The question took her aback, made her ask herself the same thing. ‘I...I thought we were making conversation.’
‘This is one subject I prefer to steer clear of. Capisce?’
‘Because you find it upsetting.’
He cursed under his breath and raked back his hair as that stubborn lock fell over his forehead again. ‘Not at all. The subject of my father fires up my blood. I just prefer not to discuss it with near strangers.’
Despite cautioning herself to stick to business, she found herself replying, ‘Haven’t you heard of the saying make love not war?’
‘Why do I need to choose one when I can have both? I’ll make love to you and I make war with Giacomo.’
‘For how long?’
‘How long can I make love to you? Is that another challenge to my manhood?’
‘I meant your father, and you know it.’
‘I intend to keep going until one of us is in the ground.’
She gasped. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’
Again that flash of pain, gone before it’d even formed. ‘Sì, I do.’
‘You know, he called you poison.’
This time the anguish stayed for several seconds, shattered his expression. Her heart fractured at the pain she glimpsed before his face settled into neutral indifference. ‘He’s right. I am poison.’
His unflinching admission made her heart contract. ‘What happened between you two?’
‘I was born.’
* * *
Narciso watched her try to make sense of his reply. She frowned, then shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
He wanted to laugh but the vice gripping his chest every time he thought of Giacomo made that impossible. He rose and walked to the bar at the mid-section of his plane. Pouring two glasses of mineral water, he brought one to her and gulped down the other. ‘That’s because you’re trying to decipher a hidden meaning. There is none. I was born. And Giacomo has hated that reality ever since.’
‘He hates being a father?’
He paused before answering, unwilling to utter the words he hadn’t said aloud for a very long time, not since he’d wailed it as a pathetic little boy to the housekeeper who’d been the closest thing he’d known to a mother.
‘No. He hates me.’
Shock darkened Ruby’s eyes.
He sat back down abruptly, and willed back the control he’d felt slipping from him since he’d walked into the poker den in Macau last night. He glanced up and saw sympathy blazing from Ruby’s face. The rawness abated a little but, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake off the unsettling emptiness inside him.
He swallowed his water and set the glass down.
‘Enough about me. Tell me about your father.’
She stiffened. ‘I’d rather not.’
‘You were ready to share just a little while ago.’ He settled deeper into his seat and watched her face. And it was a stunning face. The combination of innocence and defiance in her eyes kept him intrigued. She didn’t hide her emotions very well. Right now, she was fighting pain and squirming with a desire to change the subject.
The sudden urge to help her, to offer the same sympathy she’d just exhibited, took him by surprise.
Dio, what was wrong with him?
This woman who’d flown thousands of miles after him was an enigma. An enigma with daddy issues. He should be staying well clear.
He leaned forward. ‘Since you seem shocked by the depth of my...feelings towards Giacomo, I’m assuming your feelings towards your father are much less...volatile?’
Those full lips he wanted to taste again so badly pressed together for a moment. ‘I don’t hate my father, no. But I prefer to keep my distance from them.’
‘Them?’
She fidgeted. ‘You’re going to find out anyway. My parents are Ricardo and Paloma Trevelli.’
Her stare held a little defiance and a whole load of vulnerability. ‘Sorry, you lost me.’
A delicate frown marred her perfect skin. Again his fingers ached to touch. Soon, he promised himself.
‘How come you own several media companies and yet have no clue what goes on in the world?’
‘My line of work doesn’t mean I compromise my privacy. So your parents are famous?’
Her eyelids swept down to cover her expression. ‘You could say that. They’re famous celebrity TV chefs.’
‘And their fame disgusts you?’ he deduced.
Blue eyes flicked to his. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Your voice. Your eyes. Your body. They all give you away, Ruby Trevelli.’ He loved the way her name sounded on his lips. He wanted to keep saying it... ‘So you despise them for being famous and cashing in on it. Isn’t that what you’re doing?’
‘No! I’d never whore myself the way—’ She stopped and bit her lip.
‘Do they know you have this view of them?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘They’ve chosen a lifestyle I prefer not to be a part of. It’s that simple.’
‘Ruby...’ he waited until her eyes met his ‘...we both know it’s not that simple.’
Shadows chased across her face and her mouth trembled before she firmed it again. Before he could think twice, he reached out and touched her hand.
She swallowed hard, then pulled her tablet towards her. ‘How many people will I be catering for at your event?’
He told himself he wasn’t disappointed by her withdrawal. ‘Are we back to all business again?’
‘Yes. I think it’s safer, don’t you?’
Narciso couldn’t deny the veracity of that. Dredging up his past was the last thing he’d intended when he’d boarded his plane. And yet, he resented her switch to all-business mode.
‘If you say so,’ he replied. ‘You think you can handle a VIP dinner?’
‘I believe in my talent as much as you believe in your abilities as the Warlock of Wall Street. If I say I’ll rock your socks off, I will.’
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. ‘A confident woman is such a turn-on.’
She glared at him. ‘If you say so,’ she replied sweetly. ‘Is there a guest of honour that I should pay particular attention to?’
‘Vladimir Rudenko. I’m in the last stages of ironing out a deal with him. He’s the VIP guest.’
She started to make another note when her tablet pinged. He heard her sharp intake of breath before she paled.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s nothing.’
The blatant lie set his teeth on edge. ‘Don’t lie to me.’ He reached for the tablet but she snatched it off the table.
‘It’s a private thing, all right?’
‘A private thing that’s obviously upset you.’ He watched her chest rise and fall in agitation and experienced that disconcerting urge to help again.
‘Yes, but it’s my problem and I’ll deal with it.’
Before