The Truth Behind his Touch by Cathy Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

health, Giancarlo was certain that his father would turn the conversation around to money. Maybe he would try and entice him into some kind of investment. Maybe he would just ditch his pride and ask outright for a loan of some sort. Either approach was possible. Giancarlo relished the prospect of being able to confirm that money would indeed be forthcoming. Wasn’t he magnanimous even though, all things considered, he had no reason to be? But a price would have to be paid. He would make his father’s company his own. He would take it over lock, stock and barrel. Yes, his father’s financial security would rest on the generosity of his disowned son.
    He intended to stay at the villa just long enough to conveythat message. A couple of days at most. Thereafter it would be enough to know that he had done what he had to do.
    He didn’t anticipate having anything to say of interest to the old man. Why should he? They would be two strangers, relieved to part company once the nitty-gritty had been sorted out.
    He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he very nearly missed the turning to the villa. This side of the lake was famous for its magnificent villas, most of them eighteenth-century extravaganzas, a few of which had been turned into hotels over the years.
    His father’s villa was by no means the largest but it was still an impressive old place, approached through forbidding iron gates and a long drive which was surrounded on both sides by magnificent gardens.
    He remembered the layout of these glorious spreading lawns more than he had anticipated. To the right, there was the bank of trees in which he had used to play as a child. To the left, the stone wall was barely visible behind rows upon rows of rhododendrons and azaleas, a vibrant wash of colour as bright and as dramatic as a child’s painting.
    He slowed the car in the circular courtyard, killed the engine and popped the boot, which was just about big enough to fit his small leather overnight case—and, of course, his computer bag in which resided all the necessary documents he would need so that he could begin the takeover process he had in mind for his father’s company.
    He was an imposing sight. From her bedroom window, which overlooked the courtyard, Caroline felt a sudden sick flutter of nerves.
    Over the past seven days, she had done her best to play down the impact he had made on her. He wasn’t
that
tall,
that
good-looking or
that
arrogant, she convinced herself.
    She had been rattled when she had finally located him and her nerves had thrown everything out of perspective.
    Unfortunately, staring down at Giancarlo as he emerged from his sports car, wearing dark sunglasses and walking round to swing two cases out of the miniscule boot of his car, she realised that he really
was
as unbelievably forbidding as she had remembered.
    She literally flew down the corridor, took the staircase two steps at a time and reached the sitting-room at the back of the house, breathless.
    ‘He’s here!’
    Alberto was sitting in a chair by the big bay window that had a charming view of the gardens stretching down to the lake, which was dotted with little boats.
    ‘Anyone would think the Pope was paying a visit. Calm down, girl! Your colour’s up.’
    ‘You’re going to be nice, aren’t you, Alberto?’
    ‘I’m always nice. You just fuss too much, get yourself worked up over small things—it’s not good for you. Now, off you go and let the boy in before he climbs back into his car and drives away. And on your way you can tell that nurse of yours that I’m having a glass of whisky before dinner. Whether she likes it or not!’
    ‘I’ll do no such thing, Alberto De Vito. If you want to disobey doctor’s orders, then you can tell Tessa yourself—and I would love to see how she takes that.’ She grinned fondly at the old man, who was backlit by the evening sun glinting through the window. Having met Giancarlo, she found the similarities between them striking.