The Uncompromising Italian. CATHY WILLIAMS
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‘They may have nothing to do with Rachel. That’s just another possibility.’ He took a bottle of wine from the fridge and two wine glasses from one of the cupboards. There was a rich smell of food and Lesley looked around for Violet, who seemed to be an invisible but constant presence in the house.
‘Where’s Violet?’ she asked, hovering.
‘Gone for the evening. I try and not keep the hired help chained to the walls at night.’ He proffered the glass of wine. ‘And you can come inside, Lesley. You’re not entering a lion’s den.’
It felt like it, however. In ways she couldn’t put her finger on, Alessio Baldini felt exciting and dangerous at the same time. Especially so at night, here, in his house with no one around.
‘She’s kindly prepared a casserole for us. Beef. It’s in the oven. We can have it with bread, if that suits you.’
‘Of course,’ Lesley said faintly. ‘Is that how it works when you’re here? Meals are prepared for you so that all you have to do is switch the oven on?’
‘One of the housekeepers tends to stick around when Rachel’s here.’ Alessio flushed and turned away.
In that fleeting window, she glimpsed the situation with far more clarity than if she had had it spelled out for her.
He was so awkward with his own daughter that he preferred to have a third party to dilute the atmosphere. Rachel probably felt the same way. Two people, father and daughter, were circling one another like strangers in a ring.
He had been pushed to the background during her formative years, had found his efforts at bonding repelled and dismantled by a vengeful wife, and now found himself with a teenager he didn’t know. Nor was he, by nature, a people person—the sort of man who could joke his way back into a relationship.
Into that vacuum, any number of gremlins could have entered.
‘So you’re never on your own with your daughter? Okay. In that case you really wouldn’t have a clue what was happening in her life, especially as she spends most of the year away from home. But you were saying that this may not have anything directly to do with Rachel. What did you mean by that?’
She watched him bring the food to the table and refill their glasses with more wine.
Alessio gave her a long, considered look from under his lashes.
‘What I am about to tell you stays within the walls of this house, is that clear?’
Lesley paused with her glass halfway to her mouth and looked at him over the rim with astonishment.
‘And you laugh at me for thinking that you might have links to the Mafia?’
Alessio stared at her and then shook his head and slowly grinned. ‘Okay, maybe that sounded a little melodramatic.’
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