Wearing The De Angelis Ring

He stood up, blatantly ignoring her interruption. ‘I wouldn’t like to kick off our joyous life together on the wrong note,’ he drawled, strolling towards the door, which her parents had tactfully shut behind him on their way out.

‘What do you mean?’ Alexa followed him, disgruntled.

‘I mean your mother has had a doubtless delicious meal prepared for us. What kind of guest would I be if I disregarded her invitation?’

‘The kind that’s marrying me thanks to parental pressure?’ Alexa muttered sourly.

He shot her a brief look of appreciation.

‘Besides,’ she continued, skin tingling from that momentary look, ‘you don’t strike me as the sort of man who gives a hoot what other people think of him.’

She swept past him, breathing in his clean, woody scent and determinedly ignoring its impact on her senses.

‘I find that I’m willing to make an exception for my in-laws-to-be...’

‘Why are you taking this so calmly?’

It was the first thing Alexa said as they sat down at the table in the informal dining room. The blue room was still big enough to fit a ten-seater table, but places had been set for them opposite each another at one end. As always, it was a full arrangement, with dinner plates, side plates and separate silver cutlery for every course to be served—in this case salad, soup, main course and dessert.

Alexa could not have felt less hungry, and she looked with uninterest as salads were brought in and placed in front of them.

He, she noted, had no problem with his appetite.

‘How else do you imagine I should react?’ Theo looked at her, and across the width of the table she felt his overwhelming presence all the more acutely.

There was something intimate about eating together, and she could barely concentrate on her salad as the flutter of nerves threatened to overpower her common sense.

She put that down to her healthy dislike of the man.

‘Do you imagine that this is a situation I enjoy being in?’ he enquired coolly. ‘My father dropped this bombshell and I find I’ve had next to no option but to take the hit.’

‘I never thought I’d end up in a marriage with someone who would walk up the aisle only thanks to having to take a hit from a bombshell he couldn’t dodge,’ Alexa said bitterly—and that was the stark truth.

She had never followed the pattern of her friends, who had believed in sleeping around. She had never assumed that marriage was something to be taken lightly because it could be unpicked without too much difficulty if the going got rough. Her own parents had had a long and extremely happy marriage. Her mother, Irish by heritage, had been a gap-year student when she had met Carlo, and theirs had been a case of love at first sight. Which made it doubly upsetting that her father had seen fit to put her in this position. He had taken advantage of a situation and she was going to have to pay the price.

‘I don’t think that way of thinking will pay dividends in this particular situation...’ Theo pushed his salad plate to one side and sprawled back in the chair to look at her coolly. ‘We’ve both been put in an unfortunate position and now we have to deal with it.’

‘And you’re not angry...?’

‘Like I said, there’s no point in wasting energy on emotions that won’t get either of us anywhere. We’re going to present the perfect picture of a couple in love. Naturally there will have to be an engagement and a public announcement. Doubtless there will be cameras. You will smile and gaze adoringly up at me.’

‘And what will you be doing while I’m smiling and gazing adoringly?’

‘Controlling the situation.’

‘And this so-called engagement is supposed to last...how long?’

‘It’ll be brief,’ Theo asserted with the sweeping assurance of someone who had given the details a great deal of thought. ‘We can’t wait to tie the knot.’

‘And how is this supposed to make any kind of sense?’ Alexa demanded. She lapsed into silence as their salad plates were removed, to be replaced with soup. ‘Have you suddenly had a transformation and gone from being a womaniser to a one-woman man who’s desperate to get married?’

‘And that,’ Theo said in a hard voice, ‘is just the sort of approach I am warning you to avoid.’ Then he smiled—a slow, lazy smile that made the breath hitch in her throat. ‘I never imagined that you were a spitting cat...’ he mused. ‘Do you think that’s the reason your parents think you’ll end up on the shelf...?’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_73fabd51-5de3-5c49-89ef-ceed130e590f)

‘I CAN’T BELIEVE you just said that.’

Never had a meal seemed so interminably long. Interrupted by the arrival of their main course—a fish casserole—Alexa could only glare at him with simmering resentment. No one had ever riled her to this extent. His air of superior cool got on her nerves and made her rantings seem childish and petty.

‘You have no right to say stuff like that! You don’t know me!’

Theo dug into his food. She might not be his type, but there was a certain arresting quality to her face. Anger suited her, and he was startled at this reaction—because temper tantrums were things he had always actively discouraged.

Her dig about his womanising had annoyed him, and as far as he was concerned what was good for the goose was likewise good for the gander. If she wanted to throw accusations at him, then her shoulders should be broad enough to take it when he threw a few home truths back at her in return.

Not his style, admittedly, but then again since when had he ever been placed in a situation like this? On every single level she was just the sort of woman he would never naturally be drawn to. Physically, she was nothing like the tall, leggy supermodels he dated and, appearances aside, he liked his women to be obliging and accommodating. His work life was intense enough without having to do battle with a woman.

‘Aren’t you going to eat?’ he asked. ‘It’s excellent. Maybe I’ll get the name of your mother’s chef... Do you think she would object if I poached him?’

‘Elena isn’t a chef,’ Alexa muttered. ‘She’s the housekeeper we’ve had for centuries. And, yes, I think my mother would object if you decided to poach her. For your information, I have never considered myself as on the shelf. I’m not one of those women who thinks that the be-all and end-all of life is to get married as fast as you can and start having children.’

‘I’m guessing that both your parents do.’

Alexa pushed her plate to one side. ‘There’s no point discussing this. What my parents think or don’t think... How long before we get married?’

She was forcibly struck by the surreal situation she was now wading through—and by the fact that her contented life had been turned upside down in the space of a few days.

So she hadn’t been leading the most thrilling of lives... But it had taken her ages to get used to being back in Italy after first boarding school and then university abroad, followed by a stint in London, where she had worked for a small law company before her mother’s illness had called her back home.

She had spent the past year and a half easing herself into a life that felt foreign. Was it any wonder that excitement and thrills weren’t high on her agenda? Once she found her feet, she was sure that the slightly zoned out feeling she lived with much of the time would disappear.

She hadn’t banked on excitement landing on her doorstep in the form of a forced marriage.

‘Max—two months. And, to return to your question about the plausibility of my settling down at the speed of light... We both need to agree that it’s a case of love getting the better of me.’ He shrugged elegantly and stood up, tossing his serviette onto the table and prowling through the room as he thought.

Alexa followed him with her eyes. His movements were economical and graceful. He was wearing black jeans, a white linen shirt which was cuffed to the elbows and loafers, and he exuded elegance. He certainly hadn’t dressed for the occasion, but he still managed to look every inch the powerful tycoon that he was. He was obviously one of those people who could pull off elegance wearing anything... If he swapped clothes with a tramp he would still manage to look cool and sexy.

‘I broke up with my last girlfriend over three months ago—during which time I’ve been out of the public eye...’

‘You’re telling me that the press usually follow everything you do?’

Theo paused, leaned against the window ledge, then looked at her and kept looking at her as the dishes were cleared away. He signalled in a barely discernible gesture that they should be left alone for a while, and the door was duly shut as the last dish was removed. The oak table was left with just the wine decanter and a bottle of champagne.

‘I’m high-profile,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t ask for it, but it seems that some reporters have little else to do but take pictures of the rich and famous. It’s just a fact of life, and I’ve become accustomed to dealing with it.’

‘I would absolutely hate that.’

‘It’s something to which you might find you have to become accustomed—’