‘Well, it’s very clear. You see, my father was very...’ she searched for a word that was more socially acceptable than ‘misogynistic’ ‘...old-fashioned.’
He dipped his head forward. ‘And this is a problem?’
She ignored his interjection. He’d understand, soon enough.
‘He never believed women to be capable of managing their own financial affairs.’ She couldn’t look at Luca as she spoke, and so didn’t see the expression of disgust that briefly marred his handsome features. And with good reason—since rebuilding his family empire, Luca had prided himself on employing a diverse workforce. His executive team was made up of more women than men. It had never occurred to him to discriminate based on gender.
‘When my parents married, my mother signed over her life savings to him—she’d been an actress, quite successful here in Italy, and had earned well. But she was very young—only just twenty, whereas he was nineteen years older. She loved him.’ Olivia’s voice curled with a hint of disdain at the very idea of love, and Luca, who was an expert in nuance, responded to the subtle inflection by leaning infinitesimally closer. ‘She trusted him.’ It was impossible to flatten the emotion from her tone, but she didn’t convey the depths of her anger—how her father had abused that trust, because young Angelica had made one mistake, had a silly youthful indiscretion, and for that she’d been punished every day for the rest of her life, no matter how hard she tried to fix things, no matter how often she apologised. Olivia turned to face him, her clear, blue eyes spiking through his black. ‘My father managed everything, so that when he died, she had no idea how their affairs were arranged. She couldn’t have known that he’d manipulated the estate to curtail everything away from her.’
‘What reason could your father have had for doing this?’
His incredulity touched something in the pit of her stomach.
‘He was angry with her,’ she mouthed, clearing her throat, the barbarism of her father’s final act something that had stung her for years. Olivia waved a hand through the air. ‘It was ancient history by the time he died, a silly mistake my mother made, many years earlier. Clearly nothing can justify his decision.’
Luca compressed his lips, and her eyes fell to them, so something white hot radiated from low down in her abdomen, spreading through her body with fierce urgency, stealing her breath and weakening her knees. She wrenched her gaze away, unable to make sense of the emotions that were rioting through her. The truth was, the unmistakable rush of desire she felt for him made her want to turn tail and run, to hide from the things she was experiencing. Olivia considered herself to be an expert at hiding her feelings, but she was also used to her feelings making much more sense.
‘He was never going to leave any part of the family fortune to our mother, nor to me and Sienna.’
‘Nothing about that makes sense. Does he have other children? From an earlier relationship?’
‘No.’ An anguished smile tormented her beautiful face. ‘If only it were that simple. There’s only us. And in order to know that the money would be in safe hands, he had his will drafted to specify that Sienna and I must marry, by our twenty-fifth birthdays. Only then will our portion of inheritance become legally ours. Only then could he trust “his money” would be in safe hands.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She was granted a very small stipend. But it’s been lessening every year and stops completely when we turn twenty-five. My birthday is next month.’
She caught the coarse swear word he issued from between clenched teeth. ‘With respect, your father sounds like a jackass.’
Her eyes flew wide, and amusement bubbled through her. Were the situation not so very dire, she might have given into it and laughed, or even leaned forward and pressed her hand to his chest, to share the moment of agreement, but worry still dragged at her every breath.
‘He was...very set in his ways,’ she said, puzzling at the deep sense of loyalty that still ran through her. Even after all he’d done, after the nightmare he’d made all their lives, she felt driven to defend him.
Luca made a sound that suggested her description barely scratched the surface.
‘I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t completely desperate.’ Her voice snagged a little and she angled her face away, wondering why she was finding it so difficult to hold onto her usual reserve. ‘When my father died, I was only twelve. I had no control of our finances, no insight into what my mother was spending. She continued to rack up enormous debts, maxing out all the credit cards she had, as well as a hefty line of credit set against the house. By the time I was old enough to see what was going on, things were dire. I have tried, Luca. I have tried to fix things, but there is never enough money to make even a dint in the debt. I have to work jobs close to home, and that limits my options, plus I’m not qualified for anything.’ She shook her head, surprised at how much she was confessing to him. It was as though, having started, she couldn’t put a lid on her feelings.
Drawing in a deep breath, Olivia tried again. ‘We have lived on the breadline for years. I have scrimped and saved and done everything I can to get by, but it’s no use. If it were just me, I would walk out of Hughenwood House and never look back. But I can’t leave my mother saddled with hundreds of thousands of pounds in debt. I can’t let my father do this to Mum and Sienna.’ Not on top of everything else he’d already done. ‘I won’t let him do this to us.’ The words were laced with a quiet, determined vehemence, but it was clear that they came from the very depths of her being.
‘As I said, your father sounds like a jackass.’ A hint of sympathy softened the words, surprising her and bringing an ache to her throat. ‘But I cannot see why you have sought me out to tell me all this, unless you think my father has some control over the will?’ He scanned her face, and she had the strangest sensation he was pulling her apart, piece by piece. ‘If that is the case, I must disappoint you. I have no sway with my father. You would be better to approach him directly, believe me.’
‘No, no, that’s not it.’ She fluttered a hand through the air then brought it to the bridge of her nose, pinching it between forefinger and thumb. ‘If I don’t get married soon, per the will, then the inheritance defaults to my second cousin. It’s not just the money, but our home. Our family home.’ To Olivia’s chagrin, her voice cracked, and she tilted her chin defiantly, angered by the weak emotional display, and even more so by the fact the house still meant so much to her, despite the unhappiness they’d experienced within its walls. ‘It’s the only home my mother has, and it would kill her to have to leave.’
He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I’m not a matchmaker, cara.Besides, I find it hard to believe you would have any difficulty finding a man willing to play the part of your groom.’
As he offered the compliment, his eyes slid lower, to the outline of her breasts, barely revealed by the boxy linen shirt she wore. Despite that, heat simmered in her veins and, to her shame, her nipples puckered against the fabric of her bra, straining—but for what? Her eyes flew to his hands and she knew what she wanted, needed. For him to touch her. Intimately. All over.
She swallowed a groan and looked away, using every ounce of her determination to maintain a frigid expression.
‘It cannot be any man.’ Her voice took on a wooden quality. ‘My father was explicit about that too.’
Silence hummed and crackled between them, anticipation stretching her nerves to breaking point. Did he know what was coming? She risked a glance at him but was none the wiser; she couldn’t read what he was thinking.
‘I have to marry you, Luca. No one else. You.’