Poverty and scraping by? Bowing and taking orders from someone else who happened to have money even if they weren’t any smarter? No way. Somewhere along the line, Gabriel knew that he had traded emotions for hard-headed ambition and he was not regretful about the trade-off.
It just meant that he knew exactly where women slotted into his life, and it had to be said that the hard-nosed rich young things he dated suited him. He wasn’t in the market for emotional attachment but he was more than happy to show them a good time. When he thought of those other women out there, the sort of women he knew his parents desperately hoped he would meet, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Those women—with high hopes and expectations, vulnerable and waiting to be hurt, trusting and keen for their happy-ever-afters with a domesticated husband and kids running around—were women to be avoided at all costs. He just didn’t have what it took to give any of that to them and he was brutally realistic about those shortcomings.
The doe-eyed beauty with the rich parents intrigued him and against all odds she stirred a certain amount of curiosity just because she was different from the pack, even though she did, indeed, come from the same stable.
And if he gained her trust...if she chose to confide in him any shortcomings that might be mentioned in connection with his ex-wife...then who was he not to use that information to his advantage?
It would certainly make a change, bearing in mind he had been on the back foot with Bianca ever since their acrimonious divorce.
‘I’ve spoken to the hospital,’ he said smoothly. ‘They anticipate at least two weeks. It would seem that Bella has some underlying health issues that might hamper a speedy recovery.’
‘Two weeks?’
‘Of course, I can’t tie you to a post and make you stay...but you have to appreciate that such a major rethink isn’t something that can be effected in a handful of days. A considerable amount of money is involved, not to mention the man hours that have gone into researching the feasibility of such a massive addition to the vineyards I currently own.’
Izzy lowered her eyes then looked at him. ‘Two weeks,’ she said. ‘At the end of that, if you’re stillconsidering the options, then I’ll know that you have no intention of changing your plans.’
Three days after Izzy had moved in, Evelyn had worriedly told her that she was sure she had spotted someoneout theredoingsomething.
‘I thought everything was going to be all right,’ she had said anxiously. It had surprised Izzy that, even though doubts were beginning to form in the older woman’s head, she still insisted on clinging to the false belief that Gabriel—such a lovely man—wouldn’t do anything underhand.
That very evening—after she had had her shower and delivered Rosa to her father for what had become an evening ritual, whereby he bonded with his daughter for an hour or so before she went to bed—Izzy headed to the kitchen to wait for him.
Disconcertingly, this too had become something of a ritual. How? She had braced herself for awkward encounters where she either avoided him or else tried to pin him down to make some kind of decision. Instead, she had been lulled into conversing about what she and Rosa had done during the day. He asked so many questions and, after a glass of wine, which was something else she had become accustomed to, she found that chatting to him and answering those questions eclipsed all her good intentions when it came to pressing him for an answer about the cottage.
She was uneasily aware that she was probably being used because he needed someone on tap for Rosa while he was working during the day, and he was right—a temporary nanny would have taken far too much breaking in for such a short period of time.
She grew fonder of the child by the day but she was shrewd enough to know that her adorable little charge was precociously clever and very much had a mind of her own.
Izzy had rehearsed her line of attack and, the minute he entered the kitchen, she said without beating around the bush, ‘Evelyn said that she saw someone in the neighbouring vineyards and he seemed to be someone official.’
She gritted her teeth together, impatiently waiting for him to reply, watching as he peered into the oven to see what was there. Not for the first time, she marvelled at just how lacking in interest he seemed to be when it came to cooking for himself.
‘Well?’ she asked, resisting the urge to snap.
‘Things that have been set in motion,’ Gabriel countered smoothly as he strolled towards the kitchen table and sat down next to her, swivelling the chair so that he was facing her directly, ‘Are continuing at the moment. Various experts were booked to inspect the vineyards I planned on buying quite some time ago. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t intend to issue full-scale cancellation orders on the off chance that I may not go ahead with the project.’
‘I’ll convey the message to Evelyn,’ Izzy said stiffly. ‘I’m sure she’ll be over the moon that the trust she had in you was completely misplaced. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I think I’ll retire for the evening now.’
‘Any messages about what I do with my land or any land I might be considering buying,’ Gabriel informed her with steely determination, ‘will be conveyed by me.’
‘What difference does it make?’ Izzy tilted her chin at a belligerent angle and glared.
‘You’re very used to getting what you want in life, aren’t you?’ he returned softly.
Izzy floundered. This was a question she had not been expecting and the way in which it was delivered, coolly and with derision, sent a shiver racing down her spine.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Izzy, you’re a rich young woman, and I’ll wager that you assumed, deep down, that you would get what you wanted, and what you wanted was for me to back-pedal on this deal whatever the financial fallout for me.’
‘That’s not true!’ Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she felt herself break out in a light film of nervous perspiration. ‘How dare you pretend to know what sort of person I am?’
‘I am an excellent judge of people,’ Gabriel countered without batting an eye. ‘Of course, I might be wrong...’ He shrugged his broad shoulders with just the sort of dismissive nonchalance that left Izzy in no doubt that he believed himself to be absolutely right.
‘Well, youarewrong.’ She stood up, flinging the chair back, her cheeks bright-red with defiance. ‘I havenevergone through life expectinganything!’ She spun round on her heels and headed for the door, but then she stopped, her breath coming in fast bursts. He wasn’t stopping her, and yet her feet refused to propel her out of the kitchen, because this was a conversation that seemed to need an ending. She couldfeelhim behind her and her breathing quickened.
He could be...so...arrogantand yet she was ashamed to admit that she had been charmed by him over the past few days, had dropped her defences and fallen under some kind of crazy spell.
