hers and losing himself in the inferno of need that had spiralled up through his body, almost taking his head off.
Cristo. No woman had ever made him so hot, or hot-headed, in his life. Up until now he’d chosen women he desired but none of them had made him feel out of control enough to want to devour them, or had reduced him almost to some kind of animalistic state. And that made him very nervous. He’d considered his father an animal whenever he’d come home drunk and taken out his aggression on his wife. Or when he’d disappeared for days on end only to reappear with money and blood-spattered clothes.
His father’s poisonous legacy was something Gianni desperately wanted to dissociate himself from. It symbolised everything that was dark and violent and base. And that was not him. Yet, he took one look at Keelin and felt nothing but feral desire. Disconcerting as it was, he was sure that once he’d slaked his desire, her hold on him would decrease.
He’d changed in the dressing room attached to his office and the classic tuxedo he wore now made him feel constricted when it never had before. He could remember his first occasion wearing a tuxedo to a glittery event and how for the first time in his life he’d received looks of admiration, respect.
As constricting as the suit might feel right now, this was what separated him from his father’s legacy—this ability to appreciate the fine things in life and to know that the way forward was through promoting integrity and honesty. Building a business to be proud of. The business his grandfather had set up, before his own son had taken it and crushed it to the ground.
Earlier, when Gianni’s assistant had shown stylists with clothes rails and an assortment of other suitably qualified people up to his apartment, he’d found himself almost relishing the thought of Keelin’s expression when she knew she had no choice but to comply.
But then his conscience smarted when he thought of what she’d revealed about her reasons for wanting out of this marriage. He’d scoffed at her intentions to be a part of her family’s business, yet didn’t she have that right? After all, at least he’d had the shell of his grandfather’s business to build an empire upon and after a lot of blood and sweat and ingenuity he was finally here, or would be, once he merged with O’Connor.
He had to admit that Keelin’s evident determination to succeed no matter what inspired a grudging sense of kinship within him. But he couldn’t let the niggle of his conscience sway him. He needed this deal. Now more than ever.
His chief executive advisor had just informed him that the very rumour that Delucca Emporium was merging with O’Connor Foods had caused a soar in stocks. The news wouldn’t be officially announced until the day after the wedding took place—as per O’Connor’s request, even though they’d already signed contracts.
So he couldn’t afford to let this momentum drop now. He needed every ounce of positive press to convince people he could be trusted, and as much as he might sympathise with Keelin’s bid for independence, she was not going to stand in his way. He’d worked too hard for this chance.
* * *
Keelin hated that she felt bizarrely excited. She should be steamingly angry. The threat of Gianni washing the spray tan off her body himself had been enough to galvanise her into the bathroom earlier that day, locking herself inside and scowling when she heard his mocking, ‘Later, cara,’ through the door.
A veritable army had then appeared in the apartment when she’d emerged from the shower with skin pink from scrubbing and had proceeded to take her in hand, undoing all of the hard work she’d put in to appear as trashy as possible.
And now she hated to admit that she didn’t look a million miles off what she’d choose to look like, if she didn’t have a war of personal independence on her hands.
She was wearing a strapless dark green dress that made her eyes stand out. Fitted around her breasts, it fell in soft swirls of silk and chiffon from below her bust to the floor where she wore delicate high-heeled sandals.
She was back to her habitual paleness, and felt a little naked now without the copious amounts of make-up and tan. Her hair had been teased and coiffed out of its natural wildness and lay over one shoulder in glossy soft waves, held back on the other side by a long diamond comb.
Make-up was subtle and enhanced her features. Her cheekbones stood out, and her mouth looked even bigger than usual. She wanted to scowl at the reflection in the bathroom mirror as she inspected herself, but in truth she felt a funny catch in her throat at the thought of Gianni seeing her like this, as if she was meeting him for the first time all over again.
‘Keelin?’
Speak of the devil. Her heart thumped hard and she took a deep breath, cursing the fact that she’d allowed herself to get distracted enough not to analyse what had been said earlier and figure out what her next step would be.
She heard Gianni come closer. ‘Keelin, so help me, if you’re not here and ready—’
He appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom en suite and stopped talking, those dark eyes raking her from head to toe. Heat climbed up over Keelin’s chest to her neck and face.
She registered how gorgeous he was in his tuxedo, clean jaw, hair short. Suddenly there was no air; her skin felt tight and hot. Terrified he might see her reaction she moved forward and pushed past him. ‘I am here.’
When she was on the other side of him the hardness of his body registered on her brain with a searing flash of heat. She stalked out into the main living area, desperate to put some space between them, sucking in a deep breath. When she turned around again, Gianni had followed her and was leaning against the door frame, hands in pockets, eyes hooded and unreadable.
Keelin’s hands clutched the bag that went with the dress. She wanted to squirm; no man had ever looked at her so intently.
‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled softly. ‘I knew there was a gem hiding underneath all that artifice.’
Keelin was about to say something waspish but Gianni added, ‘But I had no idea how beautiful that gem would be.’
For a moment she felt stunned. Even though he’d kissed her, somehow this felt more intimate, as if he was stroking his tongue along hers all over again, that hard mouth demanding she give up her softness to him. Demanding she expose all her weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
At a loss as to how to respond, and feeling gauche when she recalled how she’d noticed he hadn’t complimented her the previous evening, Keelin just said, ‘Save your breath for the woman who’ll become your fiancée for real some day. She’ll be far more appreciative.’
Gianni stood away from the door and came towards her. Keelin’s feet were glued to the floor. He stopped far too close and answered, ‘Cara, you’re the only fiancée I’m ever going to have, so you might as well give in to the inevitable—unless you’re willing to walk out that door right now, we will be getting married in two weeks.’
The fact that Keelin couldn’t seem to find the urge to walk away from Gianni now that she had the opportunity was not as annoying as the suspicion that it had less to do with her father’s ultimatum and intransigence and more to do with the fact that something enigmatic in his black gaze held her to the spot.
An hour later Keelin’s feet burned in her high heels. She was in a sleek and sophisticated private suite at the Harrington Hotel surrounded by beautiful and equally sleek people with white besuited waiters moving through the crowd carrying trays of sparkling champagne, and yet all she could see were the women openly lusting after Gianni, and sending her less than friendly glances. She felt like saying to them, Take him! while alternately battling a very curious urge to gouge their eyes out.
He bent close and said by her ear in his deep voice, ‘Your parents are here.’ Instantly she tensed all over, an inevitable reaction, her hand tightening on her glass of champagne. The drink she’d not even touched. No point in pretending she liked it any more.
She barely noticed Gianni sending her an assessing sidelong glance as her mother came forward with arms outstretched to envelop Keelin in a stiff hug and a noxious wave of perfume. Keelin couldn’t help tensing even more. She’d learnt long ago that these rare displays of affection were for appearances only, never to be repeated in private.
Her father gave her a kiss on the cheek. Equally awkward. Keelin felt old emotions rise—a mix of anger, disappointment and frustration, and swallowed it down with effort.
Her mother was oblivious, beaming at Gianni and gushing, ‘So pleased to meet you, Mr Delucca. Liam’s told me all about you. You’ll take care of our beloved Keelin, now won’t you?’
He was oozing charm as they shook hands. ‘Call me Gianni, please.’
Beloved Keelin. It had been the wrong moment to take a reflexive sip of her drink; it promptly went down the wrong way and Keelin had a coughing fit, earning a familiar look of irritation from her mother and a hand on her bare upper back from Gianni which was far more disturbing. Keelin wasn’t someone who felt comfortable around tactile people but whenever Gianni touched her she felt the disturbing urge to close her eyes and purr gently.
‘Okay, cara?’
His careless endearment sent shivers through her. She nodded and blinked quickly and croaked, ‘Fine.’
His fingers spread out now, just above the bodice of the dress, and his touch became more caressing. The kind of touch anyone might expect of a man to his fiancée.
But there was something else in it too; as she stood there by Gianni’s side and faced her parents she had the bizarre sense for the first time in her life of not standing alone against them. Which was crazy because Gianni only wanted this marriage as a business deal; he wasn’t genuinely interested in the kind of support that should come with a real marriage.
That galvanised her to move subtly away from his touch and she hated how she felt bereft when his hand dropped. She sent him a dark look for having this effect on her but he merely raised a brow in return. Completely bemused.
An arm went through hers. ‘Darling, let’s let the men talk boring work and tell me all about your plans for the wedding.’
Keelin blinked at her mother before letting herself be led away, fuming inwardly at the implication that she couldn’t be part of that conversation. And as if for all the world this was a genuine wedding and she and Gianni were some sort of besotted couple. She said acerbically, ‘Don’t you mean discuss the plans for this business arrangement?’
Her mother darted a glance around and then pulled Keelin into a secluded corner. Gone was any attempt to feign affection and the truth was visible of an attractive woman who was ageing and not happy about the process or the fact that her daughter was far more beautiful than she’d ever been.
‘What is wrong with you? That man is young, handsome and rich. You could do a lot worse, you know.’ Her mother sounded almost peevish.
Keelin sighed inwardly. That was all her mother understood—the currency of a rich husband and being socially acceptable. After all, she’d made it her life’s work, especially when she hadn’t been able to have more children after Keelin, which she’d borne a totally irrational sense of guilt about for as long as she could remember.
Keelin valiantly pushed aside old wounds. ‘You mean worse than have a chance to work for the family business and be independent?’
Her mother all but snorted. ‘Darling, I’ve never understood this obsession you have, and why work when you don’t have to?’
Her darker green eyes narrowed on her daughter. ‘I really hope you’re not going to be difficult about this. Your father will be very angry—’
Keelin cut her off crisply. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve already been told what’ll happen if I walk away.’
Dolores O’Connor didn’t even have the grace to look remotely concerned or guilty. ‘Most girls would give their eye teeth to be in your position.’
Keelin felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck just before an arm slid around her waist and a large hot body came alongside hers. Once again she had to battle that urge to just sink against him. She stiffened against the tide of sensations that washed through her. It only showed up a lingering pathetic need for some kind of male approval.
Her mother gave a completely unsubtle look to Keelin and excused herself with a wholly inappropriate girlish giggle. Keelin rounded on Gianni when they were alone, dislodging his arm from around her.
‘What’s with the PDA? I don’t think anyone could care less how authentic we are.’
She glanced around at the chattering crowd and surmised, ‘It’s not as if all these people are actually in love with their partners.’
Gianni tutted and drawled, ‘So cynical and so young. What made you like this, Keelin?’
She looked at him. ‘And you’re not?’ The man oozed cynicism. She hated that he could slide a blade under her skin so neatly and declared, ‘I need a drink.’
He looked pointedly at her champagne and she answered expressively, ‘Of something I actually like.’
She went to move around him and he stopped her with a hand on her upper arm again, fingers brushing far too close to the swell of her breasts.
‘No one else might care how authentic we are, Keelin, but I do. Do I need to remind you how authentic we can be if I touch you? So when we’re in public we are together.’
Keelin fought down the panic at the thought of Gianni demonstrating how weak she was in front of all these people and said as witheringly as she could, ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a romantic fantasist, Gianni.’
Childishly pleased that she’d had the parting shot, she pulled her arm free and walked away, steering well clear of where her parents were talking to another couple nearby. The last thing she needed now was for her father to join in loading on the pressure.
By the time Keelin got to the discreet bar in the corner of the room and ordered a drink, she was wondering what was stopping her from just walking out the door and to hell with the lot of them.
She turned around and surveyed the room. Some of the world’s most powerful and important people were here. People whose opinions counted and mattered. And that’s why she couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Because she wanted this too—to be counted and listened to. Given a chance. And also, disturbingly, Gianni’s darkly handsome face kept flashing into her mind.
As if loath to let her have that parting shot, he approached her through the crowd now, eyes on her in such an assessing way that her skin rose up in goosebumps of anticipation.
He stopped before her and looked at the bottle of beer in her hand. ‘Must you?’
She gritted her jaw and vowed that she would get through this experience and come out on the other side with everything she’d ever wanted. And for it to make not walking away worth it.
In answer, she took a healthy swig from the bottle and dared him to take it off her and replace it with something far more genteel and ladylike.
* * *
Gianni swallowed down the urge to rip the bottle out of Keelin’s hands. But if drinking out of a beer bottle was going to be the worst of her behaviour tonight, then he’d put up with it.
She stood out with her pale skin and red hair like a bird of paradise against a much duller background. And it galled him that he’d observed her smiling at people all evening, only for that smile to fade as soon as he came close.
It wasn’t a smile as wide as the one he’d seen in the photo at her father’s office but it was close. And since when had that become some kind of barometer? He cursed himself now as he steered Keelin back towards the crowd to introduce her to some colleagues. And he also pushed down the niggle of curiosity about how she’d been with her parents. She’d almost recoiled when he’d mentioned that they’d arrived and it certainly hadn’t been a happy family reunion.
God knew, he had the experience of despising his father until the day he’d died, so he knew antipathy when he saw it. But in spite of that relationship, he and his mother were close, even if she did insist on living outside of Rome in the family home, keeping the house like some kind of mausoleum to his father’s memory. Gianni had never been able to understand his mother’s slavish devotion to the man who had made her life miserable on a regular basis. He’d decided long ago that if that was love, then he could quite happily live without it.
Thinking of that now made Gianni feel a little raw. He knew he didn’t want love so why was he even remembering that? But right then he also didn’t want a wife who was hell-bent on thwarting him at every turn. Acting on impulse, counting on Keelin’s ambition, he pulled her aside just before they entered the throng again and said in a low voice, ‘If you do want out, Keelin, truly, then this is your chance.’
* * *
Caught by surprise Keelin looked at Gianni and saw the gleam of challenge in his eyes just before he deftly caught a passing waiter and swapped her bottle of beer for a glass of champagne. Then he took up a small spoon from a nearby table and tapped his glass so that a melodic ring chimed out and everyone stopped talking and turned to face them.
Keelin’s stomach went into freefall. What the hell was he up to?
When they had everyone’s attention, and Keelin could see her parents looking at them with faux fondness, Gianni said in a voice that commanded attention, ‘Thank you all for coming this evening to help celebrate my engagement to this beautiful woman.’
Keelin’s sense of nausea rose. Gianni pulled her close and raised his glass. ‘To my fiancée, Keelin, with whom I look forward to a very successful, long and enduring partnership.’
Everyone clinked glasses and saluted them, taking drinks of the sparkling wine. When they’d done the toast Gianni let her go slightly and looked down. Keelin met his gaze with a murderous one of her own. As every second passed she felt as if she were being hurtled further and further away from where she wanted to be.
But he wasn’t finished. He added now, ‘If you could indulge us a few moments more, I do believe my fiancée has something she wishes to say.’
Comprehension sank in. He was daring her to do her worst. To declare in front of everyone that this was a sham, or worse? Walk out the door? She recognised that this was a moment of no return. Everything would be dictated by what she did now. Gianni was calling her bluff, asking her to prove how badly she wanted out of this arrangement.
All she had to do was to say the words and walk away. She could already imagine the look on her parents’ faces. Her father’s going red, her mother’s shock and embarrassment in front of all these important people.
And for a moment she was sorely tempted. She opened her mouth. And then she caught Gianni’s eye; he was taunting her for his amusement. And that was the thing that firmed her resolve. She would not let him goad her into jeopardising everything.
So she channelled her anger and frustration to be so caught and smiled brightly. ‘I’m a woman who believes that actions speak louder than words.’
And then she deliberately put her drink down on a nearby table and turned to her fiancé. She put both hands around his face and caught his look of shock a second before their mouths met. She poured all of that anger and frustration into a bruising-hard kiss.
* * *
Gianni recovered swiftly, snaking his free arm around Keelin’s waist and hauling her even closer. He could taste the rage in her kiss and it infected his blood with an urgent need to dominate and seduce.
He moved his hand up her back and caught her hair in his fist, tugging her head back gently, but just enough so that she had to ease the pressure on his mouth. And as soon as he had that tiny space, he took over, coaxing her to open to him, sensing her resistance but using every trick in the book.
When he felt resistance give way and those lush lips open under his, the sense of triumph was faintly disturbing. He shouldn’t be feeling so buoyant just from a kiss. But there was something about this woman giving in to him, even as minutely as this, that made him ridiculously triumphant.
Gianni was aware on some dim level that they were in a room full of people whose opinion mattered to him, but he couldn’t seem to care. All he wanted to do was wrap both arms around Keelin and plunder her mouth until he was drunk on her scent and taste. Until he could taste all of her.
He finally broke the kiss and drew back, looking down at her. It took a long second for her to open her eyes and when she did they were dark green and filled with depths and lights that made Gianni want to push her away. Fast. But he couldn’t. They were being watched. And now their appreciative crowd was clapping and cheering.
Every provocative curve of her body was imprinted against him and he cursed silently, furiously willing his body to cool down for fear of people seeing just how undone she made him feel.
* * *
‘I’ve been looking for you for the past thirty minutes.’
Keelin whirled around from where she’d been standing on an empty terrace just off a quiet garden courtyard in the hotel, seeing but not seeing the amazing view of Rome at night laid out before her.
Her head was still too consumed with that kiss and how effortlessly Gianni had shown his dominance, again. As soon as she could she’d escaped, feeling far too claustrophobic, as if a net was tightening around her. And hot, needing air to cool down.
She raised the hand that still held her clutch bag. ‘Well, now you’ve found me.’
He said in a low voice, as if mindful they might not be totally alone, ‘I don’t appreciate being ambushed in public.’
‘That’s rich coming from you!’ Keelin said with reproof, still vibrating angrily from that explosive kiss. Not that she could even blame him!
She turned her back to the view. ‘And what do you call staging that party and inviting my parents if not an ambush?’
Gianni’s bow tie was undone, his top button open—as if he’d done it with impatience, looking for her? She tried not to notice how dark and gorgeous he was against the lush backdrop of the hotel garden.
He narrowed his gaze. ‘Seeing you with your parents certainly was interesting.’
Keelin tossed her head and batted away the vulnerability. It wasn’t her fault her parents didn’t love her, even though she’d not truly believed that for a long time. They were just supremely selfish people who never should have had a child.
‘Believe me, they’ll be only too happy to wash their hands of me and hand me over like some kind of medieval chattel. Does that make me a little less palatable?’
He smiled but it was hard. ‘Not in the least. I won’t have to endure interminable in-law dinners with them.’
His obduracy pushed Keelin over an edge. She threw up her hands. ‘This is crazy! We should just call it off here and now. It’ll never work.’
‘That’s the problem, you can’t call it off and I won’t,’ Gianni pointed out calmly enough to make her frustration increase. ‘It’ll work just fine. You’ll have everything you could possibly need. I’ll make sure you’re happy.’
Keelin stalked forward, quivering with anger. ‘You wouldn’t have the first clue about what might make me happy but I’ll give you a hint—you’re nowhere near the vicinity of that picture.’
She was shocked to find herself feeling so agitated and hated it. It reminded her of the futile rage she’d felt growing up that had ended up in bids for attention and she was damned if she was going to let this man induce it again. She forced herself to calm.
Gianni’s voice had an edge. ‘You know, I think I preferred it when you were vacuous and shallow.’
Something awfully like hurt gripped Keelin inside. ‘Most men would prefer that easier option, my father certainly does. And tell me,’ she asked in a rush, ‘where exactly will I fit into your life—presumably while you’re off building your empire?’
She put up a hand. ‘Wait, don’t tell me—I’ll be tied to a bed, awaiting your return for the next bout of conjugal rights?’
Gianni folded his arms, making muscles bunch. Keelin hated being so aware of him.
‘I’ve never indulged in bondage before,’ he drawled, ‘but I’m certainly willing to give it a go. I hear it’s the in thing.’
To her shock and horror, an image popped into her head of Gianni on his back, naked, with his arms tied high above his head, as she straddled him and bent down, her hair trailing over his chest, mouth watering at the prospect of tasting his skin—
She abruptly shut down that very rogue thought and blurted out hotly, ‘You’re impossible. This whole situation is impossible.’
‘Like I said before, there’s nothing stopping you from walking out the door, Keelin. I’m no gaoler,’ he pointed out unhelpfully.
She made a pfft sound. ‘As if you’d let me thwart your chances now.’
Gianni shrugged and gave all the appearance of being at ease but she could sense the tension in him. ‘I’m sure I can find a deal to achieve global distribution elsewhere, but not with half the kudos that O’Connor’s can bring me, so no, I won’t let you thwart my chances.’
In a fit of angry frustration, Keelin turned back to the view, aghast to feel the prickle of hot tears. Dammit. She would not let this man make her cry.
‘You looked happy in the photo in your father’s office.’
Keelin blinked and went still, surprised as much by the abrupt change of subject as the fact that Gianni had noticed that photo.
Slowly she turned around again, crossing her arms tight across her chest. ‘What did you imagine, Gianni? That the picture was taken by a loving father indulging his daughter in her favourite activity?’
She answered herself. ‘As you’ve seen this evening, that’s hardly the case. That picture was taken on a hacienda in Andalusia. I went out there one summer with a schoolfriend—’ She just stopped herself in time from saying, Because my parents were too busy to spend time with me, hating the moment of self-pity.
‘One of the trainers took the picture. When my father saw it on my phone he insisted he get a copy of it. It’s not in his office as a tender reminder of his daughter. It’s there because he likes to promote the myth that we are a normal loving family.’
Gianni’s face was inscrutable. ‘What was it about the horses that you liked so much?’
Now Keelin felt even more exposed. ‘Why do you want to know?’ she asked tetchily.
Gianni sounded almost weary. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘We need to get to know each other, Keelin.’
Her immediate instinct was to deny this but then something of his weariness and the futility of this whole situation crept into her system and the urge to fight seemed to dissolve away, treacherously.
She avoided Gianni’s eye and shrugged minutely. ‘It was the first time anyone gave me responsibility for something. Proper responsibility. They needed an extra pair of hands because one of their grooms was taken ill.’
She looked up, but Gianni was still expressionless. It made it easier. ‘I stayed at the stables with the grooms, in the most rudimentary of accommodation. When we weren’t working with the horses and exercising them, we helped with picking the vines for the harvest. I’d never worked so hard. I don’t think I knew what work was until then and it made me realise that I could be of use, that I had the ability to make a difference, work within a team.’
What she didn’t say was that those were the happiest days of her life, living so simply and freely. For once not thinking of some new way to make her father notice her. Even though, when he found out what she’d been doing, he hit the roof and dragged her back home. He wouldn’t let her into his world, but he also wasn’t going to see his daughter doing dirty work. Her mother had been disgusted. She’d gone conker brown and had calluses all over her hands.
Then Gianni said, ‘I spent some of my summers picking vines too.’
Keelin’s heart lurched. ‘You did?’
He nodded. ‘I used to go back to Sicily with my grandfather to help pick vines for his oldest friend. That’s where I learnt everything there is to know about wine.’
‘Oh,’ Keelin said a little lamely, finding it hard not to think of a young Gianni stripped to the waist, olive skin gleaming with sweat and muscles moving sinuously as he worked.
‘I mean it, Keelin.’ He said softly now, ‘I will build you a hacienda and fill it with horses if that’s what will make you happy.’
Before, this statement might have incited her to rage, but now she felt as if he’d soothed something inside her. Dangerous. He was just using another tactic to get her where he wanted.
‘I want to work, Gianni. I want to be counted. I want a place on the board of O’Connor’s, my rightful place. That’s what I want, and I don’t think it fits in with your idea of a dutiful wife.’
His mouth firmed. They were back to square one. ‘I have to admit that it isn’t exactly how I envisaged things but that’s not to say that we can’t discuss it. I want you to be happy, Keelin.’
She knew without pursuing it that Gianni might concede her some kind of Mickey Mouse position just to placate her. She’d been too inured by her father’s ways to trust that once they were married Gianni would give her any power at all. She realised then that she’d lost the ability to trust in any man giving her what she wanted.
She hated that she’d revealed herself to him now. She’d never told anyone about how important that time in Spain had been to her. She felt exposed.
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Her weary tone matched his. ‘I can buy my own hacienda and fill it with horses if I so wish, but I’ll do it on my terms, with my own hard-earned money. I’m still going to do everything in my power to see that this marriage falls apart.’
‘That’s the annoying thing though,’ Gianni said with deceptive mildness. ‘I’ve no intention of this falling apart.’
