The Italian Billionaire's Secret Love-Child(50)

Charlotte took up position on one of the pale blue comfy chairs facing the door and leant forward, hands clasped over one crossed knee.



As always, the impact of seeing him momentarily took her breath away as he entered the room, one hand tucked elegantly into his trouser pocket. It was still early. The tie was still on. Usually, when he’d returned to the house in the early evenings, the tie would have been off, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, as though restlessness had got the better of him during the course of the day.



She winced at the unwelcome reminder of what it had been like to share a house with him.



‘How could you?’ she demanded bluntly, watching as he sauntered over to a chair and book up position facing her. Charlotte stood up, walked across to the table groaning under the weight of newspapers, and picked up one of the tabloids, opening it to the centre pages and dumping it on his lap so that he could see the headlines in all their glory—TYCOON’S LOVE-CHILD IN TUG OF WAR!



Riccardo glanced down at it with disinterest. ‘You should never read the gossip columns, Charlie. I never do.’



‘Well, bully for you, Riccardo!’ She planted herself in front of him, hands on her hips. ‘I have no ivory towers to hide behind! I have to go out to work and take Gina to school, and there are reporters swarming everywhere!’ Slight exaggeration, prompted by his cool-as-a-cucumber attitude. ‘They’re making life a living hell for us, Riccardo,’ she continued, gratified to see that he at least seemed to be giving her words some consideration. ‘They’re asking questions, and even though I don’t give them answers they’re still jotting stuff down, so I’m in constant fear of what I’ll read in the press!’



‘How is Gina dealing with the attention?’



Seems fairly thrilled. ‘Distraught.’



‘She didn’t seem too distraught when I spoke to her on the telephone last night.’



‘She’s hiding it well. She doesn’t want to let you down.’ She swept one hand through her hair and returned to flop down on the chair. ‘Did you have to go and tell them all that stuff about proposing marriage and being turned down? You could have just kept a low profile and everything would have blown over by now. Instead, what do you do? Blather on about values and tradition, making me out to be selfish and heartless!’



‘I did warn you that the press might get involved.’

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‘Yes, I know that! But did you have to be so…long winded with them?’



‘I’ve found that it’s the only way to get rid of them. The slightest hint of any cloak and dagger stuff and they immediately think that there’s something to hide. Give them the barest bones and then walk away.’



‘I wouldn’t call your marriage proposal the “barest bones”. Actually, I think that would come under the heading of some pretty meaty stuff,’ Charlotte said waspishly.



‘Have you had any breakfast?’



‘How can I eat?’ She glared at him. ‘My stomach’s a mess.’



‘I’ll get them to bring you up something. Scrambled eggs on toast all right?’



It sounded yummy to Charlotte. ‘I’m not hungry. I’ve completely lost my appetite with all that’s been going on.’



‘Mmm. Yes. Believe me, I do understand.’ For a woman with no appetite and nerves that were shredded, she still managed to look damned sexy in that little pinstriped number. ‘I was a little taken aback when I first found my face in the Italian nationals for something trivial.’



‘I’m more than a little taken aback, Riccardo.’



‘I’d get them off your case if I could, but…’ He shrugged elegantly and rose to his feet to get them both a cup of coffee. His secretary had seen fit to brew some fresh when she’d known that he required use of the top floor. He was back within minutes, carrying two cups of steaming coffee and a plate of biscuits which Charlotte briefly considered ignoring, before giving in to hunger. The truth was she really hadn’t eaten any breakfast. The reporters by the gate had unnerved her, and besides Gina’s costume had been patched together virtually at the eleventh hour. She had still been sewing on buttons when Gina had sat down for her bowl of cereal.



‘But what? If you wanted to, you could…could tell them to back off.’



‘They’re having a field day at the moment with this,’ Riccardo drawled, stretching out his legs and sipping from the china cup which looked inappropriate in his big hands. ‘The world’s a grim place, and in a grim place there’s nothing like some juicy gossip to lighten the atmosphere.’