There was a brief silence. His eyes were level with hers and she forced herself to keep looking at him as he gazed at her thoughtfully.
‘Okay,’ he said after a moment. ‘But promise me that if whatever it is becomes a problem, even if it’s not really your problem, you’ll tell me. So I can help.’
It was Daisy’s turn to stay silent. He thought she was worrying about David’s debt, and it had sounded almost as if he cared. As if he actually wanted to help.
The blood was humming in her ears and her heart was suddenly beating too fast and too loud. She glanced across at him, her eyes scanning his face. But had he meant it? Or was he just being in character? Saying what a doting boyfriend would say to the woman he loved?
She looked up at him with a smile that betrayed none of her confusion. ‘Okay. I promise.’
‘Good. I’ve ordered a Chianti with our food. Is that okay?’
She blinked, caught off guard by the change of subject and by the sudden realisation that they were talking normally—almost like they were a real couple.
‘Of course.’
‘They do an excellent Montespertoli here.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I don’t really know much about wine. David buys it and I just drink it.’
He grinned. ‘I have much the same arrangement with my sommelier.’
‘You have your own sommelier?’
‘Of course,’ he said, feigning astonishment. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’
She laughed. ‘Of course! In fact, I need to check in with mine—make sure he approves of your choice.’
His eyes were glittering. ‘Trust me, I’ve made the right choice.’
She felt her breath explode inside her chest. Obviously he was talking about the wine or the food or maybe both. But her head was spinning, her heart speeding like a getaway car, and she knew that more than anything she wanted him to be talking about her.
When finally she felt that she could trust her voice, she tilted her head and said, ‘So, how do you know it’s the right wine?’
‘Wine? Is that what we’re talking about?’
His eyes rested on her face and she felt her colour rise. But, holding his gaze, she nodded.
‘Come on. I really want to know. I promise not to tell my sommelier if you don’t tell yours.’
Laughing softly, he leaned forward over the table, so that suddenly she was conscious of the solidity of his shoulders and the symmetry of his face.
‘Okay... Well, if, say, the food has lots of flavour it would need to be partnered with something rich and smooth and sexy—’
She swallowed; her mouth felt suddenly dry, her throat like sandpaper. He might have been talking about himself. She felt an ache, sharp and intense like hunger. Only she knew it wasn’t the sort of hunger that could be satisfied by food.
‘Basically, you just need to trust your instincts.’ Pausing, he glanced over her shoulder. ‘Ah, excellent. I’m starving.’
Watching the waiters put their plates on the table, Daisy felt her appetite return.
As Rollo had promised, the meal was delicious. Tiny baby clams stuffed with breadcrumbs to start, followed by ravioli with pear and ricotta. The main course was osso buco—veal shanks in white wine and lemon.
Pressing her napkin against her lips, Daisy laid her knife and fork down on her empty plate. ‘That was perfect.’
‘I’m glad you liked it.’
His eyes across the table gave nothing away and, taking a deep breath, she said carefully, ‘I can see why you bring all your dates here.’
He didn’t answer. Around them, the air seemed to grow thicker, and she felt a nervous shudder run down her spine.
‘I don’t bring all my dates here,’ he said quietly. ‘In fact, you’re the first date I’ve ever brought here.’
Daisy felt her heart punch against her chest.
‘But you said you come twice a week, most weeks.’
‘And I do. On my own.’
She swallowed. Men like Rollo didn’t dine alone.
‘I don’t understand.’
He shrugged. His face looked shuttered, remote.
‘It’s like a home to me. I’ve been coming here ever since I was thirteen. The owner, Joe, his father, Vinnie, gave me my first job.’
He smiled—only it was a smile that made something inside her shift and crack open.
‘What did you do?’ she said hoarsely.
‘I washed dishes at first. Then I was a waiter. Just a waiter,’ he amended, his eyes meeting hers. ‘They wouldn’t trust me in the kitchen.’
She nodded. ‘Very wise.’ She tried a smile of her own. ‘I’ve seen you incinerating toast. I definitely wouldn’t trust you with veal.’
He smiled again, but this time it touched his eyes and she felt a rush of happiness and surprise—for when had she started wanting to make him happy?
‘Would you like that cannoli?’ He was back in control, his hand half-raised towards the waiter.
Groaning, she shook her head. ‘Yes. But I can’t. I would love a coffee though.’
The coffee arrived, together with a small dark green box.
Daisy made a face. ‘Are those chocolates?’
He nodded. ‘But they’re very small. Go on.’ Smiling a little, he pushed the box towards her. ‘Have one, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.’
Sighing, she picked it up and pulled off the lid. ‘They’d better be small,’ she grumbled, ‘otherwise you’ll never...’
Her voice trailed off.
It wasn’t chocolates. Instead, nestling on top of pale green paper was a beautiful diamond-and-emerald ring.
She stared at it—stunned, mesmerised.
‘I hope you don’t mind. I asked Joe to help out.’
He gestured to where a large dark-haired man stood beaming.
She looked up, groping for the right words—any words, in fact. But her mind seemed to have stopped functioning.
‘Yes—I mean, no... I don’t mind,’ she managed finally. ‘Oh, Rollo, it’s beautiful. I love it.’
‘Here. Let me.’
She watched him slip the ring onto her finger, his hands warm and solid against hers.
‘So, will you marry me?’
His voice was soft. For a split second she forgot it wasn’t real. Forgot it was all just part of their performance. Then slowly, she nodded. ‘Yes, I will.’ She hesitated. ‘But why here? Why now?’
He shrugged. ‘Why wait? I want everyone to know that you’re going to be my wife.’
He hadn’t planned on giving her the ring until later. But last night everything had changed. Finally she’d been honest with him, admitting her desire in the most blatant of terms. Saying that she wanted sex, that she wanted him.
It had been like a starter pistol going off in his head.
Suddenly proposing had seemed like the obvious next step. And with Daisy wearing his ring their ‘marriage’ was a step closer to being real—a step closer to the moment when James Dunmore would finally sell to him.
* * *
Back in the limousine, Daisy couldn’t stop looking at her finger.
‘Relax. It’s not going anywhere.’
She looked up. Rollo was watching her meditatively.
‘I know. I just like looking at it.’ Holding out her hand, she twisted the ring from side to side. If being seen with Rollo in public had been like putting on a parachute, this was like jumping out of the plane. Now it really was real. She was his fiancée.
‘I suppose I should tell my parents and David.’
‘I suppose so.’ His eyebrows raised mockingly. ‘But let’s just have a couple of hours to get used to it ourselves.’
The next moment an electric thrill snaked over her skin as his fingertips brushed against hers.
‘If it needs to be altered, tell me.’
She nodded. ‘I will. I don’t want it falling off.’
‘Neither do I. It’s got to go back to the jewellers in a year.’
> Staring fixedly at the ring, Daisy felt her stomach plummet like a broken kite.
A moment ago she’d felt like Cinderella. Now though, she realised she was actually Sleeping Beauty—only the Prince hadn’t woken her with a kiss. He’d tipped her out of bed and onto the floor.
Her head was pounding.
So what if he had? She knew it wasn’t a real proposal. They weren’t in love; their entire relationship was a sham. They were only together to convince Dunmore to sell his building to Rollo.
But for some reason none of that seemed to matter right now. She still felt like a failure. Just as she had when Nick had broken up with her. And before him, Jamie.
She’d thought they’d loved each other. She’d been wrong. And they’d been wrong for her. Only it had still been devastating to accept—particularly when all she really wanted was that effortless understanding with someone that her parents shared.
But it was supposed to be different with Rollo. With him she had thought she could relax and not worry about getting hurt.
Her heart twisted.
Except that apparently she’d got that wrong too.
Slowly she withdrew her hand and pressed it against her forehead.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Just a headache. I expect it’s drinking wine at lunchtime. I probably just need to have a lie-down.’
Rollo stared at her in silence. A headache?
Angrily, he looked down at the ring on her finger, its glittering facets like so many mocking faces. Back at the restaurant it had felt so real. The food, the conversation... He’d even told her about working there—something he’d never shared with anyone. But now she was lying to him. Again, he thought, with an almost unbearable sting of swift, startled astonishment.
‘Perhaps you could just tell the truth.’ Shaking his head, he stared down into her wide, shocked eyes. ‘That you’re upset about having to return the ring. Surely you didn’t think you were going to keep it?’
For a moment she was too shocked to speak. Then slowly she felt a shivering hot anger slide over her skin.
‘Yes, I did. And I thought you would give me half the apartment too,’ she said curtly. ‘No, Rollo, of course I didn’t think that. I hadn’t even thought about a ring at all until you gave me this one. Why would I? You said you were going to go public with the engagement in a couple of months.’
His lip curled. ‘So I changed my mind? I thought women liked spontaneity.’
She glared at him. ‘And I’m just a woman? How romantic!’
He stared at her in exasperation. ‘It’s not meant to be romantic. This is a business arrangement.’
‘Fine! Then I don’t need this. Here!’
Reaching down, she tugged the ring off her finger and held it out to him.
He ignored her hand, his face hardening. She was impossible. Irrational. Ungrateful. He could have thrown her and her brother to the wolves, but instead he’d given her a second chance, just like his father.
Leaning forward, he thumped on the window behind the chauffeur’s head.
‘What are you doing?’ Daisy was looking at him, her eyes wide with shock.
‘I’m getting out. I need some fresh air.’
‘But you can’t just walk away. We need to talk.’
Her anger was giving way to confusion and fear.
But as the car slid smoothly to a halt he yanked open the door, an expression on his face that she couldn’t decipher.
‘There’s no point,’ he said flatly. ‘I really don’t think we have anything more to say to one another.’ And then, before she had a chance to reply, he was on the pavement, vanishing into the crowds as the car started to move forward again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BACK AT THE APARTMENT, Daisy stared blankly around the living room, the tears she’d managed to hold back in the limousine burning her eyes.
What had he meant by nothing left to say?
But, recalling the flat finality of his tone, she felt her chest tighten and she knew what he’d meant.
He meant it was over.
And now her brother was going to pay the price.
Her mind began to race; her breath came fast and jerky, as though she’d been running.
She needed to warn David. She needed to be the one to tell him about the deal she’d made and wrecked. Her stomach shrank. And about what would happen next...
Panic crawled over her skin and, heart pounding, she walked dazedly upstairs. She would pack and then she would leave.
But if she left, there would be no going back. Shouldn’t she at least try and talk to Rollo again?
But as she pictured his cool, expressionless face, her hands began to shake, and abruptly she sat down on the bed.
Rollo couldn’t have made it clearer that he had nothing to say to her.
She lifted her chin, felt her heartbeat steadying. Then she would just have to do the talking—even if it was only to say goodbye.
He might be about to unleash hell, but she wasn’t a coward. And, although she knew she’d made mistakes, she wasn’t going to make herself look guiltier than she was by running away.
If only her hands would stop shaking.
Glancing down to where they lay in her lap, she caught sight of the ring and, stomach cramping, she slowly pulled it off her finger and laid it on the bedside table. She didn’t need it anymore and, whatever Rollo might think, she didn’t want it either. Even looking at it made her feel sick and helpless.
But staying to face him was her choice. And that meant she wasn’t helpless, and whatever happened next, she needed to remember that. Now though, it was time to pack. Not because she expected him back anytime soon—it was, after all, a working day—but because she simply couldn’t sit and wait for him. She needed to do something.
Heart heaving, she found her suitcase and began to fill it, barely registering what she was putting in, her arms and hands acting by themselves. Finally it was done. But as she fumbled with the zip, the air seemed to ripple around her and there was a sudden shift in the light. Looking up, she felt her throat close over tightly.
Rollo was blocking the doorway. The same doorway where he’d stood just a few hours earlier, when she’d tried to read his mood. Only this time she didn’t need to try. His mood was unmistakable. He was utterly, shatteringly furious.
‘Y-you’re back,’ she stammered, her stomach plummeting beneath his blank-eyed hostility. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
Rollo gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting from her face to the suitcase lying on the bed, and suddenly his whole body tightened and he was breathing too fast.
Packing her bags had been one of his mother’s favourite tricks too.
Only for show though. He knew that because when she finally had left for real she’d taken no suitcase. She hadn’t needed one. Of course she’d taken what mattered. But she’d left everything else behind.
Including her son.
And the note justifying her actions.
He felt sick. Anger and pain sliced through him but, pushing down his nausea, he met Daisy’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
‘Clearly.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Save it. I know what you meant. And even if I didn’t, the suitcase is a bit of a giveaway.’
‘I—I wasn’t running away. I was waiting. For you.’
‘Of course.’ His lip curled into a sneer. ‘You’re an actress. Your USP is making an entrance and an exit. But it works best with an audience.’
Rage was pounding inside his head.
He’d actually started to think she might be different. That maybe he’d misjudged her. Only he’d been wrong. Not just wrong, but obtuse. Forgetting all the lessons he’d learned from childhood, he’d let himself be fooled by Daisy’s beauty and sexual allure.
Only he wasn’t a little boy any more. He was a man—the owner of a global property company worth billions, who’d worked hard to build his business. Harder still
to keep his life free of the sort of emotional tension and uncertainty he hated.
Which was why he’d brought their engagement forward.
It had been a unilateral decision, and as such a clear reminder to Daisy that he was in charge. And, of course, the first solid proof he could give Dunmore that he was a changed man—a man in love and committed to one woman.
Deep down though, what really mattered—what he had needed to know, to see and feel for himself—was that Daisy could be open and honest. When she’d finally not only admitted her desire but responded so feverishly to his touch it had been the assurance he’d needed to accelerate their relationship.
Only watching her open the ring box, he’d found himself in the extraordinary position of feeling nervous about how she would react. Worse, in the limousine she’d lied again, and he’d felt the same shifting unease, the same devastating, unbearable insecurity that had blighted his childhood.
And now she’d packed her bags.
His gaze shifted to her face, eyes hardening.
‘I’d like to say I’m surprised or disappointed. But, given your character, it’s all quite tragically predictable.’
Daisy flinched inwardly at his words but she forced her eyes up to meet his. ‘You can insult me all you like. I don’t care. I only stayed to tell you that I’m going to see David, so if you could—’
He cut across her.
‘How thoughtful. The caring sister. He will be pleased.’
Meeting his cool, expressionless gaze, she felt misery clutch low at her stomach. So this was how it was going to be. He was going to play with her, punish her as he’d wanted to do right from the start—before he’d decided she was more use to him as a ‘wife.’
‘I know you’re angry, Rollo, but this isn’t all about you. Or us.’
He shook his head, fury spiralling inside him, his heartbeat slamming into his ribs. Had what happened last night and in the restaurant really affected her so little?
He gritted his teeth. The answer to that question was packed and ready to go.
‘But, let me guess, it is about you.’ His voice was rising. ‘And your brother.’
She breathed out unsteadily, trying to ignore his contempt and animosity.
Blackmailed Down the Aisle Page 11