‘That’s not very reassuring for me.’
‘You have nothing to worry about. We’ll be there two days and, while we’re there, you can count on me to shield you from any awkward interaction.’
‘Awkward interaction?’ Ella laughed nervously.
‘Nothing that can’t be dealt with,’ Rocco soothed. ‘But you have to understand that they’re very traditional and they’ve had set ideas about the direction of my life. Including the sort of woman who might eventually wear my ring.’
‘And you’ve never led them to think that you might ever want to follow a different route…’
‘Like I said, my life was set in stone from a very young age.’
‘So when is this visit going to take place?’
‘Tomorrow late-afternoon. My private jet is on standby.’
Private jet? Standby? Just for a second Ella had a fleeting and vaguely uneasy vision of the life she had signed up to. It wasn’t going to be anything like the one she was accustomed to living. She’d known that, of course, but she’d been lulled into a sense of security because he’d been on her turf and in her territory. Now, she would be entering a different world, and she had to fight the chasms between them opening up around the seeds of hope that had taken root.
He would be by her side. He’d assured her that everything would be okay. And she believed him because he had proved that he was the man she’d thought he was.
Chapter Nine
Ella had herfirst taste of how the uber-rich lived first thing the following morning.
She was swept into a world of personal shopping, where the normal trudge from store to crowded store was exchanged for the emptiness of the high-end boutique and the fawning subservience of assistants bending over backwards to show her the latest pieces. There were no price tags on any of the clothing.
‘I have enough clothes to last two days,’ Ella had pointed out.
‘My parents are aficionados of formal attire,’ Rocco had told her. ‘I’ve never seen either of them in a pair of jeans.’
Ella had immediately got the message: cargo pants, dungarees, baggy jumpers and her capacious winter coat weren’t going to do. She ended up with several outfits, shoes for the evening and a bag, only escaping a trip to a beauty salon because they’d been running out of time. She wasn’t sure whether she’d enjoyed the experience or whether she’d felt manipulated into a spending spree she wasn’t altogether comfortable with—even though she belatedly realised that this sort of spree, so ridiculously uncustomary for her, would probably become the norm.
Now, as they sat waiting for Rocco’s private jet to take off, Ella glanced down at the beautiful pale-grey cashmere trouser outfit she wore and the black designer coat casually slung over the cream leather seat on the other side of the aisle. She felt a little faint when she took in the rich wood veneer of the private jet, the plush seating arranged in little clustersfor maximum comfort and the large windows with electronic shades, everything the last word in luxury.
Next to her, Rocco was scrolling through his phone, catching up on emails.
‘I feel like an imposter,’ she said, turning to him.
Rocco stopped what he was doing and swivelled to look at her.
‘Why?’ Of course, he knew why. It had been impossible not to notice her bemusement underneath the quiet compliance as she’d been shown outfit after outfit in the sort of exclusive shops in which he doubted she’d ever set foot before in her life. And now she was sitting next to him on his private jet.
She’d wanted to look at the windows of the big department stores, which were dressed lavishly for Christmas, but they hadn’t had time and he’d felt like Scrooge as he’d firmly guided her back to his waiting chauffeur.
He’d thought of the department store where she worked and how proud she’d been of the Christmas tree and the effort the staff had poured into decorating it, knowing it would be the last one to grace the foyer. He’d recalled her own Christmas tree and the warmth and love between her father and her as they had pulled out the decorations and taken a trip down memory lane with each and every one. He’d watched her gaze up at the lights in Knightsbridge as they’d been driven through the congested streets, where throngs of shoppers flanked the slow-moving traffic.
‘I don’t belong in this world,’ she said bluntly.
‘It’s the same world as yours,’ Rocco returned. ‘You’re only wearing slightly different clothing.’
‘The closest I’ve ever got to a private jet is when I’ve seen one in a movie.’
‘Aren’t you enjoying the experience?’ He said this as it taxied and then roared upwards. He raised his voice and continued tolook at her, easing her gently towards an understanding of the life she was going to occupy.
‘I guess there are no crowds at a packed terminal. Have you ever endured a winding queue at a terminal anywhere?’
‘No.’
‘What’s it like to live your life, Rocco?’
