She declined when Narciso invited her to join them at the dinner table. Although his eyes narrowed in displeasure, there was very little he could do about it, much to her relief.
She was preparing a round of after-dinner cocktails when she looked up and gasped.
Giacomo was framed in the penthouse doorway.
Her gaze swung to Narciso; frozen, she watched his head turn and his body tense as he saw his father.
For several seconds, they eyed each other across the room.
Giacomo sauntered in as if he belonged. Several guests, sensing the altered atmosphere, glanced between father and son.
‘Hey, watch it!’
She jerked and looked down to find she’d overfilled a glass and the lime-green cocktail was spilling over the counter.
Setting the shaker down, she grabbed a napkin.
‘Bona sira, Ruby,’ came the mocking voice. ‘How lovely you look.’
Her head snapped up and connected with Giacomo’s steely gaze. Surprise that he hadn’t headed straight for his son held her immobile. Long enough for him to calmly reach across the counter, take her hand and press a kiss on her knuckles.
She tried to snatch her hand away but he held on tight, a triumphant smile playing about his lips. ‘Play along, little one, and all your problems will go away,’ he said in a low voice.
‘I have no intention of playing along with anything.’
‘It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Narciso is infatuated with you. He’ll see what I want him to see.’
With the clarity of a klaxon, everything fell into place.
She’d been played. Giacomo had always intended this to be his revenge. By meeting with him last night, she’d only given him more ammunition.
Heart shattering, she glanced over to where Narciso stood stock still, his eyes icy lakes of shock.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘NARCISO—’
‘Don’t speak.’
Narciso paced in his office, marvelling at how his voice emerged so calm, so collected, when his insides bled from a million poisonous cuts.
‘Listen to him, bedda. He’s prone to childish tantrums when he’s upset. Just look at how he threw out all his guests a few minutes ago—’
‘Shut up, old man, or so help me I’ll bury my fist in your face.’
Giacomo shook his head and glanced at Ruby in a what-did-I-say? manner.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Ruby told me you were having a party. I decided to invite myself.’
‘I didn’t—!’
‘Ruby told you? When?’ Narciso’s gaze swung to her, then returned to his father.
‘Last night, when she met me for dinner.’