He paused before answering, unwilling to utter the words he hadn’t said aloud for a very long time, not since he’d wailed it as a pathetic little boy to the housekeeper who’d been the closest thing he’d known to a mother.
‘No. He hates me.’
Shock darkened Ruby’s eyes.
He sat back down abruptly, and willed back the control he’d felt slipping from him since he’d walked into the poker den in Macau last night. He glanced up and saw sympathy blazing from Ruby’s face. The rawness abated a little but, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake off the unsettling emptiness inside him.
He swallowed his water and set the glass down.
‘Enough about me. Tell me about your father.’
She stiffened. ‘I’d rather not.’
‘You were ready to share just a little while ago.’ He settled deeper into his seat and watched her face. And it was a stunning face. The combination of innocence and defiance in her eyes kept him intrigued. She didn’t hide her emotions very well. Right now, she was fighting pain and squirming with a desire to change the subject.
The sudden urge to help her, to offer the same sympathy she’d just exhibited, took him by surprise.
Dio, what was wrong with him?
This woman who’d flown thousands of miles after him was an enigma. An enigma with daddy issues. He should be staying well clear.
He leaned forward. ‘Since you seem shocked by the depth of my...feelings towards Giacomo, I’m assuming your feelings towards your father are much less...volatile?’
Those full lips he wanted to taste again so badly pressed together for a moment. ‘I don’t hate my father, no. But I prefer to keep my distance from them.’
‘Them?’
She fidgeted. ‘You’re going to find out anyway. My parents are Ricardo and Paloma Trevelli.’
Her stare held a little defiance and a whole load of vulnerability. ‘Sorry, you lost me.’
A delicate frown marred her perfect skin. Again his fingers ached to touch. Soon, he promised himself.
‘How come you own several media companies and yet have no clue what goes on in the world?’
‘My line of work doesn’t mean I compromise my privacy. So your parents are famous?’
Her eyelids swept down to cover her expression. ‘You could say that. They’re famous celebrity TV chefs.’
‘And their fame disgusts you?’ he deduced.
Blue eyes flicked to his. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Your voice. Your eyes. Your body. They all give you away, Ruby Trevelli.’ He loved the way her name sounded on his lips. He wanted to keep saying it... ‘So you despise them for being famous and cashing in on it. Isn’t that what you’re doing?’
‘No! I’d never whore myself the way—’ She stopped and bit her lip.
‘Do they know you have this view of them?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘They’ve chosen a lifestyle I prefer not to be a part of. It’s that simple.’