Never Underestimate a Caffarelli. Melanie MilburneЧитать онлайн книгу.
and unfriendly, his expression stony.
‘I... Of course.’
‘Unless you are hard of hearing or a complete and utter fool, you must realise by now I don’t want you here.’
She lifted her chin, determined not to show him how intimidated she felt. ‘I’m neither hard of hearing nor a fool.’
He measured her with his gaze for a long, pulsing moment. Lily could see his French-Italian heritage in his features and in his bearing. There was a hint of the proud aristocrat in him; it was there in the broad set of his shoulders and the way he held himself in spite of being confined to a chair. He was taller than average—she estimated two or three inches over six feet—and was obviously a man who had been intensely physically active prior to his accident. She could see the well-formed muscles of his chest and arms through the fine cotton of the shirt he was wearing. His right arm was still in a plaster cast but his hands looked strong and capable. His face was cleanly shaven but the shadow of regrowth was evident, suggesting potent male hormones. His nose was a little more Roman than his brother’s, and there were lines about his mouth that gave him a slightly drawn look, as if he had lost weight recently. His mouth was set in an intractable line, flattened by his mood and temper, and she wondered what it would look like if he smiled.
Lily pulled back from her thoughts with a little start. She was not here to make him smile. She was here to see if she could make him walk, and the sooner she got on with the job, the sooner she could leave.
‘I suppose my brother has given you all the gory details of my condition?’ he said, still pinning her with that intimidating gaze.
‘I’ve seen your scans and read the doctors’ and physiotherapists’ reports.’
A dark brow lifted above his left eye, almost accusingly. ‘And?’
She rolled her lips together to moisten them, trying to ignore the annoying jackhammer beat of her heart. ‘I think it’s worth trying some of my methods. I’ve had some success with clients with similar injuries to yours.’
‘So, what are some of your methods?’ His top lip curled mockingly. ‘Waving incense around? Chanting mantras? Reading auras? Laying on of hands?’
Lily felt a little spurt of anger shoot through her blood. She was used to people rubbishing her holistic approach but somehow his sarcastic tone got under her skin. But he would be laughing on the other side of his face if she got him back on his feet. The challenge to do so was suddenly rather more attractive than it had been before. ‘I use a combination of traditional therapies and some complementary ones. It depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On the client. I take into consideration their diet and lifestyle, their sleeping habits, their mental state and—’
‘Let me guess—you read their tarot cards or give them a zodiac reading.’
Lily pursed her mouth to stop herself from issuing a stinging riposte. He was quite possibly the rudest man she’d ever met. Arrogant, too, but she supposed that came from his privileged background. He was a spoilt, over-indulged playboy who had been handed everything on a silver platter. His surly, ‘poor me’ attitude was just typical of someone who’d never had to work for anything in his life. He had it so good compared to some of her clients. At least he had the money to set himself up. He had people to wait on him, to take care of him. He had a family who refused to give up on him. Didn’t he realise that while he was in his luxury château feeling sorry for himself, there were people out in the world who were homeless or starving with no one to care what happened to them from one day to the next?
‘I’m a Taurus, in case you’re wondering,’ he said.
She gave him an arch look. ‘That explains the bull-headedness.’
‘I can be very stubborn.’ He gave her another measuring look. ‘But I suspect you can, too.’
‘I like to call it persistence,’ Lily said. ‘I don’t believe in giving up on something until I’ve put in a decent effort.’
He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the armrest of his wheelchair, an almost absentminded movement that seemed overly loud in the silence.
Lily felt the slow, assessing sweep of his gaze again. Was he comparing her to all the women he had dated? If so, he would find her sadly lacking. She didn’t dress to impress. She didn’t wear make-up as a rule and she wore plain Jane clothes that hid her figure and her past.
‘I’m not sure what to do with you.’ He glared at her darkly. ‘It’s not like I can physically throw you out.’
Lily sent him a warning in her gaze. ‘I can assure you, Monsieur Caffarelli, I would put up a spectacular fight if you laid even a single finger on me.’
One of his brows went up in an arc. ‘Well, well, well; the seemingly demure Miss Archer has a sting in her tail. Scorpio?’
She ground her teeth. ‘Virgo.’
‘Detailed. Nit-picking. Pedantic.’
‘I prefer to think of it as thorough.’
A ghost of a smile tilted the edge of his mouth. It totally transformed his features and Lily had to remind herself to breathe.
But the half smile was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. His expression darkened again and his gaze singed hers. ‘I’ve had weeks of physical therapy, Miss Archer, and none of it has worked, as you can see. I can’t see how you could succeed where others more qualified than you have failed.’
‘It’s still early days,’ Lily said. ‘The body can take months, if not years, to recover from trauma.’
Cynicism made his eyes glitter. ‘You’re not offering your services for years, though, are you, Miss Archer? My prediction is you’ll last one or two days, three at the most, and then you’ll be off with a nice fat little wad of cash in your bank account. I’ve met your type before—you exploit people who are desperate. You’ve got nothing to offer me and we both know it.’
‘On the contrary, I think I can help you,’ Lily said. ‘You’re at a critical stage in your recovery. You should be supervised while exercising—’
‘Supervised?’ He barked the word at her. ‘I’m not a child who needs supervising while playing on the monkey bars.’
‘I didn’t say that. I just meant that you have to—’
‘I will do it my way,’ he said with indomitable force. ‘I don’t want your help. I didn’t ask for it. And I didn’t pay for it. I know what I have to do and I’m doing it, and I prefer to do it alone. Do us both a favour and catch the next flight back to London.’
Lily stared him down even though it took an enormous effort to hold that diamond-hard gaze. His anger was coming off him in waves that sent crackles of electricity through the air. She could even feel her skin tightening all over her body, as if those invisible currents were flowing over and through her. She could even feel her blood heating; it was pounding through her veins as if she had taken a shot of adrenalin. ‘You do realise if I leave now your brother will lose a considerable amount of money? There’s a no-refund clause in my contract.’
His mouth thinned in disdain. ‘Let him lose it. It’s no skin off my nose.’
Lily was shocked. Was he really prepared to forfeit an amount most people didn’t even earn in a year? And it wasn’t even his money. His assumption she would take the money and go made her all the more determined to stay. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to take the money for nothing. He would think she was an unscrupulous gold digger and, given how high profile the Caffarelli name was, it would quite possibly tarnish the reputation of the clinic if word got out that she’d left without doing a day’s work.
Besides, she was a little intrigued by his resistance to rehabilitation. Didn’t he want to improve his mobility, or had he simply given up? Some clients found it very hard