‘Come and eat,’ he said, and his voice was still weary. Dispassionate.
He let go her hands and they felt cold suddenly—which was strange, for surely they had been colder clutching the glass of water. She levered herself up, effort though it was, and followed him into the dining room. The table—more glass and chrome—was already set for two, and she sank down gratefully on the chair at its foot. Luca sat down at the head.
A moment later Ariana heard voices in the kitchen beyond, and the clink of crockery.
‘There’s an entrance to my kitchen from the service elevator,’ Luca informed her, as two young women came into the dining room, carrying small plates.
He murmured something to them and they both smiled at him. Ariana could tell they were impressed by him, responding to his lethal looks, his air of understated wealth and power.Poor fools, she thought, and then envied them for not knowing his true nature.
He gave a cool nod and they set down the plates. One of them fetched a bottle of opened wine from the kitchen, presenting it to him and receiving another cool nod in return, while the other wheeled in a trolley bearing two large plates with silvered covers, and two dessert plates containingtarte au citron.
‘Grazie,’Luca said to them, and nodded in dismissal. They disappeared silently, closing the kitchen door behind them.
Ariana looked down at the plate in front of her. Some kind of vegetable terrine with dressed leaves. She wondered if she felt hungry, but she could not tell.
‘You need to eat.’
Luca’s voice came from the far end of the table and mechanically she picked up her fork and made a start. It was, in fact, delicious. Maybe she was hungry after all. Her eating had been erratic these last weeks as she’d worked every hour on finishing off client projects, snatching sandwiches here and there, nothing more than that.
Luca poured himself a glass of white wine, but did not offer her any. She stuck to water.
She went on eating, steadily demolishing the terrine and then reaching for a bread roll, consuming that too. It seemed strange to be dining with Luca Farnese again—although ‘strange’ was an understatement if ever there was one.
The third time I’ve done so.
But this time would be different from the previous two. This time... She felt her throat tighten. This time she would not be falling into bed with him...
She yanked her mind from the thought. Danger lapped at her like a dark, drowning tide. She pushed her empty plate away. Luca had finished too, and without speaking he got to his feet, picking up his own plate and collecting hers, replacing them with the larger plates, removing the silver covers.
It was chicken in a lightly creamy sauce, with new potatoes and French beans. It, too, was delicious, and Ariana realised she was eating with a will. But that was all. Otherwise an air of unreality was possessing her. Right now she should be landing in London, ready to remake her life. Instead—
Her thoughts cut out. It was impossible to think of anything right now.
Impossible to accept what was happening or where she was.
Impossible.
She heard Luca start to speak, cutting across her thoughts.
‘So,’ he said, ‘where were you heading off to?’
She forked another mouthful of tender chicken. ‘I was leaving Italy,’ she said tonelessly.
‘America, perhaps? Your mother? You mentioned that evening in New York that she lives in Florida now.’
Ariana glanced at him. ‘My mother? No! She’s the last person I’d go to!’ There was more expression in her voice now. ‘I know exactly what she’d tell me about my being pregnant. She’d tell me to get rid of it!’ Something emptied out of her voice as she went on. ‘The way she’s always told me she wishes she’d done with me—’
She broke off, seizing up her water and taking a gulp. Luca’s eyes stayed on her. She looked across at him, meeting them square-on. If Luca Farnese wanted the whole sorry tale he could have it, and he’d be welcome to it.
‘She got pregnant at nineteen by the man she’d run off with—my father. Who was a fortune-hunter. Plus a gambler and an alcoholic. She’s always said he got her pregnant deliberately, in order to increase the size of the pay-off he was after from my grandfather.’
She paused, eyeballing Luca. His face was expressionless.
‘It’s not an edifying tale.’ She gave a half-shrug of her thin shoulder. ‘Well, he got his pay-off and I got his name—he had to marry my mother as part of the deal my grandfather insisted on. Then he got a speedy divorce the moment I arrived in the world. My mother went back to my grandfather, but bolted again the moment she could—yet another elopement. This time, luckily for her, with a man who could afford her. As for me... I was left at thepalazzo.’
Her expression changed. Softened without her realising it.
‘My uncle and his wife took me on. They lived there. My uncle was a gentle soul, and so was his wife—it’s where Mia gets her sweet nature from, I suppose—and, unlike my mother, my uncle never defied his father.’ She paused, and her eyes suddenly had a faraway look, as if she was back in a past long-vanished. ‘I was happy with them... Even after Mia was born they were still kind and affectionate towards me. It might all have worked out OK, except—’