The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит
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‘I used to go back to Sicily with my grandfather to help pick vines for his oldest friend. That’s where I learnt everything there is to know about wine.’
‘Oh,’ Keelin said a little lamely, finding it hard not to think of a young Gianni stripped to the waist, olive skin gleaming with sweat and muscles moving sinuously as he worked.
‘I mean it, Keelin.’ He said softly now, ‘I will build you a hacienda and fill it with horses if that’s what will make you happy.’
Before, this statement might have incited her to rage, but now she felt as if he’d soothed something inside her. Dangerous. He was just using another tactic to get her where he wanted.
‘I want to work, Gianni. I want to be counted. I want a place on the board of O’Connor’s, my rightful place. That’s what I want, and I don’t think it fits in with your idea of a dutiful wife.’
His mouth firmed. They were back to square one. ‘I have to admit that it isn’t exactly how I envisaged things but that’s not to say that we can’t discuss it. I want you to be happy, Keelin.’
She knew without pursuing it that Gianni might concede her some kind of Mickey Mouse position just to placate her. She’d been too inured by her father’s ways to trust that once they were married Gianni would give her any power at all. She realised then that she’d lost the ability to trust in any man giving her what she wanted.
She hated that she’d revealed herself to him now. She’d never told anyone about how important that time in Spain had been to her. She felt exposed.
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Her weary tone matched his. ‘I can buy my own hacienda and fill it with horses if I so wish, but I’ll do it on my terms, with my own hard-earned money. I’m still going to do everything in my power to see that this marriage falls apart.’
‘That’s the annoying thing though,’ Gianni said with deceptive mildness. ‘I’ve no intention of this falling apart.’
KEELIN KNEW THAT Gianni meant what he said. He would do whatever it took to get her up that aisle and then firmly sequester her somewhere out of the way while he got on with amassing power and a fortune, exactly like her father. Even though, for a second, she’d caught a glimpse of another side of Gianni. One that she never would have expected to feel empathy with.
He unfolded his arms then and checked his watch. ‘Much as I’d love to stay and chat, I have some international calls to make.’
He was backing away, leaving, and to Keelin’s horror she felt a lurch, as if all the cells in her body wanted to go with him. She took a step back.
He stopped then as if he’d just thought of something. He said silkily, ‘Oh, and I should let you know that I’ve decided to bring our wedding forward by a week, to capitalise on the success of this evening.’
Shock took a second to reverberate through her system. Her mouth opened. She’d been a fool to consider a mutual feeling of empathy for a second. He was ruthless to the bone. ‘Can you even do that?’
Gianni smiled but it was infinitely mocking. ‘With my underground connections? I can do what I like. So by this time next week we’ll be man and wife, Keelin.’
Her arms were so tight around herself that she was almost stopping the blood flow to her upper body. She forced out sarcastically, ‘Your eagerness to marry me is truly personally flattering.’
Gianni’s smile turned enigmatic. ‘I wouldn’t be so cruel as to pretend otherwise for a second.’
And with a brief hard smile, he turned and left the garden, disappearing through overhanging foliage. In a fit of delayed anger—why was it that her reactions which were usually so crystal-sharp felt more sluggish around Gianni?—Keelin made an inarticulate sound of frustration and turned around again, the view doing little to soothe her. It mocked her, as if to say, Why can’t you just be happy with this?
She looked down then and saw Gianni emerge confidently from the main hotel entrance just below. Instinctively she moved closer to the terrace wall so she could see better. His driver jumped out to open his door for him but at the last second Gianni stopped and said something to him. He pulled off his jacket and threw it into the car and turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, broad shoulders slightly hunched, head down. Dark and formidable against the mild early-summer Roman night.
Keelin drew back a little, almost as if he might turn and look up at her, catch her staring.
Curiously, her anger defused slightly. She found herself wondering why he’d decided to walk. Was he having a fit of conscience? Wondering if he really could go through with a marriage of convenience to someone who hated him?
And did she hate him? She hated this situation she was in. But she had to admit that in other circumstances she would find Gianni intriguing, and far too dangerously attractive. He was so composed. Controlled. And ruthless. Something roiled inside her to think that after all she’d been through, some part of her psyche resonated with powerful ambitious men like her father.
And then she had to realise that by pursuing this dogged and crazy plan, she was doing nothing less than exhibiting her own ruthlessness and ambition. The fact that she embodied those traits, too, did not sit well for a moment.
A very rogue image slid into Keelin’s mind; of her, coming out of the hotel behind Gianni and slipping her hand into his. And of him turning to look down, a smile on his face. The kind of easy smile that she’d seen him bestow on people all night at the party but not her. Because when he looked at her it was always with a mix of mockery, disdain or anger. But maybe he’d stop this time and turn and put his hands around her face and there would be a different look in his eyes—
What the hell was wrong with her?
Keelin whirled away from the wall with enough force to make her stumble slightly. She was breathing heavily, her heart racing. Damn Gianni Delucca. What was she doing mooning after him like some kind of groupie, forgetting about the bombshell he’d just dropped?
Keelin went back up to her suite, and once inside, she kicked off her heels and paced up and down, restless at the thought of the wedding happening in a few days. She had nothing to hide from Gianni any more. They were on a level playing pitch now, so as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed and it was still very much game on to derail this wedding and she would utilise whatever arsenal she could lay her hands on to achieve this.
As if the universe wanted to help her, Keelin noticed the front of the local newspaper that was delivered to her suite every day. It featured a colourful picture of a famous celebrity leaving the rival Chatsfield Hotel in Rome.Keelin’s mouth curved into a smile as an audacious plan took root in her head.
* * *
As Gianni approached his apartment and office building after walking from the Harrington Hotel, he still felt restless. And he knew it wasn’t just the pent-up lust in his system. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d kept his hands off Keelin after that incendiary kiss at the party. And just now? She’d looked as mad as hell and sexy with it. Her vibrant red hair tumbled over one pale shoulder. Cheeks pink, mouth still slightly swollen from that kiss. Green eyes flashing when he’d imparted the news of bringing the wedding forward, a mutinous set to her jaw.
Knowing how determined she was to get out of this marriage, Gianni had decided to bring the wedding forward, telling himself it was purely a strategic business move.
So why had he had to steel himself inwardly and call on the kind of ruthlessness he employed when making a tough business decision when he’d told her? Because when Keelin had confided in him about her time in Andalusia, it had impacted him on a level he hadn’t expected. He’d been able to see that fresh-faced image of her all too easily and it was a million miles from the kind of woman he might have believed her to be, even without all