Читать книгу The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro - Natalie Anderson - Страница 16

CHAPTER EIGHT

LUCA appeared only a couple of hours after leaving for work again. Emily was alone at the piano.

‘Your friend Pascal phoned.’ She stopped playing as soon as she realised he was quietly coming over to her. ‘He said he was looking forward to catching up with you tonight at dinner and that he hoped Micaela wasn’t on maternity leave yet.’

He halted, halfway across the floor. ‘You answered the phone?’

‘Yes.’ Brows lifted, she matched his hard look.

‘Why didn’t you let Micaela answer it?’

‘Micaela wasn’t here,’ she replied with care. ‘It was just before she arrived.’

‘Why did you answer it? Why didn’t you just let it ring?’

‘Because when phones ring it’s normal to answer them. Because it might have been a temp agency. Do I even need a because?’ Her hackles snapped up. ‘So I answered the phone. I’m so sorry. Was that not on my list of allowable activities?’ She shut the lid of the piano. ‘Perhaps you’d better write down a list of “dos and don’ts” for me.’ She barely paused for breath, realising that her time to renegotiate the rules was right now. ‘What should I do if someone comes to the door—go hide in the wardrobe?’

He jerked a step away. ‘Emily, don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not. I’m happy to be a holiday fling, but I’m not going to hide away like some sort of secret lover.’

‘I don’t—’

‘If you want a private plaything why not just get an inflatable doll?’

‘A doll wouldn’t do those sexy sighs the way you do.’ He turned his back, about to exit. ‘I’ll call Pascal and cancel.’

‘Why?’ Suspicious. There had been such personality in the brief exchange she’d had with the man and she had to admit she was half dying to meet someone Luca dealt with on a personal level rather than an employment one. Until this call she’d been beginning to wonder if there was anyone Luca dealt with on a personal level. ‘Because I’m here?’

He swung back, looked uncomfortable. ‘I have a reputation to maintain.’

What reputation? And how the hell was she going to damage it? ‘What’s wrong with having a girlfriend?’ She saw she’d picked the wrong word in the way he froze. ‘A lover,’ she immediately rephrased. ‘Why do I even have to be defined?’ She rapidly changed tack again. ‘Aren’t I just someone you’re helping out for a few days?’

‘Because the dinner is business. I keep business and personal separate.’

So he didn’t want to introduce her to anyone. ‘That’s rubbish. That’s just a pathetic excuse for not building any kind of a relationship with your current lover—other than in bed.’ And she didn’t believe this dinner was all business—why would Pascal phone so early at Luca’s house if it were? Why would he know about Micaela and her baby? Wouldn’t he just leave a message with Luca’s secretary at work? ‘Am I really not fit for display? Not good enough to mix with your friends and associates?’

Only good enough to sleep with? Did he think all he had to do was toss a few diamonds her way to keep her happy?

‘Of course you are.’ Luca’s face had flushed. ‘But I don’t usually have women staying here.’

‘Well, I can move out. Shall I go put up at the B & B down the road? I could earn my crust making beds there.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Well, it’s either make theirs, or perform in yours.’

Now he looked really angry. ‘You are the one used to making money on the street.’

She nodded. ‘And you’re the one treating me like a whore.’

‘I am not and you know it.’

‘No, I don’t. Have your damn dinner party. I’m quite happy to go back to the hostel.’ She picked up her cardigan, intending a snappy exit. ‘Go screw yourself, Luca.’

He grabbed her arm, ripped the cardy from her fingers and flung it back across the room. ‘No! You don’t say something like that and think you can walk away from it,’ he yelled. ‘What the hell do you want from me?’

‘I don’t know!’ she yelled right back. ‘But I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want your money. I don’t want things from you.’

‘Is this about that bracelet? OK, fine. I’ll never buy you anything else because it was so damn awful of me. So what’s left, Emily?’

‘You tell me.’

‘I have nothing more to give. You know this. A good time. That’s all.’

‘A good time is more than just sex. You could give me some respect too. Some time.’

‘I do have to work, Emily.’

‘Twenty hours a day?’

‘Usually, yes. But not this week, in case you haven’t noticed. I’ve been home in the middle of the damn day.’

‘And for what exactly? A tumble in bed?’

‘No-holds-barred sex and nothing else. Your idea.’

‘The complete holiday package. Your idea.’

‘What, you’re saying the onboard entertainment officer needs to lift his game, that it?’

‘Absolutely.’ Vexed, wanting to hide the hurt, she rolled her eyes and turned away. ‘I shouldn’t stay here. I should go.’

There was a long silence.

‘Maybe you should,’ he said softly. ‘But you can’t, can you?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Because, fool that I am, I still want you. I find it very difficult to say no to you. You look at me with those eyes, ask me with that voice and while my brain says one thing my mouth says another. Temptation, Luca.’ She looked at him. ‘You embody it.’

Brooding, almost black eyes dominated his face. ‘So do you, Emily.’ And then the smallest of smiles pulled his lips. ‘I think it’s good to take up temptation’s offer now and then. The chance doesn’t happen all that often.’

Not for her, no, but for him it must all the time. He was exceptionally attractive and there must be a list of women a mile long who’d like to be in her shoes right now. She hated the whole imaginary lot of them.

He sighed. ‘I’d forgotten the dinner party. I’ll go and tell Micaela now.’

Emily, smarting with insecurity, with the uncomfortable feeling that she’d had to force this little from him, saw a chance to strike back. ‘You’re going to land a dinner party on her at this late hour?’

He gave her a sideways look. ‘Micaela is well used to catering for me. She’s completely capable.’

‘You’re expecting her to serve for you?’

‘Of course. That’s her job.’

‘What about Marco?’

‘What about him?’ Luca looked mystified.

‘Who’ll look after him?’

‘Ricardo, of course. The child does have a father. Or don’t you think fathers are capable of looking after their offspring?’

Not all fathers, no. She winced. His hand lifted, a quick frown tightened his features, but she got in before he could open that can of worms any further.

‘I’m sure he’s perfectly capable, but I imagine you’ll have him off doing some other urgent business,’ she blustered.

‘Well, I’m not going to get him to drain the pool tonight, Emily,’ he said witheringly. ‘Look, Micaela and Ricardo have been working for me for years. I pay well above the standard rate and we’re all happy. I don’t think it’s something you need to worry about.’

‘Well, have you watched her trying to iron your damn sheets recently?’

‘What?’ At his stunned look she knew she had him.

‘Ironing your sheets. Of all the things—I mean, what sort of la-de-da request is that, oh, lord and master? The woman is swamped in them. What are they—king-size plus?’

‘Ironing my sheets?’

Emily nodded curtly as if it were the crime of the century. ‘Mountains of the things and she’s so pregnant.’

‘You’re right,’ he said briskly. ‘It’s a waste of time, especially while I have you around to rumple them anyway. I’ll take them off her list of “dos and don’ts”.’ Sarcasm all the way.

The victory was bitter and not nearly enough—they weren’t his sheets she was rumpling, were they? Not the ones on his bed in his private lair. And his arrogant assumption that she’d still be around to rumple them—even though she would—made her all the more irrationally angry. All the more determined to score a decent point.

‘You might own everything in sight, Luca, but that doesn’t give you the right to be so arrogant. Is this why you got divorced? Your wife couldn’t be bothered putting up with your attitude any more?’

‘I’m not divorced.’

‘What?’

He’d gone glacial, repeated the words slow and cold. ‘I’m not divorced.’

She stared at him. Not divorced? There was a wife somewhere? Harsh, sick anger rose in her chest—acrid, stinging bile burning its way up.

No wonder he didn’t want people knowing she was here. No wonder he didn’t want her sleeping in his own bed—her scent mixing with that of his absent wife? What, was she on holiday somewhere? Fury clouded her judgment, her logic.

She swore she saw guilt wisp across his face before the heat of anger chased it away. What had happened? Had she left him? He left her? Emily lost it at the thought of his infidelity—her every cell screamed in denial. Even though she knew he must have…he must…

Rage turned everything red. She opened her mouth to hurl the venom at him but he, as visibly irate as she, got in first.

‘She died.’ His lips barely moved as he ground out the answer.

It was a full minute before she moved. Even longer for him—rigid with the effort of containing high-running emotion.

Finally, Emily released a painful breath. Remorse, pity, despair exploded inside. Her eyes, her nose, stung as if she’d sucked in some poisonous gas.

‘Luca…’ Her voice caught. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Not just for his loss, but for her thoughts of just a few seconds ago—thoughts that she knew had been written all over her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Why would I?’

She flinched. That one hurt. Hard and unforgiving and a bitter reminder of her nothing status. Her vision fogged as she turned away. She heard him swear under his breath.

‘Emily—’

‘No, you’re right,’ she gabbled, walking to the door. ‘It’s none of my business.’

‘I’m sorry I snapped.’ He grabbed her arm. ‘I didn’t mean that.’ He held on hard and she had to stop walking. ‘It’s just that it was a really long time ago and I don’t like to think about it much. Or talk about it. Or anything. Much.’

She blinked. ‘I’m sorry too.’ She couldn’t look at him. ‘I shouldn’t have been so rude.’

‘Stay here. I’ll just have a word to Micaela.’

He stood just outside the door and called to Micaela. They yabbered for a few minutes; Emily understood nothing of what they said. But she understood so much more of him now: why he held her, and the rest of the world, at a distance. Not only had he buried his wife. He’d buried his heart with her.

He reappeared in the doorway. ‘Dinner will be at eight.’

‘I’m not going to be here, Luca.’

‘Yes, you are.’ He crossed the room and infiltrated her space enough to send her pulse crazy. Damn, rational thought was impossible when all the oxygen seemed to be sucked away in his presence. ‘We’re not done yet and you know it. You just admitted it. Besides—’ he inhaled deeply and seemed to force more lightness in his tone ‘—you’d be doing me a favour. In fact I’d really appreciate your company.’

‘Why?’ What was with this complete, and obviously concerted, change of heart?

‘There are a couple of people coming tonight. Pascal, who you spoke to, I’ve known for ages. He was my mentor—has a formidable knowledge of the markets and taught me everything. He’s also been happily married for the last fifty years. He wants the same for me and has taken it upon himself to find me a replacement wife. He always brings a possible candidate to dinner. This current one is a consultant with the London branch of his company. He’s brought her the last couple of times we’ve met up. Having you there will be a good shield.’

‘You want me to—’

‘Protect me from the unwanted advances of another woman—yes.’ His mouth made the movements of a smile but there was too much of an edge.

‘That’s ridiculous.’ It was ridiculous. As if he’d ever need that. He certainly didn’t want a replacement wife. He couldn’t have made that clearer to Emily, but that was the point, wasn’t it? She was his shield from another woman trying to get close and she was good protection because she already knew her place.

Suddenly she had no desire whatsoever to protect him now. She was hurt and she wanted him to open right up. And while he’d changed his mind about tonight, she didn’t have the lack of interest or the dignity to refuse—she wanted to know more before she left. She wanted to know everything. What had happened to his wife? How long was a long time ago? And what was this woman coming tonight like? Why did his old mentor think she’d be a good match for him? Emily’s emotions were all at sea and jealousy was the next to fly its flag.

‘Have you slept with her?’ She made no apology for the rudeness of her question. She just had to know.

‘No.’ His lips went firm.

‘Do you want to?’

‘No.’

Uh-huh. Consultants were bound to be beautiful and slim and well maintained as well as brilliant and she refused to believe the woman wouldn’t be interested in Luca. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be interested in Luca.

His temper flashed again. ‘If I’d wanted to, I would have by now.’

By now she’d thought enough to be able to believe him. He was so determined to compartmentalise his life and he’d be too disciplined to blur the lines. Too hurt by the past?

He bent, glaring right in her eyes, and still felt the need to raise his voice and fire the words in her face. ‘This is the thing, Emily—I don’t screw around and I don’t cheat.’ His jaw was tight. ‘Eight p.m. Here. Wear something half-decent.’

Emily recoiled at the blunt instruction. It was as if he’d slapped her across the cheek and all her sympathy sank under the force of it. So he did think she’d embarrass him. Did she have no manners? No class? No decent clothes, obviously. And he didn’t take her out because she wasn’t good enough to be seen with.

For a second he stared at her, a beat of amazement in his eyes, before his frustration blew. A short, sharp, crude oath and he was gone. Three seconds later the house shook as the front door slammed.