The Truth Behind his Touch Read Free Page B

fashion disaster—trousers and a blouse in a strange, sickly shade of yellow, both of which would have been better suited to someone twice her age. Her hair seemed to be escaping from a sort of makeshift braid, and it was long—really long. Not at all like the snappy bobs he was accustomed to seeing on women. And it was curly. She was free of makeup and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that her skin was very smooth, satin smooth, and she had an amazing mouth—full, well-defined lips, slightly parted now to reveal pearly-white teeth as she continued to stare at him with disappointment and incredulity.
    ‘I’m sorry you’re still so bitter about the past,’ she murmured quietly. ‘But he would really like to see you. Why is it too late to mend bridges? It would mean the world to him.’
    ‘So have you managed to see anything of our beautiful city?’
    ‘What? No. No, I’ve come directly here. Look, is there anything I can do or say to convince you to … to come back with me?’
    ‘You have got to be kidding, haven’t you? I mean, even if I were suddenly infused with a burning desire to become a prodigal son, do you really imagine that I would be able to drop everything, pack a bag and hop on the nearest train for Lake Como? Surprise, surprise—I have an empire to run.’
    ‘Yes, but …’
    ‘I’m a very busy man, Miss Rossi, and I have already allotted you a great deal of my very valuable time. Now, you could keep trying to convince me that I’m being a monster in not clapping my hands for joy that my father has suddenly decided to get in touch with me thanks to a bout of ill health …’
    ‘You make it sound as though he’s had a mild attack of flu! He’s suffered a very serious
heart attack
.’
    ‘For which I am truly sorry.’ Giancarlo extended his arms wide in a gesture of such phoney sympathy that Caroline had to clench her fists to stop herself from smacking him. ‘As I would be on learning of any stranger’s brush with death. But, alas, you’re going to have to go back empty-handed.’
    Defeated, Caroline stood up and reached down for her suitcase.
    ‘Where are you staying?’ Giancarlo asked with scrupulous politeness as he watched the slump of her shoulders. God, had the old man really thought that there would be no consequences to pay for the destructive way he had treated his wife? He was as rich as they came and yet, according to Adriana, he had employed the best lawyers in the landto ensure that she received the barest of settlements, accessed through a trustee who had made sure the basics, the
absolute
basics, were paid for, and a meagre allowance handed over to her, like a child being given pocket money, scarcely enough to provide any standard of living. He had often wondered, over the years, whether his mother would have been as desperate to find love if she had been left sufficient money to meet her requirements.
    Caroline wearily told him, although she knew full well that he didn’t give a damn where she was staying. He just wanted her out of his office. She would be returning having failed. Of course, Alberto would be far too proud to do anything other than shrug his shoulders and say something about having tried, but she would know the truth. She would know that he would be gutted.
    ‘Well, you make sure you try the food market at the Rinascente. You’ll enjoy it. Tremendous views. And, of course, the shopping there is good as well.’
    ‘I hate shopping.’ Caroline came to a stop in front of the office door and turned around to find that he was virtually on top of her, towering a good eight or nine inches above her and even more intimidating this close up than he had been sitting safely behind his desk or lounging by the window.
    The sun glinted from behind, picking out the striking angles of his face and rendering them more scarily beautiful. He had the most amazing eyelashes, long, lush and dark, the sort of eyelashes that most women could only ever have achieved