The Chatsfield: Series 2

She held up her glass and smiled brightly. ‘Cheers, Mr Delucca.’

Gianni forced down the sense of things veering out of his control to see that wide smile caked in so much lipstick. He held up his glass too. He would not be deterred by some bad taste and heavy make-up. Or by the fact that the photo he’d seen must have been taken when she was sixteen.

All this woman needed was a little finessing. He would hire an expert stylist to make her over. Already he was imagining what she might look like without that dreadful tan job and make-up. In a dress that flowed over her curves.

He felt as if some measure of control was returning for the first time since she’d opened the suite door. He smiled. ‘Please call me Gianni.’

For a second he thought he saw a flash of something like panic in those huge eyes but it disappeared and she frowned, a small line marring the otherwise smooth perfection of her forehead. ‘But isn’t your name Giancarlo?’

Her Irish accent mangled his name charmingly. ‘I prefer Gianni.’

She shrugged and smiled before throwing back at least half a glass of the champagne in one go. ‘Gianni, it is then.’

She reached for the bottle again to refill her glass and a memory of his drunk father exploded into his head. Angry and unsettled at that intrusive and unwelcome image because it reminded him of so much more, Gianni put his glass down on a nearby table.

She looked at him, surprised, and he said abruptly, ‘I’m afraid I can’t indulge. I just came to see how you were settling in. Needless to say we have lots to talk about.’

She looked at him blankly for a moment before what he said seemed to register and then she let out a slightly embarrassed giggle. ‘Oh, you mean the wedding. Of course, silly me. Yes, lots to talk about.’

She threw back more champagne and the action alternately annoyed and aroused him. His recent sense of being in control eroding slightly. ‘We’ll meet downstairs in the bar at seven-thirty?’

She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Fab, can’t wait.’

Gianni pulled a card out of his inside pocket and handed it to her; for a moment she did that blank thing again before taking it.

He quashed the flash of irritation and explained, ‘Those are my private numbers in case you need to contact me in the meantime.’

She looked at him and smiled and for a second lust rose again to drown out all of the very mixed things Gianni was feeling. This meeting had definitely been surreal and disturbing in a way he hadn’t expected.

He backed away, determined not to allow the sense of disappointment to rise. ‘Till later, Keelin. I look forward to getting to know you.’ He had to quash the uncharitable thought that there wasn’t much more to know.

She tipped her glass towards him and some champagne sloshed out onto the stunning carpet but she was oblivious. ‘Ciao.’ She giggled, ‘See? I’m already practically fluent.’

Gianni smiled but it was hard. He let himself out of the suite and took the lift back to the lobby and strode back out to this waiting car. The sense of relief was enormous. But he refused to be dissuaded by the fact that his evidently not very bright fiancée had apparently spent what looked to him to be the national debt of a small country in the space of a few hours. He’d given her the credit card after all, as a little sweetener. So, she was a shopaholic? What woman wasn’t? He just needed to guide her in a more tasteful direction.

As his car moved off smoothly into the Rome traffic, a muscle pulsed in his jaw. He didn’t mind the prospect of making over his fiancée; after all, style was something that had to be learned. He knew because he’d done it. But the image of her knocking back the champagne stuck in his craw; the thought of her hostessing a private dinner party filled with VIPs made his skin go clammy with panic.

He thought then of the women he’d chosen as lovers—their impeccable taste and style. Their ability to seamlessly blend into any social environment without drawing adverse attention to themselves, or him. Keelin was like a vivid bird of paradise in comparison, and not in a good way. It made him nervous. He was under so much scrutiny because of his father that he’d made it part of his life’s ambition to never give anyone an excuse to say, Like father like son.

He needed to project an air of unimpeachability and stability, so people would trust him professionally. His early life had been a litany of violence, fear and ugliness. Gianni forced himself to take a deep breath. Keelin was not of that world. She was just a bit garish. He could handle this, handle her. He would have to, because marrying her meant a fast track to that respectability and acceptability he craved.

Gianni made a terse call to his assistants instructing them to make sure that a table had been booked for dinner that evening. He sighed and told himself that he was not dissuaded from his course just because his fiancée appeared all too coarse.

* * *

Keelin paced in the hotel suite, agitation making her movements jerky. She angrily kicked off the too-high shoes and opened another window to try and get rid of the noxious stench of perfume. As soon as Gianni had left she’d tipped the remaining contents of the glasses and bottle down the sink. She’d normally never touch the stuff, because it gave her thumping headaches and she could feel one brewing now.

She felt silly all over again, like a child playing dress-up, even though it was something she’d never indulged in because she’d been too busy adoringly trailing her father and looking for the smallest sliver of attention.

Also, she had not been prepared for the physicality of Gianni Delucca, or that he would have such an effect on her. It was disconcerting to say the least. She recalled the way his dark gaze had rested on her breasts and how a flash of heat had bloomed in her solar plexus. It had almost knocked her off her feet with its force.

She’d put blinkers on where men were concerned for a long time, after a traumatic incident in her last year of secondary level school. She’d allowed herself to be vulnerable one time too many in a bid to seek the kind of male attention she’d been starved of from her father and it had resulted in a nightmare scenario that had shocked her out of her teenage angst and rebellion, and forced her to grow up overnight.

And until now no one had managed to make her feel remotely interested...but one look at Gianni and a slumbering part of her had woken right up.

She struggled to refocus and not think about her disturbing reaction to him—had she at least helped to convince him that she was a dizzy, overindulged, spoilt, shopaholic heiress with nothing between her ears except which celebrities might be staying in the hotel? The fact that she’d pulled that nugget of information from a headline she’d seen recently was a pure fluke.

She hoped it was doing the trick, and yet her act felt tawdry and flimsy now. She itched to get out of the too-tight dress and back into her favourite jeans and shirt, hair pulled messily into a knot on top of her head. She also longed to get out and see some of Rome’s best known sights but unfortunately she couldn’t play the part of herself right now. The stakes were too high.

For a long time Keelin had been weak enough to believe that a man’s love and attention could fill the aching chasm in her soul, until she’d realised that it was only herself she could rely on for that sustenance, and that any such notions had been borne out of the lack of love her parents, and father in particular, had shown her. Freud would have analysed her in seconds, she’d been so pathetically transparent.

She’d come to understand that her focus had to be on concrete things like staking her claim on her family business—not wishy-washy notions that the unconditional love of a man would heal something that had broken a long time ago.

She assured herself she could do this. Gianni Delucca, and his disturbing brand of masculinity and fathomless dark eyes that had watched her far too carefully, was not going to deter her from her path.

* * *

That evening Gianni looked at his watch impatiently. Keelin was late, over half an hour late to be precise. For someone who was a stickler for punctuality, this grated on his still-jangling nerves. He’d never waited for a woman in his life. And he really did not relish overhearing the bar staff discussing rumours about a merger between the Harrington and the Chatsfield hotels. The last thing he wanted was a blaze of publicity to accompany this wedding. He was about to take out his mobile when he heard a hush descend on the exclusive Harrington Hotel bar and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled just before he looked up.

Keelin stood silhouetted in the doorway. Every head turned towards her. Gianni’s eyes felt like they might explode out of his skull with a mixture of horror and unwelcome desire. He’d thought her dress earlier was short, but what she wore now would have made it look like a nun’s habit. Her legs were completely bare, all the way up to where her modesty was just about preserved by the multicoloured lamé material of her dress. If it could even be called that.

A dress that skimmed out over womanly hips, dipping in to her small waist before curving sinuously over perfect breasts, tantalisingly visible in the open V that showed her flesh from neck to navel. The whole apparatus seemed to be precariously held in place by a gold hoop necklace that showed off her bare shoulders and arms.

That glorious red hair was bigger than it had been earlier, tousled and falling down behind her shoulders. Gianni was stunned. In shock. She looked like a call girl, but he felt the sharp kick of a lust so powerful it shocked him. Even as he was vowing that she would never, ever, appear in public with him again dressed like this.

And then that green, heavily made-up gaze settled on him and she raised an arm and called across the muted dimly lit bar, ‘There you are!’

Gianni winced and hated himself for it, as those long legs ate up the luxuriously carpeted distance and every head swivelled to follow her leonine progress. Dio. He’d seen more clothes on a Las Vegas showgirl. Even if she did move with an innately sensual grace that made his lust kick even more, confounding him. Was he really so rough underneath the respectable sheen he’d acquired that he appreciated this?

She reached him and stopped, her feet strapped into insanely delicate and ornate-looking gold high-heeled sandals. She obviously misread his interest and lifted one foot and said chummily as if he really cared, ‘Just off the catwalk.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Like, this is ridiculous. I could happily live and shop here for ever.’

Then she looked at him and clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes widening comically before she said, ‘I can’t believe I just said that! That’s exactly what I’ll be doing when we get married!’

Gianni was conscious of people looking and whispering and felt the prickle of that public scrutiny. And the need to get away from it. Which is what Keelin O’Connor should be helping him with, along with the kudos of joining forces with O’Connor Foods.

Angry that she was putting doubts in his mind again, Gianni took her elbow and said tightly, ‘We should go, they’re waiting for us in the restaurant.’

He gritted his jaw as a wave of that noxious perfume assaulted his nostrils again. Keelin was resisting ever so slightly and he looked at her. She made a small pout. ‘Not even time for a weensy glass of prosecco?’

She gushed, ‘I love prosecco, it’s my new favourite drink. I had it in the spa this afternoon while I was getting my nails done.’

She shoved her hand under his nose then and waggled her fingers, showing off blood-red talons with a diamanté sparkle in the center of each one. His stomach lurched.

‘You like?’

Gianni swallowed a sense of doom and took advantage of her momentary distraction to keep moving. ‘They’re fantastic.’

As they walked out of the bar and across the marbled lobby, Gianni noticed a few men almost get whiplash, their heads jerked so hard when they saw Keelin. To his disgust, he felt a very uncharacteristic urge to go and snarl at every one of those men to keep their gazes on their own women.

Keelin was chattering away, blissfully unaware, ‘...and I’m sorry I was late but I saw the most divine ruby necklace that would set off the peach resort dress I bought today, and then they had this thing on the Discovery channel about dogs—’ She gripped his arm just as the maître d’ of the restaurant caught his eye and ushered him in.

Gianni stopped and looked at her impatiently. ‘Yes?’

She was gazing up at him, wide green eyes hopeful. ‘Can we have a dog, please? I’ve always wanted a dog and Daddy never let me have one because he said I wasn’t responsible enough.’

Her lower lip trembled. Cristo, was she about to cry? Gianni felt a clawing sense of claustrophobia, desperation. He dragged in a breath and reassured himself she was just excited and overwhelmed. It had been a mistake to give her the credit card; clearly she couldn’t be trusted with unlimited funds. They’d talk over dinner and she wouldn’t be as silly as he feared she was. She couldn’t be.

‘We’ll discuss it, okay?’

Her green eyes shone with hope and gratitude, bright with unshed tears. ‘Thank you, Gianni, so much. I know we’re going to be really happy together. Daddy promised you’d take care of me, just like he has.’

Gianni didn’t have time to let that last little bombshell land because the maître d’ was leading them to the table. Daddy promised you’d take care of me? She was looking at him like a father figure? When he was looking at her and feeling a powerful mix of desire and disgust? Now he was freaked out on top of everything else.

An hour later, Gianni was also very much in doubt that any kind of happiness lay on the horizon. Irritation perhaps. Now that definitely featured. But he schooled his features and affected nothing but extreme interest in his fiancée, who he suspected could make an Olympic sport out of chattering inanely without drawing breath.

When she did pause to draw breath for one moment, Gianni took advantage and put up a hand to stop her next monologue about the way she felt reality-TV shows were so true to life.

‘Keelin, we need to talk about this marriage.’

CHAPTER TWO

KEELIN WAS ACTUALLY relieved that Gianni had cut her off. She’d been ready to scream and had just been wondering what the hell she could witter on about next. But now she registered what he’d just said and suddenly air was in short supply. She forced a bright vacuous smile. ‘Okay.’

He looked at her and she felt acutely self-conscious in the ridiculous outfit she was wearing. Her skin felt tight, sensitive. She was aware of her bare breasts brushing against the material of her dress or the material that called itself a dress. Her nipples were as hard as bullets and Keelin’s frustration mounted.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I won’t lie. I want this deal with your father and if that means marrying you, then I’m willing to do it, but I’m not such an ogre that I’ll force someone into a marriage they don’t want.’

The fact that he was actually being reasonable barely impacted. Keelin thought fast. If she fessed up now, then Gianni would walk away but tell her father that she’d called it off. And her father would never give her a chance to prove herself. It would be seen as one more rebellion, even though she’d stopped rebelling long ago.

No. She needed it to look like Gianni had rejected her, and at least that way she’d have proved her devotion to the company and her father would have to give her a chance.

Crossing everything she could, Keelin said breathily, ‘My father loves me and I know he would only choose someone he really respected and trusted to marry me.’ She widened her eyes. ‘I only want what’s best for O’Connor Foods and if I can help Daddy by doing this, then I’m happy.’ She almost choked on the word Daddy.

Gianni’s face was utterly expressionless and it made Keelin nervous. She couldn’t read him. Was she overacting? Underacting?

He spoke slowly. ‘You need to know this will only ever be a marriage born out of a business arrangement. This will never be about hearts and flowers, Keelin. Any children will be heirs to both our family legacies, keeping the names alive. That’s why we’re doing this. And if you think you can live with those circumstances, then I’ll be happy to let your father know we’ll marry in two weeks.’

Gianni’s words resonated deep inside her. This will never be about hearts and flowers. The thought of falling in love with a ruthless businessman like Gianni made Keelin go cold all over. It would be the worst kind of repetition of a lesson she’d already learnt too well. It would never happen. She felt vulnerable just thinking about it and repressed a shudder.

She pushed that revelation down deep and giggled girlishly. ‘After the way you’ve been looking after me already? I just know I’m going to love it here.’

A muscle in his jaw popped slightly at that and Keelin felt a rush of satisfaction. He couldn’t be as sanguine as he looked. He would have a breaking point as to what kind of a wife he’d accept and she intended to find it.

Gianni put down his napkin. ‘Very well then, I’ll let your father know the good news.’

Keelin was already relishing the chance to get out of this man’s disturbing orbit so she could think of her next move, but then he said, ‘I have something for you.’

She looked at him, and then at the small velvet box he’d taken out of his jacket pocket. Damn. A ring.

Gianni opened the box and Keelin was almost dazzled by a huge square-cut diamond. It was a beautiful ring but not remotely original. Impersonal. Which was fitting. So why did something deep inside her feel ever so slightly disappointed at this evidence of Gianni’s lack of consideration. She should be rejoicing!

‘It’s lovely.’ She commented dutifully, and with what she hoped was a suitably dazzled smile.

‘See if it fits.’ Gianni plucked it out of the box and held it out.

Keelin slid the glittering ring onto her finger. It fit like a glove. As if the universe was conspiring with Gianni and her father to trap her. She dutifully moved her hand this way and that and thought to herself how far removed it was from the kind of ring she’d choose for herself.

Gianni was looking at his watch now and Keelin had a clear sense that she and the ring were on a checklist of things to do and she didn’t like the old sensation of resentment that surged up like bile.

He looked back at her. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’d like to get some rest. I’ll call the wedding planner in the morning to arrange a meeting.’

Keelin smiled sweetly and let Gianni guide her back out of the hotel restaurant even as she realised that she needed to up her game if she was going to really ruffle this man’s incredible sense of complacency.

He turned to her at the lifts and smiled and for a second Keelin forgot everything as she registered his sheer charisma and good looks. The lift doors opened and he held them back while she stepped in. His scent wound around her, making her feel a little hazy.

‘Buonanotte, Keelin. Till tomorrow.’

She smiled when she wanted to grimace, hating his effect on her. ‘Goodnight, Gianni.’

The lift doors closed on that far too distracting and darkly handsome face and Keelin sagged back against the mirrored wall. Delucca was about to learn that the meek and biddable wife he believed he’d acquired was anything but. And why did that suddenly feel like such an uphill battle?

For all of his apparent civility, Keelin had seen something hard in the depths of those dark eyes. Something immovable. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tangle with it, no matter how determined she was.

* * *

It was the following evening before Keelin got to see Gianni again. He’d called her that morning and made his apologies but something had come up and he was going to be unavoidably detained in meetings all day.

Keelin had sweetly said not to worry about it. She was used to that treatment and couldn’t let it get to her now. It wasn’t as if she was actually going to have to deal with it after all.

In any case she had been busy all day, too, with the enthusiastic wedding planner and very obsequious Harrington Hotel PR manager. She’d almost felt sorry for them both, knowing that she was likely to make this wedding more infamous than famous.

Keelin checked her reflection in the mirror now and grimaced. She was wearing a glittery all-in-one black jumpsuit, complete with gold belt and slits up the side of each leg, visible when she walked. Together with vertiginous heels and copious amounts of gold jewellery, she was blingtastic.

When the knock came on her suite door she took a deep breath, not liking the flutters in her belly at the thought of seeing Gianni again. What was that about?

She opened the door and her hand tightened around the knob reflexively. He was even more devastating than she remembered. A dark shadow of stubble on his jaw. Shirt and tie, dark suit. A picture of casual Italian elegance yet with a masculine edge that was all too raw.

‘Buonasera, Keelin, are you ready?’

Keelin nodded and noticed that his eyes dropped over her attire but he didn’t compliment her. Because he couldn’t bring himself to? She hoped so, because she guessed with another kind of woman compliments would roll off his tongue. A rogue part of her shivered to think of standing before him in something far more her, and wanting his compliments. On the way down to the lobby he apologised again for being detained and she waved it aside, smiling. ‘Please don’t worry. I had a hectic day too.’

As he led her out of the hotel, she managed to keep up an inconsequential but hopefully very annoying chatter about all the minutiae of the wedding preparations, knowing how men in general detested anything like that.

She was still chattering while Gianni led her outside to a low-slung silver bullet of a sports car and then started again as soon as he sat into the driver’s seat. Only the flicker of that muscle in his jaw told her she was hitting any kind of mark.

When she was drawing breath for another round of the most uninteresting conversation ever, Gianni interjected smoothly, ‘I thought you might like to have dinner at my apartment? I have a view overlooking the Colosseum.’

Dammit. Those flutters were back at the prospect of being alone with this man. She made a small pout. ‘I do love to people-watch but I suppose we have lots to discuss.’

He slid her a dark glance—and was that a hint of irritation she could see around his mouth? She hoped so.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘we do have lots to talk about. I thought a quieter location might be more suitable.’

In any other instance Keelin would have appreciated his consideration but not now. But was she already going so far that he was reluctant to show her off in public? That had to be a good thing. It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside a formidable-looking building. Very old, but with an interesting architectural twist of lots of glass. Keelin liked it and found herself asking without thinking, ‘Is this where you live?’

Gianni nodded as he parked the car with effortlessly sexy skill. ‘It houses my offices too. I own the whole building.’

Keelin watched, a little dumbfounded by his admission, as he unfolded his tall powerful frame from the car and came around to her side to let her out. She had to put out a hand for his help and when his strong fingers closed around hers she felt the blood pulse between her legs.

No! Everything in her rejected this attraction.

He drew her up and they were so close they were almost touching. Keelin saw his eyes track down to the top of her jumpsuit and saw them flare. Panic gripped her. She was meant to be turning him off, not on. And that went for herself too.