look. 'That is such hypocrisy.'
'You would prefer to have the whole truth broadcast?' His voice bit. 'I can tell you my cousin Emilio would be delighted. He publishes a whole range of cheap gossip magazines, exposing secrets that the rich and famous would prefer to remain hidden.
'Until yesterday, he considered himself my heir, and will not be pleased to find himself demoted,' he added cuttingly. 'If he finds out that ours is simply a marriage of convenience, then our sleeping arrangements will be headline news in every trashy publication he puts on the streets. Is that what you want?'
'Oh, God.' Polly put down her glass. 'He couldn't, surely.'
"Think again,' he said. 'We have never liked each other, so he would do it and revel in it. So I prefer to safeguard my pride and my privacy, cara mia. And you would be well advised to cooperate too, unless you wish to feature as a discarded mistress— and the unwanted wife that Alessandro Valessi threw out of his bed. Is that what you choose?'
'No,' she said, staring down at the table. 'I—I don't want that.'
"Then play your part, and stop behaving as if I were a leper,' he told her. 'Because it bores me.' He paused. 'It also makes me wonder,' he added softly, 'what you would do if, some night, I— tested your resolve. Capisce?"
'Yes.' Her voice was a thread.
'Bene.' He gave her a swift, hard smile. 'Now let us go, happily united, into lunch.'
CHAPTER SIX
She walked into the restaurant beside him, moving like an automaton. His hand was under her arm as if she was in custody, as they followed the head waiter to yet another comer table.
"They have a new chef here,' Sandro told her as he took his place beside her. His sleeve, she realised, was only a few inches from her bare arm. Altogether too close for comfort. 'And the food is said to be very good,' he added.
'You seem to know a lot about it,' she said. 'Is this hotel part of the Comadora chain, by any chance?'
'We acquired it six months ago.'
'I see.' She played nervously with the cutlery. 'Will—will you tell me something?'
His gaze sharpened. 'If I can,' he said, after a pause.
'When we first met—why didn't you tell me who you really were? Why did you let me think you were simply a minor hotel employee?'
'Because that is exactly what I was,' he said. 'I had been travelling round all the hotels in the group to learn the trade, working in every department, so I could see what shape they were in.
'Traditionally my family has always been involved in agriculture and banking. The hotels were acquired in the nineteenth century by one of my ancestors who is said to have won them in a poker game.
'When my father inherited them, he wanted to get rid of them. He had no interest in tourism. But I felt differently. I thought managing the chain—updating and improving it—would be more interesting than citrus fruit and olive oil, or sitting in some air-conditioned office in Rome.
'So I was working incognito, and compiling a report that I hoped would convince my father to keep the hotels and invest in them.'
'But I wasn't involved with any hotels,' Polly protested. 'I worked for an independent tour company. You could have told me the truth.'
He said quietly, 'Paola, as the Valessi heir, I brought a lot of baggage with me. We are a wealthy family, and there had been women in my life whose sole priority was my money. I had become—wary.'
He spread his hands. 'You had no idea who I was, and yet you wanted me—for myself. For Sandro Domenico. I found that— irresistible. Can you understand that?'
'I understand.' There was a constriction in her throat. 'But your money must have been useful when you needed to be rid of— someone.'
His mouth hardened. 'Yes,' he said. 'In the end, it usually came down to—money.' He paused. 'Is that all you want to ask?'
'No.' She shook her head. 'I have a hundred questions. But I'm not sure you'd be prepared to answer them all.'
'No?' He sent her a
'You would prefer to have the whole truth broadcast?' His voice bit. 'I can tell you my cousin Emilio would be delighted. He publishes a whole range of cheap gossip magazines, exposing secrets that the rich and famous would prefer to remain hidden.
'Until yesterday, he considered himself my heir, and will not be pleased to find himself demoted,' he added cuttingly. 'If he finds out that ours is simply a marriage of convenience, then our sleeping arrangements will be headline news in every trashy publication he puts on the streets. Is that what you want?'
'Oh, God.' Polly put down her glass. 'He couldn't, surely.'
"Think again,' he said. 'We have never liked each other, so he would do it and revel in it. So I prefer to safeguard my pride and my privacy, cara mia. And you would be well advised to cooperate too, unless you wish to feature as a discarded mistress— and the unwanted wife that Alessandro Valessi threw out of his bed. Is that what you choose?'
'No,' she said, staring down at the table. 'I—I don't want that.'
"Then play your part, and stop behaving as if I were a leper,' he told her. 'Because it bores me.' He paused. 'It also makes me wonder,' he added softly, 'what you would do if, some night, I— tested your resolve. Capisce?"
'Yes.' Her voice was a thread.
'Bene.' He gave her a swift, hard smile. 'Now let us go, happily united, into lunch.'
CHAPTER SIX
She walked into the restaurant beside him, moving like an automaton. His hand was under her arm as if she was in custody, as they followed the head waiter to yet another comer table.
"They have a new chef here,' Sandro told her as he took his place beside her. His sleeve, she realised, was only a few inches from her bare arm. Altogether too close for comfort. 'And the food is said to be very good,' he added.
'You seem to know a lot about it,' she said. 'Is this hotel part of the Comadora chain, by any chance?'
'We acquired it six months ago.'
'I see.' She played nervously with the cutlery. 'Will—will you tell me something?'
His gaze sharpened. 'If I can,' he said, after a pause.
'When we first met—why didn't you tell me who you really were? Why did you let me think you were simply a minor hotel employee?'
'Because that is exactly what I was,' he said. 'I had been travelling round all the hotels in the group to learn the trade, working in every department, so I could see what shape they were in.
'Traditionally my family has always been involved in agriculture and banking. The hotels were acquired in the nineteenth century by one of my ancestors who is said to have won them in a poker game.
'When my father inherited them, he wanted to get rid of them. He had no interest in tourism. But I felt differently. I thought managing the chain—updating and improving it—would be more interesting than citrus fruit and olive oil, or sitting in some air-conditioned office in Rome.
'So I was working incognito, and compiling a report that I hoped would convince my father to keep the hotels and invest in them.'
'But I wasn't involved with any hotels,' Polly protested. 'I worked for an independent tour company. You could have told me the truth.'
He said quietly, 'Paola, as the Valessi heir, I brought a lot of baggage with me. We are a wealthy family, and there had been women in my life whose sole priority was my money. I had become—wary.'
He spread his hands. 'You had no idea who I was, and yet you wanted me—for myself. For Sandro Domenico. I found that— irresistible. Can you understand that?'
'I understand.' There was a constriction in her throat. 'But your money must have been useful when you needed to be rid of— someone.'
His mouth hardened. 'Yes,' he said. 'In the end, it usually came down to—money.' He paused. 'Is that all you want to ask?'
'No.' She shook her head. 'I have a hundred questions. But I'm not sure you'd be prepared to answer them all.'
'No?' He sent her a
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