CHAPTER THREE
ITWASIMPOSSIBLEnot to regret her impetuosity in setting out for Castile di Nevein that moment. But ever since her father’s death, she’d been told she wasn’t good enough, even when she knew she was. For years, Lucinda had put up with the demeaning low-level jobs her stepmother had doled out, while watching her stepsisters attempt to keep the blue-chip roster of clients her father had cultivated. Didn’t they realise how disastrous things would be if Lucinda hadn’t kept intervening? If she hadn’t made phone calls in the evenings to smooth over the mishaps? If she hadn’t checked and triple-checked every detail until it was assured each engagement would run perfectly?
And now, for the first time in years, she could see a way out of this mess. If only Thirio would listen to her plans.
‘I’m not asking you for charity,’ she corrected with quiet strength. ‘I just want you to consider my proposal.’
‘I have said that I intend to.’
‘I mean, now.’
‘Before there’s any competition from other companies?’
‘There is no competition,’ she said immediately, with more than bravado, because Lucinda knew that the wedding she’d planned was beyond spectacular. Exceeding a client’s needs was her goal in life, just as it had been her father’s. ‘My plan is best. I’m only trying to save you time.’
‘How magnanimous of you.’ The cynicism was palpable.
‘You really don’t like me, do you?’
His dark eyes bored into hers, showing surprise at the honest question. ‘Frankly, you’re irrelevant. But I’ve made it clear, I don’t look kindly on anyone invading my space as you have.’
She couldn’t help but stare. She knew he’d been through a lot—losing his parents as he had—but that didn’t give him a free pass to treat people like this.
She took a forkful of the risotto, and then another, and another, until her bowl was finished.
‘That was delicious, thank you.’ Her voice was stiff and formal, reminding her of how she interacted with her family. Not that they were her real family—just people she’d been thrown together with when her father had died. At fifteen, she’d been too young to be cut loose, but by eighteen, she’d been far too useful to let go.
So why hadn’tsheleft? Why hadn’t she walked away when her stepmother’s treatment had become increasingly worse?
Because that would have meant leaving behind her family home, and her father’s legacy, something she could never imagine. So she stayed and she toiled despite being treated like garbage day in, day out. But a flicker of something like rebellion ran through her now. Enough was enough.
‘You know, I really didn’t plan this.’
‘I didn’t say that you did.’
‘No, but you’re acting as though I came here looking to inconvenience you and I can assure you that’s not the case. I had no idea you’d take my presence as some kind of insult, but if I’d known you’d feel this way, believe me, I would have avoided the trip.’
He pushed aside his own bowl, bracing his palms on the counter and regarding her with that steady, dark stare. ‘You’re here. There’s no point arguing about why now. If you’ve had enough to eat, I’ll show you to your room.’
But anger was coursing through her. An anger that wasn’t really his fault, an anger that didn’t sit at his feet alone. It had been building inside her for years, and now, in this unexpected circumstance, it washed over her like a crushing tidal wave.
‘Thank you,’ she bit out, doing her best not to snap, not to argue, when her insides were churning at the injustice of his treatment. Okay, this clearly wasn’t ideal. She shouldn’t have come, she shouldn’t have let herself in. She could see that was a misstep. But he was the one who’d insisted she stay. He was the one who’d chased after her and offered her his home for the night.
Yeah, to stop you driving over the edge of the cliff in the middle of a bad snowstorm. Not because he was yearning for your company.The heat of her anger faded, leaving her with a strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was far too reminiscent of the way she’d felt for years. Unwanted. Surplus to requirements.
As a teenager, she’d learned that disappearing into her room was best. She’d kept a low profile in the hope of avoiding conflict, and it seemed like the best course of action now. If only she knew where she’d be sleeping tonight.
‘I—’ She opened her mouth to pose the question, but Thirio beat her to it, speaking at the exact same moment.
‘I will give you ten minutes to go through it,’ he said with a darkness to his voice that made her insides squirm.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ He crossed his arms over his chest and despite the fact he was wearing a shirt now, she saw him without and, suddenly, she could hardly think straight. Her mind went fuzzy.
‘Um, do you mind if I make a coffee?’ There was so much at stake. She had to nail this.
His nostrils flared as he exhaled. ‘How do you take it?’