‘It means a lot to you,’ he observed.
She nodded, knowing her voice would break if she spoke.
Charterhouse had been in her family for generations before her father sold it, when she was fifteen. It hadn’t just been a business to her. It hadn’t just been financial. Her grandfather and great-grandfather, and even great-great-grandfather had loved the business. Using local printers, employing local artists, but publishing all around the world. And yes, while she understood that there were better business models, quicker, cheaper, they were also heartless and soulless and that was exactly what she didn’t want.
But her father had sold it to cover the debts he had incurred with the many side hustles he had ventured for, all just to avoid putting in the work that Charterhouse needed. He had always chased the big break, the quick buck, bouncing from one failed idea to the next, uncaring of the impact on anyone else around him.
She didn’t need Charterhouse to make huge amounts of money, she just needed it to make enough so that she could put the things her father had wronged to rights.
When we get Charterhouse back, everything will be okay.
‘Well, then how could I possibly compete with such a heart project?’ Enzo said, tilting his head to one side, making her feel as if he were studying her, watching for her reaction.
You aren’t, she thought.You are my way of securing it.
‘You must do whatever it takes to secure it,’ Enzo insisted.
‘You think?’ she asked, knowing that he was utterly unaware of the implications of what he was saying.
‘Oh absolutely. Whatever it takes.’
She nodded.Okay then. Whatever it takes.She would beeverythingEnzo Rossetti expected in a lover—spoilt, rich, silly—to get him to take their relationship to a more serious, permanent, level for Step Five; getting whatshewanted.
Chapter Five
Sauntering down thehill towards the centre of Positano with Rin on his arm, Enzo mentally mused over the messages he’d exchanged with Marcus last night, after Rin had gone to bed. He’d been unnerved by the conversation, doubting himself and the plan. There had been something unusually honest and natural about her responses to his questions last night. As if he’d been hearing from the real Erin Carter.
If you’re worried, you just need to find proof.
What kind of proof?
Surely, if she’s a real gold-digger, then she’ll jump at the chance to spend your money? Just give her the opportunity and see what happens.
Marcus was right. If she proved herself ready to spend his money, then she deserved everything she had coming to her. Which was why he had come up with the plan to take her shopping. And Rin had seemed utterly delighted with the idea.
The speedboat had dropped them off at the little concrete marina serving the centre of Positano, where it brushed right up against a small sandy strip of beach fronted by a near inconceivable amount of restaurants in the small bay.
From there, they had wound their way around the steep cobbled streets, packed with tourists of every kind. Bright boutiques, jewellery stores, trinket shops, galleries, designer clothes—there was everything that a morally corrupt heart could desire. And he’d been almost disappointed when all it had taken for Rin to revel in her newfound riches was the slightest of pushes.
‘Here,amore mio. Whatever you like,’ he said, offering her the black credit card that had no limit. ‘It’s my pleasure to provide.’
There had been a single moment when she had looked between him and the card in his hand, when he’d thought perhaps, just perhaps she might decline the offer. When he’d thought that she’d really wanted to. But then she’d plucked it from his hand and practically skipped into the first shop of so very many.
As he watched her trawl through silk scarves, expensive sunglasses, glass beaded necklaces, swimming costumes, and silk dresses, he could almost have been impressed. There didn’t seem to be any cohesive pattern to her purchases, their styles were varied and almost erratic, in bemusing contrast to the style and elegance Erin sometimes displayed.
She stopped at every single clothing store, each more expensive than the last, jewellery stores glittering with diamonds and gold, and even tourist stores as if she were a child hunting down her favourite treats. It was almost amusing to see her behave in a way so charmingly juvenile and silly.
But he was also relieved. At least now he knew. At least now, Enzo thought, he could finally put her in the box she’d been somewhat difficult to squeeze into, now that he was sure she was a gold-digger.
He hung back as Rin trapsed off to another shop along the steep, narrow, cobbled steps as he fired off a message to Marcus.
Took the bait. Hook, line and sinker.
Three dots appeared on his screen, as Marcus composed a reply.
You have your answer then.
And my congratulations on your forthcoming nuptials!
