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Something deep in Gianni’s gut clenched at her unadorned beauty. Even though she wasn’t remotely his type.
He barely picked up on the faintly smug tone in O’Connor’s voice when the man said, ‘That’s my daughter, Keelin. So have you come to a decision?’
Gianni didn’t answer out loud. He didn’t need to. They both knew the answer.
CHAPTER ONE
KEELIN O’CONNOR SURVEYED the lavishly decorated hotel room in the exclusive Harrington Hotel in Rome. Almost nothing was visible because glossy shopping bags covered every surface. As a shopping novice, she hoped she’d gone far enough, not really knowing what constituted gross levels of consumerism beyond what she saw on some trashy reality-TV programmes of the rich and famous.
Her fiancé—who also happened to be a complete stranger—was due any minute and she hated that the palms of her hands were sweaty with nerves when her blood still boiled with anger and humiliation at what her father expected her to do.
‘You can’t be serious.’ She’d looked at her father two weeks ago and battled a very familiar sense of angry futility.
Liam O’Connor’s expression was as hard as flint. ‘I am.’
Keelin had spoken slowly as if to make sure she wasn’t in the middle of a nightmare. ‘You’ve sold me off in some marriage deal to a complete stranger—’
Her father slashed a hand through the air. ‘It is not like that. Giancarlo Delucca is one of Italy’s most innovative entrepreneurs. Italian food and wine exports are booming and in the space of only three years the Delucca name has gained respect all over Europe, not to mention tripled its profits, which is unheard of at the moment.’
‘So what the hell does that have to do with me?’
Her tall father had put his hands on his desk and leant forward. ‘What it has to do with you, my girl, is everything. I want a merger with this man to secure the future of O’Connor Foods and as my daughter you are part of the deal.’
Keelin’s hands curled to fists but she’d barely noticed her nails digging into soft skin. ‘This is archaic.’
Her father straightened up and said scathingly, ‘Don’t be so naive. This is about business. Giancarlo Delucca is a young man, and good-looking. Rich. Any woman would be delighted to have him as her husband.’
Keelin had responded bitterly. ‘Any woman, perhaps, with about two brain cells to rub together.’ She’d ignored her father’s darkening expression and tried to call up the little she knew of Delucca from her overheated brain. ‘Doesn’t he have links to the Mafia?’
Her father replied tautly. ‘His father had links to the Mafia. And he’s dead. That’s all in the past now. Delucca is determined to put it behind him and prove to people that he’s respectable. That’s why he’s willing to marry and settle down.’
Keelin laughed but it sounded strangled and semi-hysterical. ‘Lucky me!’
Liam O’Connor’s grey gaze, so different to Keelin’s own green one, narrowed on her. ‘Haven’t you always wanted me to involve you in the business?’
‘Yes,’ she’d said huskily, emotion a tight ball in her chest to be reminded of how comprehensively she’d been shut out. ‘But as the person who stands to inherit the O’Connor brand. Not as some chattel to be sold off to the highest bidder.’
Her father’s mouth had tightened. ‘You’ve hardly given me the confidence that you can be trusted to inherit anything, Keelin.’
Futile anger rose in a dizzying rush and, terrified emotion might leak out of her eyes, she’d stalked over to the large window which showcased an impressive view of a soaring modern bridge, named after the great playwright Samuel Beckett, over the River Liffey. Dublin had sparkled benignly in the spring sunshine.
But she’d seen none of it. She’d felt only an inner tsunami of pain to be so misunderstood, still. She’d known for ever that she was a disappointment to her parents: to her mother for not being the girlie girl she wanted to show off. And to her father for being a girl, and not a worthier boy. And as soon as Keelin had recognised that as a distinct lack of love, it had seared a need into her psyche to get her father’s attention at all costs, which had manifested in a series of teenage rebellions that had been as futile as they were excruciating to remember now.
And even though she’d matured and left those petty rebellions behind, nothing had really changed. Her parents hadn’t even deigned to come and see her graduate from university recently.
Her own reflection was distorted in the glass-pale face, huge eyes. Red hair. Too red. It had always marked her out as far too easy to pinpoint when there was trouble, unwittingly helping her to act out her pathetic bid for love and attention.
When she’d felt composed enough she’d turned around again. ‘And what about our name? If I marry him it’ll die out anyway!’
Her fa
ther had shaken his head. ‘No, it won’t. Delucca has agreed that our name and branding will remain and be passed down to your sons.’
Her sons. With a complete stranger. A gangster.
Her father had walked around the desk to come and stand a few feet away from her, his face softening slightly. Emotion had gripped her again. Was she such a sucker for any sliver of affection that she would fall for this thinly veiled act?
He’d sighed heavily. ‘The truth is that O’Connor Foods is struggling, like almost every other business out there.’
