‘Now, the kitchen! As you can see, this is the perfect kitchen for entertaining!’ She could hear herself teetering on the brink of a Stepford-wife impersonation. ‘Double Aga, great for preparing meals for large numbers of people, and big enough to house a table for eight. The conservatory is a recent addition to the house, one of the few, but I think you’ll agree that they’ve done an excellent job in maintaining the Victorian aspect of the house!’
‘You certainly seem to be involved in what you do,’ Riccardo commented dryly, bemused by her sudden departure into manic-salesperson pitch. ‘Yes. This is a very…charming kitchen, although I don’t intend to be doing much cooking in it.’
‘No wines for the wine cellar, no food in the kitchen…what exactly is the purpose of the house, if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘Investment. I think the time is right to add a country house to my portfolio. I guarantee that in five years’ time this place will have quadrupled in price.’
‘In that case, is there any point in showing you around? You could get everything you need from the particulars you have in your hand.’
‘Oh, I think I need to have a close up view of whether any work needs doing. It’s boring, and I can’t afford the time, but my assistant inconveniently caught some kind of bug over the weekend and couldn’t make it.’
Charlotte looked at Riccardo’s dark, sexy face and shivered at the man he had become. The winning confidence of youth had been honed into cold self-assurance. Years ago, in the aftermath of their showdown, he had coolly informed her that his future was mapped out for him, waiting for him to seize. He had obviously seized it, but it didn’t appear to have made him happy because happiness wasn’t etched into his features.
‘Why, can’t you afford the time?’ she heard herself asking, and he must have detected the sarcastic edge to her voice because he directed all his frowning attention onto her.
‘I’m a very busy man.’
‘Oh yes. Forgot. All those big plans you had for that brilliant, golden future that had been planned for you since birth. I guess taking time out would be a little tricky.’ Charlotte could have kicked herself for launching into a provocative personal attack, but he was just so damned arrogant, standing there, black eyes sweeping condescendingly over a house that was achingly beautiful and deserved to be more than just bricks and mortar bought to make money for a man who obviously didn’t need it!
‘Do I detect a certain amount of sarcasm in your voice? Is that part of your selling routine?’
‘I apologise,’ Charlotte muttered under her breath. ‘Look, shall we get this over with?’
‘Do I make you feel uncomfortable? Or is it just being confronted with your past mistake that’s putting you on edge?’
‘I’m not on edge.’ She brushed past him, heading through to the main body of the house. This was not going to be a quick once-over. The place was so big that she could be doing her sales patter for much longer than she wanted, especially if he kept butting in with questions and observations.
It just showed the ugly bones of their relationship—she confused and sickeningly affected by him, and he cool as a cucumber and happy to stampede straight through her ‘keep off’ signs.
She virtually ran through the ground floor. She forgot about laboriously pointing out interesting features. That just took up valuable time, and she wanted to be far away from him so that she could breathe properly.
Upstairs came the bedrooms. She actually wanted to just leave him to get on with it, but she couldn’t afford to have him running back to Aubrey with complaints about her performance. She loved her job and she needed it. So on they went. Guest rooms one, two, three and four, and then yet another sitting room and a study, and then the main bedroom.