‘Oh.’ Gina slumped. ‘All my friends have dads.’
‘And so do you, honey!’
‘Their dads live with them.’
‘And, well…’ Charlotte cast her mind around wildly for the least aggressive way of saying what she had to say. ‘I’m sure your dad would too but he’s a very important man who has lots and lots of big companies, and he just can’t run them from a small, tiny house like ours.’ She shook her head ruefully and shot Riccardo a look that should have turned him to stone.
Riccardo met her look steadily and mouthed, above Gina’s head, ‘Forget it’. Then he smiled down at his daughter. ‘Your mum’s right about one thing, Gina. I do have lots of companies to look after, but that’s why we couldn’t go back to the house straightaway.’
‘Why?’
‘Because lots of men are there right now making sure that I have everything I need to work as much as I can from home.’
‘What?’ The polite groups of people glanced across, and Charlotte modulated her voice to a venomous hiss. ‘What?’
‘Computer, fax, internet access, the lot,’ Riccardo told her coolly.
Between them, Gina could barely contain herself, while Charlotte gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. How could he? How could he just think that he could walk through her door and take up residence? But she knew, of course. One reason was Ben, the non-existent fiancé whom Riccardo regarded as a threat, but far weightier than that was his determination to be a full-time father to his child. Lord knew he had no feelings towards her, but that, Charlotte realised, would just be a minor sticking point for him. He was Italian, and family was all.
‘You can’t, Riccardo,’ she told him in a sibilant undertone.
‘I can and I will and don’t even think of stopping me.’ He beamed at Gina and pointed to the small, exclusive sportswear shop. ‘You run and pick yourself a swimsuit.’
‘I’ll call the police!’
‘And say what—that Gina’s father wants to share the same house as his daughter? That he would even be willing to buy his family as big a house as they want to accommodate his simple wish?’#p#分页标题#e#
‘Oh please! Since when have you ever done anything that could be classified as simple?’
I once loved you. The thought flashed into Riccardo’s head and disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving him momentarily shaken. Then he remembered that those times were gone and, standing in front of him now, she was simply the mother of his child, and moreover the woman who wanted to come between them.
‘Don’t argue with me, Charlie.’
‘You’re the most high handed, arrogant, pig headed man I have ever met in my entire life!’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ He allowed himself a triumphant smile at the notion that Ben the cook would no longer be able to come and go in his daughter’s life as he pleased.
‘And where do you imagine you’re going to sleep?’
‘Guest room. To start with.’
‘To start with?’ Charlotte felt faint.
‘I might decide to build an extension, although I have to admit it would be easier all round if we just moved into a bigger house. And you’re in the perfect position to find the ideal place. Why don’t you consider it a priority? That way I won’t get under your feet too much.’
‘You…you can’t.’
Riccardo sighed. ‘We’re just going over old ground here, Charlie. Why fight the inevitable?’ He glanced to where Gina was dangling a swimsuit and gesticulating madly. She wanted them both to swim, and had picked out an especially charming swimsuit for Charlotte in horrible hues of blues and reds which was clearly designed for maximum exposure. Charlotte declined, preferring to watch them both from the sidelines of the pool where she could stew in frustrated silence. Riccardo, she noted sourly, was doing extraordinary things on the bonding front—teaching Gina how to swim breast stroke, tossing her into the air, balancing her on his shoulders so that she could stumble off with squeals of laughter. He didn’t look at Charlotte once. But then why should he? she thought. He had got his own way after all.
The whole afternoon, drifting into early evening, was a nightmare. They ate in the restaurant, with Riccardo playing the good dad and compelling her into the role of either good mum or utterly miserable sour-faced mum.
By the time they were on their way back to the house, Charlotte’s face ached from the strain of having to pretend.