Page 11 of Hired By The Forbidden Italian
Her massive bedroom overlooked an actualgardenbig enough for flowerbeds and a paved area with extensive seating. There was also a massive en suite bathroom and a sitting area with a television. It wasn’t Evalina’s—not unless he had had the wardrobes cleared of all her clothing—which meant that she would have her own quarters somewhere else. It was a four-storeyed house. It made her parents’ place, which she had always considered big, look like a doll’s house in comparison.
She’d spent most of her formative years mixing with the wealthy. Here she had a glimpse of how those people several hundred steps above actually lived.
She’d brought what she’d considered suitable and sufficient, provided she kept on top of the laundry. After a long bath, which felt like the very height of luxury because this place was like a hotel, and if she closed her eyes she could forget that her nagging problems were just a heartbeat away, she changed into jeans, a T-shirt and some espadrilles and headed down to the kitchen.
She’d barely had time since she’d arrived to explore the house because it had felt rude, but without Annalise next to her she opened a few doors and looked into a series of spectacular rooms.
In the hallways pale wood replaced the marble used in the wide entrance hall, and the rugs were silk and looked priceless, co-ordinating with the art on the walls, which also looked priceless. It was an uncluttered modern house that just escaped being minimalist.
She hesitated outside the kitchen door, which was ajar, and then pushed it open on a deep, steadying breath.
Niccolo looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of him, and half rose, nodding to the seat opposite him. She duly slid into it and rested her hands on the table.
‘Glass of wine?’ he offered, reaching for the bottle of red in front of him, and Sophie shook her head. ‘Tell me about your day.’
‘Hasn’t Annalise told you what we did?’
‘I’d like to hear your version.’
She smiled stiffly and relayed how they had spent the day, from beginning to end. She fidgeted under his steady, dark gaze, shying away and back to feeling as though she was in the witness box, being asked deceptively easy questions that might or might not be leading straight into quicksand. He had a watchful way about him that made her want to babble. It also made her want to defend herself, even though she didn’t know what she should be defending herself against because he hadn’t accused her of anything.
Eventually her voice tapered off, at which point he said, matter-of-factly, ‘I didn’t have you followed but I did do a few rudimentary checks on you...’
Sophie didn’t say anything. Of course he had. It would have been an oversight of his not to have done so. Trusting his aunt was one thing but no one got to the top of the food chain by being a fool.
Still, she felt violated.
How much did he know about her? She’d always been a private person and events over the past year and a half had made her even more so. She had dealt with all the money issues, with all the emotional issues, on her own, and thinking that this sloe-eyed sexy strangerknewsome of her history sent a ripple of alarm and panic racing through her.
Logic and reason had no part in her sudden tension and the overpowering temptation to tell him that her life was none of his business.
‘Your parents...’ Niccolo said quietly.
She wasn’t looking at him.
‘Why didn’t you do your background checks before I came to the interview?’ She looked at him with bitter, accusing eyes.
‘I wanted to meet you first. I imagine you’ve had a tough time of things and I’m very sorry about your parents, Sophie.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Your background became my business when I agreed to hire you to look after my daughter.’
Sophie sighed and looked at him. ‘They died in a car accident,’ she said quietly. ‘It was rainy. My dad lost control. They hadn’t been drinking and it wasn’t even really all that late at night either. It was just one of those things.’ She hadn’t spoken about this to anyone in a long time. She had held it all to herself while life carried on around her, amidst the sadness and the confusion. She’d thought it would be difficult to actually talk about what had happened, but now that she had begun, she could feel a sense of release sweeping over her.
‘I was at uni. I had a career ahead of me and then just like that life came crashing down and I was drowning.’
She realised that this was now the second time in a matter of days that a man who was, really, a complete stranger had brought her close to crying. She wished she’d hung on to that handkerchief. There was a river of tears inside her and she knew that it was going to burst its banks and overflow, but suddenly she didn’t care.
‘I was very close to my parents. They were ripped away from me and I just couldn’t really cope.’ She held her head in her hands and stared down at the smooth surface of the table, not bothering to try and staunch the tears that had been a long time coming. She felt them leak out and then there he was. How had he moved so quickly to put his arms around her?
Suddenly, that physical contact seemed the most comforting thing in the world.
She was dampening his shirt. She also wanted to blow her nose. After a few seconds, she drew in a shuddering breath and sat back and said, prosaically, ‘I’m sorry. Your shirt’s wet.’
‘It’ll live to fight another day. I have another handkerchief.’
‘A constant supply.’
