to Lucy was that the accident had splintered the growing tension. A silent sigh left her parted lips as Lucy squeezed her eyes closed, just glad that she had broken that nerve-shredding contact.
‘Speak English …’ She heard Santiago reproach the young couple who were exchanging laughing comments in Spanish. ‘Lucy will be feeling excluded.’
As if that wasn’t the idea, Lucy thought, opening her eyes and switching to her less than perfect Spanish as she said, ‘No problem. I need the practice.’
She saw a spasm of annoyance move across his face as he turned his accusing stare her way. ‘You speak Spanish?’
Assuming his irritation stemmed from the fact blonde trollops in his world were not allowed to speak any language but avarice, she chose to reply in English.
‘A little.’
‘More than a little. She also speaks French, Italian, German, and … Gaelic …?’ inserted Ramon from across the table.
Lucy nodded, impressed that he had remembered.
‘Not just a pretty face and perfect body …’ he added, with his eyes trained on her bosom. ‘She has brains, too … Do I know how to pick them or do I know how to pick them?’ He smiled sunnily at his brother, inviting his admiration before rising from his chair to give access to the maid who had come to remove the broken glass.
‘Quite the linguist.’
‘My family is quite … cosmopolitan.’ A massive understatement—the Fitzgerald clan was spread across the globe. ‘Actually Ramon is being kind. My Spanish really is pretty basic,’ she admitted in a burst of honesty, forgetting for a moment that her character did not do self-deprecating or honest.
She almost immediately retrieved the situation and invited his anger by dropping her voice a sexy octave. ‘I’m hoping to improve my vocabulary considerably during my stay.’ She produced a close approximation of the look she had used to sell everything from shampoo to insurance as she looked at Ramon from under the sweep of her fluttering lashes, feeling just as silly now as she had back then when the photographers had asked her to smoulder.
‘And Ramon is such a good teacher.’
It wasn’t just the open provocation, it was the fact that he was not immune to the effects of her husky purr that fanned his smouldering anger into full-blown flames.
Her glance swivelled sideways in response to the sound of a cut-glass goblet coming down with a crash on the table. Catching the edge of Santiago’s thunderous glare, she thought, You haven’t lost it, Lucy.
‘So are you, querida.’ Across the table Ramon picked up the cue, fixed his eyes on her bosom and added throatily, ‘I’m learning a lot from you.’
For a moment Lucy was in danger of slipping out of character. She bit her quivering lower lip and brought her eyelids down to hide the laughter sparkling in her eyes. Ramon was getting into his role a little too enthusiastically. If he didn’t watch himself his brother was going to smell a rat. She somehow doubted he’d see the funny side.
Was there a funny side?
She reached for her glass and drained the contents. If anyone noticed her burning cheeks she could blame the alcohol, for heartless seductresses did not blush.
‘It’s always a pleasure to teach a willing pupil.’
Worried that this might be over the top, too, she slid a surreptitious glance towards the man sitting beside her. He was totally still … still as in ‘a volcano about to explode’ still. She needn’t have worried, he seemed only too happy to believe she was a total trollop.
‘So do you have a big family, Lucy?’
Lucy smiled. Carmella seemed blissfully ignorant of the undercurrents swirling around the table. ‘Vast. I have nine siblings—my father had three wives.’ Her own mother was his last.
‘Presumably not all at once.’
Lucy clenched her teeth and bridled at the amused contempt in Santiago’s voice. The man was the most smug, self-satisfied creep she had ever met. Plan or no plan, while she was willing to stomach his insults and digs when she was the target she would not tolerate him insulting her family, who had rallied around protectively when she’d needed them.
It was true that when he was alive Lucy had had her share of disagreements with her father, culminating in the massive argument that had ended with her leaving home rather than follow the course in life he had chosen for her.
Determined to show she could make it alone, Lucy had started modelling, her intention being to make enough to fund her degree. She hadn’t anticipated for one moment that she would have the sort of incredible success she had enjoyed … though actually the world of modelling had never been one she enjoyed, however much she’d loved the freedom making that sort of money gave her.
It still did. Her father had been right about one thing—she had inherited his financial acumen, though not the buzz he spoke of that came when you had nailed a deal. The investments she had made at the time had weathered the global downturn and enabled her to live comfortably off the income.
The thing that mattered was that when she had needed him her dad had been there, as had all her family, and she wasn’t about to sit by and let this man look down his nose at them.
‘And do you share your father’s attitude to marriage?’
‘According to my mother I’m very like him.’ She shrugged and, dropping her role of seductress, added with quiet dignity, ‘I can’t see it myself, but I really hope I share both my parents’ values.’
Did he look taken aback by her reply? It would seem she had imagined it because when he replied it was with that now familiar nasty smile that made her fingers itch with an uncharacteristic desire to slap his smug face.
‘I’m sure they are both proud of you.’
Clearly there was more to Lucy Fitzgerald than met the eye. He’d been so confident removing her from Ramon’s life would be easy that he hadn’t even bothered spending five minutes researching the details of the scandal—a fundamental error. His mistake was that he’d been treating this problem differently from those he encountered in his business dealings—he’d made the error of letting it become personal.
If she had weaknesses beyond greed, he would discover them, though of course it was inevitable that greed would be her downfall.
He suddenly saw the headline under a photo of her shielding her eyes from flashes as a man helped her into a blacked-out limo, and experienced a eureka moment.
‘Your father is Patrick Fitzgerald!’
The accusation drew a grunt of amazement from Ramon, who forgot his besotted act as he stared at his brother. ‘You didn’t know?’ He suddenly grinned and taunted, ‘I thought you knew everything.’
‘Who is Patrick Fitzgerald?’ Carmella asked.
Ramon laughed. ‘Melly doesn’t read books, do you, angel? Just celebrity magazines.’
The girl kicked him under the table and he laughed, snatching away her plate that
