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A minute later, Noelle found herself in a spacious office decorated with rich mahogany furniture and a wide desk, behind which stood a tall, strikingly handsome older man with deep-set eyes, broad shoulders, chiseled features, and thick black hair that was only lightly sprinkled with grey.
Noelle saw his gaze widen as he caught his first glimpse of her.
“Mr. Baricci?” she began, hearing Williams leave and shut the door behind him.
Slowly, Baricci leaned forward, flattening his palms on the desk and studying her as one would a fine painting. “Astonishing,” he pronounced, as detached as he was amazed. “It’s as if Liza just walked into the room. You’re the image of her.”
Noelle swallowed hard. “So you know who I am; why I’ve come.”
“I know who you are. I can only guess why you’ve come.”
“That’s difficult to explain, even to myself,” Noelle replied, taking in his expensive clothing, his polished manner—and trying to assess the strange sense of indifference she was experiencing. She hadn’t known what to expect when she finally confronted this unfeeling man who’d sired her, but it hadn’t been this. Vehemence, fury, even hate were more the emotions she’d anticipated. After all, he’d nearly destroyed her father’s life—and at the same time, he’d given her her own. And yet, she felt nothing. No rage, no pain—nothing.
“I needed a sense of completion,” she murmured aloud, more to herself than to him. “I needed to put a face to your name.”
“And now that you have?”
“Now that I have—it’s over.”
An odd smile played about his lips. “It can never be over, Noelle. My blood runs through your veins.”
Her brows shot up, the first frisson of anger claiming her. “You dare to say that to me after eighteen years?”
“Ah, you have Liza’s fire as well.”
“I’m surprised you remember her name, much less her traits,” Noelle returned with brazen candor. “She was but one of Lord knows how many women you’ve seduced and discarded over the past decades.”
Baricci’s chiseled jaw dropped. “Does Farrington know how impertinent you are?”
Noelle looked him straight in the eye. “He’s my father. He knows everything about me.”
Rather than appearing insulted, Baricci pursed his lips thoughtfully—a mannerism Noelle recognized all too clearly as one of her own. “Will taking jabs at me make you feel better?” he inquired at last.
“I think not. That would only work if you had a conscience. Which, based upon what I’ve learned about you, is not the case.” Objectively, Noelle studied him, noting the outward charm that only could have attracted a woman as shallow as he. “You’re classically handsome,” she observed. “Even at fifty-four. Liza was a girl—a stupid, selfish girl, but a girl no less. It’s easy to see why she was drawn to you.”
Baricci acknowledged her assessment with a half-bow. “Thank you for the compliment.” His gaze swept over her, his eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re not like her, are you? Other than your beauty, that is. You’re a survivor. And there’s a streak of intelligence, intuitiveness, I see in you that Liza didn’t possess.”
“I’m nothing like her. I’m also nothing like you.”
“Then why were you so eager to meet me?”
“I wasn’t. I never even intended to speak to you. Remember, it was you who summoned me.”
A knowing lift of his brows. “Really? If that’s the case, then why did Farrington do such a thorough job of delving into my background? Certainly not for his own sake. Assumedly because you were curious about me—a fact that’s substantiated by your presence in my gallery right now. Or are you trying to convince me you just strolled in here by chance?”
“No. I’m not saying that. Papa checked into your background because I asked him to. And I’m here for precisely the reason I gave you a few minutes ago: to put a face to the description I received.”
“A description that spoke only of my wretched reputation with women,” Baricci surmised, standing erect and clasping his hands behind his back. “I have attributes, too, Noelle. Many of them. I’m a brilliant businessman and a generous benefactor.”
Ignoring that ludicrous declaration—and whatever Baricci’s point was in making it—Noelle demanded, “How do you know my name? And how did you know Papa was investigating you?”
A gleam of satisfaction. “I’m also extremely resourceful. I watch my back at all times. Thus, I make it a point to know everything that concerns either my assets or my life. You’re my child—my only child, so far as I know. I’m aware of your name, your parental situation—and yes, I’m aware of Farrington’s scrutiny into my life.” A deliberate pause. “What I wasn’t aware of was your alliance with the Earl of Tremlett. Are you lovers?”
It was Noelle’s turn to gape. “Lovers?”
“Don’t look so shocked, my dear. Surely you’re aware of Tremlett’s reputation with women? It rivals even my own.” He frowned at the expression on her face. “You really don’t know, do you? I’m sorry. I hope he didn’t mislead you into thinking you were his only paramour.”
“If what you’re suggesting weren’t so insulting, it would be downright comical,” Noelle shot back, finding her tongue. “The tactics you just described are yours, Mr. Baricci. That doesn’t mean others are equally as unprincipled. As for the earl, I haven’t a clue how many lovers he has or who they are. Nor do I care. I just met the man this mor
