The Brunellesci Baby. Daphne Clair
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Yes, I think so.’ She too could be polite but not friendly.
‘You know your way to the dining room. We’ll be sitting down in about twenty minutes.’ He cast her a searching look. ‘If you’d like a drink first we’re in the front room.’
‘I’ll be down soon,’ she promised. ‘I’d like a gin and tonic if you have it.’
He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement before leaving.
She crossed the room to close the door behind him and leaned back against it, letting out a long breath. Zandro Brunellesci was not a man she could comfortably be in the same room with. Every time he came within touching distance she could feel the force of his personality, an aura of power, determination and authority, making her nerves skitter all over the place.
Staying in the same house with Dominic meant living with Zandro and his disquieting effect on her.
Moving away from the door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the big dressing table. She looked apprehensive, her cheeks flushed with colour, eyes dark in the middle, the pupils enlarged, the green irises softened to almost grey.
She squared her shoulders, trying to banish the look. Sure, Zandro was intimidating, but she’d known that all along. Known too that she could—must—stand up to whatever obstacles he put in the way of her plans. And never let him know on what shaky foundations those plans actually rested.
One step at a time. The first was to go downstairs and face the enemy. The three faces of the Brunellesci family, ranged against her.
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