‘To holiday?’
‘To live.’ She took a noisy bite and munched away, like a bunny rabbit chewing a crunchy carrot.
Julius knew she was doing it to annoy him. Her rebellious streak was kind of cute, when he thought about it. It reminded him a bit of Jasmine Connolly, the gardener’s daughter, who liked to have a bit of fun at times—mostly with Jake, who for some reason didn’t see the funny side.
Cute?
What was he thinking? Holly wasn’t cute. She was as cunning as a vixen. She was out to prove he was unable to resist her. He was out to prove he could. He had the edge on her. She might be doing all she could to get thrown out of his house but without him as her guardian she would find herself doing time. Why then was she pushing him to evict her? Was it deliberate or a knee-jerk thing? Was her behaviour a pattern she had developed in order to survive? From the scant details she’d given him, her childhood clearly hadn’t been a picnic. Did she push people away before they pushed her?
And why did he give a damn?
‘Do you have relatives in England?’ Julius asked.
‘My mum was an orphan. My dad was, too. An English couple adopted him, which is how he met my mum over there. It’s why they hit it off so well. They were two lonely people who found true love.’ Her mouth took a sudden downturn and she looked at the remaining piece of her canapé as if it had personally offended her. ‘Pity they didn’t get the happy ending they deserved.’
‘How did your father die?’
‘He was killed in an accident at work.’
‘What sort of accident?’ Julius pressed a little further.
‘A fatal one.’
He gave her a look. ‘I realise it’s probably painful to talk about but I—’
‘It happened a long time ago,’ Holly said, interrupting. ‘Anyway, I only remember what I’ve been told.’
‘What were you told?’
‘That he died in a work-place accident.’
She was a stubborn little thing, Julius thought. She would only reveal what she wanted to reveal. ‘Did your mother ever remarry?’
Holly got up abruptly from the corner of the sofa and dusted her fingers on the front of her jeans. ‘You want to make your way to the dining room? I’ll only be a minute or two. I promised I’d take Sophia’s meal up to her.’
Julius sat back and sipped his wine, a thoughtful frown pulling at his brow. So it wasn’t his imagination after all. There was definitely something about Holly’s background that made her reluctant to speak of it. Could he get her to trust him enough to reveal it?
He pulled himself up short. Why on earth was he even trying to understand her?
He was supposed to be keeping his distance. He wasn’t the type of guy to let his emotions get the better of him. It was fine to care about her welfare— perfectly fine. Any decent person would do that. But if he thought too much about her cute dimples, and pert manner and that far away look she sometimes got in her eyes when she didn’t know he was looking, he would be feeling stuff he had no right to be feeling. It was bad enough being attracted to her physically. God forbid he should start liking her as a person. Feeling affection. Holly was a temporary inconvenience and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her so he could get his life back into its neat, ordered groove.
Even if at times—he reluctantly conceded—it was a little boring.
* * *
Holly made sure Sophia was settled in her suite with her meal, a drink and the television remote handy. She had cut up the chicken and the vegetables so Sophia could eat with her left hand using a fork. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour to bring up dessert and to clear your dishes,’ she said.
‘Muchas gracias,’ Sophia said with a soft smile. ‘You’re a good girl.’
Holly gave a little grunt of a laugh. ‘Try telling your boss that.’
Sophia looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You don’t need to be bad to be noticed. There are other ways to get his attention.’
Holly frowned. ‘I’m not trying to get anyone’s attention.’
Sophia gave her a sage look. ‘Earning someone’s respect takes time. It also takes honesty.’
Holly fiddled with a loose button on her cardigan. ‘Why should I bother trying to earn someone’s respect when I’m not going to be here long enough to reap the benefits?’
‘Señor Ravensdale could help you get on your feet,’ Sophia said. ‘He could give you a good reference. Find employment for you. Recommend you to someone.’
Holly snorted. ‘Recommend me for what? Scrubbing someone’s dirty floors? No thanks.’
Sophia released a sigh. ‘Do you think someone who’s in charge of maintaining the upkeep of a house is not worthy of respect? If so, then you’re not the person I thought you were. People are people. Jobs are jobs. Some people get the good ones, others the bad ones—sometimes because of luck, other times because of opportunity. But as long as each person is doing the best job they can where they can, then what’s the difference between being a CEO and a cleaner?’
‘Money. Status. Power.’
‘Money will buy you nice things but it won’t make you happy.’
‘I’d at least like the chance to test that theory,’ Holly said.
Sophia shook her head at her. ‘You’re young and angry at the world. You want to hit out at anyone who dares to come close in case they let you down. Not everyone will do that, querida. There are some people you can trust with your love.’
Holly swallowed a golf ball-sized lump of sudden emotion. Her father had called her querida. She still remembered his smiling face as he’d reached for her and held her high up in his arms, swinging her around until she got dizzy. His eyes had been full of love for her and for her mother. They had been a happy family, not wealthy by any means, but secure and happy.
But then he had died and everything had changed.
It was as though that life had happened to another person. Holly felt like a different person. She was no longer that sweet, contented child who embraced love and gave it unquestionably in return. She was a hardened cynic who knew how to live on her wits and by the use of her sharp tongue. She didn’t feel love for anyone.
And she was darn certain no one felt it for her.
‘I’d better go serve His High and Mightiness his dinner,’ Holly said. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Holly?’
She stopped at the door to look back at the housekeeper. ‘What?’
‘Don’t make things worse for him by speaking to the press if they come here. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s trying to help you, in his way. Don’t bite the hand that’s reached out to help you.’
‘Okay, okay, already. I won’t speak to the press,’ Holly said. ‘Why would I want to? They’ll only twist things and make me look bad.’
‘Can I trust you?’
‘Yes.’
‘He won’t let you win, you know.’
Holly kept her expression innocent. ‘Win what?’