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Alissandru broke up a scone lying on the untouched tray to one side of his desk and dropped a chunk of it in front of Puggle. The little dog pounced on it with glee. There was good reason for Alissandru’s generosity. He didn’t fancy having to evade Puggle’s sneak attacks at night in Isla’s house.
‘Coffee?’ he proffered in the awkward little silence that had fallen.
‘No, not right now. I’m busy clearing the house and, since it’s not something I really want to be doing, I’d sooner get it done and finished,’ Isla admitted in a rush, turning away in an uncoordinated circle, wanting to escape, wondering how he had managed to turn the situation on its head so that she felt as though she were the unreasonable one. ‘I wondered what to do about Paulu’s desk and personal effects.’
‘If there’s nothing you want I’ll send someone over to collect them and bring them back here,’ Alissandru said gravely. ‘His desk is probably stuffed with estate paperwork and I should have that passed over to the new manager in case there’s anything of interest.’
‘Of course. Well, that’s something sorted.’ Isla wandered over to the window, which overlooked the wooded hills to the back of the house. ‘I’m planning to stay here for a few weeks.’
‘There’s no pressure on you to make a decision about what you’re doing or how long you’re staying,’ Alissandru hastened to declare, recalling how haunted she had been in the aftermath of the miscarriage and wondering how much of that regret she was still carrying.
‘This is sort of a holiday for me before I get back to the real world,’ Isla admitted.
‘And what does getting back to the real world entail?’ Alissandru asked, watching her as the sunlight gilded her hair into a multicoloured bonfire of curls, the pale perfect profile, the intense wariness of her stance as if she was waiting for him to say or do something she found objectionable and use that as an excuse to escape.
He had never met a woman like Isla before and to some extent it unnerved him because she was an unknown quantity. A woman who threw diamonds back in his face, insulted by them, he thought, marvelling at that lack of materialism. A woman who challenged him, stood up to him, went her own way regardless, unpredictable and in some ways as volatile as he was. An explosive combination. He gritted his teeth as the silence lay, his question unanswered.
‘I’ll probably go back to studying,’ she confided somewhat grudgingly, as if giving such personal information went beyond the bounds of their relationship.
‘Studying what?’ he pressed, genuinely curious.
‘I’d have to pass another course first but afterwards—assuming I’m successful—I think I’d like to go to university to do a paramedics course. I want something interesting, active,’ she admitted, turning finally to look at him, her head tilting back because he was so tall.
‘It would be challenging but I think you’re strong enough to do it.’ Alissandru stood there, his dark head at an arrogant questioning angle, his stunning dark golden eyes welded to her with intensity and a literal flame of heat ran over her entire skin surface, warming her within and without and in places she didn’t like to think about. Her reaction was so instant it was terrifying and, feeling suddenly vulnerable, she turned her head away again and headed for the door.
‘Oh,’ she muttered, pausing on the threshold to glance back at him. ‘A little hint if you’re not too proud to take it. Your mother’s ready for another dog. She adores Puggle and I think she would love a new pet.’
And with that helpful little assurance she was gone like quicksilver. Alissandru frowned even as he got on the phone to organise an employee to pack up and collect the contents of his brother’s study. Isla was thoughtful, kind and intuitive. A new puppy would indeed comfort his mother, whose need for company he had failed to fulfil. Constantia had seen his brother daily and missed him the most while Alissandru had always travelled the world on business. It was true that he was home a great deal more than he used to be, but his conscience twanged that it had taken an outsider to point out a possibility that he felt he should’ve thought of first.
On her return to the house, Isla made a trip to two local charity shops. She was thinking about Alissandru far more than she felt comfortable with and deeply regretting her loss of temper. She had overreacted; she always seemed to overreact to Alissandru. She had overlooked the reality that a diamond necklace might be a huge gift on her terms but that it was a much lesser thing to a man of his wealth. Even so, she thought ruefully, it was better to have returned such an expensive present and to keep the difference in their circumstances out of the equation before it threatened to muddy the water and he started thinking she was a gold-digger again. Or did he still secretly think that anyway? She rolled her eyes at her meandering ruminations. She had no idea what Alissandru thought because to a certain extent she had already taught him to watch what he said around her.
On her return, it was a relief to see the contents of Paulu’s study being packed up and removed. From those personal effects, she chose only a framed photo of the couple together on a beach somewhere, their smiling faces a good memory she wanted to conserve as her own. That and a little gold locket that had once belonged to her mother and that silly stool were the only personal items that Isla wished to keep from the house.
With Paulu’s former assistant helping, Alissandru tackled a job he had long avoided, feeling almost grateful for Isla’s part in virtually forcing him into the task.
‘This is...er, legal,’ his brother’s secretary told him, passing him a folded document, complete with a notary’s seal.
Alissandru frowned down at the local notary’s stamp, wondering why his brother had approached another solicitor instead of Marco, the family lawyer. He opened it up and was disconcerted to discover that the document was another will and, what was more, a will drawn up and duly witnessed more recently than the one the family lawyer had had.
And that later will altered everything, Alissandru realised in sheer consternation. Only weeks before his death his twin had changed his mind about how he would dispose of his worldly goods, clearly having had second thoughts about leaving his home to anyone outside the family. He had left everything, house and money as well, to Alissandru, and Alissandru almost groaned out loud. Why the hell had Paulu changed his mind?
Alissandru suspected that Isla’s advice had helped his brother to win his wife back and, in that first instance of reclaiming Tania, gratitude had persuaded his brother to leave his estate to his sister-in-law, should both he and his wife die first. And then perhaps Paulu, an innate worrier, had begun to think about the risk of leaving such a will in his wake and the effect it could have on Alissandru.
Alissandru gritted his perfect white teeth. It had been wrong to leave the house away from the family estate but to leave that money to Alissandru instead had been an unnecessary gesture. He didn’t need the money, but Isla did.
And how was Alissandru supposed to act to redress a situation that now threatened to become a messy injustice?
He would keep quiet. He would put the new will in the safe rather than lodge it with Marco Morelli, who would kick up a ruckus and, as the family lawyer, inform Isla immediately of the new will’s existence. But was suppressing the new will in such a way illegal? Alissandru breathed in deep and slow. He didn’t wish to break the law and, surely, it was his duty as Paulu’s twin to ensure that his brother’s last wishes were respectfully carried out?
He would lodge the new will with Marco and tell him that he did not wish it acted upon. Assuredly, as the main legatee, he must have the right to make that decision. He wanted Isla to keep the money, he only wanted the house and he was quite happy to buy the house back from her.
But what if Isla decided not to sell? Or chose to sell to someone else? The new will would be his safeguard, Alissandru decided grimly, a weapon only to be utilised if he was left with no other choice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘PLEASE JOIN
US for dinner this evening,’ Constantia argued, reading Isla’s reluctant face with accuracy.
‘It’s a family do,’ Isla pointed out as the older woman regarded her expectantly. ‘And I’m not family.’
‘Your sister was my son’s wife and you will always be family,’ Alissandru’s mother assured her reproachfully.
‘I don’t really have anything suitable to wear. I’m sure you all dress up.’
‘Only Grazia, Alissandru’s friend, really dresses up, but then she is a fashion designer. A plain dress will be sufficient.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t pack anything fancy.’ Isla sighed, every muscle in her body tensing at the reference to Alissandru’s ‘friend’ as she struggled to combat an overpowering urge to demand to know who Grazia was and what her relationship with Alissandru was. Secret relationships were all very well until such complications appeared, she conceded ruefully.
But liking Constantia as she did and reluctant to risk causing offence, Isla laid out her only suitable dress that evening and put it on. It was a typical little black dress that wouldn’t have raised a thrill even in its fleeting glory days when she had bought it to wear at a work dinner. She went a little heavier on her make-up than she usually did, painstakingly using eye liner and more mascara than usual. Grazia? Who was Grazia? Fierce curiosity powering her, she drove up to the palazzo where a whole collection of cars was already parked.
Constantia made a point of introducing her to everyone and, truth to tell, although there was some very flashy jewellery on display, a lot of the women were wearing little black dresses although the majority were fancier than her own. Some of the faces were familiar from that long-ago wedding but mercifully there was no sign of Fantino the Perv, as she thought of Alissandru’s cousin. Of Alissandru and his ‘friend’ there was as yet no sign, but then there was a burst of chatter at the foot of the huge reception room where they were gathered for drinks and Isla glanced towards the door to see their host make an entrance with a tall slender blonde garbed in a tangerine dress with giant raised shoulders and a plunging neckline. He liked blondes, she thought first, and then, he liked blondes who clung because his animated companion was hanging on to him so tightly it was as if she feared that he might make a break for freedom.
