It was a completely family-owned, family-run enterprise, Robin having worked there herself in the six years since she’d left university, and taken over as her father’s assistant these last two years, since Simon’s excesses had made him incapable of fulfilling that role.
‘Your father was ill after your brother’s death, I believe …?’ Cesare Gambrelli enquired mildly.
Robin winced, not in the least fooled by the pleasantness of his tone, knowing this was yet another threat.
A very real one.
Her father had been instructed by his doctors to take things easy after his minor heart attack—advice he had been forced to ignore as each new day seemed to bring forth yet another disaster created by Simon’s gambling excesses. In fact, her father was at yet another meeting this afternoon to discuss settling some of those debts.
She hesitated. ‘I don’t care to discuss my father’s health with you—’
‘I agree. There is no discussion necessary,’ Cesare came back swiftly. ‘I am sure that you know as well as I that the shock of learning to what extent his son gambled his life away would no doubt result in another seizure for your father—perhaps a fatal one—’
‘What sort of man are you?’ Robin cut in, aghast, her violet eyes accusing now in the paleness of her face.
‘I am a Sicilian!’ Cesare told her proudly. ‘And in my country a blood feud such as ours can only be settled in one way! Blood for blood, Robin,’ he explained flatly as she stared at him blankly. ‘Paid for either in death or by a marriage between the two families!’
Her father had warned her to stay away from this man—although quite how she was supposed to have avoided him when he had actually come to their home, she had no idea!
But for now all she could wonder was how her father had known Cesare Gambrelli was such a threat to them. Whether he hadn’t received some sort of response to his letter of condolence after all.
Cesare looked at her, completely unmoved by the pain and shock he could see in her face. His beautiful sister was dead, and this woman’s brother, also dead, was the one responsible; he would have his blood payment, one way or another!
Robin paused, her throat moving convulsively before she answered him. ‘My father would never agree to my marrying you under these circumstances—’
‘The choice is not your father’s but yours,’ Cesare snapped dismissively. ‘Refuse to become my wife and I will do everything in my power to destroy Ingram Publishing.’
It was not an idle threat on his part. As the next major shareholder of Ingram Publishing—after Charles Ingram’s own fifty per cent—Robin was in possession of twenty per cent, her own inheritance from her mother … Cesare knew exactly what he would be capable of, concerning the disruption of the company. In fact, until he had met and decided he wanted Robin Ingram, and had realised there was another, even more satisfying kind of retribution than the one he had originally planned, he had been looking forward to bringing the Ingram company to its knees.
Now his primary desire was to bring Robin Ingram to her knees. Pleasurably so!
‘But I don’t want to marry you!’ Robin cried protestingly.
He shrugged broad, unconcerned shoulders. ‘Then I will take my place as a major shareholder of Ingram Publishing—’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Robin demanded emotionally. ‘I can’t believe that you want to marry me any more than I want to marry you! So why are you doing this?’ she repeated desperately.
There were tears in her deep purple eyes now—tears that Cesare instantly distanced himself from; there was only one area of this woman’s emotions that he wished to explore!
‘My own wishes do not come into this—Marco is in need of a mother,’ he reminded her detachedly.
‘But as far as you’re concerned I’m your bitterest enemy!’ Robin reasoned quickly.
‘You are making this too personal, Robin,’ he cautioned.
‘How much more personal could it get?’ she came back, outraged.
‘Oh, much more, Robin,’ he assured her quietly, knowing she had understood him perfectly. ‘But at this moment in time you merely happen to bear the name of my bitterest enemy—Ingram. And as a Sicilian—’
‘A cold, vengeful Sicilian!’ she put in insultingly.
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘Vengeful, perhaps. But I am not always cold, am I, Robin?’ he queried tauntingly. ‘And, despite what I have been told about the unattainable Robin Ingram, neither are you!’
She felt hot at his taunt, knowing she had betrayed herself shamefully a short time ago, that her response to this man’s kissing made it impossible for her to claim that, physically, she would be able to deny him everything.
She didn’t like the fact, either, that there had obviously been gossip about her avoidance of all relationships since her marriage ended—gossip this man had clearly listened to. Even if he didn’t know the reason she had chosen to remain aloof from all physical and emotional entanglement following her divorce.
‘My father would never accept my marrying you for the reasons you’ve stated,’ she repeated doggedly.
Cesare Gambrelli shrugged. ‘I am not interested in what your father would or would not accept!’
No, he wasn’t, was he? Robin acknowledged heavily. It was of absolutely no concern to him whatsoever what she or her father felt about anything!
‘But I am,’ she told him determinedly. ‘I know my father well enough to know he would never accept my marrying a man I don’t love as a means of saving his company from promised ruin.’
Yes, she did know him well enough to be sure of that. Just as she was equally sure that it would finish her father completely if, on top of Simon’s recent death, and the debts and worry that had accrued since, his beloved company were to fail.
And she also knew him well enough to realise he would never accept her making the sacrifice of marrying Cesare Gambrelli in order to avoid that ruin!
Dear God, she wasn’t actually thinking of agreeing to this man’s archaic terms, was she?
No, of course she wasn’t!
But until she’d had time to check into all of Cesare’s claims she had no choice but to at least listen to him.
‘Then it will be up to you to convince him otherwise,’ Cesare Gambrelli—the man who was insisting on becoming her husband—said with a wave of his hand. ‘I perfectly understand the reason you feel so … protective, towards your father—’
‘Even if you don’t give a damn yourself?’ she accused angrily.
His eyes glittered darkly. ‘I am not completely heartless, Robin—no matter what you may think to the contrary! I have no objection to your … embellishing the truth in order to satisfy your father’s concern, if that is your wish. You may choose to tell your father we have fallen madly, passionately in love with each other. That you cannot live without me as your husband. Tell him what you like, Robin. But make no mistake, you will become my wife!’
He was so hard, so implacable—so damned sure he was going to get his own way, Robin recognised with dismay.
And wasn’t he?
Could she really tell her father what Simon had done, of Cesare Gambrelli’s demands, and risk her father having the second and perhaps fatal heart attack that his doctors had warned her might occur if he became too stressed?
Too stressed!
She had watched these last three months as her father had sunk deeper and deeper into despair with