Bought: Destitute Yet Defiant

The scent of fried bacon made her mouth water and she walked towards the table as hesitantly as a gazelle might approach a waterhole, knowing that a predator was watching.

Fortunately the table was large enough to allow dining without intimacy.

She pulled out the chair at the far end of the table from him. ‘This place is huge.’

‘Space is important to me.’

‘Because of all those years cramped in one room?’

A shadow flickered across his face. ‘Something like that.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly left all that behind.’ Curious in spite of herself, Jessie looked around her, momentarily distracted by what she saw. ‘Did you build this?’

‘Not with my bare hands, if that’s what you’re asking.’ His low, masculine drawl was tinged with amusement. ‘My company built it.’

It was impossible not to be impressed by what he’d achieved. ‘You used to do it with your bare hands. You used to haul the bricks and sweat alongside the men.’ Looking at the swell of muscle under the thin fabric of his expensive shirt, she wondered whether he still did. Something had to be responsible for his athletic physique and the raw power in those shoulders. That wasn’t the body of a man who spent his days at a desk, pushing paper.

His next words confirmed her suspicions. ‘I still do some of the physical work, but even I don’t have time to erect entire apartment buildings and hotels single-handed. Are you going to eat standing up?’

Jessie sat on the edge of the chair. He obviously wasn’t going to talk properly until she’d eaten, so she might as well eat. ‘This company of yours—tell me what else you build.’ She eyed the sleek glass table, wondering if it would crack if you put something heavy on it.

‘Mostly hotels. But I can be persuaded to build corporate premises if the project interests me enough.’

Jessie lifted a knife in her hand and turned it, the silver catching the light and winking at her. Silver. ‘You’ve come a long way from the building site.’

‘That was the intention.’

‘But you chose to build your fancy apartment block in the roughest part of London. You look out of your window every day and see what you left behind. A psychologist would say you were trying to prove something.’

‘And an analyst would say it was a shrewd investment. It’s a good position. In less than three years this has become the trendiest place to live in the city.’ He spoke with the confidence of someone whose judgements had prove

d unerring. ‘Right by the river. Close to the commercial heart of London.’

‘Uncomfortably close to the rough part of London.’

‘This is a cosmopolitan city.’ Silvio sat back in his chair as a chef dressed in white placed more food in the middle of the table. ‘Grazie, Roberto.’ He spoke a few words of Italian and the man melted away, leaving them alone again.

Determined not to show how impressed she was, Jessie stifled a laugh. ‘Does that guy stay up all night in case you want to eat?’

‘I have a team of chefs. They work a rota.’

‘You’re so rich now you can’t boil yourself an egg?’

‘I entertain a lot. Generally my guests expect more than a boiled egg.’

‘But tonight you’re slumming it. Stuck with me. Poor you.’ Hiding her self-consciousness behind bravado, Jessie leaned forward and lifted the lid from one of the plates. ‘Mmm. Bacon.’ Seduced by the delicious smell, she suddenly realised how hungry she was. ‘Can I help myself or does someone have to serve me?’

‘I thought you’d rather have privacy.’

In other words he was embarrassed by her. Jessie’s face flamed and she stabbed her fork into a few rashers of bacon, telling herself that she didn’t care what he thought. ‘Don’t you want any?’

‘Not at the moment.’ Silvio poured himself a black coffee. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘I’m always hungry.’ Forgetting that she was trying to be reserved with him, Jessie looked at the bacon on her plate and wondered if she’d taken too much. Deciding that it would draw more attention to herself to put some of it back, she sat there awkwardly.

‘Is that all you’re going to eat?’ Silvio stood up and strolled round the table. Without asking for her input, he piled more bacon on her plate and then added a heap of fluffy scrambled eggs and warm, fresh rolls. ‘If you don’t eat it, you’ll offend my chef and I can’t afford to lose him. He’s too good at his job.’

Nibbling the corner of the most delicious roll she’d ever tasted, Jessie had to agree with him. ‘He cooks like this for you every day?’ She savoured the scrambled eggs, moaning with pleasure. ‘Is he married? Does he want to be?’