‘Marianna’s boyfriends don’t last too long,’ Nico said. A deliberate jab, no doubt, at what he saw as her flightiness. ‘Angelo and I decided long ago it was pointless remembering names.’
Angelo folded his arms. ‘How long do you think this one will last, Nico?’
‘Six weeks.’
‘I’ll give him four. He doesn’t look as if he has what it takes to keep Mari’s interest.’
‘True. I can’t see that he has anything more to offer her than any of the others.’
A clash of gazes ensued between the men and in some dark, dishonourable place in her heart the silent interchange fascinated her.
She tried to shake herself from under its spell. What is wrong with you?
With a snort, Ryan turned back to her. ‘May I take you out to lunch?’
She glanced at Nico, who told her in Italian to take the afternoon off. ‘Give him a chance.’
‘You owe it to him, bella,’ Angelo added.
What on earth...? She pulled in a breath, grateful her brothers spoke in their native tongue. She recalled the raised voices she’d heard when she’d approached the villa. ‘How good is your Italian?’ she asked Ryan.
‘Very poor.’ He glanced at Angelo and Nico. ‘Which is probably a blessing.’
She folded her arms and glared at her brothers, reverting back to Italian. ‘Did you put him up to this?’
Nico shook his head. ‘But if this man is the father of your baby, you need to speak with him.’
‘I did that yesterday!’
His gaze skewered her. ‘Did you? Or did you merely drop your bombshell, throw a temper tantrum and run?’
Her face started to burn. It took an effort of will not to press her hands to her cheeks to cool them. Nico had a point.
Another thought slid into her then and she stared at each man in turn. If Angelo and Nico saw her dealing with the father of her prospective child maturely and responsibly, then that would help them see her as a responsible adult who could be trusted to make sensible decisions about her life, right? Not to mention the life of her unborn child. Maybe this was one way she could prove to them that she wasn’t a failure or a flake.
She glanced down at her hands. Ryan was the father of her child. If he wanted to be a part of their baby’s life...
Lifting her chin, she turned back to Ryan and reverted to English. ‘I need to talk to Nico about the vines for a few minutes and then we can go for lunch.’
He nodded and glanced around. ‘What if I wait over there?’ He pointed to a sofa on the other side of the room.
She pressed her hands together. ‘Perfect.’ She wasn’t so sure how perfect it was when Angelo followed him and took the seat opposite.
‘Is there anything wrong with the vines?’ Nico said, his face suddenly alive and intent.
‘The soil is perfect! You have done an admirable job, Nico.’
‘You set the groundwork before you left.’
Did he really believe that? Did he really think her an asset to the vineyard? She shook the thought off. She would prove herself to him. And Angelo. She was good at her job. ‘The grapes are maturing as they should, but if the long-range weather forecast is to be believed, then we need to consider irrigating the northern slopes sooner than usual.’
‘You mentioned last week something about new irrigation methods you’d picked up in Australia?’
She and Nico moved to the dining table to go over her report, but all the time her mind was occupied with Ryan. She heard him try to make small talk about the vineyard, but Nico asked her a question and she didn’t hear Angelo’s reply.
The next time she had a chance to glance up it was to see Ryan flicking a business card across to Angelo with the kind of mocking arrogance that would’ve done both of her brothers proud.
She dragged her attention back to Nico. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, Nico, the vines are in great shape. I’ll continue with my soil samples over the next week and checking the vines for any signs of pests or moulds, but...’ she shrugged ‘...so far, so good. Seems to me we’re on track for the fattest, juiciest grapes in the history of winemaking.’
It might’ve been an exaggeration, but it made her brother smile as it was supposed to. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Mari.’
Guilt slid in between her ribs at that. She’d been Irresponsible Marianna too long. She’d left Nico to run the vineyard on his own and now... She rubbed a hand across her chest. And now both of her brothers thought her an incompetent—a screw-up—that they needed to look after. They hadn’t said as much, of course, but she knew.
‘I’m not sure I like him.’
She glanced up to find Nico staring at Ryan.
She’d liked the man she’d met in Thailand. She’d liked him a lot. She hadn’t liked the man she’d met at the Grande Plaza Hotel yesterday, though. Not one little bit. The man sitting on the sofa...she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.
She touched Nico’s arm. ‘What matters is if I like him or not, I think, Nico.’
The faintest of smiles touched his lips. ‘You always like them, Marianna...for a week or two.’
‘This one is different.’
‘Is he?’
Yes. He was the father of her unborn child.
‘THE FOOD HERE is superb,’ Marianna told Ryan, staring at the arancini balls the waitress set in front of her. Very carefully she drew the scent into her lungs and then gave up a silent thanks when her stomach didn’t rebel.
It didn’t mean she had an appetite, though. When Ryan didn’t pick up his cutlery to sample his fettuccine, she figured he wasn’t all that hungry either. She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. ‘So...it wasn’t food you wanted after all.’
‘I wanted to talk to you...privately.’
Daniella, the maître d’, had taken one look at Marianna’s face and seated them in the most secluded corner of the restaurant. Marianna was glad now that she had. ‘Well...talk.’
He picked up his fork and tested each tine with his index finger. He made as if to stab at a mushroom, but he set the fork down again and shuffled back in his seat. Marianna had no interest in making the way easy for him, but his continuing silence started to stretch her nerves thin.
‘I did an Internet search on you last night.’
His gaze speared
