Italian Marriage: In Name Only (2 page)

The notion intrigued him.

As she turned to pull out a chair for him she caught the way he was looking at her and immediately a red-hot wave of embarrassment seared through her. She’d imagined she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her from top to toe as they walked through the restaurant, but she’d told herself not to be silly. Now
she was sure he had been looking at her, weighing her up with that gleam in his dark eyes as if she were some sub-species worthy of amusement.

Obviously he thought she was a real plain Jane. Not that she cared whether he found her attractive or not. She didn’t have time for such things, but strangely it still hurt.

‘I’ll get a waitress to take your order,’ she mumbled.

‘No.’ He detained her before she could move away, his manner firm, as if he were used to issuing orders and having them obeyed. ‘As I said, I’m in a hurry. So you can take my order.’

She watched as he reached for the menu that was sitting on the table. Part of her wanted to just walk away and ignore the command. But for the sake of good customer relations the sensible side of her wouldn’t allow it. ‘OK…’ She tried to snap back into work mode and forget everything else. ‘I can recommend the chef’s lunchtime specials. The Penne Arrabiata and the cannelloni.’

‘Is that so?’ He looked up at her with that gleam in his dark eyes again and she could feel the precious grip she had on her composure starting to slip. Probably recommending Italian dishes to an Italian wasn’t her best move.

‘They are very good.’ She tried to angle her chin up further. She had the utmost confidence in her chef. ‘Better than my Italian pronunciation of them, I assure you.’

He laughed at that. ‘Actually, I didn’t think your Italian pronunciation was too bad. You just need to roll your tongue around the words a little more.’ He proceeded to pronounce both dishes again in a slow smooth tone that made her blood start to heat up to boiling point. How did he manage to make two ordinary dishes from a menu sound like some kind of prelude to lovemaking? she wondered distractedly. ‘Well…I’ll…I’ll bear that in mind,’ she retorted stiffly.

‘Yes, you do that.’ Once more there was that glimmer of amusement in his eyes and then he returned his attention to the menu.

She knew her manner was uptight, yet she couldn’t seem to help it. He was having the strangest effect on her. He made her feel gauche and unsure of herself…and
he made her aware of herself as a woman
….

The knowledge trickled through her like ice.

Antonio glanced up and caught the vulnerable light in her green eyes. It was only there for a second before it was hidden behind a sweep of long dark lashes, replaced by that wary, guarded look of hers.

‘So have you made up your mind?’ she asked him, now fiddling nervously with the pair of glasses that sat perched on the end of her nose.

For a second he was distracted from thoughts of food as he wondered what had prompted that expression in her eyes—strange really, because he wasn’t interested in her. She certainly wasn’t his type.

He snapped the menu shut and handed it back to her. ‘Yes, I’ll go with your recommendation and have the Penne Arrabiata.’

‘And to drink?’ She pushed the wine list in his direction.

‘Water, thanks, I need to keep a clear head for business this afternoon.’

‘OK.’ She started to turn away from him but he detained her. ‘By the way, is your boss in today?’ he asked idly.

‘My boss?’ She looked back at him with a frown.

‘Yes. The owner of the establishment,’ he enunciated clearly.

‘You’re looking at her.’

The surprise on his handsome features amused her.

‘You’re Victoria Heart?’

‘That’s right. Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?’

‘No, not really.’ For a second his eyes held with hers. For some reason he’d expected her to point out the woman now standing by the front reception area. ‘You’re younger than I expected you to be.’

‘Am I?’ She looked at him in puzzlement. ‘I’m twenty-three. Sorry…but why are you interested?’

‘Just curious.’ His mobile phone rang and he took it out to answer it. ‘Thanks for the lunch recommendation.’ He gave her a brief smile and turned his attention to the call.

She knew she was being dismissed and she would gratefully have hurried away, except before she could move she heard him say, ‘Yes, Antonio Cavelli speaking.’

Antonio Cavelli.
She stood rigidly where she was. Was this
the
Antonio Cavelli who had purchased the hotel next door to her? She didn’t pay much attention to gossip sheets, nor did she get much time to watch TV programmes, so she really wouldn’t know him if she fell over him. But now she came to think about it she had heard that the multimillionaire was very attractive, very sought after by the opposite sex.

As she still made no attempt to move away, he covered the receiver of his phone and looked up, ‘Thank you but I would like my lunch as quickly as possible.’ His voice was curt.

‘Yes…yes, of course.’ Pulling herself together she hurried across to place his order with the kitchen.

It was quite a relief being within the warm busy hustle of the kitchen.

‘Everything all ready for your meeting with the bank, Victoria?’ Berni, the head chef, asked her as he put two plates down on the counter top, ready for one of the waitresses to collect.

‘Yes, all the paperwork is in order.’

He nodded. ‘You’ve been running a highly successful business here for the past few years. They can’t say that you don’t know what you are doing.’

‘No, they can’t say that.’ Victoria smiled. When Berni had first come to work for her a year and a half ago he’d treated her with a kind of wary disdain. Then one day a few members of staff hadn’t turned in and she’d rolled up her sleeves and worked alongside him. Since then they’d rubbed along together
very well. And telling her she knew what she was doing was indeed an accolade coming from the temperamental chef.

‘I’m sure it will all be fine,’ he said blithely now.

The words made the tension that had been escalating inside her all morning twist. She didn’t want to tell Berni that she wasn’t quite as optimistic as him. His wife had just had a baby and he needed this job—but then so did all the other members of her staff. Not that the bank would care a damn about that. Neither would they care that she was a single mother of a two-year-old little boy and that she would be practically destitute if the business went under. All she was to the bank was a number on a sheet of paper.

Berni was right, her business had been very successful, and the bank had got more than their pound of flesh out of her in bank charges and interest over the years. But all they would look at now was the fact that her takings were down and her expenditure was significantly up, thanks to her new landlord—Lancier. So she had a horrible feeling that her visit to the bank today wasn’t going to be pleasant. And given the present economic climate the odds were against them extending her loan.

Which meant she either sold up to Lancier or went bankrupt.

The very thought made her feel sick. She’d rather have sold to a flesh-eating monster than to the company who had deliberately tried to squeeze her out. But if the bank said no, then Lancier’s offer was her only alternative.

Unless
.

She moved back to the kitchen door and glanced out of the round porthole window towards Antonio Cavelli’s table.

He could be her salvation.

She’d devised a whole new business plan around the fact that the Cavelli hotel was opening up next to her. The simple fact was that her premises would be an ideal access point for his hotel. She got a lot of passing trade on the busy main road, whilst his hotel was set back in secluded gardens. She’d been
trying to get in touch with Antonio Cavelli for the past three months to tell him this and to run a few ideas by him—ideas that would give his customers a side access to his hotel, in return for her still being able to operate her business under the umbrella of his. They wouldn’t even need to make any structural changes; there was already a connecting small patio garden off the back of her restaurant. They could just open the doors and walk through.

She’d emailed both him and the chairman of the company, Luc Cavelli, practically every week. Had even sent spreadsheets and business projection figures. But to no avail—they hadn’t replied to one of her emails.

But now here he was, sitting in her restaurant about to have lunch.

Maybe it was fate. Or maybe he’d read her ideas and liked them. After all, he had enquired about the owner of the restaurant—
he had known her name.

‘Berni, take special care with the order for table thirty-three, will you?’ she murmured absently as she moved to get a jug of ice water. Berni glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

‘I take special care with all the orders,’ he said gruffly.

She smiled. ‘Yes, I know—it’s just that this lunch might be the most important of the year.’

A
NTONIO
looked up as Victoria put the jug of water down on his table. He’d finished his phone call and was now browsing through some papers from his architect’s office regarding the plans for the new boutiques that were to replace this restaurant.

‘Thanks.’ He acknowledged the water with a nod, and returned his attention to the papers. But after a moment he became aware that she was still standing next to him.

‘Was there something else?’ He looked back up at her enquiringly.

‘Well, actually, yes. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?’

He didn’t make an immediate reply, just sat back in his chair and regarded her with that cool dark gaze of his.

It took all of her courage to continue. ‘You’re my new neighbour, aren’t you? Antonio Cavelli, the hotel magnate?’

He inclined his head.

‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you. Do you mind if I sit down for a moment?’ She didn’t wait for him to reply but pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. OK, he terrified her to death—and she didn’t want to do this—but she was desperate.

‘Actually, I have been emailing you with some business propositions. I wonder if you got any of them?’

One dark eyebrow rose. ‘No, I can’t say I have.’

‘It’s just that as my restaurant is practically attached to your hotel, I thought we could do some business together.’ She leaned forward and poured them both a glass of water as she spoke.

Despite everything Antonio found himself intrigued. When she talked about business he noticed there was a complete transformation in her manner. Her green eyes were bright with enthusiasm, her body relaxed. And she was very eloquent. It seemed she had identified the fact that a side entrance to his hotel would be of benefit to him, and had put together some kind of proposal to incorporate her restaurant within his hotel. In fact, she had worked out a whole business strategy, which did sound surprisingly competent. She obviously had a good head for figures and was very bright and very astute, but it wasn’t something that he would want.

As soon as she paused for breath he held up a hand.

‘Ms Heart.’

She smiled expectantly. ‘Call me Victoria, please.’

‘Victoria. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested—’

‘But you would gain by having this entrance and—’

‘Even so, I’m still not interested,’ he cut across her firmly.

He could see the disappointment in her eyes.

‘Really?’ She paused. ‘It’s just that I thought maybe you’d got one of my emails and it was why you’d come in here today for lunch.’

‘I haven’t received any of your emails,’ he told her honestly. ‘I was inspecting work that’s being carried out next door. And the only reason I came in here for lunch was that it was convenient.’

‘I see.’ She bit down on her lip for a moment. She had very soft lips, he noticed; in fact, she had a nicely shaped mouth. ‘Well, seeing as you are here, maybe I could leave my business plan with you?’ She looked over at him hopefully. ‘I have it all printed out in the office. I can put it in a folder and leave it at the reception for you to take.’

He had to hand it to her, she was tenacious. ‘You can leave it if you want and I’ll take it. But it’s a no-go as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Well, you never know—you might think differently when you look at it.’ She smiled at him.

The waitress brought his food and Victoria pushed her chair back from the table and got up. ‘Thanks for taking the time to listen to me,’ she said politely. ‘I hope you enjoy your lunch.’

After her appointment at the bank, Victoria picked Nathan up from kindergarten. And then following their usual routine she pushed him through the park in his stroller.

The sun was sending dappled light onto the path through the tracery of green branches and there was a fragrant smell from the eucalyptus trees. Hard to believe that on such a beautiful September day her life was falling apart. But it was. Because the bank had said no to her and that was her last hope.

Deep down she’d known that they wouldn’t extend her credit, but it was still the most dreadful disappointment. Now it seemed that everything she had worked so hard for was slipping away.

And what on earth was she going to tell her staff? They all seemed to have the utmost faith that she would sort the business out.

How had this happened? she wondered in anguish. How could she be the owner of a successful restaurant one moment and be staring bankruptcy in the face the next? The situation had crept up on her so gradually as to be almost insidious.

Nathan wriggled impatiently in his stroller. He wanted to get out and although he didn’t talk much yet he was making the fact very clear.

Victoria stopped and went around to unfasten his safety harness. ‘OK, honey, you can toddle for a while now,’ she told him softly, and he gave her a winning smile, his dark eyes sparkling up at her full of life and mischief.

At least she had Nathan, she thought, her heart swelling with love. He was the most important thing in her life. Everything else could be worked out.

But what would become of them now? The question made fear coil inside her like a snake. Everything she had was tied up in the business.

Victoria had experienced poverty as a child, had watched her parents scrimping and scraping to get by. They’d tried to hide the problems from her but she remembered all too well the cold hard reality of it. Her father had died when she was thirteen—the family home had been lost and for a while she and her mother had lived in a small flat in an inner city suburb of London. That had been a truly terrible time and her mother had died less than a year later, leaving Victoria under the care of social services until her mother’s sister in Australia had been found and she had been sent to live with her.

She’d never met her aunt Noreen until the day she’d stepped off the plane in Sydney and she had been incredibly nervous. All she had known about the woman was that she was her mother’s older sister but they hadn’t been close. Deep down Victoria supposed she had been hoping for a kindly aunt—someone who resembled her mum, someone who would help heal the loneliness and loss she felt. But it had been immediately apparent that Noreen was not the sentimental type and looking after a heartbroken fourteen-year-old girl was not something she had wanted at all. In fact, she’d made it very clear from the start that she had only taken her in because she’d felt obliged to. There had been no warm hug of welcome, no platitudes about how sad the situation was—just a cool handshake and a let’s-get-on-with-it attitude.

Noreen had been in her late forties, single and a formidable businesswoman. She owned a small restaurant out at Bondi Beach and she put Victoria to work there almost as soon as she arrived. ‘You’ll have to pay your way, girl. I can’t afford passengers,’ she’d told her as she tossed an apron in her
direction. ‘You can have two evenings off during a school week, the rest of the time you start work at six-thirty.’

Those years had been hard and the hours unsocial but Victoria had done as she was told, and had in fact shown a natural aptitude for cooking as well as for business. And Noreen had been pleased. An emotionally cold woman, she had no time for the fripperies of being a female but she had taught her well in the ways of business, encouraging her to go on to college to get business qualifications and qualifications in catering.

When she was twenty, Victoria was running Noreen’s business for her single-handedly. But the hours were long and hard and she had little time for herself. And it was at this point that she had met Lee. He was a highly respected member of the business community and ten years her senior.

Looking back now she realized how naive she had been to fall for his smooth lines. But she had been very lonely and he had made her feel special—had looked at her and admired her and showed interest in her, and she had lapped it up.

But it had been a big mistake. As soon as she had gone to bed with Lee he had stopped being interested and had cut her dead and moved on to his next conquest.

She felt a wave of shame now as she remembered going to him to tell him she was pregnant, remembered the way he had calmly told her to have an abortion and had written a cheque and slid it across the desk to her.

Victoria hadn’t wanted to cash that cheque; she’d wanted to tear it up and fling it in his face. She’d had no intention of having the abortion. Neither had she had any intention of allowing Noreen the pleasure of throwing her out, which her aunt had coldly insisted she would do if she went ahead with the pregnancy. Instead she’d taken a leap of faith and had used the money as a down payment for rent on a small bedsit.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Noreen had demanded as she had watched her pack a suitcase to leave.

‘I’m doing what you told me I should do. I’m standing on my own two feet.’

She remembered her aunt’s rage. ‘You’re just like your mother! Well, don’t think you can come back here when the going gets tough because you can’t. I’ll want nothing to do with you.’

‘That’s OK. I won’t be coming back. And just for the record my mother may have been pregnant with me when she married my dad but they were very much in love. But you wouldn’t understand feelings like that.’

‘Oh, I understand all right. I understand that your mother stole the only man I ever cared about, trapped him when she fell pregnant with you….’

The bitter words spilling out into the silence had explained so much about Noreen’s cold, derogatory manner over the years—her almost vehement disdain for Victoria at times, the veiled insults.

She’d never seen Noreen again. Two months later on her twenty-first birthday Victoria had received a solicitor’s letter. It seemed her mother had taken out a life insurance policy that had paid out on her death and the money had been invested and held in trust for Victoria.

She’d broken down and cried on the morning that letter had come. It had been a precious last gift from her mother at a point when she had needed it most, and she had made a conscious decision that she would use it to make a better life for her and her child.

And she’d done that. She’d known if she just banked the money and used it to pay rent that it would be gone in no time, that she needed to make it work for her, so she had decided to start her own business. She’d found a little bijou café to rent and had started out just selling teas and coffees and her homemade cakes. By the time Nathan was born she had been able to afford to take on another girl to help her. Six months after that she had extended her premises, and with the help of
a bank loan had turned the business into a thriving restaurant with a small studio apartment attached for her and Nathan.

She’d sent Noreen a letter at that point telling her she was doing well and had even sent some photographs of Nathan, but her aunt had never acknowledged them and had never visited. Probably frightened in case she was asked for help.

She would never be that desperate, Victoria promised herself fiercely. She was a survivor—she would find a way around her problems. After all, she’d got them this far. And no matter how broke she was she would always find a way to provide for Nathan, to care for him and love him.

Nathan wanted to push his pram himself and she allowed him to take it over, smiling to herself as she watched the toddler’s unsteady yet resolute progress. He’d only just turned two. But he was filled with a stubborn sense of purpose that reminded her a lot of herself.

Her phone rang and she fished it out from her pocket with a feeling of hope. Maybe it would be Antonio Cavelli—maybe he’d read her business proposition and had second thoughts about it.

‘Ms Heart, this is Tom Roberts calling you from Lancier Enterprises. Just reminding you of our appointment today at four-thirty.’

Of course it wasn’t Antonio Cavelli; he’d told her he wasn’t interested in her proposal. Victoria swallowed on a hard painful knot in her throat. But she wasn’t ready to admit defeat and sign away her precious business yet, she told herself fiercely.
Especially to Lancier!
‘Ah, yes, Mr Roberts. I rang and left a message with your secretary earlier today, stating that I was unable to make our appointment. Unfortunately I’ve no child care for my little boy. Could we reschedule for later in the week?’

‘Later in the week doesn’t suit, Ms Heart.’ The man’s tone was furious. ‘May I suggest you bring your child with you into
the office. We need to discuss terms today. Otherwise I can’t promise that this generous offer for your business will be on the table tomorrow.’

‘How’s it going?’ Antonio’s lazy question coming from the doorway made the accountant jump nervously as he put the phone down. He hadn’t noticed his boss standing there.

‘Everything’s in hand.’ The words were firmly decisive, but Tom Roberts looked anything but in control of the situation. In fact, he looked completely flustered.

‘I take it Ms Heart is still trying to give you the runaround?’ Antonio moved further into the office.

‘She’s trying to be a little elusive but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’

‘Hmm.’ For a second Antonio remembered the way Victoria Heart had approached him with her business idea this afternoon, fixing him with those wide green intelligent eyes.

Why he was thinking about that he didn’t know. He really had more important matters on his mind right now. He sauntered over to the fax machine by the side of Tom’s desk and took out the documents his lawyer had sent for him.

The sooner he relieved his father of his shares in the company, the better, he thought angrily as he scanned the details of his directive. The old man had obviously lost his sanity completely—either that or he was having some kind of laugh at his expense!

This pretence that he was giving him an ultimatum because he cared about him and wanted him to settle down instead of working so hard was frankly ludicrous! The only thing that Luc Cavelli had ever cared about was himself. And he’d always had an over-inflated sense of his own importance, an arrogance that seemed to have spilled now into some kind of obsession with Antonio providing him with the future generation of the Cavelli family.