A Pawn in the Playboy's Game

‘He won’t be persuaded, I’m sure of that.’

Alessandro dealt her a slashing smile. So this weekend might not happen, but that was fine. He was the kind of guy who could think outside the box when it came to dealing with unexpected situations. Like this. And, being perfectly honest, the lush appeal of the woman currently looking at him as though she expected him to produce a bomb from up his sleeve would certainly introduce a bit of entertainment to the menu.

‘But worth a try, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, you’ve spent the past hour wringing your hands and wailing that I’m being unfair. So I’m sure you’d have no objections to...showing me first-hand this fuzzy, warm social life my father would be so loath to leave behind...’

CHAPTER THREE

‘BOY’S LATE. PROBABLY changed his mind. Probably decided that it’d be better to airlift me out of my own damned house than go through this charade of pretending he’s interested in anything I do!’

Laura looked at Roberto anxiously. Alessandro was half an hour late and who better than she to know the vagaries of transport? Trains that laughed in the face of timetables. Cabs that got stuck in traffic and crawled along as though they were submerged in treacle. Planes that hovered and circled and hovered and circled because they were at the back of a queue.

‘He said he’d come,’ she told him firmly while sneaking a glance at her watch. It was nearly six and the two of them were hovering like maiden aunts waiting for their wayward charge to return home.

It was ridiculous.

‘My son has his own damned personal schedule! Lives for his work!’ He repositioned his tie and banged his walking stick on the wooden floor. ‘Probably got a call and, of course, any call would take precedence over coming to Scotland! Never could stand the place! Always preferred that namby-pamby London life!’ He threw her a sly look. ‘’Course, something else could have held him up!’

‘Yes?’ She looked at Roberto affectionately. He still belonged to an era when ties were de rigueur, whatever the occasion, and trousers were always belted firmly at the waist. He was dressed in a jumper with the crisp white shirt underneath neatly buttoned to the neck, the knot of his dark, striped tie crisply in place and a pair of his most casual slacks, which were still pressed into submission with no-nonsense creases down the middle of the legs. His shoes gleamed. He looked such a vision that she had taken a picture of him on her phone so that she could send it to her grandmother. He had, naturally, grumbled, although she’d noticed that he had surreptitiously neatened his thick silver hair with his hand before the shot.

‘Floozy.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Floozy. Has enough of them chasing behind him! Met one or two myself. Silly little airheads but sometimes even the smartest of men can’t resist a—’

‘I get the picture, Roberto!’ She led him away from that subject back to plants and gardens and the cookery club her grandmother wanted him to join.

The last thing she needed was to hear about Alessandro and his so-called floozies.

In fact, the last thing she wanted was to be here, on a Friday evening, wearing a long-sleeved, knee-length dress and boots and waiting for a guy who had managed to get under her skin in a very, very irritating way. She had spent the past week thinking about him, hadn’t been able to shake him out of her head, and having to face him again was not what she wanted.

But here she was because Roberto had told her that the three of them would be going out.

‘Got it into his head that the old man’s life’s suddenly interesting!’ Roberto had announced. ‘Told him it was a damned sight more interesting than one that was just work, work, work and some floozies in between!’ After that he had sat her down and explained the whole business of the move he didn’t want and wasn’t going to be forced into. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to discuss it with her grandmother and she wasn’t to say a word. He would talk to Edith himself when she returned, not, he insisted, that he was going anywhere.

‘But if the boy wants to try to move me, then he can try all he wants! He’ll soon find out that this old bugger won’t be going anywhere!’