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Somewhere along the way, he delivered Jason into a group of young people and handed her a glass of wine before introducing her to a dizzying array of people including the estate manager, his old nanny, two godsons and even the local mayor!
It was not what she had been expecting and more than a little intoxicating. The genuine affection with which he was greeted by his estate workers didn’t fit with her hard and driven image of him, and Aisling was slightly relieved when someone came to claim him. Much more of this and she would be signing up to his fan-club!
He gave her an expansive shrug before being borne away, leaving her with Fedele, a charming man in his fifties, who was Gianluca’s lawyer.
‘Well, I am his local lawyer,’ he emphasised slowly, in perfect though heavily accented English. ‘He uses a different one in the city. A specialist for every need at Il Tigre’s fingertips.’ The lawyer’s eyes were curious. ‘And you? You are his latest woman, sì?’
Aisling found herself blushing. ‘Oh, good heavens, no—it’s nothing like that!’
Fedele laughed. ‘Most women would not find that such a horrifying proposition!’
‘I work for him, that’s all.’
‘Ah! And what do you do?’
‘I’m a head-hunter.’
‘Cacciatore di teste?’ Fedele translated. Aisling had heard the phrase before and she smiled. ‘That’s right—somehow it sounds much better in Italian.’
‘That is because everything sounds better in Italian!’ came a soft, arrogant boast from behind her, and Aisling turned to find Gianluca’s mocking black eyes on her. ‘And do you know why that is, cara?’
Like a snake hypnotised by the charmer’s pipe, Aisling found herself shaking her head. ‘No. Why?’
‘Because we Italians are better at everything.’
‘That’s … outrageous,’ she protested.
He shrugged. ‘Ah, but it is also true!’
And try as she might—Aisling couldn’t do anything to stop smiling or prevent the slow, unfurling of desire in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she felt like a non-swimmer who was out of her depth—and that was a very precarious place to be.
‘Your glass is empty,’ he observed. ‘Come, let us find you another drink.’
Had she really drunk a whole glass without noticing?
Gianluca took her to the far end of the room where wine was being served and poured them both a couple of glasses, watching her as he raised his glass. This morning he had idly been wondering whether a real woman lay beneath the outer armour of her unimaginative suit—but the contrast between what she had been and what she had now become was blowing his mind. His senses were shocked and his body was aroused and he wanted her.
Now.
‘So,’ he said huskily as he touched his glass to hers in a toast. ‘Salute.’
‘Salute,’ Aisling echoed as she manoeuvred the drink to her lips.
‘You like it?’ he queried softly.
‘It’s … wonderful.’
‘Ah, Aisling—but you find everything wonderful tonight,’ he teased.
‘You’d rather I objected?’
His lips curved. ‘Now that is more like it.’
‘Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?’
Gianluca heard the defensiveness in her voice. Did she have an Achilles heel like other mortals? Was the icemaiden seeking his approval? ‘One of the reasons you are so good at your job is because you have a critical and discerning eye—but it seems to be absent tonight. And that is no bad thing.’ He smiled. ‘Relax, cara. Don’t look so tense. Tell me what you know about wine.’
‘Well, nothing really,’ she said quickly. ‘Except how to drink it.’
