The Devil to Pay (12 page)

“This is it.” Daniel announced as he guided her to the far side of the restaurant area.

The structure was balanced on craggy wooden stilts rammed like daggers into the rocks. The drop was excruciatingly sheer as Rianna leaned nervously forward. Clinging to the low wall for safety, she could only see a heavily-forested valley and mustard-yellow rocks a very,
very
long way down.

She let out a long puff of breath as she withdrew to a safe distance and felt the prickle of cold sweat on her upper lip. “I think it’s about time you bought me that stiff drink, don’t you?”

Rianna scanned the marble statues dotted around the outside area as she waited for Daniel to collect some menus from reception. The mountain breeze was warm and light as it kissed her face and carried with it the distant roar of the sea. She couldn’t fault his choice of venue. It was a perfect location for easing the board into her way of thinking. A few glasses of good wine and a fantastic meal could mean the quarry stood a chance.

Her stomach suddenly churned at the thought of what was to come, the responsibility on her shoulders and how much she hated public speaking. How she would get through it without making a mistake she had no idea, let alone be persuasive and charming and inspiring...

“I’ve ordered water, wine and a stiff gin,” Daniel said as he scraped back a metal chair to sit down. “Will that do you?”

“Perfect,” she replied, taking the sheaf of paperwork he was offering her. “It’s beautiful here. I think our directors will be suitably impressed. Shame about the access issue though.”

“Access? Oh, you mean the cable car?” He placed his hands neatly behind his head to display the sculpted triangle of his torso. “It’s fixable. There’s a narrow service road, and I can always arrange for the helicopter to ferry us up. However, most people see the cable car ride as part of the adventure, a thrill.”

“Not me.”

“Indeed.” He poured iced water for them both. “I’ll put some feelers out and see if any of our financiers have a heart condition or phobia. Either way, you won’t have to make that trip again unless you want to.”

“I’d be grateful. It won’t improve my presentation skills if I’m a gibbering, pukey wreck.”

“And if they need some exercise after lunch, there’s a religious sanctuary a few hundred metres away that people visit to make offerings for miracles at sea. It’s said the Virgin appeared to a peasant there a few centuries ago and left him with a picture of herself, which is still there today. We can walk round later—”

“No, thanks,” she replied quietly. “I gave up the wishful thinking stuff some time ago.”

“You did?”

“When I was old enough to put a few reasonable thoughts together, yes.” She stared at him coldly. “Let’s put it this way. I lost my mum when I was three and my dad drank himself to death over the next decade and a half. If there’s some sort of deity out there, it’s got to be a cruel one in my opinion. I’ll stick with the luck idea, thanks.” Her gaze drifted off into the distance. “You must have seen the state of all those chapels—there are three on Laura Street alone—so dark and forbidding. We went to one every Sunday, but it always terrified me. Maybe that’s the whole idea, monstrous buildings putting the fear of God into small children. I don’t think I could ever find my soul in a place like that. It’s almost worse than the grave itself.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. “So you’re happy with this place?”

“It’s fabulous, yes.”

“Good, then we can relax once you’ve decided on a menu.” He watched as she rifled through the corporate event paperwork and scanned each document carefully. “But if you’d like my advice, go for Menu C: lots of rustic mountain food. They’ll love it. It reminds them of their childhoods, I suspect. Oh, and I forgot to mention that Barabino’s is a reservation only establishment. That way they can keep standards exceptionally high and the tourist mobs to an absolute minimum. I’ve taken the liberty of booking out the whole place for the meeting at the end of the week. I hope that’s OK with you.”

“Of course! You’ve been very kind about all this.” She tapped the bundle of menus on the table to form a neat rectangle. “Anyone would think you actually wanted to save the quarry with the amount of effort you’re putting in.”

He let out a low whistle. “You know quite well how I feel about the place, so don’t try and put words in my mouth to give yourself false hope. I’m determined to play fair on this, to give you all the best chance possible, but believe me when I say I’m really only putting myself out for
you
.”

She quickly reached for the gin and tonic. “I’m not sure how to reply to that,” she mumbled before taking a long, cool sip of the drink.

“How about telling me what you plan to do if the quarry
has
to be sold off then? There are no guarantees after all. What about the gap year you never had? I’m sure we can arrange a very favourable redundancy package to finance it.”

A sudden chill entered her bones as she realised that she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Her mind had been so full of the coming presentation and the whirlwind events of the last twenty-four hours and of Daniel’s kisses...

“You’ll never have to ask yourself such a question, will you?” There was a throaty edge to her voice as she forged ahead. “There will always be a job for you, a place in society. In fact, do you even need to work at all?”

“No.”

“Then why do it? Wouldn’t you rather spend your time as a jet-set playboy?”

“Because,”—he shrugged his broad shoulders—“it’s what I do, what makes me who I am. It gives me meaning. On paper, academically, I’m left wanting, but I’ve hauled the business into shape without the certificates in the end. I don’t think Dad ever thought I would.” He drummed his fingers on the table briefly. “He despaired of me when I was younger, but I’ve redeemed myself by turning his thousands into millions over the last few years. Not that he’s in the least bit interested in money.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

Daniel’s laugh was hollow. “Maybe, it’s hard to tell. He was never one for grand gestures as far as I was concerned and nothing’s changed in that respect.”

“What about your mum? Eliza, isn’t it? Tomos was always talking about her, wishing she would join him on his trips to the UK. He complained quite often about missing female company.”

“Oh, he’s a crafty old devil, Rianna. It looks like you fell for his charm like all the ladies do. I’ve often wondered if he secretly would have preferred a daughter to me, you know. He certainly saved all his best moments for the women of the family. And Mamma’s real name is Elsie, but,”—he chuckled and shook his head—“she’s always insisted
Eliza
sounds less common.”

Rianna smiled back into the ultramarine sparkle of his eyes, and felt a treacherous shiver of desire zip through her. “Did she ever come over? As I recall, I never saw her onsite.”

“You have got to be kidding! Mamma hasn’t set foot back in the UK since they left for Italy in the seventies. Wild horses wouldn’t drag her from the sun and the life she has here. Not even to visit Nonna, I might add, which is
not
to her credit. And not even to visit me.”

“Visit you?”

“I spent quite a bit of time in your green valley. I was sent to the Polytechnic for my degree. Dad wanted me to have as normal a life as possible, away from the paparazzi and the gold diggers, so the usual universities were out of the question and also my qualifications were quite poor. He wanted somewhere I could disappear into the crowd and it worked. You have to give him credit for that. A false identity and a secretly funded place for a law degree was just the ticket. A respectable degree, something with prospects. I hated every minute of it.”

“So you chucked it in?”

“Ultimately, yes.”

“So our paths may have crossed in town before, but I’m sure I’d have remembered...”

“You’re how old?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Ah, well, I went back to Italy with my tail between my legs at least three years before you were old enough to go in a pub on your own, but it does beg the question ‘what if?’ doesn’t it?”

Her voice hardened. “Nothing wouldn’t have happened.”

“Why not? Do you think I was an ugly duckling or something? I wasn’t checking out Tolstoy and playing computer games like some sort of nerd, believe me, and thankfully, spots were never an affliction I suffered from.”

“I’m afraid I rarely got out.” She tilted her head. “The social side of things, well, I just couldn’t afford it even if Dad had allowed it, and I took my studies seriously. I had to. In the end there was no one else to take care of us. There still isn’t. Just me, sink or swim.”

Daniel stared into his drink. “Sounds grim.”

“And things are still dire in case you’re wondering. Gran can’t survive on just her state pension so I have to look after her and I really don’t expect the state will be supporting me in my old age. If I make it that far.” She sighed. “It’s boring and dull and predictable I know, but nobody owes me a living. I’d hate to be dependent on anyone, but apart from today, which was business, I don’t think it’s a dilemma I will be faced with too often. There’s not exactly a queue of guardian angels forming to bail out Rianna Peters.”

“Only because you’re hidden most of the time.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied defiantly.

“So am I wrong?”

“It’s all relative. My lifestyle could never compare with what you’re used to.”

“Maybe not. But you don’t know much about me either, do you? How do you know I’m not a reclusive virgin butterfly collector?”

Rianna was unable to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Because my instinct tells me so. I might be an impoverished Welsh duffer, but I could never imagine
you
living a life of contrition and celibacy.”

“Ah, celibacy? No. It would be like death for me. I’m a man, an
Italian
man. There’s a biological reason why blood continues to flow through my veins, why my heart continues to beat, why there is a purpose to all this.”

“Purpose?”

“Of course. One day, an heir to continue it all. Many of them, maybe. I’m an only child so it’s my duty. My destiny.”

“So there’s a fiancée in waiting?” Rianna replied stiffly, dreading his answer. “I can’t imagine you go long without female company.”

“I’m never short of a choice of willing companions if I want them, but it gets tiresome. The predictability, the tantrums, the disgusting ultimatums.”

“But more fun than your
nonna
’s cats?”

“Actually, no.” He laughed uneasily. “It’s easier to boot them out on their furry backsides than it is to prise off some high society harpy when she smells money and status.”

His look of disgust as he spoke made a bubble of amusement rise within Rianna. It was shameful of her, but hearing him speak so damningly about the women in his past pleased her enormously. She knew it was incredibly bitchy of her, but the thought of him having a special, stunningly gorgeous woman in his life was unbearable. Especially if her name happened to be Isabella...

“Anyway.” Daniel stole a look at his watch, “Gianpiero should be here any minute now with the helicopter. The flight should last less than five minutes. Ready?”

“Y-yes, I suppose so.”

“I can get him to turn back and bring the car?” He regarded her with interest. “I just thought you’d like to get back sooner rather than later.”

“Of course,” she injected, a steely note into her voice. “That would be great. I need to work on my presentation.”

“And as I’m not driving, I’ll be there to hold your hand if you need me to.”

“That probably won’t be necessary.”

He smiled. “Pity.”

Chapter Nine

The brief helicopter journey was better than Rianna anticipated. The powerful surge of the engine with the hulk of Gianpiero at the controls was a lot less terrifying than the cable car swinging helplessly in the breeze. Or maybe it was the reassuring proximity of Daniel’s broad shoulders and powerful thighs.

The raw physical attraction to him made her chest feel tight and her head dizzy. Oh, God, she really needed to get a grip. Her normally ordered brain was all over the place. She’d never been so far out of her boring, dull, and predictable comfort zone.

The Mediterranean Sea glittered a silvered aquamarine and turquoise below the helicopter as it banked to land on a helipad situated above and behind Villa Gabbiano.

Daniel put his hand on Rianna’s knee and flashed her a grin. “You did very well there, Ms. Peters. No squeals or complaining or vomiting.
Magnifico
!”

Rianna winced in reply, but made no attempt to remove his palm from her leg. To draw attention to it might embarrass Gianpiero, she reasoned inwardly. She shivered as the noise of the rotor blades receded, and the tips of his fingers rubbed against the fine fabric stretched along the length of her thigh. Damn the man. Daniel Bracchi had to be one of the most charismatic men alive...

They landed on large circle of gravel set within the confines of an enormous gated rock wall. In front of them lay the top of the villa and the sea which was so vast Portofino harbour looked like a model village, courted by the odd speck of a shipping vessel and seabirds passing by. The building blazed with a stark whiteness, indicating regular maintenance without a spot of the rust or algae common in the region. Rianna followed Daniel down a short flight of steps to a shady portico. A keypad allowed them into a dark hallway which in turn led onto an enormous living area with cool terracotta flooring.

“Can I fetch you a drink? You may be interested to know I’ve given the staff the rest of the day off.” He swung round from the enormous window to face her. “I thought we could cook up a couple of steaks on the terrace woodstove tonight. With a good bottle of Prosecco. Would you like that?”

Rianna smiled with relief. The man was a mind reader. “Did I make it obvious yesterday that I’m uncomfortable with staff waiting on us hand and foot?” She took note of the antiques and tapestries scattered around and cringed as she recalled the stilted dinner service the night before. “Do you mind roughing it to humour me?”