Chapter Seven #2
In her high heels, she clambered with difficulty into the low-slung Bugatti La Voiture Noire sports car that awaited them outside.
‘Sorry about that painting. Aldo must’ve looked into your parentage. By buying it, he meant to compliment you and make you feel like part of the family,’ Tore explained. ‘I’ll have it hung in a dark corner somewhere you don’t have to see it.’
‘No, I’m not that sensitive,’ Violet hastened to tell him. ‘I know that your grandfather didn’t mean to hurt me. He was so obviously pleased as punch when I recognised the house and yet even though my mother grew up there, I’ve never been in it.’
‘Ever?’ Tore queried in surprise.
‘He never forgave Mum for marrying my father. He’s not a forgiving sort of person.’
‘I know that. He was Aldo’s childhood playmate and he turned his back on their friendship when my grandmother chose to marry Aldo rather than him.’
Violet winced in dismay. ‘So, two friends fell for the same woman?’
‘That’s what caused the final breach between our grandfathers. Aldo bought yours out of our business and Tomas moved to the UK to make a fresh start alone.’
‘It didn’t do him much good,’ Violet sighed.
‘He ended up marrying a much younger woman who worked for him and she ran off with another man and left their daughter—my mother—behind for him to raise when she was still a kid. Mum was never close to him but she said that he was always an unhappy, harsh man.’
Her grandfather, she reflected, was also a liar.
He had told his granddaughters that if one of them married Tore, he would give them the money to cover the cost of the clinical trial in the USA for their mother.
Only once Tabitha had agreed, he had said that they would have to wait for a few months until he could afford to hand over such a large amount of cash.
As if they had been in any position to wait when their mother was dying and time had been of the essence!
That was why Tabitha had demanded the up-front payment from Tore before she signed the marriage contract with Tore’s lawyers.
‘Your mother wasn’t at the wedding, was she?’ Tore commented.
‘No, she wasn’t.’ Violet was picking her words carefully. ‘Right now, she’s on a clinical trial in Massachusetts. She has cancer.’
Tore glanced at her in surprise. ‘How is the trial going for her?’
‘It’s too early to say but at least her body isn’t rejecting the treatment,’ she shared.
‘Aldo informed me that he and my grandmother will be staying at the farm for the whole of their visit although they plan to join us for dinner most evenings.’
Violet smiled. ‘They seem warm and friendly and they keep the conversation going. Do you know how lucky you are to have a family that close and caring?’
‘I do,’ Tore stressed as he shot the gleaming car to a halt in front of a brightly lit building.
As she climbed out onto the pavement, bodyguards shielded her from the surge of paparazzi trying to take photos of their arrival.
Tore tossed the car keys to a hovering valet and curved an arm round her to lead her indoors.
Bright lights and noise assailed them in the foyer.
A cord was detached for them to be ushered away from the queue of partygoers awaiting entry.
They climbed stairs to an opulent seating and viewing area on a balcony above the dance floor.
As a bottle of champagne arrived at their table, Violet took off her jacket.
‘I want to dance.’
‘No,’ Tore told her simply.
Violet dealt him a cheeky grin and her sheer appeal in that moment left him breathless. The sparkling eyes, the pink pout of her lips, the way she wrinkled her little nose in defiance. ‘I don’t need permission,’ she said, standing up.
Tore captured her hands and tugged her gently down on top of him.
In those heels, it took very little to unbalance her and she collapsed on his lap with a startled squeak of surprise.
Lean, strong hands framed her flushed, stubborn face.
‘Happy birthday, Tore,’ he teased. ‘This is how I like to celebrate. No clubs, no loud music or prying spectators. I only need you and I will quite happily carry you out of here and take you home. I want you, just you all to myself, mia lucciola.’
Violet connected with those mesmerising emerald green eyes set between ebony lashes, and her heart skipped a beat, anticipation running like a flame up through her body.
Without hesitation, she stretched up to find his mouth for herself and that connection sent an instant electrifying jolt of excitement travelling through her.
Her hands rose to lace into his hair and hold him as his tongue delved in an exploration of her mouth that drove her wild.
She wanted to rip him out of his suit and do all sorts of things she had never gotten to do before.
With Tore there was an enormous sense of freedom to be herself, to simply relax and go with the moment.
In a sudden movement, he ripped his lips off hers again and as she lifted her lowered lashes, she blinked at the flash of light that almost blinded her.
‘I think we have now provided the ultimate lusty honeymoon photo,’ Tore commented very drily as he carefully lifted her off him to set her down by his side.
‘Is that why you kissed me?’ Violet demanded, her voice brittle with sudden hurt.
‘You kissed me,’ he reminded her.
Violet reddened, looked away and lifted her champagne glass, bubbles bursting against her lips while a server hovered to top it up if necessary.
All of a sudden and a little too late she was accepting that they were on show in a public place.
But he was perfectly correct: She had been the instigator.
‘Not that I was objecting,’ Tore quipped. ‘A little enthusiasm goes a long way with me. We could leave early…’
‘We’ve only just got here,’ she protested in shock at that suggestion and colliding with those glittering jewelled eyes of his, she knew he wasn’t joking. ‘Our party hasn’t even arrived yet.’
‘But I want you…’ An arm closed round her narrow spine, a big hand covering her thigh. ‘I’m as hard as a rock and I keep on thinking that this is my birthday and I should be allowed to do whatever I want. And right now, at this moment, I just want to be inside you again.’
Violet’s mouth fell open and then she was saved by the arrival of Tore’s relatives.
They had added to the party with various boy-and girlfriends, and a slinky blonde in a rather revealing red dress took advantage of the fact that Violet had stood up to greet everybody and slid in beside Tore with a flashing smile to introduce herself.
‘Your girlfriend?’ Violet asked Sandro, who settled down beside her.
‘Wish she was. Angelina’s an actress. She jumped at the chance to meet Tore,’ Sandro informed her with a grimace. ‘He’s always a target when he goes out in public. He might as well be wearing a flashing billionaire sign above his head.’
‘He’s also very good-looking,’ Violet interposed, disliking the suggestion that Tore would only be desired for his wealth.
‘Well, look after him. She’s like a guided missile locked on a target when she wants to impress.’
‘Why don’t you make a move on her?’
‘I love to be seen out with her, but she’s not interested,’ Sandro admitted ruefully. ‘She sexes up my image but it’s only a show for the headlines. I owed her a favour and when she asked if she could come with me to meet Tore, I couldn’t say no.’
Angelina was chattering to Tore while he was hailing the waitress to order drinks for their table.
The owner of the club came up to speak to him personally, positively fawning over the blonde’s graciously offered hand.
Violet chatted as best she could to Tore’s family members in the midst of the noisy party atmosphere.
Angelina’s girlish giggles sounded in her ear several times and when two of the other women got up to dance, Violet accompanied them down to the dance floor.
She was irritated when she noticed that one of their bodyguards had stationed himself by the wall nearby.
It made her feel a little like a prisoner out on parole but still under supervision.
She stayed on the floor a long time because she was enjoying herself and had no idea when she would get another chance to dance since it was obvious that Tore was not a fan of such venues. The bodyguard signalled her.
Out of breath from her gyrations, she approached him. ‘Mr Renzetti would like you to rejoin the party upstairs,’ he shouted in her ear.
‘Sorry, no…’ Violet framed without hesitation.
She wasn’t a little girl to be called to order, summoned like a servant to do as she was told. Oh, hell no! If she wanted to dance, she was entitled to dance and as she was with two of Tore’s family members, she already had a pair of literal chaperones.
Exasperated by the actress’s persistent attentions, Tore vaulted upright and strode to the balcony to see why Violet had yet to return to his side.
He saw her at the edge of the floor, lights flashing across the neckline of her dress and highlighting the firm little mounds of the breasts shifting beneath the fine fabric as she moved.
And then he watched her spin and twerk. Dio mio, his wife was twerking like a teenager in public!
He blinked and looked again but it was happening, the hem of the dress riding up to show rather more of her slender thighs than he liked on view.
Tore breathed in deep and slow. Was he being too conservative?
Too controlling? But Violet down on that floor alone felt absolutely wrong to him.
So obviously, he was an old-fashioned guy… was he? Since when?