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HER IMMEDIATE THOUGHT was that if she had merely seen Ottaviano Belisandro in the street, she would have known instantly whose father he was.
Her second, that she could also see with total clarity how Zac himself would look at that age, his dark hair silvery grey, the lines of his face more deeply incised, but still a man to be reckoned with, his vigour undiminished. And wondered how she could be so sure. Or why it should matter.
She was surprised to find no entourage gathered in the room. No telephones ringing, no buzz of conversation or hum of technology.
But the fact that he was alone as he rose to greet her emphasised, in some contradictory way, the aura of effortless power which surrounded him. And which he had passed on to his son.
‘Papà,’ Zac said. ‘Allow me to introduce Miss Dana Grantham.’
‘This is a pleasure for me.’ His voice was more heavily accented than his son’s. His handshake was firm and his gaze frankly searching as he waved her to the chair on the other side of an ornate marble fireplace. ‘Please to sit, signorina.’
Dana obeyed reluctantly, conscious that Zac had stationed himself behind her, his hand on the back of her chair. Near enough to touch, but not doing so, she realised, her body tensing in nervous awareness.
‘I am glad to meet at last the niece of the lady who cares for my cousin Serafina with such kindness and devotion.’ Ottaviano Belisandro resumed his seat. ‘I regret that it has not happened before. But you have never visited your aunt in Italy, signorina. Why is that?’
The truthful reply to a question she’d not expected would be, ‘Because I wouldn’t be welcome.’ So she tried polite evasion. ‘I have a demanding job, Signor Belisandro. My holidays tend to be last minute and confined to this country.’
‘Then you are missing a delight, signorina. My cousin Serafina lives very near me on the shore of Lake Como, one of the most beautiful places in the world, as you should see for yourself.’
He paused. ‘It means much to you, this work of yours?’
Yes, of course...
Again, the words hovered unspoken on her lips. Because career satisfaction wasn’t her goal and never had been. It was Mannion that mattered. It was everything to her. All she would ever care about, with no room in her life for anything—or anyone—else.
Something she wanted to shout aloud for the whole of London to hear, and, in particular, the man standing close behind her. Too close.
She needed to break the silence that seemed to be closing around her. The strange weakness that was making her tremble inside. The feeling that she was spinning into chaos. Into delusion.
Oh, God, she thought. What’s happening to me? What am I thinking? Why am I here instead of downstairs with Adam? Except he’s trapped in a meeting and I—I’m trapped here.
Her voice seemed to come from some immense distance. ‘Jarvis Stratton is one of London’s premier property agencies. It’s a privilege to work there, so I feel very fortunate.’
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Somewhere convenient to hide from doubt, fear and damaging admissions.
‘Fortunate indeed,’ agreed her inquisitor. ‘But for a young and beautiful woman there must be more. For you, signorina, are there no dreams?’
She summoned a smile from somewhere. Spoke lightly. ‘In today’s economic climate, Signor Belisandro, dreams are an expensive luxury that not all of us can afford.’
She rose. ‘Thank you for receiving me so graciously, but I’ve taken up quite enough of your time. I should rejoin my friends.’
He stood up too. ‘Then my son will escort you and when I have made one phone call, I too shall come down and join the party. We will all drink a glass of wine together, no?’
No...
The word echoed crazily in her brain, just as it had done that afternoon when she’d seen Zac waiting on the terrace—like a dark cloud on her horizon.
A dark cloud fast becoming a storm that might sweep her away if she didn’t fight it. Fight for the life she had chosen.
She tried another bland, meaningless smile. ‘How kind of you, signor. But so many other people will be waiting to talk to you and to—to your son. I should be in the way. Good evening.’
Somehow, she got herself out of the room and across the corridor to the lift, with Zac, she realised, one step behind her.
As she reached for the button, his hand closed over hers. ‘Are you so determined to run away?’
‘I was trying to leave earlier when you stopped me.’ She stared at the lift doors, willing them to open of their own volition. To open and save her.
