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‘He must have a very flexible working environment,’ Riccardo drawled. ‘If he can find the time to hurry home and indulge his love of cooking whenever you happen to be on the road after five thirty.’
How had she known that he would manage to shape his remark into a veiled insult? That great, big fat ego of his probably couldn’t stand the thought that she had bagged herself the perfect man.
She sighed a sigh of resounding pity for him. ‘You know, all that paper chasing…’
‘Paper chasing?’
‘Money, Riccardo. Selling your soul for pots of gold…sacrificing everything for a big bank balance…Well, that’s the domain of the dinosaur! It’s the twenty-first century, and these days people are finally waking up to the fact that there are more important things in life than foreign holidays and big cars! And Ben is a twenty-first-century man. He arranges his time so that he can really fit in the things he enjoys doing!’
‘Cooking…and what else? Cleaning, ironing and needlework?’
Charlotte chose to ignore his predictable sarcasm. ‘Ha ha, Riccardo. You might think you enjoy working twenty hours a day so that you can rake in more and more money, and buy beautiful old houses like that one as investments, but as far as I’m concerned Ben has discovered the real secret of happiness. He’s said goodbye to greed and hello to a more spiritual and fulfilling life.’
‘And you’re content with all this tree-hugging stuff?’ Riccardo laughed shortly. ‘I don’t believe it!’ He worked damned hard, he told himself, and he enjoyed it. Not because of the money. Hell, it wasn’t as though he needed to make any more of the stuff! He enjoyed it because it fired his blood, made him feel alive.
‘Well, I don’t actually care what you believe. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to go. To that delicious hot meal waiting for me. And a man who knows that there’s more to life than a fat bank balance!’
Driving away, Charlotte had the feeling that she had won the battle, and the war as well. She had established herself as a thoroughly modern woman who had moved on with her life and now had her priorities firmly in place.
She even found herself humming along to the radio station until that kick of triumph started wearing off, at which point she realised that she had won nothing at all.
Sure, in his eyes, she had succeeded in fabricating the image of a woman in control, the complete opposite, in fact, of the dithering kid he had demolished eight years previously.
But, in reality, there was no fabulous fiancé rustling up mouth-watering dishes for her every evening. She didn’t even know if Ben could boil an egg! They had eaten out whenever they had met. And, yes, she really did disapprove of a man whose raison d’être was money. But she worked her socks off to maintain a decent lifestyle for herself and Gina, so where was that twenty-first-century road she had proudly declared herself going down? Somewhere on a very distant horizon!
And should she have told him about Gina? The thought filled her with horror. Who knew what he would do? The worst case scenario filled her head like suffocating poisonous fumes—he would go ballistic and then his Italian side would kick in and he would take his daughter. He would use all that fabulous wealth at his disposal to guarantee Gina at his side, whatever the cost. She shuddered.
In the morning, she would telephone Aubrey to let him know how the viewing had gone, and in passing she would mention the identity of the prospective buyer and swear him to silence on the subject of his goddaughter. Just in case Riccardo decided to ask any questions about her. She very much doubted that he would, but just in case…
