by Abby Green
Then Gianni said, ‘I spent some of my summers picking vines too.’
Keelin’s heart lurched. ‘You did?’
He nodded. ‘I used to go back to Sicily with my grandfather to help pick vines for his oldest friend. That’s where I learnt everything there is to know about wine.’
‘Oh,’ Keelin said a little lamely, finding it hard not to think of a young Gianni stripped to the waist, olive skin gleaming with sweat and muscles moving sinuously as he worked.
‘I mean it, Keelin.’ He said softly now, ‘I will build you a hacienda and fill it with horses if that’s what will make you happy.’
Before, this statement might have incited her to rage, but now she felt as if he’d soothed something inside her. Dangerous. He was just using another tactic to get her where he wanted.
‘I want to work, Gianni. I want to be counted. I want a place on the board of O’Connor’s, my rightful place. That’s what I want, and I don’t think it fits in with your idea of a dutiful wife.’
His mouth firmed. They were back to square one. ‘I have to admit that it isn’t exactly how I envisaged things but that’s not to say that we can’t discuss it. I want you to be happy, Keelin.’
She knew without pursuing it that Gianni might concede her some kind of Mickey Mouse position just to placate her. She’d been too inured by her father’s ways to trust that once they were married Gianni would give her any power at all. She realised then that she’d lost the ability to trust in any man giving her what she wanted.
She hated that she’d revealed herself to him now. She’d never told anyone about how important that time in Spain had been to her. She felt exposed.
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Her weary tone matched his. ‘I can buy my own hacienda and fill it with horses if I so wish, but I’ll do it on my terms, with my own hard-earned money. I’m still going to do everything in my power to see that this marriage falls apart.’
‘That’s the annoying thing though,’ Gianni said with deceptive mildness. ‘I’ve no intention of this falling apart.’
CHAPTER FIVE
KEELIN KNEW THAT Gianni meant what he said. He would do whatever it took to get her up that aisle and then firmly sequester her somewhere out of the way while he got on with amassing power and a fortune, exactly like her father. Even though, for a second, she’d caught a glimpse of another side of Gianni. One that she never would have expected to feel empathy with.
He unfolded his arms then and checked his watch. ‘Much as I’d love to stay and chat, I have some international calls to make.’
He was backing away, leaving, and to Keelin’s horror she felt a lurch, as if all the cells in her body wanted to go with him. She took a step back.
He stopped then as if he’d just thought of something. He said silkily, ‘Oh, and I should let you know that I’ve decided to bring our wedding forward by a week, to capitalise on the success of this evening.’
Shock took a second to reverberate through her system. Her mouth opened. She’d been a fool to consider a mutual feeling of empathy for a second. He was ruthless to the bone. ‘Can you even do that?’
Gianni smiled but it was infinitely mocking. ‘With my underground connections? I can do what I like. So by this time next week we’ll be man and wife, Keelin.’
Her arms were so tight around herself that she was almost stopping the blood flow to her upper body. She forced out sarcastically, ‘Your eagerness to marry me is truly personally flattering.’
Gianni’s smile turned enigmatic. ‘I wouldn’t be so cruel as to pretend otherwise for a second.’
And with a brief hard smile, he turned and left the garden, disappearing through overhanging foliage. In a fit of delayed anger—why was it that her reactions which were usually so crystal-sharp felt more sluggish around Gianni?—Keelin made an inarticulate sound of frustration and turned around again, the view doing little to soothe her. It mocked her, as if to say, Why can’t you just be happy with this?
She looked down then and saw Gianni emerge confidently from the main hotel entrance just below. Instinctively she moved closer to the terrace wall so she could see better. His driver jumped out to open his door for him but at the last second Gianni stopped and said something to him. He pulled off his jacket and threw it into the car and turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, broad shoulders slightly hunched, head down. Dark and formidable against the mild early-summer Roman night.
Keelin drew back a little, almost as if he might turn and look up at her, catch her staring.
Curiously, her anger defused slightly. She found herself wondering why he’d decided to walk. Was he having a fit of conscience? Wondering if he really could go through with a marriage of convenience to someone who hated him?
And did she hate him? She hated this situation she was in. But she had to admit that in other circumstances she would find Gianni intriguing, and far too dangerously attractive. He was so composed. Controlled. And ruthless. Something roiled inside her to think that after all she’d been through, some part of her psyche resonated with powerful ambitious men like her father.
And then she had to realise that by pursuing this dogged and crazy plan, she was doing nothing less than exhibiting her own ruthlessness and ambition. The fact that she embodied those traits, too, did not sit well for a moment.
A very rogue image slid into Keelin’s mind; of her, coming out of the hotel behind Gianni and slipping her hand into his. And of him turning to look down, a smile on his face. The kind of easy smile that she’d seen him bestow on people all night at the party but not her. Because when he looked at her it was always with a mix of mockery, disdain or anger. But maybe he’d stop this time and turn and put his hands around her face and there would be a different look in his eyes—
What the hell was wrong with her?
Keelin whirled away from the wall with enough force to make her stumble slightly. She was breathing heavily, her heart racing. Damn Gianni Delucca. What was she doing mooning after him like some kind of groupie, forgetting about the bombshell he’d just dropped?
Keelin went back up to her suite, and once inside, she kicked off her heels and paced up and down, restless at the thought of the wedding happening in a few days. She had nothing to hide from Gianni any more. They were on a level playing pitch now, so as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed and it was still very much game on to derail this wedding and she would utilise whatever arsenal she could lay her hands on to achieve this.
As if the universe wanted to help her, Keelin noticed the front of the local newspaper that was delivered to her suite every day. It featured a colourful picture of a famous celebrity leaving the rival Chatsfield Hotel in Rome.Keelin’s mouth curved into a smile as an audacious plan took root in her head.
* * *
As Gianni approached his apartment and office building after walking from the Harrington Hotel, he still felt restless. And he knew it wasn’t just the pent-up lust in his system. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d kept his hands off Keelin after that incendiary kiss at the party. And just now? She’d looked as mad as hell and sexy with it. Her vibrant red hair tumbled over one pale shoulder. Cheeks pink, mouth still slightly swollen from that kiss. Green eyes flashing when he’d imparted the news of bringing the wedding forward, a mutinous set to her jaw.
Knowing how determined she was to get out of this marriage, Gianni had decided to bring the wedding forward, telling himself it was purely a strategic business move.
So why had he had to steel himself inwardly and call on the kind of ruthlessness he employed when making a tough business decision when he’d told her? Because when Keelin had confided in him about her time in Andalusia, it had impacted him on a level he hadn’t expected. He’d been able to see that fresh-faced image of her all too easily and it was a million miles from the kind of woman he might have believ
ed her to be, even without all the fake tan and blingy jewellery.
And the fact that she always seemed so ready to fight, to rebel, had impacted on him too. Gianni had the strong and uncomfortable feeling that life for her had been one battle or another for a long time. He didn’t like how that made him feel, almost protective.
So he’d had to push all that down. Be remorseless. For all he knew, it was a sob story, concocted to appeal to his sympathies. Although something about the reluctance with which she’d told him made it ring true. And now he couldn’t get that image of her smiling face out of his head.
But he had to. Because she would be upping her game now and pulling out every trick in the book to try and sabotage this wedding and Gianni would be the biggest fool on the planet if he didn’t suspect as much and act accordingly.
* * *
‘Miss O’Connor, are you sure that Signor Delucca has agreed to this?’
Keelin smiled sweetly. ‘Oh, yes, my fiancé has given me carte blanche to make all the arrangements and he really doesn’t expect to be bothered with questions. You can leave all that to me.’
The nice wedding planner, Allessandra, looked at Keelin a little doubtfully but then smiled too, and said confidentially and not without a little relief, ‘In all honesty I find Signor Delucca quite intimidating.’
Keelin patted the girl’s hand. ‘I understand completely, so it’s better this way.’
It was two days before the wedding and Keelin had finally pushed Gianni so far with a never-ending list of questions about the arrangements that he’d texted her the previous day and said succinctly, Do what you like, Keelin. I don’t care if you turn up in a clown’s outfit on Saturday afternoon as long as you’re there. G.
So she had taken his words to heart and was calmly and diligently wreaking a little havoc with everything Gianni had ordered for the wedding.
The first thing to go had been the wedding dress he’d apparently chosen for her. She’d taken one look at it and felt a betraying hitch in her breathing. Because if she had one uncynical bone left in her body, one tiny atom left where she harboured any kind of romantic dream of marrying a soul mate, then this was the dress she would wear.
It was elegant, off-white. Strapless with an unstructured sweetheart neckline, it hugged the breasts and torso before falling in delicate folds of chiffon to the floor. Whimsical and romantic.
So naturally, she’d chosen another, altogether far less suitable dress. Not that she had any hopes he’d actually see her in it. But it would be enough that she might be photographed in it to add to the furore.
She’d barely seen Gianni in the past few days because he’d been busy with meetings. This suited Keelin fine. She was still suffering from sudden and random memory flashes of the rough and smooth slide of his tongue against hers as he’d kissed her senseless in front of everyone at the engagement party. And she couldn’t even blame him!
She pushed down the niggle of her conscience as she made the most drastic changes to the wedding yet, and told herself that she was doing this for her very survival.
* * *
Gianni cursed volubly when his cufflink slipped free for the third time while trying to close it.
Dio.
He stopped and took a breath. What the hell was wrong with him? Anyone would think he was having traditional bridegroom jitters! For what was in all essence just part of a business merger.
Part of a business merger that was happening today. He’d been reliably informed that Keelin O’Connor was in her hotel, apparently making her own preparations. And that she hadn’t fled the country.
Perhaps she was hoping that he would balk at the final hurdle? The reality of marriage a little too much to take? And in truth, he did feel slightly constricted at the thought but not enough to jeopardise everything he’d worked so hard for. It had more to do with her effect on him, that lack of control he felt around her.
The cufflink finally slid home and Gianni gave himself a critical once-over in the mirror. Dressed in a dark grey morning suit with a light grey silk cravat tie, he was the epitomy of sartorial elegance, but for once he didn’t feel that measure of satisfaction at another sign that he was removing himself from his past.
He felt uneasy now that he’d allowed Keelin to needle him enough to give her carte blanche to organise the wedding arrangements. He’d assured himself that she couldn’t get up to too much trouble right under his nose, could she?
For someone who never doubted his instincts, Gianni pushed aside the concern and flicked a glance at his watch and cursed himself again. He was ready too early for the afternoon ceremony. Like some kind of besotted fool? No, he assured himself, he just wanted to get this wedding over with so that he could get on with merging forces with O’Connor.
This urgency he felt was purely for that, nothing else.
When someone knocked on the door of his apartment he welcomed the distraction, opening it to reveal his assistant, looking scared and holding a local tabloid paper. The young man cleared his voice. ‘Have you spoken to Miss O’Connor today?’
Gianni immediately went cold. ‘No. Why?’
His assistant handed him the paper, where a blazing headline read Delucca’s Fiancée Snubs Harrington in Favour of Chatsfield for Lavish Wedding Ceremony!
It took a long second for the news to sink in. Keelin had gone behind his back and changed the venue, capitalising on the very public rivalry between the hotel dynasties to generate as much adverse publicity as possible.
Gianni forced the swell of rage down and said grimly, ‘Get my driver and car.’
The assistant rushed off, only too happy to get out of Gianni’s dark angry orbit.
Keelin would not get away with this. But first, it was time to go and make her his wife.
* * *
‘Well, where the hell is he?’
Keelin tried to curb any sense of obvious excitement at her father’s increasingly angry questions as to the whereabouts of her apparently absent fiancé.
She was light-headed at the audacity of what she was doing and she quashed the niggle of her conscience when she recalled the injured looks and feverish whispering she’d left behind at the Harrington Hotel after telling them she was moving the wedding. But it had been too good an opportunity to miss. Gianni had clearly favoured a discreetly elegant affair at The Harrington with the emphasis on discretion, and so Keelin had seen an opportunity to turn the wedding into a far more publicly opulent and luxurious extravaganza, much to The Chatsfield PR’s delight, always eager to score points where possible and take the focus off The Harrington’s latest venture—an ice bar in Russia which was all over the papers because it was being created by billionaire Lukas Kovach.
It also just so happened that one of Keelin’s oldest school friends from her junior boarding school in Ireland was Orla Kennedy, who was now married to Antonio Chatsfield, the scion of the Chatsfield family, so one phone call was all it had taken to unleash a little carnage.
Where forty guests had been expected, over a hundred now jostled for space in The Chatsfield’s sumptuously decorated ballroom. There were enough flowers to open a shop.
‘Well?’
Her father’s voice and the low rumble of voices from the ballroom next door made her snap back to attention. Keelin tried to look worried. ‘I don’t know, Father, maybe he’s had second thoughts.’
Her conscience twinged. Or maybe Gianni is completely unaware about the latest developments thanks to her blithely informing everyone that he’d sanctioned the changes and didn’t want to be bothered about the minutiae.
Her father went pale and Keelin’s gaze narrowed on him. Did he really care that much? But before she could interpret that nugget, a knock came on the door and Allessandra the wedding planner stepped into the room.
The woman had been looking almost sick wi
th anxiety before, but now her face was wreathed in smiles and Keelin barely had a chance to suspect the worst when she said with clear relief, ‘The groom has arrived. You should take your places.’
Keelin could feel the colour leach from her face. No. This isn’t how it was meant to go. She’d deliberately made sure everyone but Gianni was aware of the location and earlier time change. And right about when everyone would be feeling sorry for the jilted bride, he’d be realising far too late what she’d done. Too late to do anything but appear to have stood her up.
But he was here.
She was barely aware of her father taking her arm in a firm grip and saying, ‘About time. I knew he wouldn’t bail.’
Keelin was in too much shock to see the colour return to her father’s face. The Wedding March was playing, the guests had gone quiet. Someone pulled her veil over her face and pushed a bouquet into her hands. And then the door opened and her father propelled her forward.
* * *
Gianni felt Keelin arrive alongside him in front of the registrar for this civil ceremony. He was still too angry to look at her but he turned his head eventually and his eyes widened at the sight of her. A shot of lust went straight to his groin.
He didn’t know why he should have expected her to be wearing the elegant wedding dress he’d picked out, but he still wasn’t prepared to see her in a tight lace sheath of a dress that ended somewhere around her upper thighs, displaying those long bare legs to perfection.
Sheer sleeves and a lace neckline above the bodice was almost laughingly demure when every provocative curve of her body was lovingly outlined by the material.
Her hair was down in sleek red waves and a short veil covered her face but he could see through the gauzy material that she was pale and looking straight ahead. Something caught the corner of his eye and he looked down to see her hands in a white-knuckle grip around the bouquet, fingers trembling ever so slightly.
Gianni recognised that she was obviously in shock that he’d thwarted her plans, so with a quick nod to the celebrant he urged him on, knowing he needed to take advantage of this moment. He ruthlessly drove down any concerns about the evident lengths Keelin had gone to to signal her reluctance for this union. He’d narrowly averted a PR disaster but he was here now and he would deal with his errant wife afterwards.