Chapter Eight
‘FAIRY wings?’ RIO’s tone was incredulous. ‘You’re sure?’
Evie reached for a pair of pink gossamer wings which hung from a metal hook.
She felt devastated. Ripped to shreds by the revelation that he’d lied to her.
‘Trust me, fairy wings are always a hit with four-year-olds. Better buy a spare pair, ready for when she breaks these.’ It felt strange, having this conversation with this man.
She had a sense that what she was saying was as alien to him as the Russian Vladimir spoke.
As if to confirm her suspicions, he looked at her blankly. ‘Why will she break them? She’s a little girl, not a Sumo wrestler—’
‘Yes, but she’ll want to sleep in them,’ Evie explained patiently, ‘because that’s what little girls always do and sleeping in them will break them.
When that happens you can either explain to her that they’re gone for ever or you can spoil her rotten and get her another pair.
Normally I’d suggest it’s dangerous to spoil her but, given that she’s obviously had a completely rubbish time lately, I think an extra pair is probably in order. ’
Without hesitation, Rio cleared the shelves of pink fairy wings.
‘I meant one spare pair,’ Evie said faintly, ‘not ten.’
‘I’m not risking anything. As you say, she’s had enough trauma for one lifetime.’ Rio handed them to his stunned bodyguard. ‘So we have fairy wings and spare fairy wings and spare spare fairy wings. What next?’
Thrown by the sight of the normally taciturn Antonio struggling to balance a mountain of fairy wings, Evie managed a smile. ‘If you’re attacked now, this will be interesting. You’ll just have to bash them with your magic wand or something—’
Antonio’s mouth twitched. ‘I’ll remember that.’
‘Don’t worry about Antonio,’ Rio drawled. ‘He probably trained in the same unarmed combat camp as your grandfather. If the chips were down, he’d find a way to turn fairy wings into an assault weapon.’ His gaze met hers. ‘It’s good of you to do this for me.’
She felt frozen inside. ‘I’m doing it for her, not you.’ She ignored the tiny part of her that questioned that claim, just as she ignored the commotion in her nerve-endings that told her he was even more lethally attractive when he was vulnerable. ‘Let’s go. We need dolls.’
‘I’m not sure about dolls. Last time I saw her, I took her a doll.’ He scanned the rows of toys with something close to despair. ‘I think I probably chose the wrong sort. There were millions. The one I picked had a very elaborate costume and she was very frustrated when it wouldn’t come off.’
Evie’s heart twisted at that image—the arrogant, self assured tycoon taking a serious knock to his self-esteem as he struggled to choose a doll. ‘I expect she’d like a doll that can be dressed and undressed. They make one that cries and wets itself.’
His expression was comical. ‘There is a market for that?’
‘A huge market,’ Evie told him, enjoying the look of shock on his face. ‘You pour the milk in one end and it comes out the other, just like real life.’
Rio shuddered and he said something in Italian. ‘That is fun?’
‘It’s role play. Didn’t you ever play mummies and daddies—?
’ Evie took one look at his face and shook her head.
‘Forget I said that. I don’t suppose commitment games were ever your thing.
Take it from me, most little girls are a sucker for caring for a baby.
Put a real baby in a room and the girls are all over it in minutes.
Whatever anyone says about feminism, most little girls love pretending dolls are babies. ’
‘Did you?’ Suddenly his gaze became disturbingly acute and Evie felt the slow burn of colour in her cheeks.
‘Yes.’ She turned away from him and took the stairs two at a time.
There were some things it didn’t pay to think about.
Especially not around this man. She just wanted to get this over with so that she could go into hiding and lick her wounds.
‘Here—dolls. I’ll grab a shopping trolley.
I don’t think poor Antonio can carry any more. ’
‘A whole floor of dolls?’ Rio looked horrified. ‘How do you know where to start?’
Evie tried to translate it into terms he’d understand. ‘Like any product, you have to segment your market. There’s a specific market for young children. Then they segment the market again—dolls that cry, dolls that—’
‘OK, fine. I get the picture—’ he interrupted her hastily ‘—so which is the market leader?’
‘This one.’ She pointed and Rio lifted it off the shelf gingerly.
‘How many spares do we need?’
‘At least one. It’s very easy to leave a doll on a plane.
’ Suddenly realising what she’d said, Evie gave a wry smile.
‘On the other hand, you do own the plane, so you’d be able to retrieve it without long and fruitless arguments with unhelpful airline staff.
You could probably get away without spares. ’
Clearly not prepared to take any risks, Rio added five identical dolls to the growing pile of toys in the trolley. ‘I have five homes,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘It’s probably best to have a spare in each.’
‘Five?’ Evie blinked. ‘You have five homes?’
‘You’re thinking that it will confuse a small child?
’ He added a small stack of accessories to the pile.
‘I’ve been thinking the same thing. In fact, I’ve been restructuring my business so that I can spend as much time as possible at my palazzo in Florence, to give her stability.
My team have decorated a room exactly like the one she is in at the moment so that it seems familiar.
It’s right next to mine and I have already appointed a very experienced English nanny who is ready to move in at a moment’s notice. ’
Evie felt the hot sting of tears scald her eyes and turned away in horror, blinking rapidly.
For crying out loud, what was the matter with her?
Why did the thought of him studying a child’s room and creating an identical version make her want to sob?
Struggling for control, she picked up a doll from the shelf and pretended to examine it.
Her insides were at war and, when she felt Rio’s hand close over her shoulder, the tears formed a lump in her throat.
‘This is a good one.’ She thrust the doll at him and he studied it in silence.
‘Are you sure? I’m no expert, but I don’t think so.’
Dragging her gaze from the dark shadow of his jaw to the doll she’d handed him, Evie realised that he was right.
The doll she’d selected was completely unsuitable for a young child.
Apart from the fact that the clothing was covered in intricate beading, there was a clear warning that it wasn’t intended for children under the age of eight.
She wasn’t concentrating. Her mind was all over the place.
His hand still on her shoulder, Rio returned the doll to the shelf. ‘I’ve upset you again.’ His voice was low and all Evie could do was shake her head, frightened by the intensity of her feelings.
‘No.’
‘You’re trying not to cry. I know enough about women to recognise the signs.’
‘I believe you. I’m sure you’ve made enough women cry in your time.’
‘But normally they don’t try and hold it back. As usual, you have to be different. If you want to sob, then sob. I know I deserve it. I really have been a bastard to you.’ He smoothed her hair away from her face but she moved her head away sharply.
‘Don’t touch me. And don’t use that word in a toy shop.’ Evie almost wished she could cry. It would have been easier to hate him. The problem was, she didn’t hate him. She didn’t hate him at all. He’d used her, he’d lied to her, but she still didn’t hate him.
Ignoring her warning not to touch, he closed his hands over her shoulders. ‘Evie—’
‘Let’s just get this done. I’m tired. I haven’t had much sleep in the last few days.’ She tried to pull away from him but he held her, his physical strength evident in his firm grip.
‘We were talking about where Elyssa would enjoy living most. Do you have an opinion on where a little girl would like to live? I assumed a child would rather live in one place as much as possible and Florence is a wonderful city, but if you think—’
‘I honestly don’t know.’ Evie finally managed to pull away from him.
‘Why would I know? I’m not a mother. I probably know less than you do.
’ All she knew was that her mind was a mess.
She’d told herself that he was totally the wrong man for her because he wasn’t the family sort.
He’d emphasised that he wasn’t interested in commitment.
And now she discovered he had a daughter he clearly adored and every decision he made, even the one to use her so ruthlessly to achieve his own ends, demonstrated the level of his commitment to his child.
The fact that he was clearly struggling so hard to do the right thing somehow made the whole thing all the more poignant.
He hadn’t chosen fatherhood, but he was determined to do it right.
He was facing his responsibilities. Despite what everyone said, Rio Zaccarelli didn’t have a problem with commitment.
His problem was with his own relationships with women.
And that was hardly surprising, was it, given the women he’d met in the past?
Thinking about Elyssa’s mother, Evie’s throat was thick with emotion.
Who would do that to a man? Or to a child?
A solid lump seemed to have formed behind the wall of her chest. She kept seeing him removing that photograph from his wallet.
Kept seeing him piling up fairy wings so that his daughter didn’t suffer any more trauma.
Her arm brushed against his and an electric current shot through her body and, at that moment, the truth lit up in her brain.
She’d fallen in love with him. At some point during the glittering, glamorous charade, the pretence had turned to reality.