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But he’d just said curtly, ‘Come on, we’ll be late,’ and strode out of the room, making Gypsy want to slam and lock the door behind him.
Now she looked resolutely away from Rico, and tried not to let the fact that his powerful thigh was brushing against hers intermittently bother her. But she couldn’t pretend to herself that she wasn’t affected, and squirmed inwardly at the thought of Rico knowing.
Suddenly a hush descended on the room as a compère got up and signalled to the crowd. She heard Rico sigh deeply beside her and snuck a look. His face was expressionless, but his jaw was tight, and she knew in that instant that he too hated this. Reeling at that information, she watched dumbly as he got up with fluid athletic grace after being introduced, and walked to the podium with thunderous adoring applause resounding around the room.
Up until that point Gypsy hadn’t taken much notice of what the charity in question was, but now she recognised it as one of her father’s own pet projects. One that he’d taken funds from. Her face burned with mortification at the realisation, and also at the weak fear that had led her to keep quiet about it when she’d been younger.
Rico was talking now, and Gypsy became quickly mesmerised by the simple articulacy of his words and his obvious genuine passion for the cause. A few people shifted uncomfortably around her; clearly they’d just expected him to get up and smile and say nothing of any consequence. But Rico was not going anywhere yet.
He knew his subject well. He was listing facts and figures that made her feel dizzy, and he was not afraid of mentioning the unpalatable stuff that people at an event like this preferred not to hear. To her knowledge he hadn’t even brought a piece of paper, but with simple eloquence he put it to the crowd to put their money where their mouths were and started an impromptu bidding session—the prize being a new car of the winner’s choice, from him. She could see exactly what he’d done; he’d embarrassed them into action, and now they couldn’t bid fast enough.
The
woman to Gypsy’s left, who had been introduced as the co-ordinator of the charity, shook her head and smiled conspiratorially. ‘I don’t know where we’d be without him. He consistently shakes people out of their complacency and inertia. If only everyone could be as dedicated. There are far too many poseurs and charlatans standing in as concerned philanthropists.’
Gypsy swallowed painfully.
Finally he was finished—once an obscene amount of money had been bid. Everyone started to stand up and move about. Rico was coming back down to the table and, to Gypsy’s surprise, with singular intent he grabbed her arm and said succinctly, ‘OK I’ve had enough. Let’s get out of here.’
Gypsy trailed after him, seeing the way people approached him but then stood back as if intimidated by his grimness. She almost felt sorry for them. ‘Don’t you want to stay? Talk to people?’
He glanced back at her. ‘Not unless they want to pay for my time and donate more money. Do you want to stay?’
Gypsy all but shuddered and shook her head eagerly. ‘No.’
A questioning gleam lit his eyes for a second, but then it was gone, and he led the way until they were back in the car and driving away. Rico was already opening his bow-tie with a grimace, and the top button of his shirt. Gypsy was transfixed by his hand, those long fingers…
Suddenly his hand stopped moving, and with a panicky feeling in her gut Gypsy met speculative grey ones. He quirked a small smile. ‘If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to do something about it. I meant what I said in London. I want you, and I intend to have you, Gypsy. On my bed, underneath me…’
Her face flaming now, Gypsy hissed, ‘Stop that right now.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s going to happen, Gypsy. We might not trust each other, or even like each other very much, but that’s beside the point. I won’t force you, though. You’ll admit you want me too before we sleep together. I’m prepared to wait…for now. But I’ll warn you I’m not a patient man.’
Gypsy tried to look away but couldn’t. She felt hot inside at his obvious intent, and extremely susceptible having witnessed Rico at that charity event—having seen his clear distaste for the whole scene and his obvious determination to beat the cynics at their own game.
Right now she felt very confused, because the man she’d just seen working a jaded crowd to his advantage was someone she very possibly wanted to like her. Feeling very shaky inside, she mustered up a futile and rebellious, ‘Don’t hold your breath…’
Chapter Nine
THREE days later they were sitting on Rico’s plane again, winging their way back to Europe—to Greece. Rico was immersed in work at the back of the plane, and Gypsy had Lola curled sleepily on her lap, exhausted after exciting days getting to know her new cousins. She was already worshipping the ground that Beatriz walked on, and doting on Luis as if he were her own brother.
Gypsy had met Rico’s mother—a small dark woman with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. It had been clear that no familial love existed between the brothers and her, despite Isobel’s valiant efforts to include her in everything. She hadn’t even looked all that surprised or overjoyed at being presented with a brand-new granddaughter.
But, more than that, Gypsy couldn’t get over how, in the space of the last three days, her impression of Rico had changed so much.
After witnessing his distaste at another society charity function the night after the first outing, she’d ascertained that, while he wanted to contribute something, he had as much cynicism for the monied elite as she did. Even more disconcerting had been his reaction to seeing her hair straightened again. He’d growled at her in the car. ‘I don’t want to see your hair like that again. In future leave it alone.’
His words had had a seismic effect on her after years of having it drummed into her by her father that she looked like an unkempt mess, not fit for polite society. Feeling more and more uncomfortable at clinging on to her prejudices, the following day Gypsy had asked Isobel if she could use the computer in the house study, and she had done what she should have done as soon as she’d found out she was pregnant. She’d run a Google search for Rico.
She’d read as much as she could, with a sinking heart and a sick feeling her belly. Far from her father’s assessment of Rico—which she realised now must have come out of petty jealousy—Rico Christofides was universally lauded as one of the cleanest entrepreneurs in the world. He played harshly and ruthlessly, yes, but always fairly.
Her father’s name was even mentioned in a couple of articles, citing instances when he’d tried—stupidly, by all accounts—to take over some of Rico’s interests. Rico had merely swatted him back like an inconsequential fly. No wonder her father had hated him so much; he hadn’t been able to beat him. And he’d been humiliated in the process.
Gypsy had even seen that while they’d been in London Rico had been involved in extremely delicate negotiations to save an electronics plant on the verge of collapse in northern England. If it had gone under it would have pushed an already economically challenged area over the edge. But Rico had managed to pull it back from the brink, and not only that but also to create more jobs in the process…
She’d felt even sicker, because those were the negotiations she’d taunted him about that day in the penthouse, when they’d been stuck inside thanks to the paparazzi.
She heard movement beside her, and looked over to see Rico take a seat on the other side of the cabin. Treacherous flames of desire and illicit excitement feathered through Gypsy’s veins. He put his head back now and closed his eyes. Gypsy felt a lurch in her chest at seeing faint dark circles under his eyes. And when she recalled how gently he’d held Luis the day before at the christening she felt something even scarier.
