The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
are a couple of people coming tonight. Pascal, who you spoke to, I’ve known for ages. He was my mentor—has a formidable knowledge of the markets and taught me everything. He’s also been happily married for the last fifty years. He wants the same for me and has taken it upon himself to find me a replacement wife. He always brings a possible candidate to dinner. This current one is a consultant with the London branch of his company. He’s brought her the last couple of times we’ve met up. Having you there will be a good shield.’
‘You want me to—’
‘Protect me from the unwanted advances of another woman—yes.’ His mouth made the movements of a smile but there was too much of an edge.
‘That’s ridiculous.’ It was ridiculous. As if he’d ever need that. He certainly didn’t want a replacement wife. He couldn’t have made that clearer to Emily, but that was the point, wasn’t it? She was his shield from another woman trying to get close and she was good protection because she already knew her place.
Suddenly she had no desire whatsoever to protect him now. She was hurt and she wanted him to open right up. And while he’d changed his mind about tonight, she didn’t have the lack of interest or the dignity to refuse—she wanted to know more before she left. She wanted to know everything. What had happened to his wife? How long was a long time ago? And what was this woman coming tonight like? Why did his old mentor think she’d be a good match for him? Emily’s emotions were all at sea and jealousy was the next to fly its flag.
‘Have you slept with her?’ She made no apology for the rudeness of her question. She just had to know.
‘No.’ His lips went firm.
‘Do you want to?’
‘No.’
Uh-huh. Consultants were bound to be beautiful and slim and well maintained as well as brilliant and she refused to believe the woman wouldn’t be interested in Luca. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be interested in Luca.
His temper flashed again. ‘If I’d wanted to, I would have by now.’
By now she’d thought enough to be able to believe him. He was so determined to compartmentalise his life and he’d be too disciplined to blur the lines. Too hurt by the past?
He bent, glaring right in her eyes, and still felt the need to raise his voice and fire the words in her face. ‘This is the thing, Emily—I don’t screw around and I don’t cheat.’ His jaw was tight. ‘Eight p.m. Here. Wear something half-decent.’
Emily recoiled at the blunt instruction. It was as if he’d slapped her across the cheek and all her sympathy sank under the force of it. So he did think she’d embarrass him. Did she have no manners? No class? No decent clothes, obviously. And he didn’t take her out because she wasn’t good enough to be seen with.
For a second he stared at her, a beat of amazement in his eyes, before his frustration blew. A short, sharp, crude oath and he was gone. Three seconds later the house shook as the front door slammed.
EMILY counted to twenty and then went in search of grissini. She needed something she could snap her teeth on—to crunch away her anger and grind away her guilt, because right now she felt bucket-loads of both.
In the kitchen, Micaela was at the bench, restraint tightening her usually friendly face. As Emily went into the pantry she wondered just how much of that argument she’d heard. Heat scorched her cheeks. So yesterday she and Luca had been at it like rabbits mid-morning, and today they were yelling at each other. It couldn’t make for a pleasant working environment. But Micaela was busy making meal preparations and not looking her in the eye.
‘Where’s Marco?’ Another awful thought occurred to her—was the poor kid hiding in his cupboard under the stairs?
‘He’s at a neighbour’s playing today.’
Emily released another difficult breath, glad that he hadn’t been around to overhear them fighting. ‘I’m sorry if…I…er…’
Micaela put down the knife she was scoring tomatoes with and turned briskly to face her. ‘I want to tell you something. It is personal and I hope you don’t mind but I want to tell you.’ It was as if she’d been putting the words together in her head for the last five minutes and finally decided to launch forth.
Her grissini suspended mid-air, Emily wondered what the hell it was all about.
‘It’s difficult for us to get pregnant. We tried and tried for so long. But nothing. Then we found out that we needed help.’
Emily blinked. She didn’t know what she’d expected but it wasn’t that.
‘My family is all in Italy. We didn’t have much money and we had no one to turn to.’
Turn to for what? Emily couldn’t keep up with the speed of the subject.
Micaela’s eyes were dark and shiny and emotion wobbled her voice. ‘Luca gave us Marco and he gave us this baby.’
And for one moment, one awful, jealousy-ridden, rottenly hideous moment, Emily thought Micaela meant that Luca had fathered her children.
‘He gave us the money.’
Emily put the grissini down and sagged back against the bench. What was it with her and wrong conclusions today?
‘For treatment. For doctors.’
Thank heavens Micaela didn’t seem to have noticed her almost collapse, too busy getting all the details out.
‘We’ve been going to a private clinic for years. Thousands and thousands of pounds for treatment so we could try and try again—for as long as we wanted to. He said there was no limit. That it was up to us.’ She picked up the knife again, head bent as she sliced into the tomato. ‘He told us it was part of our health-insurance package as our employer. But it is directly from him.’
She directed a piercing gaze at Emily then, and all her caring and gratitude was evident in the way her eyes were watering and the fierce way she spoke. ‘He works too hard. He is too hard on himself. He is a good man. And he deserves…’
‘What?’ Emily prompted. No wonder they were so loyal to their employer, so happy to drop everything and come running when summoned. No wonder she ironed his damn sheets.
‘He deserves to be happy.’
Emily closed her eyes. Yes, he did. But didn’t everyone? Didn’t she too?
‘He should have the kind of happiness he’s given Ricardo and me.’
Love. Children. A family.
Now Emily felt worse, because it seemed that Luca had almost had that, only to lose it, and now he didn’t want it at all. And she, not realising, had taunted him.
She wished he’d told her before. She’d told him about her parents. But he’d had no intention of ever getting to know Emily well enough to have to bother. Only she’d made him. She rolled the breadstick back and forth on the bench. Thought about what Micaela had told her and why she had told her—because she wanted her to see the best of Luca? ‘How long have you worked for him?’
‘Almost eight years. He said I should stop when I got pregnant, but I like working. It keeps my mind off worrying.’
Emily understood. Wasn’t that what she’d done back home—kept herself busy as a way of burying her fears? And now her lips burned with questions about Luca’s past. But she couldn’t ask them. It would be prying and Micaela probably wouldn’t tell her anything anyway. She’d share her own personal story, but not that of her employer. Her loyalty was too strong and rightly so. Emily didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Besides, she’d rather hear about it from Luca himself.
He