Read The Truth Behind his Touch Online

Authors: Cathy Williams

The Truth Behind his Touch (4 page)

Shocked and disturbed by Giancarlo’s freewheeling assumptions and cynical, half-baked misunderstandings, Caroline didn’t know where to begin. She just stared at him as the colour drained away from her face. She wasn’t normally given to anger, but right now she had to stop herself from picking her plate up and smashing it over his arrogant head.

‘So maybe I wasn’t entirely accurate when I accused you of lying to me. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that you were conveniently economical with the full truth …’

‘I can’t believe I’m hearing you say these things! How could you accuse your own father of trying to squeeze money out of you?’

Giancarlo flushed darkly under her steady, clear-eyed, incredulous gaze. ‘Like I said, money has a nasty habit of bringing out the worst in people. Do you know that it’s a given fact that the second someone wins a lottery, they
suddenly discover that they have a hell of a lot more close friends and relatives than they ever imagined?’

‘Alberto hasn’t sent me here on a mission to get money out of you or … or to ask you for a loan!’

‘Are you telling me that he had no idea that I was now a wealthy man?’

‘That’s not the point.’ She remembered Alberto’s statement that Giancarlo had made something of himself.

‘No? You’re telling me that there’s no link between one semi-bankrupt father who hasn’t been on the scene in nearly two decades and his sudden, inexplicable desire to meet the rich son he was happy to kick out of his house once upon a time?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, if you really believe that, if you’re not in cahoots with Alberto, then you must be incredibly naive.’

‘I feel very sorry for you, Signor De Vito.’

‘Call me Giancarlo. I feel as though we almost know each other. Certainly no one can compete with you when it comes to delivering offensive remarks. You are in a league of your own.’

Caroline flushed because she was not given to being offensive. She was placid and easy-going by nature. However, she was certainly not going to apologise for speaking her mind to Giancarlo.

‘You are pretty offensive as well,’ she retaliated quietly. ‘You’ve just accused me of being a liar. Maybe in
your
world you can never trust anyone …’

‘I think it’s fair to say that trust is a much over-rated virtue. I have a great deal of money. I’ve learnt to protect myself, simple as that.’ He gave an elegant shrug, dismissing the topic. But Caroline wasn’t quite ready to let the matter drop, to allow him to continue believing, unchallenged, that
he had somehow been targeted by Alberto. She wouldn’t let him walk away thinking the worst of either of them.

‘I don’t think that trust is an over-rated virtue. I told you that I feel sorry for you and I really do.’ She had to steel herself to meet and hold the dark, forbidding depths of his icy eyes. ‘I think it’s sad to live in a world where you can never allow yourself to believe the best in other people. How can you ever be happy if you’re always thinking that the people around you are out to take advantage of you? How can you ever be happy if you don’t have faith in the people who are close to you?’

Giancarlo very nearly burst out laughing at that. What planet was this woman from? It was a cutthroat world out there and it became even more cutthroat when money and finances were involved. You had to keep your friends close and your enemies a whole lot closer in order to avoid the risk of being knifed in the back.

‘Don’t go getting evangelical on me,’ he murmured drily and he noted the pink colour rise to her cheeks. ‘You’re blushing,’ he surprised himself by saying.

‘Because I’m angry!’ But she put her hands to her face and glared at him. ‘You’re so … so
superior
! What sort of people do you mix with that you would suspect them of trying to use you for what you can give them? I didn’t know anything about you when I agreed to come here. I didn’t know that you had lots of money. I just knew that Alberto was ill and he wanted to make his peace with you.’

The oddest thing seemed to be happening. Giancarlo could feel himself getting distracted. Was it because of the way those tendrils of curly hair were wisping against her face? Or was it because her anger made her almond-shaped eyes gleam like a furious spitting cat’s? Or maybe it was the fact that, when she leant forward like that, the
weight and abundance of her breasts brushing against the small table acted like a magnet to his wandering eyes.

It was a strange sensation to experience this slight loss of self-control because it never happened in his dealings with women. And he was a connoisseur when it came to the opposite sex. Without a trace of vanity, he knew that he possessed a combination of looks, power and influence that most women found an irresistible aphrodisiac. Right now, he had only recently broken off a six-month relationship with a model whose stunning looks had graced the covers of a number of magazines. She had begun to make noises about ‘taking things further’; had started mentioning friends and relatives who were thinking of tying the knot; had begun to show an unhealthy interest in the engagement-ring section of expensive jewellery shops.

Giancarlo had no interest in going down the matrimonial path. There were two vital lessons he felt he had taken away from his parents: the first was that there was no such thing as a happy-ever-after. The second was that it was very easy for a woman to turn from angel to shrew. The loving woman who was happy to accommodate on every level quickly became the demanding, needy harridan who needed reassurance and attention round the clock.

He had watched his mother contrive to play the perfect partner on so many occasions that he had lost count. He had watched her perform her magic with whatever man happened to be the flavour of the day for a while, had watched her bat her eyelashes and flutter her eyes—but then, when things began winding down, he had seen how she had changed from eager to desperate, from hard-to-get to clingy and dependent. The older she had got, the more pitiful a sight she had made.

Of course, he was a red-blooded man with an extremely healthy libido, but as far as Giancarlo was concerned work
was a far better bet when it came to reliability. Women, enjoyable as they might be, became instantly expendable the second they began thinking that they could change him.

He had never let any woman get under his skin and he was surprised now to find his thoughts drifting ever so slightly from the matter at hand.

He had confronted her, having done some background research, simply to have his suspicions confirmed. It had been a simple exercise in proving to her—and via her to Alberto—that he wasn’t a mug who could be taken for a ride. At which point, his plan had been to walk away, warning guns sounding just in case they were tempted to try a second approach.

From the very second Caroline had shown up unannounced in his office, he had not allowed a shred of sentiment to colour his judgement. Bitter memories of the stories handed down to him from his mother still cast a long shadow. The truth he had seen with his very own eyes—the way her lack of any kind of robust financial settlement from a man who would have been very wealthy at the time had influenced her behaviour patterns—could not be overlooked.

‘You must get bored out there,’ Giancarlo heard himself remark when he should have really been thinking of concluding their conversation so that he could return to the various meetings waiting for him back at the office. Without taking his eyes off her, he flicked a finger and more cold drinks were brought to their table.

Caroline could no more follow this change in the conversation than she could have dealt with a snarling crocodile suddenly deciding to smile and offer her a cup of tea. She looked at him warily and wondered whether this was a roundabout lead-up to another scathing attack.

‘Why are you interested?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Why not? It’s not every day that a complete stranger waltzes into my office with a bombshell. Even if it turns out to be a bombshell that’s easy to defuse. Also—and I’ll be completely honest on this score—you don’t strike me as the sort of person capable of dealing with the man I remember as being my father.’

Caroline was drawn into the conversation against her will. ‘What do you remember?’ she asked hesitantly. With another cold drink in front of her, the sight of those remaining pastries was awfully tempting. As though reading her mind, Giancarlo ordered a few more, different ones this time, smiling as they were placed in front of her.

He was amused to watch the struggle on her face as she looked down at them.

‘What do I remember of my father? Now, let’s think about this. Domineering. Frequently ill-tempered. Controlling. In short, not the easiest person in the world.’

‘Like you, in other words.’

Giancarlo’s mouth tightened because this was an angle that had never occurred to him and he wasn’t about to give it house-room now.

‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘No, you shouldn’t, but I’m already getting used to the idea that you speak before you think. Something else I imagine Alberto would have found unacceptable.’

‘I really don’t like you
at all
,’ Caroline said through gritted teeth. ‘And I take back what I said. You’re
nothing
like Alberto.’

‘I’m thrilled to hear that. So, enlighten me.’ He felt a twinge of intense curiosity about this man who had been so thoroughly demonised by his ex-wife.

‘Well.’ Caroline smiled slowly and Giancarlo was amazed at how that slow, reluctant, suspicious smile altered the contours of her face, turning her into someone
strangely beautiful in a lush, ripe way that was even more erotic, given the innocence of everything else about her. It put all sorts of crazy thoughts in his head, although the thoughts lasted only an instant, disappearing fast under the mental discipline that was so much part and parcel of his personality.

‘He can be grumpy. He’s very grumpy now because he hates being told what he can and can’t eat and what time he has to go to bed. He hates me helping him physically, so he’s employed a local woman, a nurse from the hospital, to help him instead, and I’m constantly having to tell him that he’s got to be less bossy and critical of her.

‘He was very polite when I first arrived. I think he knew that he was doing my dad a favour, but he figured that he would only have to be on good behaviour for a few weeks. I don’t think he knew what to do with me, to start with. He’s not been used to company. He wasn’t comfortable making eye contact, but none of that lasted too long. We discovered that we shared so many interests—books, old movies, the garden. In fact, the garden has been invaluable now that Alberto is recovering. Every day we go down to the pond just beyond the walled rose-garden. We sit in the folly, read a bit, chat a bit. He likes me to read to him even though he’s forever telling me that I need to put more expression in my voice … I guess all that’s going to have to go …’

Giancarlo, who hadn’t thought of what he had left behind for a very long time, had a vivid memory of that pond and of the folly, a weird gazebo-style creation with a very comfortable bench inside where he likewise had enjoyed whiling away his time during the long summer months when he had been on holiday. He shook away the memory as if clearing cobwebs from a cupboard that hadn’t been opened for a long time.

‘What do you mean that you guess that’s all “going to have to go”?’

Caroline settled worried eyes on his face. For someone who was clearly so intelligent, she was surprised that he didn’t seem to follow her. Then she realised that she couldn’t very well explain without risking another attack on Alberto’s scruples.

‘Nothing,’ she mumbled when his questioning silence threatened to become too uncomfortable.

‘Tut tut. Are you going to get tongue-tied on me?’

The implication being that she talked far too much, Caroline concluded, hurt.

‘What do you mean? And don’t bother trying to be coy. It doesn’t suit you.’

Caroline didn’t think she could feel more loathing for another human being if she tried.

‘Well, if Alberto has run into financial difficulties, then he’s not going to be able to maintain the house, is he? I mean, it’s enormous. Right now, a lot of it isn’t used, but he would still have to sell it. And please don’t tell me that this is a ploy to try and get money out of you. It isn’t.’ She sighed in weary resignation. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you that. You won’t believe me anyway.’ Suddenly, she was anxious to leave, to get back to the house on the lake, although she had no idea what she was going to do once she got there. Confront Alberto with his problems? Risk jeopardising his fragile health by piling more stress on his shoulders?

‘I’m not even sure your father knows the truth of the situation,’ she said miserably. ‘I’m certain he would have mentioned something to me.’

‘Why would he? You’ve been around for five seconds. I suggest the first person on his list of confidants would probably have been his accountant.’

‘Maybe he’s told Father Rafferty. I could go and see him at the church and find out if he knows about any of this. That would be the best thing, because Father Rafferty would be able to put everything into perspective. He’s very practical and upbeat.’

‘Father Rafferty …?’

‘Alberto attends mass at the local church every Sunday. Has done for a long time, I gather. He and Father Rafferty have become close friends. I think your father likes Father Rafferty’s Irish sense of humour—and the odd glass of whisky. I should go. All of this …’

‘Is probably very unsettling, and probably not what you contemplated when you first decided to come over to Italy.’

‘I don’t mind!’ Caroline was quick to reply. She bit back the temptation to tell him that
someone
had to be there for Alberto.

Giancarlo was realising that his original assumption, which had made perfect sense at the time, had been perhaps a little too hasty. The woman was either an excellent, Oscar-winning actress or else she had been telling the truth all along: her visit had not been instigated for financial purposes.

Now his brain was engaged on a different path; he sat back and looked at her as he stroked his chin thoughtfully with one long, brown finger.

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