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‘But Niccolo cannot inherit the title.’ The duca lifted his head, concern making his voice crack. ‘The rules of primogeniture are clear on the matter. I can only pass the title to a legitimate male heir.’
She had known, and now wished she hadn’t said anything. She laid her hand on Vincenzo’s gnarled fingers. ‘Don’t worry about that, I’m sure Nick doesn’t expect—’
‘Does Niccolo know he cannot inherit the title?’ the duca asked carefully.
‘Nick doesn’t want the title.’
Eva’s head whipped round at the abrupt interruption. Nick stood on the edge of the terazzo, his legs crossed at the ankle and his hip propped against the low stone wall.
How long had he been standing there? From the stark look on his face she suspected quite a while and her heart fluttered uncomfortably. Had he heard her presuming to know what his thoughts and feelings were on the subject of his inheritance? A
nd worse, had he heard Don Vincenzo talking about his son? She was suddenly grateful he hadn’t taken her up on her offer to read the journal. While it might help him to forgive his mother, did anyone really need to know they had been conceived in such a reckless, loveless way?
‘Niccolo, you have joined us.’ The old man stood, his face carefully wiped clean of emotion. ‘We are indeed honoured.’ The pleasure in Vincenzo’s voice was tinged with irony.
Seeing Nick’s brow furrow, Eva felt a slight smile tremble on her lips at the evidence of his frustration.
Nick might want to despise his grandfather—and believe he had nothing in common with the man—but she had a feeling he wasn’t going to find it as easy as he had probably assumed to deny his heritage. The Duca D’Alegria was a man of honour and integrity, a man for whom family and tradition meant a great deal, but more than that, the man had a sharp intelligence and a dry wit. Surely even a loner like Nick would find that hard to resist?
As the two men continued to spar over Prosecco and canapés it occurred to Eva that she would miss watching the two of them lock horns as they got to know each other over the next two weeks.
But the wistful thought cleared abruptly as the three of them were led into dinner by Eduardo and Nick’s hand settled on her lower back under the pretext of directing her into the dining salon. Heat from the brief touch shimmered through her entire body before she could step out of reach. As Lorenzo the footman held out her chair she looked up to catch Nick’s eyes watching her, his heavy-lidded gaze dark with knowledge.
As Eva choked down the first course of asparagus tips wrapped in Parma ham, she let the men’s stilted conversation wash over her and studiously avoided meeting Nick’s gaze again. She was way out of her depth here.
Nick wasn’t vulnerable, or insecure—he was reckless and unpredictable and a dangerous man to get involved with, on any level.
She had to leave the palazzo before she did something monumentally stupid. Again.
‘Don Vincenzo, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to return to the UK tomorrow after I’ve done the client presentation?’ Eva heard the clatter of Nick’s cutlery but kept her gaze fixed on their host.
She’d waited through their starter, a pasta course of crab linguini, an entrée of rabbit cacciatore and summer vegetables and a dessert of strawberry tiramisu, listening to Nick’s monosyllabic answers to all his grandfather’s questions, while apprehension tightened her stomach and she struggled to swallow a single bite.
Vincenzo lifted the bottle of wine they had been sharing out of its wine bucket and topped up her glass. His gaze drifted past her to Nick, whom she suspected was glaring at her, but she had to be grateful he hadn’t said anything. At last Vincenzo addressed her. ‘I never speak of business while I am dining, Eva. It is an Italian’s prerogative to do everything in their power not to spoil their digestion.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The tension stretched taut, but she soldiered on. ‘I understand completely, but maybe we could discuss it tomorrow then,’ she added hopefully, not wanting to be put off. This was her way out, because she was very much afraid that her resolve wasn’t going to stand up to more than one night in the room next door to Nick.
‘I have arranged for you to travel to Milan tomorrow to see Luca, while I take Niccolo on a tour of my properties in Riva del Garda,’ Vincenzo said easily. ‘But once you have shown your research to my solicitors, I see no reason why you should not return to London.’
Eva sent him a tremulous smile. It was a lifeline, if not much of one. Surely she could keep her hormones in check for a couple of days. ‘Thanks, that would be—’
‘Eva comes with us to Riva del Garda.’
Eva whisked her head round, to find Nick sipping his wine, his gaze willing her to challenge him. ‘She can see the lawyers another day.’
‘Excuse me, but it’s not your decision to make,’ Eva said through gritted teeth. How dared he presume to intervene? This was her job. ‘It’s up to Don Vincenzo when I—’
‘Now, now, children.’ Vincenzo gave a gruff laugh, holding up his hands to silence her tirade. ‘While my grandson’s manners could do with improvement,’ he said, casting a quelling glance at Nick, ‘he is right. There is no rush for Luca to see the presentation. You are more than welcome to accompany us to Riva del Garda, Eva.’ Vincenzo rang a small bell, signalling the staff to clear their plates. ‘In fact, I insist you come. It is a magnificent little town, full of history. You will enjoy it.’
‘It sounds lovely,’ Eva said politely, her jaw tense as she realised Nick had managed to manipulate the situation again without even trying. ‘And I appreciate the invitation, but I—’
‘It is settled, then,’ Vincenzo announced, steamrolling over her objection. ‘I will inform Luca to expect you another day.’
Eva was forced to nod her assent as her lifeline vanished. ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she murmured, her jaw so rigid now it was a wonder she hadn’t cracked a tooth. It seemed Nick and his grandfather had more in common than just their looks, she thought as Lorenzo whisked away her dessert plate.
‘Do you mind if I excuse myself, Don Vincenzo?’ she said laying her napkin on the table. She needed to get out of here, before she gave into the overpowering urge to give Nick a good solid whack on the shins under the table. ‘I’m exhausted.’
‘No of course not.’ The old man rose too, shooting Nick another stern look when he remained seated. To Eva’s silent astonishment, Nick took the hint and, throwing his napkin onto his plate, pushed his chair back and got to his feet.
