‘But we didn’t, did we? Your father was influenced by your mother. I spoke to her just now, Orla. She has nothing more on her mind than—’
She cut him off fiercely, all of her defensive hackles raised. ‘My mother is not shallow.’ She coloured hotly. ‘Well, that is … not like you think. When we started out we had nothing. She helped my father build everything up but she came from a well-off background, so she was never entirely comfortable with having nothing. But she loves my father. And he adores her.’
Orla stopped, breathing harshly. She couldn’t leave it there. She’d said too much now. She wasn’t even aware of the hubbub of the lobby going on around them, only wanting to wipe that judgemental look off Antonio’s face.
‘My father knew that he’d taken her from a life of relative luxury, so as soon as we started making money, he insisted that she not work any more.’
Orla suddenly realised something and spoke aloud almost as much to herself as to Antonio. ‘He was as much an architect of the woman she is today as she was. She got seduced by the wealth, the things she could buy. Her influence over him. But I know she’s scared to death of what’s going to happen, even though she’d never admit it. That’s why she’s behaving as if nothing is wrong.’
Antonio said softly, ‘And you stepped into the breach to take her place. You want to save the hotels, don’t you? Somehow?’
Orla glared at him for a long moment for unsettling her and making her reveal what she had, and then blurted out, ‘Of course I do. This is our family legacy. My father worked so hard for this. It’s killing me to think that it’ll be lost. The fact that our name will live on is small comfort when we know they won’t really be our hotels.’
Orla’s mouth tightened at her outburst. She blamed Antonio for making love to her so thoroughly that she felt raw and exposed, unable to protect herself. And for making her realise something about her mother that she’d never even really articulated to herself before.
‘And yet, that’s enough for your father,’ Antonio surmised grimly. ‘Have you talked to him about ways to save the business apart from just saving the brand name?’
Orla fought to control her wayward emotions, took another sip of lukewarm tea and put the cup down, as if this conversation wasn’t costing her as much as it was.
She nodded slowly and admitted reluctantly, ‘He doesn’t want to know. He thinks that if we can save the name across as many hotels as possible, then he won’t have failed completely. But I know we have a chance if he’ll just agree to sell everything, name and all, apart from this flagship hotel and the ones in Dublin and New York.’
Antonio whistled softly. ‘That’s ambitious.’
Orla lifted her chin. ‘We could do it though, if my father would just agree to talk about a much smaller investment with a partner, and to let all our other interests go, name and all. But he’s stubborn. He either wants to retain as many of our hotels as he can, or none….’
Orla looked away from Antonio’s narrowed gaze. To admit to this defeat, in front of him … was galling. Especially after last night, when she still felt wobbly and oversensitised and all over the place emotionally. Between her legs stung with the after-effects of his powerful body surging into hers over and over again.
She glanced back at him, suddenly acutely aware of how much she’d revealed. ‘What are you doing, Antonio? You’re hardly our ally. You don’t care what happens to us as long as you get your precious deal to keep your sister happy.’
His face got darker at that and then he said gruffly, ‘I’ve never pretended anything else is the case. But you can’t deny that things have changed … between us.’
Orla’s breath got choppy. ‘No, I can’t. But we should never have got involved—it’s not a good idea.’
Antonio looked even darker. ‘It was inevitable. If it hadn’t happened that night, Orla, it would have happened after we’d met. That’s just maths.’
Orla’s chest felt tight. He leant forward then and she had to stop herself from moving back, afraid of the way her body responded so violently.
‘I have a proposition for you.’
Orla’s heart stopped and started again. Surely … he wasn’t going to offer—
‘Come away with me.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
ORLA BLINKED AT HIM. For a crazy bizarre moment she’d thought that he might be about to offer to be the investor that they would need if she was to push her plan with her father. Wishful thinking. Of course he wasn’t. He was as bound by blood as she was to get the outcome he wanted. She was nothing to him. And then his words sank in, belatedly.
She frowned. ‘Come away with you … where?’
His eyes captivated her, making the hubbub of the lobby of the hotel fade away.
‘I have a place in the south of France, near Saint-Raphaël. I bought it while I was in the Legion for my periods of leave.’
Orla’s heart sped up; her belly grew tight. ‘But … why?’
‘Because I want you and you want me, and maybe if we have a few days together, on our own, this desire will burn out.’
Something about his coolly delivered reasoning and the fact that he wanted this desire to burn out made her recoil and want to protect herself. She stood up and said frostily, ‘Thanks but no thanks. I have a job to do. In case it’s escaped your notice we’re in the middle of a takeover bid. Last night was a mistake and shouldn’t be repeated.’