Italian Marriage: In Name Only. Kathryn Ross
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part of her that had wondered if she had imagined how attractive he was, how powerful he was. She’d even wondered if maybe she’d mistaken his ultimatum—got the wrong end of the stick. This couldn’t be happening for real, could it?
But now, looking at him, she realized she hadn’t imagined anything. He was every inch the forceful, dynamic businessman in his expensive suit, his dark hair gleaming under the subdued lighting. The type of man who always got what he wanted. And, more worrying, even from this distance he seemed to exude a magnetising attractiveness that made her senses go into hyperdrive.
Frankly he scared her to death. She dragged her gaze away from him to scan the people who accompanied him—one she recognised as the accountant, Tom Roberts; the second was a man in his late thirties who was also wearing a smart suit and wasn’t bad looking but nowhere in the league of Antonio Cavelli. The third was a woman in her early twenties. She was very attractive—probably just Antonio’s type—long straight blonde hair and a figure to die for encased in a tight black pencil skirt and short cropped jacket.
Victoria looked away from her and back towards Antonio and as she did he glanced towards the doorway and their eyes met through the glass. The shock was intense and she stepped away from the window as if she’d been shot.
Maybe he hadn’t really seen her, she told herself calmly. And even if he had—so what!
‘You OK, Victoria?’ Emma asked from behind her.
‘Yes, of course.’ She tried to smile. But she wasn’t OK; she was anything but OK. Her heart was racing; she felt completely panic-stricken.
‘Shall I tell him you’ll be out in a minute?’
The question made Victoria glance down at her attire. She hadn’t planned to work in the restaurant this morning so she was just wearing an old pair of black trousers and a plain white T-shirt. She couldn’t go out there looking like this! But then she didn’t possess anything much better to change into. She hadn’t bought herself any new clothes for more than a year—hadn’t taken any wages out of the business, hadn’t done anything for herself. Any spare cash went towards getting Nathan all that he needed and keeping this restaurant up and running. And by the time she had paid her staff and Nathan’s nursery fees there was nothing left.
‘Tell him…tell him I’m busy doing office work and could we…reschedule…’ As she spoke she saw Emma’s eyebrows starting to rise.
‘Do I have to tell him that?’ Emma asked warily. ‘Somehow I don’t think he’s the kind of man you ask to reschedule!’
She was absolutely right, of course. Victoria bit down on her lip and moved back through to her apartment. She wanted to lock the doors and pull down all the blinds on her windows—that or run as far away from here as her shaking legs would carry her. There were times when it was brilliantly convenient having her living accommodation in with her work, but today was definitely not one of those days. ‘Tell him…’ The words froze on her lips. Antonio Cavelli was standing behind Emma in the doorway.
‘If you have something to tell me, Victoria, you can say it to my face.’
But Victoria didn’t say anything; she couldn’t, because she couldn’t find her voice.
Emma whirled around. ‘Oh, sorry, I was just on my way back to see you now.’
‘That’s OK.’ He smiled at the receptionist. ‘You can leave us now.’
Without even a glance in Victoria’s direction Emma hurried to do as he asked and closed the door behind her.
Hold on a moment, Victoria thought distractedly. This was her restaurant, her premises. Since when had her staff started taking orders from Antonio Cavelli! How was it he suddenly seemed to be taking over her life?
‘Is there a problem, Victoria?’ Antonio asked her calmly.
With supreme difficulty she pulled herself together. ‘The only problem is…you.’ She didn’t know where she got the strength to say that but she did, and she also managed to meet his cool dark eyes with defiance. ‘These are my private quarters. You have no right to barge in here like this!’
‘You should have come out into the restaurant quicker, then.’ He smiled. There was something quite endearing about the way she tried to face up to him—scared rigid, yet determined to fight. ‘Relax, Victoria. I’ve only called because we have business to sort out before the wedding next week.’
‘So…you still want to go through with that?’ Her voice suddenly sounded like a raw croak.
‘Of course, it’s all set.’ His eyes moved abstractedly over her appearance as he spoke. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and as usual her large glasses covered her face. Her hair was scraped back from her face in a way that did her no favours and just emphasized her pallor. As for her figure—that was hidden beneath clothes that were completely shapeless. The T-shirt looked a size too big for her, and the trousers were loose too. However, from what he could discern she did appear to have some pleasing curves hidden away under all that material, so he hadn’t been completely mistaken in his observations the other day. But why on earth did she dress like that?
The blatant assessment of her clothes and her body made scalding heat flood through her. How dare he zone in on her like that! Hurriedly Victoria snatched up a cardigan from the chair beside her and put it on, wrapping the volume of grey woolly fabric around her like a shield.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ he asked with some amusement.
‘I’m…making myself more comfortable.’ She glared at him, hoping he didn’t know how those bold masculine eyes of his had just turned her to jelly.
One dark eyebrow lifted sardonically.
Yes, he probably did know—just as she knew that his assessment of her was doubtless purely critical. She tried to look confident and unfazed but she was blushing uncontrollably now.
‘You do realize it’s about thirty degrees in here, don’t you?’ His glance swept away from her and around the apartment.
How on earth did she live in here? he wondered. It seemed to consist of just two rooms, which were neat and clean but incredibly basic. ‘Haven’t you got any air conditioning?’
The fact that he was now turning his critical attention to her home made her temperature rise even further.
‘Actually I have! But I haven’t switched it on today because I’m cold!’ In truth she hadn’t turned on the air-conditioning unit because she couldn’t afford to run it and she was trying to save money whilst Nathan was out at kindergarten. But pride made her lie.
‘Then you must be coming down with something,’ He located the control switch for the unit and strolled across to flick it on. And immediately cool air flowed into the room.
How dared he do that! she thought angrily. Who the hell did he think he was? ‘You’re right, I probably am coming down with something,’ she grated angrily. ‘I think it’s called a terminal case of cold feet, at the thought of having to marry you next week!’
He looked over at her and amusement flickered in the darkness of his eyes. He liked her fiery sense of humour.
‘Don’t worry about the ceremony—it will only take ten minutes.’
The nonchalant tone annoyed her even more. ‘I’m not worried about the ceremony! It’s the subsequent consequences of it that are concerning me!’
Wasn’t he in the least bit bothered about the enormity of what he was asking her to do?
‘I assure you the only consequences will be a healthier bank account and a better way of life for you and your son.’
Obviously not in the slightest bit concerned. ‘Money isn’t everything, you know,’ she muttered impulsively.
No one had ever said that to him before. One dark eyebrow rose