‘Your father died?’
Turbulent emotions raged in her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘And then what?’
Her eyes fluttered as she sought an answer. ‘And then, my sister and I picked up the reins.’
‘Of the household?’
‘There was no one else to do it.’
‘Your mother?’
Olivia laughed now, a bitter sound. ‘My mother has many skills, but housework is not one of them.’
He frowned. ‘You were, what, twelve years old?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your sister?’
‘Eleven.’
‘And at those tender ages, it was decided that you and she had more abilities around the house than your mother did?’
‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,’ Olivia responded dryly, the words spoken as if by rote, leaving him in little doubt they’d been parroted to her often.
‘And you juggled schoolwork as well?’
‘Not particularly well,’ Olivia said with obvious regret. ‘My grades started to slip after Dad passed. I changed schools, so that didn’t help—everything was new. But there was also a lot to do, which left little time for studying.’
‘Or socialising,’ he prompted thoughtfully.
She nodded her agreement.
‘Anyway, that’s ancient history.’
It was, quite clearly, designed to shut the conversation down.
‘Have you eaten here before?’
‘Whenever I’m in Venice.’
‘Which is how often?’
‘A few times a year.’
‘Why?’
He lifted a brow.
‘Do you have an office here?’
‘No.’
‘Then why Venice?’
‘I like it.’