The image he painted was so vivid she couldn’t breathe. It was supposed to be a private joke but Taylor didn’t feel like laughing. How would it feel, she wondered, to have a family like that? A family that supported one another? It wasn’t a life she’d ever imagined for herself. Whenever she looked into her future she saw herself alone because any alternative scenario involved trust, and she knew she wasn’t capable of that.
Sadness squeezed her chest, as unexpected as it was painful.
The chairman patted Luca on the shoulder. ‘We’ll leave you two young things to mingle.’ Smiling benignly, he drew Nico away and Luca and Taylor were left alone in the crowd.
Realising that some response was expected from her, she gave a wan smile. ‘I didn’t realise you had a Corretti Bambino range.’
‘We don’t, but I’m just realising what an opportunity we’re missing. I’ve finally found a use for children—I can use them to increase my profits. And the idea has potential to be expanded into the hotel group—a range of clothes to give guests the chance to make sure their child co-ordinates perfectly with their hotel suite. If we do it well, they won’t even know the children are there.’
She knew she was supposed to laugh. She knew he was being outrageous on purpose, but the lump in her throat was wedged so securely she didn’t trust herself to speak and the feelings were so unexpected she had no idea how to deal with them.
Registering her lack of response, his smile faded and he tilted his head slightly. ‘You’re furious with me? I was joking, tesoro. I know you wouldn’t want all that barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen stuff, but it was what they needed to hear.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice husky and she changed the subject quickly. ‘Your family seems about as supportive as mine. Why do you want to work with them when you already have your own successful business?’
‘Because they think I can’t do it.’ Luca removed her empty glass from her hand and gave it to a waitress. ‘I have a congenital urge to prove everyone around me wrong. And I’m a Corretti. We were born competitive.’ As he talked, Taylor felt herself relax and decided she was just tired. Everyone had strange thoughts when they were tired, didn’t they?
‘But you’re not just Corretti, are you? You’re Marco Sparacino’s grandson.’
‘Have you been looking me up?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Non importa. I looked you up too.’
‘I’m boring, but your grandfather was a fashion legend. Right up there with Chanel and Dior. I read his autobiography, A Life in Colour. It was fascinating. What was it like growing up with him?’
‘It was hell. He used to criticise what we were wearing. It drove my mother insane. No matter how she dressed, he used to tell her what she should be doing differently. It made her deeply insecure and she grew up thinking every problem could be solved if you were wearing the right thing.’ There was an edge to his voice that made her want to delve deeper but it wasn’t the right time or the right place, with people pressing in on them from all sides.
‘I’ve seen photos of your mother. She’s always so elegant.’
Luca’s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. ‘Appearance was—still is—important to her.’
‘The daughter of Marco Sparacino—how could it not be? So how did you handle him? I can’t imagine you did what you were told.’
‘I got so fed up with my grandfather telling me I was wearing the wrong thing that I once turned up to a lunch stark naked.’ Luca drained his glass. ‘When he bawled me out I told him there was no point in getting dressed because he always told me to get changed anyway. He never criticised me after that.’
Taylor laughed. ‘I can imagine you saying that. How old were you?’
‘Nine, I think. I don’t remember. All I remember was learning that pleasing people is a thankless task and you’re much better off pleasing yourself.’
‘But you made him proud. You’ve turned Corretti into something that people associate with luxury and elegance.’
‘When I took over, the focus was on couture. I persuaded them to take a more integrated business model. We expanded into ready-to-wear and accessories and then we launched Corretti Home. Furniture, lighting, bed linen…’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘You can date in your Corretti dress and then go home and have sex on your luxurious Corretti sofa wrapped up in Corretti sheets.’
‘Is that your tag line? Corretti—Bedlinen for Better Sex?’
‘Not officially but I think it’s possibly an improvement on the one we picked for the campaign. Thank you, by the way—’ his tone was casual ‘—you were brilliant tonight. I haven’t had a chance to ask how it went today on set. Did Rafaele behave himself?’