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The Italian Marriage. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Italian Marriage - Kathryn Ross


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asked, puzzled.

      ‘Guns drawn at twenty paces.’ He gave a small smile.

      ‘That’s not fair, Marcus. I have always been very cooperative with you. I’ve let you see Liam whenever you want. Even at very short notice, I change my plans to fit in with your work schedule. I think I’ve been more than helpful—’

      ‘What about the fact that I don’t agree with the school you are sending him to in September?’ Marcus cut across her suddenly.

      She frowned, the remark taking her by surprise. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that school. It’s close by—’

      ‘I don’t like it.’

      ‘What do you mean, you don’t like it? What would you know about it?’ she asked impatiently.

      ‘I just think we could send him somewhere better.’

      ‘You mean to a school with colossal fees?’ She shook her head angrily. ‘Just because a school costs a lot doesn’t—’

      ‘That’s not what I mean at all, Gemma.’

      ‘So what do you mean?’ she asked, and then promptly wished she hadn’t when she noticed the smile of satisfaction on Marcus’s face.

      ‘You see, we do have things to discuss.’

      ‘Discussing local schools is a very different proposition to discussing taking Liam out of the country completely,’ she said quickly.

      ‘Yes, but up to two minutes ago you didn’t even want to discuss local schools,’ Marcus pointed out coolly.

      He was right; she didn’t. The simple fact was that she was scared of Marcus taking over completely. It was in the nature of the man: he was arrogant, and he was powerful. If she gave him even an inch he would take the whole nine yards. He thought he could say and have anything he wanted…and maybe he could, maybe that was really what scared her. He had always had the strangest effect on her. Just sitting this close to him across the desk made her heart rate increase, made her whole body turn to red alert. Having sensible, unemotional talks with Marcus was something she was incapable of doing.

      ‘I just want to be more involved in my son’s upbringing, Gemma. Is that such a bad thing?’

      Gemma stared at him in exasperation. She couldn’t honestly say that it was.

      ‘But you don’t let me help you in any way—’

      ‘If you’re going to start talking about money, you can forget it, Marcus. We have been all through this subject before and I’ve told you I don’t want or need your help. I’m managing perfectly well by myself, and that’s how I like it.’

      She saw his face tighten, saw the flare of annoyance in his dark eyes, but she held his gaze with determination. She was resolute on this, because she knew if she handed over the financial reins to him he would really have a hold over her.

      ‘And don’t worry about the school,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘It will be good for Liam. My friend’s little girl, Annie, goes there as well, so he will feel right at home,’ she continued firmly.

      ‘Oh, well, if Annie goes there it must be fine,’ Marcus grated sarcastically. ‘To hell with academic achievement.’

      ‘He’s four years of age, Marcus. He can train to be a brain surgeon a little later on,’ she retorted with equal sarcasm. ‘My main priority at the moment is that he’s happy.’

      ‘If that’s the case, then come out for dinner with me tomorrow night.’

      ‘So we can fight between courses. I don’t think so. Liam is not going to Italy, he is staying here with me, and he is going to a local school.’ She glanced beyond him towards the office again. There was a sense of unreality about being closeted in here with Marcus discussing schools of all things on a stressful Thursday with deadlines looming and chaos reigning in the boardroom. The day had started on a bad note and seemed to be going rapidly downhill. She wondered if it could get any worse.

      ‘You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met, do you know that?’ Marcus said quietly.

      Gemma noticed Henry Perkins, the company director, coming out of the boardroom to get himself a coffee from the machine. He looked as stressed as she felt, she noted. Although he was a relatively young man at forty-five he seemed to have aged ten years in the last few weeks.

      ‘The fact remains that, no matter what you say to the contrary, Liam is a very happy child.’ She returned her attention to Marcus. ‘He’s well adjusted and secure, and I want to make sure things stay like that. And anyway, maybe if you cared a little more about Liam and a little less about yourself, you wouldn’t be thinking of leaving him and going to live in Italy.’

      She knew she had scored a bulls-eye with that remark as she saw his face darken angrily. He wasn’t the only one who could use emotional blackmail to get what he wanted, she thought with satisfaction.

      ‘Things aren’t that black and white,’ he said crossly.

      ‘They never are.’ She hesitated before asking curiously, ‘So what’s drawing you back to Italy? Some nubile woman waiting in the wings, I take it. Or are you finally going to make an honest woman of Sophia?’

      There was a moment’s silence, then Marcus grinned. ‘Hell, Gemma, you sound almost jealous.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She wished she hadn’t asked now, wished she had contained both her curiosity and the barbed comment. ‘On the contrary, I hope you will be very happy.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Was that all he was going to say? Was he not going to enlighten her at all? She stared at him in frustration, wanting to ask him more but not daring to in case he thought she really was jealous…which, of course, she wasn’t, just consumed with curiosity.

      ‘So, while we are on this new and enlightened “be nice to each other” path, how about agreeing to have dinner with me tomorrow night?’

      ‘The answer is still no, Marcus. Now we’ve had our conversation, and I want you to go. I’m stressed enough at the moment without you coming in here making trouble.’

      ‘What are you stressed about?’ he asked calmly.

      For a second she contemplated telling him about the rumoured take-over bid for the magazine, then decided the less he knew about the details of her financial life the better. ‘Let’s just say that today is not the best of days in this office, and your presence here is making matters worse.’ She glanced up, noticed Richard hovering outside the door with her coffee and waved him in, in the hope that Marcus would go once someone else was present.

      As the door opened Marcus glanced coolly around. ‘Wait outside, will you?’ he said to a startled Richard, who had only taken a step inside. ‘We are having a private conversation.’

      ‘Oh, right you are.’ To Gemma’s annoyance, Richard immediately retreated and closed the door again.

      ‘How dare you talk to Richard like that?’ she flared angrily. ‘He’s the features editor, not one of your lackeys.’

      ‘I don’t care who he is. Richard can wait,’ Marcus ground out tersely.

      She glared at him.

      ‘You think you can manage very well on your own, Gemma, but you are being naïve. It’s hard being a single parent—’

      ‘I know it’s hard. You’re preaching to the converted, Marcus. It’s you who has no idea of reality. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a living to make and a son to support.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘I know you like to think of yourself as very independent, but believe me, without my support you would find things very tough…very tough indeed.’

      The quietly spoken words puzzled her. ‘I don’t need any support from you, Marcus. I never have


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