His gaze dropped to her lips. ‘I’m only saying what I’ve observed.’
‘You seem to observe the world through a very cynical film.’
‘Do I?’
‘I think you know you do.’
One corner of his lips lifted, mockingly.
‘I think you were determined not to like me, from the moment you saw me.’
‘You had broken into my home,’ he pointed out reasonably.
But Lucinda’s nerves were stretched to breaking point. ‘Not to steal anything,’ she said sharply, resisting an urge to roll her eyes—but only just.
‘You don’t think privacy is a commodity that can be stolen?’
Her heart was thumping inside her chest. Lucinda hated confrontation. She always avoided it. It was one of her superhero skills, to be able to predict when someone’s mood was turning and leave the room. She hated it, but with Thirio, she stood her ground regardless, even as her gut was churning and her blood felt as if a tsunami were pounding her from the inside out.
‘I believed you’d prioritise your sister’s happiness. I was wrong.’ She stood, her fingertips tingling. ‘I came here, in person, because I needed—’ she pressed her teeth into her lower lip. How could she admit to him how much this job would mean to her? How could she explain? And why should she bother? It wouldn’t change his mind. ‘But that’s beside the point.’ She forced her eyes to turn to the window, grateful to see the sky was half blue now. ‘The storm’s clearing. I’ll get out of your hair just as soon as I can. Excuse me.’
Her movements were jerky as she walked towards the door. ‘You won’t be going anywhere.’ The words were thrown towards her, dark and commanding. She froze, staring at the door, her pulse in her throat. Slowly, with what she hoped would look like a sense of calm, she turned to face him.
‘Oh?’
‘The road will be icy, despite the clear sky.’
Lucinda’s lips were pursed. ‘Well, I can’t stay here for ever.’
‘Obviously.’ His rapid rejoinder pulled at something in her chest. ‘I’ll check the roads after lunch. If they’re clear, you can drive. Otherwise, I’ll fly you out.’
Her pulse was hammering in her throat. She felt a thousand and one things, none of them easy to comprehend. How could she feel alight with desire even when she hated so much about this man?
‘We can use the time to discuss the wedding,’ she said after a beat, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at him.
He stood up, frustration in the jerkiness of his movements. ‘No. I’ve already told you, I’ll consider your proposal with the others I receive. I don’t want to discuss Evie’s wedding now.’
‘Why not? Let me show you what I’m thinking. I know—’
‘You know nothing.’ The words were loud, reverberating around the room. He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side, as if to clear their effect. When he looked at her, it was with a plea on his features. ‘Just drop it, okay?’
No. It wasn’t okay! She needed this! She needed him to listen to her, to be sold on the wedding. The idea of going back to her life in England, watching her stepmother destroy her father’s legacy, year on year, was anathema. Lucinda had set out for the Alps with one goal in mind and she intended to achieve it. For her father, and for herself. She needed to pick up this client—her future and freedom depended on it.
‘Why won’t you even talk about it?’
‘I do not want strangers at thecastile. This is my home. Mine. I will not share it.’ Again, his voice was raised, and Lucinda felt the colour fade from her cheeks. He made a noise, a throaty growl, pacing from where he stood towards her.
He was so much bigger, but despite his obvious irritation, she wasn’t afraid. Not even a little bit. The closer he got, the more her temperature spiked, the more aware she became of a thousand and one tiny details, like the stubble on his jaw and the groove to the side of his mouth, that formed a sort of dimple there. If he smiled, truly smiled, she imagined the effect would be quite breathtaking.
‘It’s your sister’s too, isn’t it?’
He was close enough that they were toe to toe. Lucinda argued with him for two reasons. She wanted to make a point and win it, but, more than that, she desperately wanted to argue, for the sake of it.
‘Who the hell are you to come here and start interfering in my life?’ he demanded. Rightly, she had to admit. What did she think she was doing? This wasn’t at all like Lucinda. None of this was her business. Wanting the job didn’t give her a right to speak to him like this, nor to judge him for his decisions.
Arguing was one thing, but Lucinda felt the high ground slipping away from her. ‘My proposal—’
‘I don’t give a damn about your proposal!’ he ground out. ‘You think you’ve done your research? Maybe you have. But not on me. You don’t know anything about me, or you’d understand that hosting my sister’s wedding at Castile di Neveis never going to happen. Not ever.’ He drew in a deep breath, visibly attempting to defuse his anger. ‘Now, if you were to come back to me with a different proposal, with the wedding at a hotel or restaurant, or at a hired castle in the south of France, or the whole goddamned South of France, for all I care, then I would consider it.’