Mrs. Fabbro now held her hands out, wanting to take Michael back. Her thin lips weren’t smiling and the expression in her dark eyes was somewhat intimidating.
“She really was your nanny?” Rachel asked, glancing from Mrs. Fabbro to Gio.
Gio grinned. For a split second he looked boyish and young. “She was,” he answered, still smiling. “She spoiled us rotten. She’s a pussycat. Don’t let her stern expression fool you.”
Rachel handed the squirming baby over and Mrs. Fabbro triumphantly marched away, putting distance between them. Rachel watched her walk off. “She didn’t need to send for you.”
“She rang for Anna. I happened to be closer.” Gio was also watching Mrs. Fabbro and Michael. “You don’t need to worry about him, not with her. She couldn’t have children of her own. Antonio and I became hers. She was very close to Antonio, so close that when he opened his own home in Florence, she went to oversee the house for him. She was still in his employ when he died.” Gio’s expression shifted, hardening. “After his death, I tried to bring her here, but she wouldn’t leave his house. She’s only here now because we finally closed his Florence villa and there was nowhere else to go.”
It was a terribly sad story, Rachel thought, but also reassuring to hear that even as adults, the Marcello brothers had taken such good care of their nanny, and that she loved them so much in return. It was the kind of bond that spoke of affection rather than obligation.
It also made her realize she was going to have to fight Mrs. Fabbro for time with Michael.
“I’ll have coffee sent to your room while you change,” Gio said. “And then once you’re dressed, come to my office for lunch. I can share with you the latest newspapers and headlines, and then we can discuss what we’re going to do.”
CHAPTER NINE
RACHEL SCANNED THE newspapers spread out on the table in the living room adjoining Gio’s study. There were many, too, and in a half-dozen different languages, today, including English.
“Everyone loves scandal,” she said under her breath.
He heard her, though. “And sex,” he added. “Sex sells.”
She glanced across the table, and his expression was bland, but he looked relaxed and perfectly at ease, lounging back in his chair as if they were enjoying a leisurely lunch on a sunny terrace instead of a tense meal on a gloomy winter day.
“We didn’t have sex, though,” she corrected.
Gio shrugged. “Maybe we should.”
She blushed furiously, not expecting that. “Can we stay on topic, please?”
“I am.”
“No, that wasn’t appropriate.”
“It is, if we marry.”
Her head jerked up. She stared at him in horror. Why say something like that? Why mock her? “This isn’t a game, Gio, and clearly my sense of humor is subpar, because I’m not enjoying your jokes—”
“I’m not playing games, bella, and I’m not one for jokes. I suggest marriage because it saves us from scandal, stealing the power from the media and giving it back to us. They don’t drive the story—we do.”
Rachel’s brain couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t get past the “I suggest marriage” part. “I’m not even listening—”
“But you should,” he said, leaning across the table to take her chin, forcing her head up to look her in the eyes. “Your timing could not be worse. One of Marcello SpA’s companies is going public in just a few weeks. We’ve spent the past year preparing for this. My management team filed to IPO ten weeks ago and we’re hoping to be trading in two weeks. It all looked very good, but this...circus you’ve created will reflect badly on my family, the company and going public.”
“I didn’t create a circus—”
“You brought the media here,” he ground out, cutting her short.
She pulled away and leaned back in her chair, heart thumping, mouth drying. She had brought the media here, but she did it because he’d refused to speak to her or respond to her. She’d done what needed to be done. “I had no idea that you were trying to take a company public,” she said quietly. “My coming here now wasn’t about you, but trying to get Michael child care so I could return to work before I derail my career. There’s nothing left in my checking account. My credit cards can’t handle any more debt. I’m here because it’s a matter of survival.”
He said nothing, his expression grim and unforgiving.
She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. She hated being weak, hated needing anything from others, having long prided herself on her independence, but Juliet’s death had changed everything. “I said this before, and I mean it. If I had the means to take care of Michael on my own, I wouldn’t be here. I didn’t want to come to you. I would have preferred to raise him on my own, but I don’t earn enough to cover a nanny and my bills. Furthermore, I love my job, and if it weren’t for the new vice president of marketing, I wouldn’t be here now. But he’s decided to tighten up my department and he’s not interested in excuses or conflicts or personal problems. If I’m not there on Monday, I’m not to return, ever.”
The silence was heavy and suffocating. It seemed to stretch forever, too.
Finally, Giovanni broke it. “I wouldn’t plan on being there Monday.”