your favourite food?’
‘Life offers such vast richness. Having favourites is severely restricting.’
She sighed. ‘This isn’t going to be easy, is it?’
He shrugged. ‘I take entertainment where I can get it.’
‘Okay, next question. Any food allergies?’
‘Peanuts and avocado.’
Her head snapped up. ‘Seriously?’
‘I don’t joke with my health, amante.’
She noted it on her tablet. ‘How do you feel about Sicilian food?’
‘I’m completely indifferent.’
She looked up in surprise. ‘Really? Most Sicilians are passionate about everything to do with their homeland.’
‘Probably because they have a connection to be passionate about—’ He stopped suddenly and his jaw clenched.
She watched him try to rein in his control and her chest tightened. ‘And you don’t?’
Tension gripped his frame. ‘Not for a long time.’
Her tablet dimmed, but she didn’t reactivate it. The flash of anguish in his eyes snagged her attention.
‘Because of your father?’ she pushed.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why does this interest you so much?’
The question took her aback, made her ask herself the same thing. ‘I...I thought we were making conversation.’
‘This is one subject I prefer to steer clear of. Capisce?’
‘Because you find it upsetting.’
He cursed under his breath and raked back his hair as that stubborn lock fell over his forehead again. ‘Not at all. The subject of my father fires up my blood. I just prefer not to discuss it with near strangers.’
Despite cautioning herself to stick to business, she found herself replying, ‘Haven’t you heard of the saying make love not war?’
‘Why do I need to choose one when I can have both? I’ll make love to you and I make war with Giacomo.’
‘For how long?’
‘How long can I make love to you? Is that another challenge to my manhood?’
‘I meant your father, and you know it.’
‘I intend to keep going until one of us is in the ground.’
She gasped. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’
Again that flash of pain, gone before it’d even formed. ‘Sì, I do.’
‘You know, he called you poison.’
This time the anguish stayed for several seconds, shattered his expression. Her heart fractured at the pain she glimpsed before his face settled into neutral indifference. ‘He’s right. I am poison.’
His unflinching admission made her heart contract. ‘What happened between you two?’
‘I was born.’
* * *
Narciso watched her try to make sense of his reply. She frowned, then shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
He wanted to laugh but the vice gripping his chest every time he thought of Giacomo made that impossible. He rose and walked to the bar at the mid-section of his plane. Pouring two glasses of mineral water, he brought one to her and gulped down the other. ‘That’s because you’re trying to decipher a hidden meaning. There is none. I was born. And Giacomo has hated that reality ever since.’
‘He hates being a father?’
He paused before answering, unwilling to utter the words he hadn’t said aloud for a very long time, not since he’d wailed it as a pathetic little boy to the housekeeper who’d been the closest thing he’d known to a mother.
‘No. He hates me.’
Shock darkened Ruby’s eyes.
He sat back down abruptly, and willed back the control he’d felt slipping from him since he’d walked into the poker den in Macau last night. He glanced up and saw sympathy blazing from Ruby’s face. The rawness abated a little but, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake off the unsettling emptiness inside him.
He swallowed his water and set the glass down.
‘Enough about me. Tell me about your father.’
She stiffened. ‘I’d rather not.’
‘You were ready to share just a little while ago.’ He settled deeper into his seat and watched her face. And it was a stunning face. The combination of innocence and defiance in her eyes kept him intrigued. She didn’t hide her emotions very well. Right now, she was fighting pain and squirming with a desire to change the subject.
The sudden urge to help her, to offer the same sympathy she’d just exhibited, took him by surprise.
Dio, what was wrong with him?
This woman who’d flown thousands of miles after him was an enigma. An enigma with daddy issues. He should be staying well clear.
He leaned forward. ‘Since you seem shocked by the depth of my...feelings towards Giacomo, I’m assuming your feelings towards your father are much less...volatile?’
Those full lips he wanted to taste again so badly pressed together for a moment. ‘I don’t hate my father, no. But I prefer to keep my distance from them.’
‘Them?’
She fidgeted. ‘You’re going to find out anyway. My parents are Ricardo and Paloma Trevelli.’
Her stare held a little defiance and a whole load of vulnerability. ‘Sorry, you lost me.’
A delicate frown marred her perfect skin. Again his fingers ached to touch. Soon, he promised himself.
‘How come you own several media companies and yet have no clue what goes on in the world?’
‘My line of work doesn’t mean I compromise my privacy. So your parents are famous?’
Her eyelids swept down to cover her expression. ‘You could say that. They’re famous celebrity TV chefs.’
‘And their fame disgusts you?’ he deduced.
Blue eyes flicked to his. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Your voice. Your eyes. Your body. They all give you away, Ruby Trevelli.’ He loved the way her name sounded on his lips. He wanted to keep saying it... ‘So you despise
