Italian Mavericks: Expecting The Italian's Baby. Andie Brock
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previous night.
He’d followed the direction of her gaze. ‘You really should get a lawyer to look through those, you know.’
‘I thought you were a lawyer.’ Yet something else she hadn’t known at the outset.
‘I think they call it a conflict of interest.’
She’d shrugged. ‘Why? Are you trying to cheat me?’
He hadn’t smiled.
‘Talking of cheating...if you want this to work it might be an idea if you’re discreet...things like that might get back to your grandfather.’
‘You are giving me permission to be unfaithful.’
Lara had felt her blush deepen under his sardonic stare. ‘Oh, I know you don’t need my permission.’
‘You think after last night...’ his dark glance had swivelled to the rumpled bed ‘...that I’d have the energy for other women? I will be working a twenty-hour day...jealousy is not part of your duties.’
Playing it again now, she could see how he had misinterpreted her comments, but at the time she had been utterly taken by surprise.
‘Jealous...! I am not jealous!’ Then, in response to the voice in her head saying she was protesting too much, she had managed a less emotional, ‘It’s just the responsibility of your grandfather when you’re not here falls on me.’
She had been massively relieved to see some of the suspicion clear from his eyes.
‘You will always be able to contact me; if he needs me I will be here, and later, when his condition worsens, obviously I will travel less.’ He had paused and delivered a hard, level look at her lightly flushed face that Lara knew she would never forget. ‘Don’t fall in love with me, cara.’
Even thinking about the warning made her skin burn with remembered embarrassment. Fall in love with him! She didn’t even like him!
Lara shoved aside the memory of her response to Raoul, as beside her Lily continued to ask questions.
‘So what sort of man is he?’
‘He’s the sort of man who would drag a woman off a flight to propose.’ It was an inspired lie and, like all the best, had a basis in truth.
Lily’s eyes widened. ‘Seriously? He did that?’
Lara nodded.
‘Wow, that is romantic.’
‘Raoul is extremely romantic,’ Lara lied cheerfully, before going on to invent several incredibly romantic gestures he had made. ‘Here we are.’ She released a sigh of relief as they drove through the last set of massive wrought-iron gates that closed silently behind them and pulled her car up beside the shiny limo that had preceded them. The massive main entrance door of the palazzo stood wide open, and presumably her mother and Sergio were already inside.
Lara got out of the car and waited for her twin, who came to stand beside her. The half an inch or so height advantage she had over her sister was cancelled out by the heels that Lily was wearing this morning.
Their tastes in fashion had always been different and today that difference was particularly apparent. Lily’s floaty, flowered skirt fluttered around her calves, the top button of her simple sleeveless shirt was unfastened and her hair hung down her back in a shiny fat braid.
Lara wore a new acquisition, part of the wardrobe that Raoul had insisted she needed: a miniskirt in bold stripes of purple and lime green. Her silk top was sleeveless too but was cut low enough to show the upper slopes of her breasts and glimpses of her lacy bra. Her flatties were soft turquoise leather ballet pumps and on the way out she’d slid a haphazard selection of bangles on her arm, which jingled as she pushed her loose hair from her face.
She watched her twin as Lily tilted her head back to take in the full impact of the building. ‘I suppose anyone would want to live here.’
Lara’s expression froze over. ‘I hadn’t seen the place when I agreed to marry Raoul and once you’ve met him you’ll realise that his bank balance isn’t the attraction.’
‘I didn’t mean...’
Lara ignored the horrified stuttered denial. ‘There would be a queue around the corner for him if he only had the clothes he stands up in!’
Her sister touched her arm and handed her a tissue—Lara hadn’t even known her eyes were leaking moisture... What was that about?
‘I wasn’t suggesting that you’re a—’
‘Gold-digger? No, really? Well, call me sensitive but...?’ She had gone several steps before she took a deep breath and calmed down. Sensitive, yes. She recognised her reaction had been irrational but when hurt, her natural response was to hit out and she had. She wasn’t even sure why the suggestion had hurt her so much.
‘You love him very much, don’t you?’
The soft suggestion made Lara spin around. ‘I—’ She stopped herself just in time from informing her twin that Raoul was exactly the sort of man she never wanted to fall in love with, and somehow managed a smile she hoped was sincere and maybe a little soppy.
‘Yes, totally,’ she lied, pitying the woman who fell for a man who seemed to be in love with a ghost.
One of her first conversations with Sergio had confirmed her earlier suspicions.
‘I am so glad he has someone. After Lucy died he became...a shadow. Not all of him was here, the spark had gone, but you have brought it back for him.’
‘I’ve never seen any photos of...her?’
With the aid of the cane he had taken to using he had got up, walked over to a bureau and opened a drawer. He had pulled out a gilt-framed photo and with a sigh of regret handed it to Lara.
‘Raoul took all the photos down after she died, couldn’t bear to see her face, I imagine. I don’t know what he did with them but I kept this one. He doesn’t know I have it.’
Lara had looked at the woman smiling out from the frame. The photo had been taken in the palazzo—she’d recognised the fresco from one of the first-floor salons. The way the light fell made it seem as though she were part of the Renaissance scene behind her, and there was a something of the angel about her, the silky golden blonde bob, the cupid’s bow mouth painted red and her smooth, pink-tinged cheeks.
‘She was beautiful.’
Evicting the angelic image from her head, she swallowed a slug of guilt when her twin hugged her.
‘Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it? I just hope this guy is good enough for you, Lara.’
* * *
Her twin had made up her mind on that score before she even met Raoul.
‘What,’ Lily demanded as she paced the room, clutching her bouquet of wilting flowers in a white-knuckle death grip, ‘could be more important than being on time for his own wedding?’
‘He’ll be here.’
It was weird, but the more tense and angry her twin got, the calmer Lara became. Another time she might have appreciated the humour in the reversal of roles but not today. She was sure the stage nerves would kick in at some point, but not yet.
Maybe she wasn’t nervous yet because it simply didn’t seem real. The entire event had taken on the quality of a lavish film production. From the setting in the palazzo, a backdrop more glamorous and lavish than any film set, to the sharp-intake-of-breath guest list. It was an understatement to say that the Di Vittorios were well connected!
‘Lily, dear, will you sit down?’ Elizabeth Gray, looking too young to be anyone’s mother, caught her daughter’s arm just as the door opened to reveal the head of Security.
‘Buongiorno.’
‘He’s