The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ were wide and bright. Cheeks flushed. Her gaze dropped and she sucked in a breath to see the stark outline of her nipples pressing against the flimsy silk of her jumpsuit.

      She could recall all too easily how she’d wanted to rub them against Gianni’s chest in the club, to assuage the burning ache. Dammit. Once again she felt that vulnerability to know that he had a unique effect on her, cutting right through her defences. She wasn’t prepared for this unprecedented physical reaction to him. It was as if when he touched her something fused in her brain.

      She was afraid of Gianni’s effect on her, that if he kissed her again she wouldn’t be able to protect herself in time. And that he might make her feel as powerless as she had when—

      She closed her eyes against the memories and sucked in a deep breath.

      This was why she’d avoided any kind of intimacy before now, in spite of the picture she’d painted to Gianni. She assured herself resolutely that he wouldn’t be kissing her again because she’d do whatever it took to persuade him that this union was wrong.

      * * *

      When Keelin woke the following morning after a fitful sleep, she felt a wave of optimism—perhaps she was wrong and Gianni just suspected something? Galvanised by the thought that all was not lost, she dressed again with inappropriate zeal in a figure-hugging red dress, and made her way to the entrance of the hotel, determined to go shopping again as if nothing had happened and hope for the best.

      But when she got to the door, a tall dark familiar figure was waiting for her. She cursed silently as he approached her and took her arm before bending and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her heart spasmed.

      He pulled back and she looked at him. He smiled but his eyes were hard. ‘Buongiorno, cara. So nice of you to come down and meet me.’

      ‘But I wasn’t, I was—’

      But Gianni wasn’t listening. He was all but frog-marching her out of the hotel to where his sleek chauffeur-driven car was waiting. She was in the back of the car and he was on the other side in a louche sprawl before she could get her breath and register that they were moving away from the hotel.

      Keelin had given in to the bitter tang of defeat. He knew.

      ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, feeling mutinous.

      ‘My apartment. We need to talk.’

      Keelin looked out of her window, refusing to so much as glance in his direction for the duration of the journey, furiously trying to think of what he might say. And how much did he know? The fact that he might know of her degree made her feel inordinately exposed. Old and familiar urges rose. To rebel. To run. But she couldn’t. She had to be smart and roll with the punches and ensure that no matter what happened she’d come out on top and her father would be forced to acknowledge her role in their family’s company. Solo. Not married.

      A memory of when she’d been about eleven years old sprang into her head. She’d been with her paternal grandfather in one of the O’Connor Foods factories. It had been a very rare visit—usually she was never taken to the factories. Huge articulated lorries had been peeling away, out of the forecourt, on their way across Europe with foods, and her father was standing in the middle, like the conductor of an orchestra.

      She’d been mesmerised by all this industry and the family legend that it had all originated from one field and a herd of cattle in the west of Ireland.

      In her mind at that moment she’d made the connection between her father’s obsession with work and his lack of obsession with her. She’d turned to her grandfather and said excitedly, ‘When I grow up I want to work with Daddy.’

      Her grandfather had looked at her with disappointment lining his old face and had bent down to her level and said very clearly, ‘That won’t ever happen, Keelin. If you had a brother, maybe—’

      Even now, she could remember the awful hollowing-out sensation, and the feeling of guilt, that she wasn’t enough, because she was a girl. She’d looked out over the forecourt again and had realised that, because of her, all of this would cease to exist some day. And that’s when she’d vowed to do everything she could to show her father that she could be enough.

      ‘We’re here.’

      Keelin blinked and looked to see the by-now-familiar building. A sense of déjà vu assailed her as Gianni got out and came around to let her out. She felt silly, trussed up like some kind of over-the-top reality-TV star.

      She pettily refused to take his hand of help and got out herself, less elegantly than she would have liked. He just shrugged minutely and led the way into his building.

      The elevator felt even more claustrophobic this time, because now she knew what it felt like to be in Gianni’s arms, his mouth on hers. That hard body pressing against hers. Her face was flaming by the time the lift came to a stop and she almost fell out in her haste to put some space between them.

      It was almost a relief to step into his palatial apartment again and she quickly moved over to one of the windows, dreading what was coming.

      Reluctantly she turned to look at Gianni and he was stern and formidable. Distant. Perhaps she could convince him to see sense? A small voice somewhere laughed at that. Facing up to the unpalatable suspicion that he would not rest until he knew everything, Keelin steeled herself and said bluntly, ‘I don’t want to marry you.’

      His expression didn’t change but she saw a flash of something in those dark eyes. ‘Did it occur to you to say this when we met first and I gave you the opportunity instead of putting on the elaborate act?’

      She flushed as his gaze narrowed on her. He came closer and Keelin could sense the tension reaching out to touch her like the sharp end of a nail across her skin. This was a man who didn’t appreciate being messed with. And she’d been like a mouse teasing a lion for the past two days.

      She lifted her chin and avoided answering that question directly. ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been inconvenienced, but I have no intention of marrying you.’

      Gianni was grim. ‘And would you care to explain why you didn’t walk away when your father proposed this arrangement?’

      Not really. Keelin swallowed and crossed her arms defensively. There was no way she could physically move past Gianni. He seemed to take up all the space in the room. Hell. Eventually, with the utmost reluctance, she said, ‘If I walk away, then my father will effectively disown me.’

      The prickle of exposure to have said that out loud made her irritated now. She didn’t want to feel any vulnerability here in front of this man.

      Gianni mirrored her, folding his arms across his chest, making the muscles of his arms stand out against the cloth of his suit.

      ‘Need I point out that by marrying me you’ll become obscenely wealthy?’

      Keelin flushed, angry to be so aware of him. ‘It’s not about the money.’

      He arched a brow. ‘Could have fooled me. You spent a small fortune yesterday.’

      She felt slightly sick to think of it now. ‘That was just part of...’ She faltered and stopped. ‘I can send the clothes back.’

      His voice was cooler СКАЧАТЬ