The Italian Tycoon's Bride

by Brooks, Helen

  ‘Why don’t you come and have some lunch and give it yourself?’ Jackie invited at once. ‘Mum was only saying the other day she hasn’t seen you for ages.’

  Another ‘poor Maisie’ conversation, no doubt. When she had sent out all the cards informing everyone that the wedding and reception scheduled for the end of August was cancelled, she had known a great deal of sympathy and pity would inevitably follow. She just hadn’t realised it would be so hard to cope with. And she did appreciate everyone’s kindness and concern, she really did, but it was so embarrassing and depressing somehow and increased the feeling of humiliation a hundredfold, besides making her feel she was being smothered.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ Maisie said firmly.

  ‘Yes, you could,’ said Jackie, equally firmly. ‘We’re only having a barbecue. It’ll be quite relaxed, everyone sitting about in the garden listening to music and enjoying the sun. Light conversation, people dozing off in deckchairs with a glass of wine, nothing heavy.’

  Maisie got the distinct impression that Jackie wasn’t just trying to reassure her that her broken engagement wouldn’t be under discussion, but that there was a definite hint to Blaine to lay off his brother here. It did nothing to reassure her that she wouldn’t be better off taking a book to the park and idling the afternoon away under a leafy tree, or even giving the somewhat grotty little bedsit she had rented for the last three years a spring-clean.

  As she sought in her mind for a suitably convincing lie to let her off the hook, Jackie took her arm and pulled her out of the coffee bar, leaving Blaine to follow in their wake. ‘Please, Maisie,’ Jackie whispered, ‘come back and stay the afternoon. The atmosphere at home is so bad you could cut it with a knife and it’ll be better if everyone has to make an effort to be civil because you’re there.’

  As an invitation it left a lot to be desired but what could she say? Jackie wasn’t the sort of friend who often asked a favour, besides which, in a similar situation she knew Jackie would do the same for her. ‘OK,’ she said flatly as they walked out of the door into what was fast resembling an oven, ‘but I’ve things to do this evening, all right?’ Like wondering if Jeff was back in the country yet and what he would think when he knew she had left, whether he’d care, things like that.

  ‘All right.’ Jackie turned round to face Blaine. ‘Maisie’s coming back,’ she said happily.

  If Blaine knew the reason for her enthusiasm he didn’t show it, his manner easy and his voice lazy as he said, ‘That is good. We did not get a chance to converse much, did we, Maisie?’ He smiled at her.

  Maisie stared at him. She wasn’t sure if the glint in his eye was because he was amused at the way Sue had tried to charm him, or that he knew that with or without Sue she wouldn’t have put herself out to hold his attention. He was too good-looking, too smooth, too utterly sure of himself; in fact everything she disliked in a man, she told herself vehemently. Anyway she was off men. For good. No more worrying about what she looked like or trying to remain civil when they turned up half an hour late for a date, no more feigning an interest in football. All that could go out of the window now.

  So why was she dieting? That was for her, she told herself. For her own self-satisfaction and sense of worth. Absolutely nothing to do with the male sex at all. No way.

  When they walked into Oxford Street

  and Blaine raised his hand and a taxi skidded to an immediate halt, Maisie wasn’t surprised. He was that sort of man.

  Blaine helped both women into the taxi and then sat down beside Maisie, who was horrified to discover she was positioned beside him. Ridiculous, truly ridiculous, but she hadn’t wanted to be so near him. She tried not to mind that she could feel his thigh against hers and that his arm along the back of the seat seemed curiously intimate.

  He was wearing a pale blue shirt with the cuffs folded back and light cotton trousers, and as Maisie breathed in she caught the faint tang of a delicious aftershave. It made her wonder if she’d put on perfume that morning; she couldn’t remember. Anyway, now was hardly the time to sniff her wrists to find out.

  Her stomach lurched as he stretched out his legs slightly before turning in his seat and addressing Jackie over her head. ‘I would like to buy your mother some flowers to thank her for her hospitality. Perhaps you could tell the driver to stop for a moment at an appropriate florist?’

  ‘Yes, of course. There’s a nice shop on the outskirts of Bethnal Green; we’ll be there shortly and it’s only a couple of minutes from home.’

  Although Jackie had spoken normally, Maisie could tell that her friend was a little flustered. It made her wonder just how awkward things had been between Jackie’s father and his younger brother. Whatever, it looked to be a great afternoon!

  ‘So, Maisie, you have a sensible job which means you do not have to work on a Saturday?’ Blaine asked in the next moment in an obvious attempt to make small talk and not because he was really interested in the reply.

  Maisie made the mistake of glancing at him as she opened her mouth to reply. Across the table in the booth he had been pretty devastating, an inch or two away the effect was magnified a hundredfold. Her confusion prevented the careful reply she would have given if she hadn’t been so flustered—something like, As a veterinary nurse I work every fourth weekend but that’s all right, I enjoy it. As it was, she blurted out, ‘I don’t have a job.’

  ‘No?’ Black eyebrows rose. ‘You are a lady of leisure?’

  He made it sound like a lady of the night. She decided she had been absolutely right in her first impression of Blaine Morosini; the man was a pig. ‘I left my last job yesterday,’ she said, very stiffly. ‘I’m going for a couple of interviews this week, as it happens.’

  ‘I see.’

  It was obvious that he didn’t but Maisie was blowed if she was going to elaborate. Let him think what he liked.

  Jackie, however, had different ideas. ‘Maisie is a veterinary nurse,’ she said helpfully. ‘She’s absolutely wonderful with animals, aren’t you, Maisie, but owing to a bit of, well, domestic difficulty, she couldn’t stay at her job any more.’

  This was getting ridiculous. ‘My ex-fiancé was also the owner of the practice where I worked,’ Maisie said shortly. ‘And I can get another job easily enough.’

  Blaine nodded. ‘I see,’ he said again.

  And he probably did this time. Unfortunately. Maisie suddenly found Blaine Morosini was the last person in the world she wanted sympathy or pity from. Not that she was going to get any, she found out in the next moment.

  ‘What happens if you do not get another job as easily as you think?’ he asked interestedly. ‘Would this be a problem?’

  Oh, no, of course it wouldn’t. I mean, I look like the daughter of a Rothschild, don’t I? Dripping diamonds, hair and clothes designer level. Struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice, Maisie said, ‘I will get a job.’

  He studied her with unfathomable eyes. ‘This is good,’ he said lazily. ‘The confidence. I like this.’

  She really didn’t care what he liked.

  It was at this point that Jackie said hastily, ‘Here’s that shop I spoke of coming up, Blaine. She leant forward and tapped on the glass separating them from the driver, saying, ‘Could you stop here for a minute, please? Outside Bloomingdales, the flower shop on the corner.’

  After Blaine had exited the cab the two women sat in silence for some moments before Jackie said in a small voice, ‘Sorry.’

  Maisie didn’t try to pretend she didn’t understand. She shrugged, forcing a smile. ‘I presume you’d already told him I’d just split from Jeff?’

  Jackie nodded. ‘No details, though,’ she said hastily.

  ‘I’d gathered that.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jackie again.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ This time Maisie’s smile was natural. Jackie had sounded like a chastised child. ‘Jeff did dump me, he is with Camellia and I have left my job without securing another one first. Not the most sensible thing
, I know, as your uncle so kindly intimated.’

  ‘You don’t like him.’

  Did a worm like a blackbird? ‘I don’t know him,’ Maisie prevaricated. Neither did she want to.

  ‘I didn’t at first,’ Jackie whispered, although apart from the driver, who was reading a newspaper, they were alone. ‘Especially because he and Dad haven’t hit it off, but the more I’ve got to know him the more I’ve found he’s just very straightforward. Calls a spade a spade.’

  In her fragile state she could do without garden implements and any normal person would realise that. Maisie ignored the fact that she had been moaning to herself all week about being treated with kid gloves by everyone. ‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said drily.

  The flower shop door opened and they watched an enormous bouquet beneath which stretched a pair of legs walk to the taxi. Once inside the vehicle the gigantic bunch of pale lemon roses, white and lemon freesias and Baby’s Breath filled all the available space.

  ‘Wow.’ Jackie was impressed. ‘Mum’ll go ape when you give her that.’

  Blaine smiled. ‘Your mother has been very kind to me.’

  Yeah, right. And the fact that a massive bunch of flowers like this might annoy Jackie’s dad had nothing to do with it? Immediately the thought materialised, Maisie felt ashamed. She was turning into a right sour crab, she admitted silently. The flowers were a lovely gesture and probably Blaine’s motives had been entirely honourable. Probably.

  She hadn’t been aware she was frowning until Blaine said mildly, ‘You do not like flowers, Maisie?’

  The delicious Italian accent—and OK, Maisie grudgingly acknowledged, it was sexy too—gave her name a peculiar little twist and she didn’t like what it did to her nerve-endings. ‘Yes, of course I like flowers,’ she said evenly.

  ‘You think these are not right for Jackie’s mother?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. No, they’re fine. I’m sure she will love them.’

  ‘Good.’ He settled further in his seat. ‘Most women adore being given flowers, I’ve found.’

  And you’d certainly know. She glanced at him and saw the beautiful eyes were laughing at her. Arrogant, irritating man. Maisie turned her head and stared across Jackie out of the window for the remainder of the short journey.

  Chapter 2

  Once at the large semi-detached house where Jackie’s parents lived, Maisie found herself relaxing a little. Jackie’s mother had oohed and ahhed over the bouquet and Roberto, Jackie’s father, hadn’t seemed too put out at the obvious attempt to win his wife over. Or, if he was, he wasn’t making an issue of it.

  Jackie’s numerous siblings, all of whom were married and a couple of whom had children of their own, were dotted about the garden in chairs and sun-loungers and the general atmosphere was easy.

  ‘You didn’t really need me here,’ Maisie murmured to Jackie after Roberto had given both women a glass of wine and ushered them to a swing-seat close to the barbecue, which was glowing nicely. ‘There are plenty of people to act as referees between your dad and Blaine.’

  Jackie giggled. ‘It might come to that. But anyway, I wanted you to have a nice lazy afternoon with people who think you’re lovely. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’

  ‘You remembered that Jeff’s getting home today,’ Maisie said flatly.

  It wasn’t a question but Jackie nodded anyway. ‘The git,’ she said, just as flatly.

  They watched a couple of sausages turn to cinders and Roberto’s attempt to moderate his language in front of the children as a steak went the same way. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been to a barbecue at your mum and dad’s when your dad hasn’t cremated the food,’ Maisie said after a moment or two when Jackie’s mother bustled up and extracted the shrunken black morsels with a pair of tongs. She did it deftly but she’d had lots of practise.

  ‘I know.’ Jackie grinned, finishing the last of the wine in her glass and smacking her lips. ‘I just hope Blaine doesn’t offer to help. I bet he controls a barbecue beautifully. Fancy another glass?’ she added, rising to her feet.

  ‘Lovely.’ Maisie proffered her own half-full glass. ‘Just top it up, would you.’

  She watched Jackie walk across to the long table at the side of the patio where all the drink was gradually beginning to sizzle, but when her friend got waylaid by one of her sisters Maisie leant back against the upholstered back of the swing-seat and shut her eyes. This was very pleasant, she admitted to herself, letting the seat move gently to and fro beneath its canopy of bright red linen. There was a small breeze in the garden and, shaded as she was from the blazing heat of the June sun, she felt comfortably warm rather than sticky. And it had been so sweet of Jackie to think of her, to be concerned.

  The gorgeously fruity rich red wine she’d consumed thus far had already left her feeling mellow, a result of skipping breakfast in an effort to fast forward the diet, she thought ruefully. She would have to be careful to eat something before she drank any more; Roberto’s wine was always delicious but extremely potent and she didn’t want to get tipsy. She didn’t trust herself at the moment, that she wouldn’t get maudlin and burst into tears, and she’d rather die than do that in front of anyone.

  As Jackie sat down beside her, Maisie didn’t open her eyes as she said, ‘Thanks for this, Jackie.’

  ‘I am not Jackie.’

  Maisie opened her eyes and sat up so abruptly she was in danger of knocking the glass of wine Blaine was holding out to her all over him. As it was, only a drop fell on to the pale blue shirt. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Maisie stared at the stain as though it covered a vast expanse.

  ‘It is nothing.’ He smiled at her as he handed her the wine. ‘Jackie is tied up for the moment so I thought I would keep you company.’

  Maisie stared at him. He had her wine, so had Jackie asked him to come and talk to her? Probably. If only to keep Blaine out of her father’s hair. Not that Roberto had much hair. Unlike his brother who had plenty, on his body as well as his head. She tore her eyes away from the drift of black at the top of his shirt where a couple of buttons were undone and tried to ignore how his trousers had pulled tight over muscled thighs. She had to make conversation—fast. She couldn’t let him suspect even for a moment that she was bothered by him. ‘When—’ her voice had emerged as a squeak and she took a swallow of wine before she tried again ‘—when are you flying home?’ she said, as though she didn’t already know.

  ‘Tomorrow evening.’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose you’re in a hurry to get back and see your father?’ she said, before she realised it probably wasn’t the most tactful thing in the world to say.

  If Blaine objected to being reminded of how ill his father was he gave no sign of it, however, merely inclining his head and saying quietly, ‘It was at my mother’s wish I came to England to see my brother, but I did not like leaving her at such a difficult time. She has some distance to travel to the hospital each day, and I worry her mind may not always be on her driving.’

  Maisie nodded again. Even arrogant irritating pigs were allowed to worry about their mothers, she supposed. ‘Couldn’t your mother get a cab or maybe have friends drive her?’

  ‘Yes on both counts.’ He took a deep swallow from his own glass before he added, his voice wry, ‘But my mother has a mind of her own. She does not always listen to reason.’

  Neither did his father, if what Jackie had said was true. Blaine certainly had an interesting mix of genes in that very male body of his. ‘Jackie said your mother’s American.’

  ‘Very American.’ It was rueful. ‘And my father is very Italian. It made for a stimulating childhood if nothing else. They fight like cat and dog but think the world of each other, nonetheless. I understand Roberto’s mother was very different. She was his childhood sweetheart and theirs was a peaceful, tranquil existence. He loved her very much, I know this.’

  Did he mind that his father had loved his half-brother’s mother so much? He didn’t appear to. Maisie took refug
e in being a third party. ‘And your mother doesn’t mind that?’

  ‘Of course not. Luisa had died before they met, long before they met, when Roberto was in his last year of school, in fact.’

  That might be the case, but she didn’t think she’d like to know that a previous relationship had been so altogether perfect. Not that there were going to be any more relationships or men for her. Not serious ones anyway. Maybe the odd date when she felt better, a no-strings attached type thing, but nothing more than that. Twice now she had been in love and both times had ended in disaster; she’d had enough. Men were a different species, let alone a different sex, and they weren’t to be trusted. Any of them.

  ‘You frown an awful lot for such a young woman.’

  Maisie found the greeny-blue gaze was fixed hard on her face and she flushed. She would have given a month’s supply of chocolate to tell him to mind his own business. As it was he was Jackie’s uncle and this was supposed to be a nice friendly afternoon. She took a deep breath and then said sweetly, ‘I don’t, actually, not usually. It must be the company.’ And then smiled to insinuate she’d been joking when they both knew she hadn’t.

  Blaine shut his eyes, leaning back in the seat as he said lazily, ‘Are you always this prickly? No, don’t bother to answer that. It is me, is it not? You do not like me for some reason. I sensed this earlier.’

  Maisie did not know what to say and so she said nothing but her face turned a deeper shade of beetroot.

  ‘You are very different to how Jackie described you.’

  She stared at the handsome face. A loaded statement if ever there was one. She let a few moments tick by and, when she couldn’t stand it any more, she said, ‘How?’

  ‘How what?’ He opened his eyes.

  He knew what she was asking. ‘How am I different?’

  ‘How long have you got?’

  From across the garden Jackie waved gaily. It probably looked as though she and Blaine were having a nice tête-à-tête, Maisie thought grimly. How wrong could you be? ‘OK,’ she said flatly. ‘Let me put it another way. What exactly did Jackie say about me?’