on what sounded like an almost hysterical little laugh. But she didn’t want her sister to think that what she was saying was funny. It wasn’t funny at all.
‘Our list of possible candidates. Most suitable husband material. These two Italian playboys were always at the number one spot.’
Voices outside and then the appearance of another guest looking for the rest rooms silenced whatever Lauren had been about to say. But, as soon as the woman retreated, Lauren launched into a tirade that left her sister in no doubt at all about how she felt.
‘If you think I condone your behaviour, Vikki, then all I can say is you’re very much mistaken, so please don’t try and include me in your unscrupulous actions. Quite frankly, I’m appalled! How you could be irresponsible enough to let yourself get pregnant when you don’t even want a baby is bad enough. But that you could do it to trap Angelo into marrying you is not only devious but downright immoral and, quite honestly, it’s beyond anything I would have believed you capable of stooping to.’
She went on to remind her sister that their dream of marrying Italian millionaires was something they’d entertained as young adolescents and which she’d thought they had both relinquished—because she certainly had—as soon as they’d grown up!
Her sister warned her that she was part of the very influential Cannavaro family now and begged her not to tell anyone, least of all Emiliano. ‘He could be lethal if he thought anyone was double-crossing him—or any member of his family,’ Vikki told her in a rising panic before going on to add, ‘And I do love Angelo. I really do!’
Lauren couldn’t remember what she had said to her sister after that. Only that she’d watched unhappily as Vikki and her new husband had climbed into the taxi on the first leg of their Turkish honeymoon, with Angelo fielding bawdy comments from a number of his bachelor friends and Vikki smiling brightly through a shower of confetti, looking every bit the perfect couple on their perfect day.
Lauren hadn’t imagined she could feel any worse than she did at that moment, in not only having quarrelled with her sister on her wedding day, but having to carry the disturbing knowledge of Vikki’s deception as well. But when she’d gone back into the hotel and virtually collided with Emiliano, striding through Reception with his briefcase and his features as grim as a rock face, she’d felt her spirits plummet to new depths as she uttered the first words that sprang to her lips.
‘You’re leaving?’ It had been pretty obvious that he was.
‘What did you expect, mia cara?’ His tone clothed the rock face with sheer ice. ‘That I would stick around and be made a fool of as my brother has? Is that what you were hoping? Exactly how many times did you imagine you could sob out my name before I would crack and you could mark up one big beautiful tick against your list?’
Stunned by his coldness and by exactly what he had said, Lauren was only able to stand there and utter breathlessly, ‘You heard?’
‘Si, cara. I heard,’ he rasped.
‘How?’ It was all she could say, hurting not just from that scene with her sister, but from Emiliano’s harsh and very inaccurate conclusion.
‘I don’t really think I need to tell you,’ he said grimly. ‘I came to find you to ask if you would have dinner with me tonight, and all I can say now is that I am very glad I did. If I hadn’t, who knows what sort of sucker you might still have been taking me for, but, thanks to the conversation I overheard between you and your opportunistic sibling, I was able to see quite clearly what game you were playing.’
‘It wasn’t a game.’ Dear heaven! she despaired. How could he even think so?
‘Emiliano!’ Desperate to make him understand, she called after him as he made to depart. ‘How could you believe I could be party to anything that Vikki said?’
‘Very easily.’ He’d stopped, but his tone was inexorable. ‘If I remember correctly, you sounded no less than positively amused.’
She tried to protest—tried to pinpoint what might have given him reason to think she was amused by anything that had transpired during that scene with her sister, but she couldn’t think straight, let alone remember.
‘If you recall, I didn’t exactly fall over myself to get you to notice me—talk to me,’ she reminded him lamely. ‘And I certainly didn’t give you the come-on once you did.’
‘Not until you knew who I was. But wasn’t the stand-off all part of your clever technique? And it worked, did it not? Even your own sister commented on your doing so well? After all, there is nothing more challenging to a man than to be rebuffed by a beautiful woman in whom that man is more than mildly interested. Nice try, mia bella. But I have no intention of being a pushover on some little fortune-hunter’s list.’
It was no good trying to convince him that that list had been the product of a bit of fun on a wet Sunday afternoon, drawn up by two overly romantic adolescents when she was sixteen and Vikki fourteen, because he wasn’t in any mood to listen. Vikki had done enough with her outrageous revelation to destroy his opinion of both of them.
‘It’s been...nice,’ he told her with sickly emphasis. ‘I am usually not partial to weddings. But thanks for the diversion. You made the whole tiresome charade quite...’ his gaze tugged over her breasts and a mirthless smile touched the hard line of his mouth ‘...unforgettable.’
Then he went, leaving Lauren feeling as ashamed and degraded as he had intended.
Ten months later, Vikki’s marriage had ended and she had left her Hertfordshire home with Daniele to stay with a friend. The following month she had crashed her car during a blazing row with Angelo, when she’d been driving him back to his own car after a lunch meeting to discuss their divorce.
Only a matter of weeks later, after that upsetting visit from Angelo, Lauren had moved with Danny from her cramped little bedsit, back to the farmhouse, and, until today, had never seen or heard from Emiliano Cannavaro again.
CHAPTER THREE
COMING OUT OF Heathrow Airport, Emiliano congratulated himself on having had a successful week.
A dispute between the management and electrical engineers that had threatened to delay the launch date of Cannavaro Lines’ newest cruise liner had been resolved. Shares over the company as a whole were showing record levels. And only that afternoon he had finalised negotiations for the takeover of a European passenger ferry line, which had been on the table for some time now. All in all, he thought, as he stepped out into the dreary greyness of an English autumn afternoon, he felt justified in flying off to his private retreat and taking the break he had been promising himself for a long time—and with only one hurdle to jump. He intended to take his nephew with him.
It was pouring with rain as he set off on the long journey northwards, his car’s powerful tyres cruising through the spray as they covered the miles in the fast lane of the busy motorway.
He knew he should have telephoned Lauren to let her know that he was coming, but he hadn’t, and for a very good reason. When he had spoken to her from his Rome office earlier in the week to advise her of his wishes, they had been met with fierce opposition. There had, however, never been any problem he couldn’t overcome, or any challenge he couldn’t meet, but the most difficult, he’d learned from an early age, were often best dealt with head-on.
No one answered when he knocked on the
