to her cheeks. ‘You’re blushing,’ he surprised himself by saying.
‘Because I’m angry!’ But she put her hands to her face and glared at him. ‘You’re so … so superior! What sort of people do you mix with that you would suspect them of trying to use you for what you can give them? I didn’t know anything about you when I agreed to come here. I didn’t know that you had lots of money. I just knew that Alberto was ill and he wanted to make his peace with you.’
The oddest thing seemed to be happening. Giancarlo could feel himself getting distracted. Was it because of the way those tendrils of curly hair were wisping against her face? Or was it because her anger made her almond-shaped eyes gleam like a furious spitting cat’s? Or maybe it was the fact that, when she leant forward like that, the weight and abundance of her breasts brushing against the small table acted like a magnet to his wandering eyes.
It was a strange sensation to experience this slight loss of self-control because it never happened in his dealings with women. And he was a connoisseur when it came to the opposite sex. Without a trace of vanity, he knew that he possessed a combination of looks, power and influence that most women found an irresistible aphrodisiac. Right now, he had only recently broken off a six-month relationship with a model whose stunning looks had graced the covers of a number of magazines. She had begun to make noises about ‘taking things further’; had started mentioning friends and relatives who were thinking of tying the knot; had begun to show an unhealthy interest in the engagement-ring section of expensive jewellery shops.
Giancarlo had no interest in going down the matrimonial path. There were two vital lessons he felt he had taken away from his parents: the first was that there was no such thing as a happy-ever-after. The second was that it was very easy for a woman to turn from angel to shrew. The loving woman who was happy to accommodate on every level quickly became the demanding, needy harridan who needed reassurance and attention round the clock.
He had watched his mother contrive to play the perfect partner on so many occasions that he had lost count. He had watched her perform her magic with whatever man happened to be the flavour of the day for a while, had watched her bat her eyelashes and flutter her eyes—but then, when things began winding down, he had seen how she had changed from eager to desperate, from hard-to-get to clingy and dependent. The older she had got, the more pitiful a sight she had made.
Of course, he was a red-blooded man with an extremely healthy libido, but as far as Giancarlo was concerned work was a far better bet when it came to reliability. Women, enjoyable as they might be, became instantly expendable the second they began thinking that they could change him.
He had never let any woman get under his skin and he was surprised now to find his thoughts drifting ever so slightly from the matter at hand.
He had confronted her, having done some background research, simply to have his suspicions confirmed. It had been a simple exercise in proving to her—and via her to Alberto—that he wasn’t a mug who could be taken for a ride. At which point, his plan had been to walk away, warning guns sounding just in case they were tempted to try a second approach.
From the very second Caroline had shown up unannounced in his office, he had not allowed a shred of sentiment to colour his judgement. Bitter memories of the stories handed down to him from his mother still cast a long shadow. The truth he had seen with his very own eyes—the way her lack of any kind of robust financial settlement from a man who would have been very wealthy at the time had influenced her behaviour patterns—could not be overlooked.
‘You must get bored out there,’ Giancarlo heard himself remark when he should have really been thinking of concluding their conversation so that he could return to the various meetings waiting for him back at the office. Without taking his eyes off her, he flicked a finger and more cold drinks were brought to their table.
Caroline could no more follow this change in the conversation than she could have dealt with a snarling crocodile suddenly deciding to smile and offer her a cup of tea. She looked at him warily and wondered whether this was a roundabout lead-up to another scathing attack.
‘Why are you interested?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Why not? It’s not every day that a complete stranger waltzes into my office with a bombshell. Even if it turns out to be a bombshell that’s easy to defuse. Also—and I’ll be completely honest on this score—you don’t strike me as the sort of person capable of dealing with the man I remember as being my father.’
Caroline was drawn into the conversation against her will. ‘What do you remember?’ she asked hesitantly. With another cold drink in front of her, the sight of those remaining pastries was awfully tempting. As though reading her mind, Giancarlo ordered a few more, different ones this time, smiling as they were placed in front of her.
He was amused to watch the struggle on her face as she looked down at them.
‘What do I remember of my father? Now, let’s think about this. Domineering. Frequently ill-tempered. Controlling. In short, not the easiest person in the world.’
‘Like you, in other words.’
Giancarlo’s mouth tightened because this was an angle that had never occurred to him and he wasn’t about to give it house-room now.
‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t, but I’m already getting used to the idea that you speak before you think. Something else I imagine Alberto would have found unacceptable.’
‘I really don’t like you at all,’ Caroline said through gritted teeth. ‘And I take back what I said. You’re nothing like Alberto.’
‘I’m thrilled to hear that. So, enlighten me.’ He felt a twinge of intense curiosity about this man who had been so thoroughly demonised by his ex-wife.
‘Well.’ Caroline smiled slowly and Giancarlo was amazed at how that slow, reluctant, suspicious smile altered the contours of her face, turning her into someone strangely beautiful in a lush, ripe way that was even more erotic, given the innocence of everything else about her. It put all sorts of crazy thoughts in his head, although the thoughts lasted only an instant, disappearing fast under the mental discipline that was so much part and parcel of his personality.
‘He can be grumpy. He’s very grumpy now because he hates being told what he can and can’t eat and what time he has to go to bed. He hates me helping him physically, so he’s employed a local woman, a nurse from the hospital, to help him instead, and I’m constantly having to tell him that he’s got to be less bossy and critical of her.
‘He was very polite when I first arrived. I think he knew that he was doing my dad a favour, but he figured that he would only have to be on good behaviour for a few weeks. I don’t think he knew what to do with me, to start with. He’s not been used to company. He wasn’t comfortable making eye contact, but none of that lasted too long. We discovered that we shared so many interests—books, old movies, the garden. In fact, the garden has been invaluable now that Alberto is recovering. Every day we go down to the pond just beyond the walled rose-garden. We sit in the folly, read a bit, chat a bit. He likes me to read to him even though he’s forever telling me that I need to put more expression in my voice … I guess all that’s going to have to go …’
Giancarlo, who hadn’t thought of what he had left behind for a very long time, had a vivid memory of that pond and of the folly, a weird gazebo-style creation with a very comfortable bench inside where he likewise had enjoyed whiling away his time during the long summer months when he had been on holiday.
