Mediterranean Millionaires. Lynne Graham
to London?’
‘Next week. You’ll be informed of the arrangements.’ Angelo withdrew a card from his pocket. ‘Should you wish to talk to me…here’s my private number. You’ll be able to reach me no matter where I am.’
Gwenna accepted the card, unable to imagine why she would ever wish to voluntarily seek contact with him. Her troubled thoughts were fixed to a much more important issue and, finally, she took her courage into both hands and just asked outright, ‘What are you planning to do with this place?’
Angelo shrugged, his expression noncommittal.
His indifference to the future of the historic gardens pierced Gwenna to the heart and sank even her lowliest expectations to rock-bottom. His lack of interest was monumental and unapologetic. He didn’t do polite pretences. She reckoned that he was probably the last man alive likely to shell out cash on a venture that would struggle to survive outside the main tourist season.
Before he climbed into the limo, Angelo glanced back in her direction. She didn’t return the compliment. Scooping up the muddy little dog, which was belligerently intent on barking at the nearest car, she vanished back into the shop at speed. His aggressive jaw line clenched.
FOUR days later, Gwenna was in London. The morning after her arrival, she was met at her hotel by an elegant brunette in her thirties. A senior coordinator in Angelo Riccardi’s employ, it had been Delphine Harper who liaised with Gwenna on the phone and orchestrated all the arrangements to be made on her behalf.
‘It’s my job to ensure that you enjoy a smooth transition to city life. You have a full programme of appointments today,’ Delphine trilled with a polished smile that displayed her perfect white teeth to advantage. ‘First on the agenda, I’ve organised a viewing of the property Mr Riccardi has selected for you.’
A smooth transition? Gwenna could have wept at that useful little cover-all phrase that took no account of the drastic upheaval in her once tranquil daily existence. Only now that her contentment had been wrenched from her did she appreciate just how happy she had been pottering about with plants. The same day that Angelo had visited, her father had signed over all the property he owned. Within twenty-four hours a Rialto employee had arrived to take charge of the plant nursery. The speed of that takeover had stunned Gwenna and she’d found it very hard to hand over control of the business and the gardens she loved. She’d also had to vacate her flat above the shop in a hurry; the new manager needed the accommodation and nobody had appreciated until it was too late that she actually lived there. That had forced her to move temporarily to the Old Rectory, where everyone but her father made her feel like an unwelcome interloper.
Pressed by his daughter’s reference to his owning a second apartment in London, Donald Hamilton had released a heavy sigh. ‘I had very good reasons for keeping that a secret. Eva would have wanted me to sell it to buy a larger family place and I wanted to keep it for our retirement. My motives weren’t entirely selfish either. The current tenant is an elderly lady with a lease due for renewal. I was worried that the change of ownership would force her out.’
‘But you stayed silent about it when you had promised to disclose your assets. That must’ve made a poor impression on the Rialto legal team,’ Gwenna pointed out uncomfortably.
‘If I don’t look to my own interests, who else will?’ her father countered without remorse. ‘Of course, I’m hoping that when you get the chance, you’ll do the best you can to ease our problems here.’
Recalling that conversation, Gwenna felt her stress level merely increase. Her father’s airy lack of concern about his dishonesty had unnerved her. When he’d stolen from Furnridge, it had not just been a case of a man with financial worries succumbing to a moment’s temptation. His problems went deeper than that. There was a weakness in her father’s character, she acknowledged unhappily. That could explain the womanising streak that had caused such havoc when he was a younger man and perhaps she had been too quick to forgive and forget his history.
‘We’ve arrived.’ Delphine’s bright tones cut through Gwenna’s anxious reflections and shot her back to the present.
Emerging from the car, Gwenna stared in astonishment at the substantial property in front of her.
Delphine shook out keys with a pronounced air of importance and unlocked the imposing front door. ‘This has to be one of the best addresses in London.’
Gwenna froze in the marble hall, gazing round in wonderment at the pillars and the elaborate staircase. Fifty questions were on the tip of her tongue. But she was too embarrassed to direct them at her companion, lest she confirm whatever mortifying suspicions the brunette already had about Gwenna’s precise relationship with her fabulously wealthy employer.
‘It is a very large property, and don’t be misled by its age. The house enjoys air-conditioning, touch-pad electronic controls, an integrated sound system and amazing security features,’ Delphine declared.
The official tour began and stretched from a basement swimming pool, gym and wine cellar right up through the floors above and a bewildering parade of vast empty rooms and high-tech bathrooms.
Delphine started to look a shade anxious at Gwenna’s continuing silence. ‘The mews house at the rear has staff accommodation and garaging. Now let me show you the garden, which I believe is of special interest to you. It’s large and sheltered and south-facing.’
‘Please excuse me for a few minutes…er, I need to call your boss.’ Gwenna squeezed the words from her dry mouth and retreated into one of the lower rooms to fumble through her bag until she located the card Angelo had given her. As she punched out the number on her mobile she blinked and shook her head several times.
The minute she heard his voice she burst into speech. ‘It’s Gwenna. I’m sorry to disturb you.’
Angelo almost smiled and gave his PA a wave of dismissal. ‘Not at all, gioia mia.’
‘It’s just you said you’d sort out accommodation, and I’m being shown this house and I don’t understand. It’s a stonking great enormous mansion with eight bedrooms!’
Angelo spun round in his office chair to enjoy a view of the Manhattan skyline. ‘All the properties that I use must enjoy three essentials—the maximum space, privacy and security available.’
‘Yes, but a house that must be worth millions is utterly insane in these circumstances unless…er…You’re not planning on moving in with me, are you?’ Gwenna gasped in an appalled tone. That was the sole explanation for such extravagant expenditure that made sense to her.
Silence hummed at the other end of the line. Angelo was gritting his even white teeth. She might have the grace of a gazelle but she also had the diplomacy of a rampaging elephant. Didn’t she know anything about him at all? Had not even the mildest curiosity stirred her into surfing the internet or checking out the gossip pages? He didn’t do commitment or live-in arrangements.
‘Naturally, I’m not planning to move in,’ he murmured with deflating cool. ‘I’m sorry if that’s a disappointment.’
‘Oh, my goodness, no!’ Gwenna asserted at a much more cheerful pitch, quite impervious to the presence of the snub she was delivering. ‘We wouldn’t suit each other at all. But that doesn’t explain the house when we won’t last five minutes together. All this trouble and expense is so unnecessary.’
Angelo’s eyes flashed tawny-gold. ‘Perhaps you would like me to take you to some cheap hotel that hires out rooms by the hour!’
Gwenna bit down on her ready tongue. She was shocked to realise that she was trembling. Honesty obviously didn’t pay with him, she reflected uneasily. She had made him angry and she knew that wasn’t a good idea. She dared not say what she had almost said for fear of provoking him even more. But, in her opinion, the fancy trappings