Chapter Four #2
‘I… I suppose so,’ she said. His eyes flashed with that exhilarating intensity, forcing her to add, ‘But I’d need the money now.’
Westwick was falling apart, and her staff hadn’t had a pay rise in years. She couldn’t wait any longer to secure the investment they needed.
Irritation doused the fierce glow in his eyes at her counter demand.
Clearly, he wasn’t used to being bargained with.
But she refused to cower or back down. If she was going to spend a year having to appear in public with this man, and dealing with all these bizarre tingles and pulses, not to mention his controlling and volatile personality, she had to make sure it would be worth it.
But the truth was, pretending to love, honour and obey him would be a small price to pay to secure the Hall’s future—and make all her dreams for her dream job become a reality.
‘I will put five hundred thousand euros into the Hall’s operating account once you have signed the pre-nuptial agreement,’ he countered.
‘And a further five hundred thousand on the day we are wed. The balance of the investment, though, will be contingent on your ability to adhere to the terms of our agreement—and will not be paid until I am entirely satisfied with the outcome of this arrangement.’
Tali blinked, the heat rising in her cheeks—and a few other disconcerting places besides—at the commanding tone, but right alongside that disturbing reaction was the giddy burst of hope.
A million euros! It was more than she could ever have hoped for when she walked in here—and that was before his initial threat to demolish the place.
Even if Lorenti wasn’t satisfied with the arrangement—which she suspected he wouldn’t be, when he discovered she was about as far from being trophy-wife material, even fake trophy-wife material, as it was possible to get—the Hall would have a million euros of new investment.
She could repair the holes in the roof and the driveway, give everyone a modest pay rise, fund the tearoom’s much-needed makeover and offer their chef Jim a full-time job—so he could give up the night shifts at the local pub she knew he hated.
Plus her mum’s home would be safe and Tali could even begin the infrastructure projects that would demonstrate to Dario Lorenti the magnificent potential of the stately home he had inherited.
It was all good. In fact, it was fantastic.
And if by some miracle she managed to pull off the role of trophy wife to Lorenti’s satisfaction—which was a very big if, but she’d do her best—they would have an additional million euros to play with in a year’s time.
Of course, it would help if she had some idea of what he was trying to achieve with this fake marriage, why he needed it and why on earth he had chosen her, but that could wait until she knew him better.
The thought of spending more time in his company made the strange reaction in her abdomen pulse and glow, alongside the giddy leap in her heartbeat. She ignored it.
This was a job, he’d said so himself. Lorenti was a fascinating man—and okay, beyond gorgeous.
But he was also scarily intense and unknowable, and she suspected that would never change, no matter how much time she got to spend with him over the coming year—which would probably only be a few strategic appearances together, she hoped.
She could still remember the taciturn and angry teenager, whose moody facade she’d only managed to make a few dents in as a little girl. And he’d been a great deal more vulnerable and approachable then—lonely and in pain—than he was now.
She’d been a lot more na?ve herself as an eight-year-old, of course, convinced all Dario Lorenti had really needed was a friend, someone to make him smile, someone to care about him, to help him heal.
She’d strived to be that person once, but it would be like butting her head against a brick wall now, and she’d done enough of that as a child, trying to get her father to notice her.
What all those ignored texts and emails had taught her, eventually, was that you couldn’t change people, and you couldn’t make them care about you if they chose not to. So, it was pointless to try.
Even so, her heartbeat thundered in her ears when Dario murmured in a gruff voice, ‘Do we have a deal, Tallulah Whittaker?’
She nodded. ‘Okay, I’m in,’ she replied, trying to focus on the million euros and all the things she could do with it, and not the unreadable expression on his harshly handsome face—which was making her pulse points go haywire.
He held out his hand. ‘Let us shake on it.’
She reached out, but as his hand gripped hers, something fierce and shocking leapt up her arm and surged into her sex.
His eyes widened a fraction, as his fingers tightened.
Had he felt it, too—that shocking burst of adrenaline which was even now causing her legs to feel like overcooked noodles and her lungs to contract?
If he had, he controlled it faster than she could, the flecks of gold in his irises mesmerising her as he lifted her hand to his lips in a practiced move. But before his mouth could connect with her knuckles, he sniffed and dropped his gaze to her fingers.
Humiliation engulfed her as she became brutally aware of what he could see, and smell. The dirty, broken fingernails, the rough calluses, the scent of sweat and horses and manure.
His grasp loosened and she tugged her hand free. She closed her grubby, work-roughened fingers into a fist and hid the offending hand behind her back.
She braced herself, the swift kick of vulnerability almost as disturbing as the crippling disappointment. Would he withdraw the job offer, now that he had incontrovertible proof of how unsuitable she was to play his wife?
But instead of breaking their deal, his sensual lips lifted in the first genuine smile she’d seen on his face. The light dancing in his eyes turned the gold flecks to molten magma.
‘You have forty-eight hours, Tallulah, to make yourself presentable,’ he said, his tone more amused than judgemental.
But as the string of orders continued, Tali’s relief proved to be short-lived.
‘My legal team will arrive today. You must sign the pre-nuptial agreement before we meet in Milan to announce our engagement in two days’ time.
I will arrange a separate apartment for you there, while we attend events as a couple.
But at the end of the following week, we must travel to Sicily for my sister’s wedding,’ he continued, the dispassionate tone comprehensively obliterated by the purpose in his eyes which seemed to detonate in Tali’s sex.
What the hell? ‘I will tell Aldo to make all the necessary arrangements and assist you over the coming days.’ He walked back around the desk, but then his gaze skimmed over her. ‘He can start by arranging a manicure.’
She wanted to be outraged at his high-handedness and that dictatorial tone. But how could she be, when she’d totally signed up for this? What bothered her more, though, was the schedule he’d outlined so dispassionately.
It was all too much, way too soon.
‘But I can’t join you in two days. I’ll need more time to get my assistant Ellie up to speed here. And I can’t spend a fortnight in Milan, especially if you then want me to travel to Sicily with…’
He held up his hand, halting her babbled plea in mid-babble.
‘Are you reneging on our deal so soon?’ he asked, one brow lifting ominously.
‘No, but I’m needed here. Ellie’s good, but she’s never handled everything on her own. Exactly how long would we be in Sicily…?’
‘That is not your concern.’ He cut her off, making the panic threaten to choke her.
He didn’t look amused anymore, his scarred cheek clenching, signalling his irritation.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one getting annoyed.
‘You will be with me whenever, and wherever, and for as long as I require,’ he added.
‘But…’ she tried again.
‘This is not a negotiation, Tallulah. Either you accept these terms, or I close the Hall as planned and investigate how to have it demolished…’
The threat felt like a knife to her gut, but she couldn’t quite control her own temper. He was being unreasonable. And she wasn’t even sure why. What on earth would she be doing in Milan for close to two weeks?
‘But I can’t just abandon my staff…’ she said, the anxiety making her lungs hurt.
‘I’ve never been away for more than a weekend.
’ The truth was, she hadn’t taken a full day off work in the last two years, and she had never had the chance to travel…
She was pretty sure her day trip to Calais at school didn’t count.
But he didn’t need to know any of that, because he had far too much information on how unsophisticated she was already—thanks to broken-nail-gate.
One of the things she loved most about her job at Westwick was the sense of purpose and achievement it gave her.
She’d always been industrious and hard-working and, as much as she’d hated seeing the Hall’s decline, she’d also adored the challenge of running a place of this size and complexity on a shoestring.
She’d feel utterly useless in Milan twiddling her thumbs, and hideously guilty. Because how on earth were her already beleaguered staff going to manage everything without her?
Lorenti was utterly unmoved by her pleas. His features set in the stony expression of disapproval she had become familiar with in the past twenty minutes. But then, to her surprise, as he stared at her, the muscle in his jaw stopped clenching.
‘For this to work, I expect you to be available to me at all times,’ he growled, his voice husky with intent.
Tali tensed, the wave of heat which flushed through her shocking in its intensity. ‘But I…’
‘Hear me out,’ he interrupted her again. ‘If you wish to continue your work here during the year ahead, I will allow it. Up to a point.’
Allow it!
‘I… I do wish,’ she managed, feeling like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut. And not just because he was being such a dictatorial jerk.
She wanted this deal to go ahead, so Westwick would have a future, but the shocking heat flushing through her system like a tsunami made her feel as if her whole life—and everything she had ever known about herself—was being swept away before her eyes.
‘Then you may continue your work here in person,’ he said. ‘When I do not require your presence at my side. Otherwise, you can oversee your responsibilities via the internet. And hire any extra staff you feel appropriate, at my expense. This is my final offer.’
She could see he meant it.
A part of her wanted to tell him she couldn’t accept—that she couldn’t be his fake wife for a whole year if it meant spending weeks away from the estate.
Westwick was more than a job to her. This place made her feel valued and safe, and it always had, ever since she’d first arrived as a child.
It was where she’d recovered from her father’s rejection, and where she’d helped her mum eventually heal her broken heart.
And while another part of her knew she couldn’t throw away this chance to give Westwick the lifeline it so desperately needed… What if saving Westwick Hall and the estate—and looking after all the people who depended on her—wasn’t the only reason she wanted to say yes?
Lorenti was demanding and scarily intense, and pretending to be his wife, even in public, was going to be much more of a challenge than she had originally anticipated. But she also knew he had always intrigued her. And agreeing to do this felt weirdly exhilarating as well as intimidating.
While she knew this arrangement wasn’t personal for him—despite those devastatingly intense looks, which he probably sent to all women—leaving Westwick, agreeing to see new places, to do new things, would push her way outside her comfort zone. And maybe she needed that, just a little.
Until this moment, she hadn’t realised that in many ways she’d been hiding here. Her non-existent love life since college was a case in point…and quite possibly the only reason she was so ridiculously susceptible to those intense looks.
She sucked in a breath and went with her gut instinct, instead of succumbing to the panic making her throat hurt. ‘Okay, I guess I can live with that.’
He nodded, then opened his laptop. ‘Then I will see you in Milan in two days’ time,’ he murmured gruffly.
She turned to go, determined not to be hurt by the curt dismissal. But as she walked out of the library on unsteady legs, she felt weirdly like a completely different person than she had when she’d walked in here—could it really have been less than thirty minutes ago?
She was nowhere near as sure of herself and her place in the world, but maybe she was also a bit less artless and gullible and unsophisticated.
Which had to be a good thing. Because handling this dangerous man and his demands, possibly for a whole year, felt fraught with a lot of risks…
Even if it got her the reward she’d hoped for, for so long.