The Sicilian's Bought Cinderella, page 15
Dante doubted Riccardo had understood half of what she’d just told him in that rapid-fire delivery, but he beamed nonetheless.
And then he turned to Dante. ‘Are you free Monday morning?’ he asked in their own language.
‘That depends why you’re asking.’
‘I’ve been having a rethink about that deal you made with Alessio. I think I was a little hasty in my involvement. Alessio has a good head on his shoulders.’
That was as close to an apology as Dante would get but he didn’t expect a full one. Riccardo was a proud man. He did not like to admit his mistakes.
‘What are you saying?’ He wanted it spelt out.
‘That I was wrong to interfere. I have spoken to him and he is still of the opinion that the deal with you is the best one on the table. The contracts are still drawn up. He goes on his honeymoon Monday afternoon but can spare a few minutes to sign it before he leaves. That is, if the deal is something you still wish to go ahead with?’
Hiding his euphoria at his plan succeeding so perfectly, Dante pretended to consider the question. ‘I have meetings all day Monday. My lawyer will be with me. If Alessio can bring the contract and his lawyers to me for eleven a.m., I should have a window to fit him in then.’
Dante had his pride too. He wanted this deal—he wouldn’t have offered Aislin such a large amount of money if it wasn’t so important to him—but he would not roll over and demean himself by snatching Riccardo’s olive branch without making the man sweat a little. It was the least he deserved. Alessio too, for allowing his father to browbeat him into pulling out of the deal in the first place.
‘You are still willing to go ahead?’
‘If he can get to me for eleven, then yes.’
‘He will be there. Where will you be?’
‘Madrid. I fly there tomorrow evening.’ His tone left no doubt—Riccardo and Alessio could take it or leave it.
Riccardo pulled his handkerchief out of his top pocket and patted his perspiring forehead. ‘He will be there.’
Dante finally allowed himself a smile and extended his hand. ‘Then we have a deal.’
Riccardo clasped it in his clammy paw. ‘We have a deal.’
* * *
When Aislin opened her eyes the next morning there was a cramping weight in her chest so heavy that it took a few moments before she could breathe with any ease. Dante’s arm was draped over her belly, his knee nudging against her thigh, sleeping deeply.
His mood had much improved once the deal with the D’Amores was confirmed as back on. He’d joined her on the packed dance floor and neither had complained that the mass of bodies forced them to hold each other closely.
The euphoric mood had extended to the bedroom. Little in the way of sleep had been found in their bed that night, even less than the night before.
Aislin hadn’t wanted to fall sleep. She hadn’t wanted to miss a single moment.
But nature had taken its course and she’d been pulled into slumber as the first glimpse of sunlight broke through the join in the heavy curtains.
Hot tears bit into her retinas and she blinked vigorously to contain them.
Her chest hurt. Her stomach hurt too, filled with knots being pulled into a giant tangle of pain.
Dante shifted closer and stretched. His arousal replaced his knee against her thigh.
She mustn’t cry.
They still had a few hours left.
And maybe...
He slid on top of her and covered her mouth with his.
Maybe Dante wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet either.
* * *
Breakfast was served in the dining room. The guests who had spent the weekend celebrating with the happy couple were all accounted for, present in body if not in spirit. An awful lot of heads were being clutched and painkillers being swapped like sweets. Only the children had retained their manic spirits but, where they had spent the weekend being indulged, this morning they were shushed.
Aislin couldn’t work out why she felt so bad, considering she’d paced her alcohol intake and made sure to drink plenty of water.
Dante didn’t look much better either but insisted with a brisk smile that he felt fine. His appetite was as healthy as always.
Although she had little appetite of her own, Aislin took her time, picking at the croissants, chewing slowly, refilling her coffee and orange juice numerous times; anything to drag this last meal out.
Yet, though she tried her hardest to make the time pass as slowly as was humanly possible, she found it hard to look at him. Every time she met his eyes her heart would swell and she would find herself biting her tongue from the plea it longed to shoot out.
Is this really it?
Was it really possible that in the space of a week she had gone from thinking she would never get involved with another man, especially not this one, to feeling her insides would rip to shreds if she never felt his arms around her again?
He was nothing like the man she had imagined.
Just as Dante pushed his chair back, ready to leave the dining room, Riccardo D’Amore and his wife stopped at their table.
‘Good morning,’ he said in English, smiling, no sign of a headache or any ill-effects from the night before.
‘Morning,’ Aislin replied as cheerfully as she could manage.
‘We like you to come to house for dinner.’ He spoke carefully.
‘Me and Dante?’ She did her best to hide her surprise.
‘Sì. It will be great pleasure for us. You come...mercoledì?’
She glanced at Dante. His lips were curved upwards but the expression in his eyes gave nothing away.
‘Mercoledi?’ she repeated uncertainly.
‘Wednesday,’ Dante murmured.
‘Right. Wednesday.’ Her heart made a sudden leap. She could stay until Wednesday. That was totally doable. Orla could cope a few more days without her and Aislin could have an extra four days with Dante!
Feeling a whole heap lighter inside, she grinned with the whole of her face. ‘I don’t have anything planned for Wednesday. Have you anything in your diary?’ she directed at Dante.
He shook his head.
‘It’s a date.’
Riccardo translated for his wife, who showed her pleasure by beaming as widely as her husband.
Back in their room, Aislin began to pack her things in her super-posh suitcase, practically dancing a jig with happiness.
Four more nights with Dante! Perfect. She’d give Orla a call in a few minutes and let her know...
‘Do you want the balance of the money transferred to Orla?’ Dante asked, breaking through her happy thoughts.
‘Yes, please.’ She bounded over to him and threw her arms around his neck. ‘You must be delighted your plan has worked out so well.’
Expecting a kiss, she was disappointed when he kept his gaze focused over the top of her head. ‘It is good that he saw reason. The deal with me will make the D’Amores far more money than the deal with my competitor would have.’
‘Well, I for one am thrilled it’s all worked out for you.’
He gave a tight smile and unhooked her arms from his neck. ‘I’ll transfer the money now.’ He stepped away and removed his phone from his jacket pocket.
‘I’ll call Orla and let her know to expect it, and let her know I won’t be back until Thursday.’
‘Thursday?’
‘The D’Amore dinner’s on Wednesday,’ she reminded him.
He perched on the armchair and gave his attention to his phone. ‘There will not be a dinner.’
Her stomach dropped like a brick. ‘But we said we were going.’
He raised a hefty shoulder nonchalantly.
‘Surely you don’t want to upset him this late in the day?’
He shrugged again. His fingers were busy working on his phone. ‘The contract will be signed tomorrow.’
‘Is there not a grace period for him to change his mind?’
‘No. Once it is signed, then that’s it.’
‘So you lied about going to his house for dinner?’
‘You agreed to it, not me.’
She stared at him, willing him to look up from his phone so she could see what was in his eyes.
‘You said you were free,’ she pointed out evenly. The crushing weight was expanding but she refused to acknowledge it. Her overactive imagination could be leading her on a path that was something out of nothing. Dante had made no secret to her of his dislike for Riccardo and, after the way Riccardo had treated him, she understood why he would be reluctant to accept his hospitality.
He probably thought, too, that he would be putting her out. After all, she had told him only the day before that she could never move from her home because she would miss Orla and Finn too much.
He was being considerate.
‘It is not important,’ he said. ‘I will let him know after the contract is signed that we won’t be attending.’
‘I don’t mind going. You’re going to have to work with him...’
‘No, I will be working with his son.’
‘But his feelings will be hurt.’
‘I will let him down gently. It was not my company they desired but yours.’
‘Honestly, Dante, I don’t mind staying a few extra days. It’s the least I can do for you.’
He grimaced. ‘I’m flying to Madrid tonight and have back-to-back meetings for the next two days.’
‘I’ve never been to Madrid.’
‘It’s a beautiful city and I recommend you visit it one day.’
One day?
‘Dante... Don’t you like the idea of us having a few more days together?’
‘It would be fun if I had the time, but I don’t.’
Fun?
‘Have I done something to upset you?’
‘No. You’ve played your part very well... Va bene.’ His tone lifted a notch. ‘The money has been transferred. I will charter a flight back to Ireland for you this afternoon. I would lend you my jet but I need it to get to Madrid. I’ll have a car waiting at the airport to drive you home.’ He finally looked up from his phone.
The blankness in the eyes, normally so full of expression and life, was enough to make her blood freeze.
‘Have you finished packing? We need to go.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DANTE DROVE THE car out of the castle grounds and took the route straight to the airport.
He would drop Aislin there then go home and get himself organised for his flight to Madrid.
He stretched his mind to the coming week and the business he needed to take care of. Now that the deal with the D’Amores was back on, he would need to reschedule appointments and get systems up and running. There was a lot of work in the weeks and months ahead.
Aislin’s phone rang, cutting through the silence.
They hadn’t exchanged a word since getting into his car.
She’d been her usual bright, bubbly self when saying goodbye to everyone but he had sensed the melancholy beneath it and had the strangest feeling he had hurt her.
It had been good of her to offer to stay with him and attend the dinner with Riccardo but he had put her out enough.
It was time to say goodbye. Their job was done.
There was no reason for him to prolong their time together, something he had told himself with resolute firmness when he had showered that morning before breakfast.
He’d enjoyed some great times with her, but now it was over, exactly as had been agreed right at the very start of it all. His feelings on the matter had only hardened.
‘Are you not going to answer that?’ he asked when she ignored her phone.
‘It’ll be Orla.’
‘Then why not answer it?’
‘Because I know what she’s going to ask and I don’t have an answer for her.’
‘What do you think she wants?’
‘I know what she wants. She wants to know if she can meet you before Finn’s party.’
His hands tightened on the steering wheel but his heart lifted to see the airport on the horizon.
He put his foot on the accelerator.
Almost there.
A few more minutes and she would be out of his car and out of his life for good, and he would never have to think about the O’Reillys again.
‘Fine,’ she said through what sounded like gritted teeth.
Nothing more was said until he pulled into the airport’s drop-off.
He switched the engine off, twisted in his seat to face her and found himself looking at the back of her head.
‘There is a member of the airport staff in the departure lounge waiting for you,’ he said. ‘She’ll have your name on a board, so you can’t miss her. She will see you’re looked after and get you where you need to go.’
She didn’t answer.
‘Aislin?’
Her head moved round slowly and then the grey eyes he’d found so striking in that very first glance fixed on him, and what he saw in them was powerful enough to make his heart thump and twist.
Then she blinked and the hurt he’d seen was gone.
‘Get your phone out,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll give you Orla’s number and you can call her when the DNA test’s done.’
Blood surged in his head. ‘Aislin—’
‘Will you give me your number too, so I can pass it on to her?’ she continued, as if he hadn’t tried to speak. ‘Even if you don’t want to meet before the party it would be good for the two of you to talk.’
He took a deep breath and rested his pounding head back. ‘No.’
‘No...? What do you mean?’
He’d hoped she would leave without the need for this conversation but she had boxed him in. Non-committal answers were not going to satisfy her now. ‘I’m not going to meet Orla.’
‘Not meet her...?’ She looked as confused as if he’d told her the sky was really a giant mushroom. ‘But why would you not want to meet her? She’s your sister. Sure, she can be annoying, but she’s a lovely person—’
‘Orla is not my sister.’ Something crawled inside him. It twisted in his veins and bound to his bones, pulsing rabidly under his skin.
‘Not this again. She is your sister.’
‘No, dolcezza, she is not.’ It was a fight to keep his tone even. ‘The test will prove she shares my DNA but that does not make her my sister. I understand that this is not what you have hoped for, but she is a stranger to me, and I have no wish to allow a stranger into my life.’
‘You’ll have to meet her at Finn’s party. You won’t be able to avoid her there.’
‘I’m not coming to Finn’s party.’
‘But you said...’
‘I said to give me the details. I made no promises.’
‘Dante, please come. Give them a chance...’
‘No!’
Suddenly furious at her refusal to listen, furious at the emotions she dredged up in him, furious that even now when they were saying goodbye there was an ache deep inside him to haul her into his arms, even furious at the shocked widening of her eyes, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel.
Everything he’d been suppressing in the hope of being rid of her without a scene spilled out like venom.
‘This is not about chances. I do not want them in my life. I am sick of family and all the lies and deceptions that come with them. Sick of it. What does Orla want from me? My money? She has a million euros of it. She has lived her life for twenty-seven years without me, why want me now? My father... Damn him to hell!’
With a roar that erupted from nowhere, he punched the wheel hard enough to bruise. ‘All my adult life I have bailed him out. I kept a roof over his head when he blew everything my grandparents and their parents before them built. I helped him whenever he needed me. I loved him, and all that’s left is this monstrous lie, and don’t let me start talking about my self-obsessed mother, who bores of everything and everyone, even her own child.
‘I look at my extended family and see nothing but misery; siblings hating and bitching about siblings, spouses cheating, hypocritical parents moralising, all pretending that their lives are great, when underneath it’s all rotten. I don’t want any of it. I am not a gambling man but, even if I were, I know the odds would not be in my favour of anything good coming from a sister who I already know is a liar like our father. Whoever the father of her child is, he has a right to know, but she keeps it a secret from him when she knows the damage such secrets cause.’
Aislin had shrunk back during his diatribe, but now she leaned forward, bright red colour slashing her cheeks. ‘If you knew Orla you would know she would only keep such a thing secret for good reason.’
‘I have only your word for that.’
‘Is my word not good enough? Hasn’t the time we’ve spent together this past week proven that I’m a woman of my word?’
‘I take no one at their word,’ he bit back.
‘And I thought I was distrustful...’ Aislin shook her head and tried to control the tempest raging within her.
Bad enough he should be so cynical about Orla but to be so cynical about her, after everything they had shared... That hurt more than she had dreamed possible, more than his offhand refusal that she stay the extra days as she had offered.
He’d had his fun with her and, now their time was up, he was happy to discard her as if nothing had happened.
‘You know, sir, you’re not the only one who has been hurt and let down—it happens to everyone. My mother left the country when I was nineteen and I don’t think she’s ever coming back. She left me to deal with the fallout after Orla’s accident—and, while we’re talking about Orla, need I remind you that she is the one who has spent her life with a father who is only a name and a mother who couldn’t be bothered to visit her when she was close to death or meet her seriously ill grandson? You don’t see Orla feeling sorry for herself.’
