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‘Oh, come on. I’m not completely stupid.’ She had relaxed her frozen position but her gaze was still narrowed with suspicion. ‘Are you trying to tell me there’s nobody else you can ask? Surely you must have a little black book with hundreds of candidates more suitable than me.’
‘Indeed I do,’ he agreed softly. ‘But the trouble with taking a lover on a gig like that is that she’ll start to think it’s significant.’
‘She’ll start to think it’s significant,’ she repeated slowly.
‘Introducing her to the family. You know. Take a woman home to meet your mother and before you know it, she’ll be trying on long white dresses and organising hen nights.’
‘Oh, my goodness. How little you seem to think of my sex,’ she breathed. ‘Do you really imagine they would be so scheming—or so desperate—to want to be married to a man like you?’
‘I hate to disillusion you, Nicola, but yes, they would. But let me be candid with you, and tell you that your fervent words give me a great deal of pleasure.’ His voice lowered. ‘Since they reassure me you won’t be thinking along those lines yourself.’
‘Too right I’m not. I’m not interested in marriage.’ She pulled a face. ‘And even if Iwerelooking for a husband it would be someone who was the polar opposite of you!’
‘Then why don’t you think about my offer instead? You’ll get flown out to Umbria—’
‘Did...?’ There was a brief pause and now she was sitting up very straight in her seat. ‘Did you say Umbria?’
‘Sì, the party is in Italy.’
‘I know where Umbria is,’ she hissed, before taking a big gulp of water. ‘Why take anyone? Why not just go on your own?’
‘I’ve come to the conclusion that wouldn’t be the best option,’ he said, without missing a beat. He certainly wasn’t going to explain that, with a third party present, his poisonous stepfather and two half-siblings might be less inclined to stir up mischief and malcontent. That their company wouldpossiblybe more tolerable if it was diluted by another person. He wanted Nicola Bennett to agree to his proposal, not send her screaming in the opposite direction. ‘All you need to do is to be polite and charming for a few days. I’m sure even you could manage that.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Surely that would depend on how much time I’m expected to spend with you!’
‘And since my mother is a stickler for convention,’ he murmured, biting back a reluctant smile, ‘we won’t even have to be in the same room.’
‘I should hope not!’ she said, her voice rising with what sounded like genuine horror, which Alessio also found deeply offensive.
‘And for undertaking a simple task in one of the most beautiful regions of Italy, you get to write off your outstanding debts and have enough left to provide you with a cushion,’ he continued, his voice dipping as he slipped into the familiar role of negotiation. ‘Think about that, Nicola. No more having to work past midnight in some questionable nightclub. No more worrying that someone is going to rumble you to Sergio.’
His gaze dropped to her outfit. It was a perfectly respectable dress the colour of vanilla ice cream, but that was about all you could say about it. She obviously hadn’t decided to go shopping after work after all, he decided wryly. Just as she hadn’t loosened her glorious hair so that he could feast his eyes on it again, but had tied it into its usual forbidding pleat. He realised he’d only ever seen her at opposite ends of the sartorial spectrum—repressed or tarty—neither of which would work for the forthcoming weekend. And wasn’t the truth that he was curious to see what she looked like in something pretty? ‘You’ll need some suitable clothes to wear, of course, and I’m perfectly happy to foot the bill.’
Her grey eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t think my existing wardrobe will work?’
‘No.’
‘Do you...?’ She seemed to steady her breathing. ‘Do get off on being so insulting?’
‘But you asked me a straightforward question, Nicola. I’m a scientist. I deal with facts. Would you prefer me to lie to you?’
‘No. But I certainly think you could benefit from a crash course in diplomacy.’
Alessio studied her, aware that some of the layers surrounding her were being peeled away tonight, and that behind that glacial exterior seemed to beat the heart of a tempestuous woman. Was that really so? Unprepared for the sudden sweet ambush of desire, he leaned back in his chair. ‘So what do you say?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Are you tempted?’
She shook her head. ‘Not in the least.’
‘Are you sure?’ he persisted, recognising that her refusal was spurring him on, because how long since he’d had to fight for a woman? Fight for anything? ‘You wouldn’t have to strut around wearing that abbreviated feathery nonsense any more.’
‘For all you know, I might enjoy dressing up like that.’
‘But you don’t,’ he said suddenly, with a certainty which came from deep inside him, though he wasn’t sure where. ‘You don’t enjoy men looking at you with hunger in their eyes and talking to your breasts, do you? In fact, I suspect that the prim Nicola Bennett I see at the gallery is a far more accurate reflection of your true character than the blonde showstopper in the skimpy outfit, swaying in her high heels.’ He paused. ‘Am I right?’
Nicola hesitated. Yes, damn him, he was totally right. But she didn’t want him to be. She didn’t want his perception or his understanding. She wanted him to vanish into thin air and take his ridiculously attractive offer with him.
But his words were buzzing around inside her head like a mosquito in a cheap hotel bedroom and she couldn’t seem to keep her unwelcome thoughts at bay.
She thought about Callum and the mess he’d made of his life. How it hurt like hell to imagine her baby brother in a prison cell.
