The Uncompromising Italian

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‘No idea.’ The company she worked for was small, although prominent in its field, employing only a handful of people on the creative side and slightly fewer on the admin side. ‘A hundred or so?’

‘You really skimmed through those articles you called up on your computer, didn’t you?’

‘Big business doesn’t interest me,’ she informed him airily. ‘I may have a talent for numbers, and can do the maths without any trouble at all, but those numbers only matter when it comes to my work. I can work things out precisely but it’s really the artistic side of my job that I love. In fact, I only did maths at university because Shane, one of my brothers, told me that it was a man’s subject.’

‘Thousands.’

Lesley looked at him blankly for a few seconds. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Thousands. In various countries. I own several companies and I employ thousands, not hundreds. But that’s by the by. This isn’t to do with work. This is to do with my daughter. The only problem is that we don’t have a great relationship and if I approach her with my suspicions, if I quiz her about her friends, about whether anyone’s been acting strangely, asking too many questions...well, I don’t anticipate a good outcome to any such conversation. So what would you have done if you hadn’t done maths?’

Time had slipped past and they were no nearer to solving the problem, yet he was drawn to asking her yet more questions about herself.

Lesley—following his lead and envisaging the sort of awkward, maybe even downright incendiary conversation that might ensue in the face of Alessio’s concerns, should he confront a hostile teenager with them—was taken aback by his abrupt change of topic.

‘You said that you only did maths because your brother told you that you couldn’t.’

‘He never said that I couldn’t.’ She smiled, remembering their war of words. Shane was two years older than her and she always swore that his main purpose in life was to annoy her. He was now a barrister working in Dublin but he still teased her as though they were still kids in primary school. ‘He said that it was a man’s field, which immediately made me decide to do it.’

‘Because, growing up as the only girl in a family of all males, it would have been taken as a given that, whatever your brothers could do, you could as well.’

‘I’m wondering what this has to do with the reason I’ve come here.’ She pulled out her mobile phone, checked the time on it and was surprised to discover how much of the day had flown by. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to sort things out for you immediately. I’d understand perfectly if you want to take the matter to someone else, someone who can devote concentrated time to working on it. It shouldn’t take too long, but longer than an hour or two.’

‘Would you have done art?’ He overrode her interjection as though he hadn’t heard any of it and she flung him an exasperated look.

‘I did, actually—courses in the town once a week. It was a good decision. It may have clinched me my job.’

‘I have no interest in farming out this problem to someone else.’

‘I can’t give it my full-time attention.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because,’ she said patiently, ‘I have a nine-to-five job. And I live in London. And by the time I get back to my place—usually after seven, what with working overtime and then the travel—I’m exhausted. The last thing I need is to start trying to sort your problem out remotely.’

‘Who said anything about doing it remotely? Take time off and come here.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A week. You must be able to take some holiday time? Take it off and come here instead. Trying to sort this out remotely isn’t the answer. You won’t have sufficient time to do it consistently and also, while this may be to do with unearthing something about my own past, it may also have to do with something in my daughter’s life. Something this person thinks poses a risk, should it be exposed. Have you considered that?’

‘It had crossed my mind,’ Lesley admitted.

‘In which case, there could be a double-pronged attack on this problem if you moved in here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My daughter occupies several rooms in the house, by which I mean she has spread herself thin. She has a million books, items of clothing, at least one desk-top computer, tablets... If this has to do with anything Rachel has got up to, then you could be on hand to go through her stuff.’

‘You want me to invade her privacy by searching through her private things?’

‘It’s all for the greater good.’ Their eyes locked and she was suddenly seduced by the temptation to take him up on his offer, to step right out of her comfort zone.

‘What’s the point of having misplaced scruples? Frankly, I don’t see the problem.’

In that single sentence, she glimpsed the man whose natural assumption was that the world would fall in line with what he wanted. And then he smiled, as if he had read her mind, and guessed exactly what was going through it. ‘Wouldn’t your company allow you a week off? Holiday?’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘Then what is? Possessive boyfriend, perhaps? Won’t let you out of his sight for longer than five minutes?’

Lesley looked at him scornfully. ‘I would never get involved with anyone who wouldn’t let me out of his sight for longer than five minutes! I’m not one of those pathetic, clingy females who craves protection from a big, strong man.’ She had a fleeting image of the man sitting opposite her, big, strong, powerful, protecting his woman, making her feel small, fragile and delicate. She had never thought of herself as delicate—too tall, too boyish, too independent. It was ridiculous to have that squirmy sensation in the pit of her stomach now and she thanked the Lord that he really couldn’t read her mind.

‘So, no boyfriend,’ Alessio murmured, cocking his head to one side. ‘Then explain to me why you’re finding reasons not to do this. I don’t want to source anyone else to work on this for me. You might not have been what I expected, but you’re good and I trust you, and if my daughter’s possessions are to be searched it’s essential they be searched by a woman.’

‘It wouldn’t be ethical to go through someone else’s stuff.’

‘What if by doing that you spared her a far worse situation? Rachel, I feel, would not be equipped to deal with unpleasant revelations that could damage the foundations of her young life. Furthermore, I won’t be looking over your shoulder. You’ll be able to work to your own timetable. In fact, I shall be in London most of the time, only returning here some evenings.’

Lesley opened her mouth to formulate a half-hearted protest, because this was all so sudden and so out of the ordinary, but with a slash of his hand he cut her off before any words could leave her mouth.

‘She also returns in a few days’ time. This is a job that has a very definite deadline; piecemeal when you get a chance isn’t going to cut it. You have reservations—I see that—but I need this to be sorted out and I think you’re the one to do it. So, please.’

Lesley heard the dark uncertainty in his voice and gritted her teeth with frustration. In a lot of ways, what he said made sense. Even if this job were to take a day or two, she would not be able to give it anything like her full attention if she worked on it remotely for half an hour every evening. And, if she needed to see whether his daughter had logged on to other computer devices, then she would need to be at his house where the equipment was to hand. It wasn’t something she relished doing—everyone deserved their privacy—but sometimes privacy had to be invaded as a means of protection.

But moving in, sharing the same space as him? He did something disturbing to her pulse rate, so how was she supposed to live under the same roof?

But the thought drew her with the force of the forbidden.

Watching, Alessio smelled his advantage and lowered his eyes. ‘If you won’t do this for me...and I realise it would be inconvenient for you...then do it for my daughter, Lesley. She’s sixteen and vulnerable.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e8c09720-8a3a-52cd-9077-10202b7898bf)

‘THIS IS IT...’

Alessio flung back the door to the suite of rooms and stood to one side, allowing Lesley to brush past him.

It was a mere matter of hours since he had pressed home his advantage and persuaded her to take up his offer to move into the house.

She had her misgivings, he could see that, but he wanted her there at hand and he was a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted, whatever the cost.

As far as he was concerned, his proposition made sense. If she needed to try and hunt down clues from his daughter’s possessions, then the only way she could do that would be here, in his house. There was no other way.

He hadn’t anticipated this eventuality. He had thought that it would be a simple matter of following a trail of clues on his computer which would lead him straight to whoever was responsible for the emails.

Given that it was not going to be as straightforward as he first thought, it was a stroke of luck that the person working on the case was a woman. She would understand the workings of the female mind and would know where to locate whatever information she might find useful.

Added to that...

He looked at Lesley with lazy, brooding eyes as she stepped into the room.

There was something about the woman. She didn’t pull her punches and, whilst a part of him was grimly disapproving of her forthright manner, another part of him was intrigued.

When was the last time he had been in the company of a woman who didn’t say what she wanted him to hear?

When had he ever been in the company of any woman who didn’t say what she wanted him to hear?

He was the product of a life of privilege. He had grown up accustomed to servants and chauffeurs and then, barely into adulthood, had found himself an expectant father. In a heartbeat, his world had changed. He’d no longer had the freedom to make youthful mistakes and to learn from them over time. Responsibility had landed on his doorstep without an invitation and then, on top of that, had come the grim realisation that he had been used for his money.

Not even out of his teens, he had discovered the bitter truth that his fortune would always be targeted. He would never be able to relax in the company of any woman without suspecting that she had her eye to the main chance. He would always have to be on his guard, always watchful, always making sure that no one got too close.

He was a generous lover, and had no problem splashing out on whatever woman happened to be sharing his bed, but he knew where to draw the line and was ruthless when it came to making sure that no woman got too close, certainly not close enough ever to harbour notions of longevity.

It was unusual to find himself in a situation such as this. It was unusual to be in close personal confines with a woman where sex wasn’t on the menu.

It was even more unusual to find himself in this situation with a woman who made no effort to try and please him in any way.

‘I was expecting a bedroom.’ Lesley turned to look at him. ‘Posters on the walls, cuddly toys, that sort of thing.’

‘Rachel occupies one wing of the house. There are actually three bedrooms, along with a sitting room, a study, two bathrooms and an exercise room.’ He strolled towards her and looked around him, hands shoved in the pockets of his cream trousers. ‘This is the first time I’ve stepped foot into this section of the house since my daughter returned from boarding school for the holidays. When I saw the state it was in, I immediately got in touch with Violet, who informed me that she, along with her assistants, were barred from entry.’

Disapproval was stamped all over his face and Lesley could understand why. The place looked as though a bomb had been detonated in it. The tiled, marble floor of the small hallway was barely visible under discarded clothes and books and, through the open doors, she could see the other rooms appeared to be in a similar state of chaos.

Magazines were strewn everywhere. Shoes, kicked off, had landed randomly and then had been left there. School books lay open on various surfaces.

Going through all of this would be a full-time job.

‘Teenagers can be very private creatures,’ Lesley said dubiously. ‘They hate having their space invaded.’ She picked her way into bedroom number one and then continued to explore the various rooms, all the time conscious of Alessio lounging indolently against the wall and watching her progress.

She had the uneasy feeling of having been manipulated. How had she managed to end up here? Now she felt involved. She was no longer doing a quick job to help her father’s pal out. She was ensconced in the middle of a family saga and wasn’t quite sure where to begin.

‘I will get Violet to make sure that these rooms are tidied first thing in the morning,’ Alessio said as she finally walked towards him. ‘At least then you will have something of a clean slate to start on.’

‘Probably not such a good idea.’ Lesley looked up at him. He was one of the few men with whom she could do that and, as she had quickly discovered, her breathing quickened as their eyes met. ‘Adolescents are fond of writing stuff down on bits of paper. If there is anything to be found, that’s probably where I’ll find it, and that’s just the sort of thing a cleaner would stick in the bin.’ She hesitated. ‘Don’t you communicate with your daughter at all? I mean, how could she get away with keeping her room—her rooms—as messy as this?’

Alessio took one final glance around him and then headed for the door. ‘Rachel has spent most of the summer here while I have been in London, only popping back now and again. She’s clearly intimidated the cleaners into not going anywhere near her rooms and they’ve obeyed.’

‘You’ve just popped back here now and again to see how she’s doing?’

Alessio stopped in his tracks and looked at her coolly. ‘You’re here to try and sort out a situation involving computers and emails. You’re not here to pass judgement on my parenting skills.’

Lesley sighed with obvious exasperation. She had been hustled here with unholy speed. He had even come with her to her office, on the pretext of having a look at what her company did, and had so impressed her boss that Jake had had no trouble in giving her the week off.

And now, having found herself in a situation that somehow didn’t seem to be of her own choosing, she wasn’t about to be lectured to in that patronising tone of voice.

‘I’m not passing opinions on your parenting skills,’ she said with restraint. ‘I’m trying to make sense of a picture. If I can see the whole picture, then I might have an idea of how and where to proceed.’ She had not yet had time since arriving to get down to the business of working her way through the emails and trying to trace the culprit responsible for them.

That was a job for the following day. Right now, she would barely have time to have dinner, run a bath and then hit the sack. It had been a long day.

‘I mean,’ she said into an unresponsive silence, ‘If and when I do find out who is responsible for those emails, we still won’t know why he’s sending them. He could clam up, refuse to say anything, and then you may still be left with a problem on your hands in connection with your daughter.’

They had reached the kitchen, which was a vast space dominated by a massive oak table big enough to seat ten. Everything in the house was larger than life, including all the furnishings.

‘They may have nothing to do with Rachel. That’s just another possibility.’ He took a bottle of wine from the fridge and two wine glasses from one of the cupboards. There was a rich smell of food and Lesley looked around for Violet, who seemed to be an invisible but constant presence in the house.

‘Where’s Violet?’ she asked, hovering.

‘Gone for the evening. I try and not keep the hired help chained to the walls at night.’ He proffered the glass of wine. ‘And you can come inside, Lesley. You’re not entering a lion’s den.’

It felt like it, however. In ways she couldn’t put her finger on, Alessio Baldini felt exciting and dangerous at the same time. Especially so at night, here, in his house with no one around.

‘She’s kindly prepared a casserole for us. Beef. It’s in the oven. We can have it with bread, if that suits you.’

‘Of course,’ Lesley said faintly. ‘Is that how it works when you’re here? Meals are prepared for you so that all you have to do is switch the oven on?’

‘One of the housekeepers tends to stick around when Rachel’s here.’ Alessio flushed and turned away.

In that fleeting window, she glimpsed the situation with far more clarity than if she had had it spelled out for her.

He was so awkward with his own daughter that he preferred to have a third party to dilute the atmosphere. Rachel probably felt the same way. Two people, father and daughter, were circling one another like strangers in a ring.

He had been pushed to the background during her formative years, had found his efforts at bonding repelled and dismantled by a vengeful wife, and now found himself with a teenager he didn’t know. Nor was he, by nature, a people person—the sort of man who could joke his way back into a relationship.

Into that vacuum, any number of gremlins could have entered.

‘So you’re never on your own with your daughter? Okay. In that case you really wouldn’t have a clue what was happening in her life, especially as she spends most of the year away from home. But you were saying that this may not have anything directly to do with Rachel. What did you mean by that?’

She watched him bring the food to the table and refill their glasses with more wine.

Alessio gave her a long, considered look from under his lashes.

‘What I am about to tell you stays within the walls of this house, is that clear?’

Lesley paused with her glass halfway to her mouth and looked at him over the rim with astonishment.

‘And you laugh at me for thinking that you might have links to the Mafia?’

Alessio stared at her and then shook his head and slowly grinned. ‘Okay, maybe that sounded a little melodramatic.’