Page 13 of Awakened in Her Enemy's Palazzo

During his time the estate manager had been Luis who, even though he must have been a nuisance, had allowed him to tag along with him and his son, who coincidentally had been called Nico...

‘He’s been manager eight years.’

His smile held no humour. ‘Like I said, after my time,’ he said, watching her full lips attempt to pinch into an expression of disapproval their plump generosity was not constructed for. The thought of what those lips were perfectly constructed for slipped past his mental shield, and his focus blurred as a testosterone hit made itself felt.

‘Nic has not had a good day. There have been issues—several issues. Cancelled deliveries, payments not going through... Do you know anything about that?’

‘I am not cut out to be a silent partner,’ he said.

He hadn’t even tried to deny it.

‘Neither—’ she flung back ‘—am I!’

She paused and tried to gather the frayed ends of her fast-unravelling temper.

‘I don’t understand...why would you do this?’ she asked, genuinely mystified by this level of malice.

‘Why do you care?’ he countered.

‘The projects you are attempting to sabotage were important to your father.’ Scanning his face for any sign that her words had had any impact on him, she saw only a flinty stare for her troubles. ‘Everyone is working so hard to make them happen because of your father. I—I promised.’

Biting her quivering lip and blinking hard, she opened her mouth to continue and then stopped, a look of horrified suspicion spreading across her face.

‘Is that why you’re doing this? Out of spite? He’s dead,’ she reminded him, deciding she had imagined his flinch. ‘You can’t hurt him any more. Why did you hate him so much?’

The words were out before she could stop them—not that he appeared to register the question.

‘The point isn’t why...it’s more the fact that Icando this.’

It did not escape her notice that he didn’t deny her suggestion.

‘Just as you can stop me selling off the land,’ he continued heavily, ‘Ican stop your little projects.’

He paused, watching her face grow pale and her blue eyes fly wide with a display of shock that might have been convincing if he hadn’t known that she had smiled his father out of a fortune.

‘Have you actually read any of the figures?’ he asked her. ‘Or did you just sign off on them?’

‘Of course I read them. I’m not an idiot!’ Grace flared indignantly. ‘And if you had bothered to do your research,’ she bit back, her scorn equal to his, ‘you’d know it makes sound financial sense to pay those so-calledinflatedprices. Yes, I am aware that you can source marble for a quarter of the price we are paying, but it would be an inferior product. And, most importantly—’

Her lips tightened in annoyance as Theo cut across her before she could complete her explanation.

‘I suppose you’re on top of the projected labour costs for this—what was it?—olive press? Who is it pocketing the money on that rip-off? It isn’t even very inventive.’

Grace had now gone paper-white with temper. ‘You can cast slurs on me if you want—I don’t care. But the people who work here deserve more respect. They deserve more than to be pawns in this childish payback. You can stamp your foot because you don’t get your own way, but don’t libel people who are just doing their job.’

She folded her arms across her chest and flung him a look of simmering contempt.

‘Do you know howpatheticthat is?’

Grace saw the shock on his face at her contempt, but the shock of being ripped into that way quickly morphed into anger that turned his dark, flinty eyes into black ice.

‘You will not speak to me in that manner!’ he grated.

‘Wanna bet?’ she drawled, too angry to be cautious in the face of his white-lipped fury. ‘And how about a few more facts for you? As I was saying about the marble—’ she flung the word out like a challenge ‘—agreed, youcouldget it cheaper. Butthismarble is sourced locally, and it will give the local supplier and in turn local tradesmen jobs. It is authentic to the restoration, there will be no air miles involved getting it on site, and even ifyoudon’t care about that, other people do. You understand money?’ she went on. ‘Fine. Then you’ll recognise good marketing. Those labour costs you think are too high? Those men you dismiss? They are highly skilled stonemasons...they’re artisans, local talent. It’s all about using skills that could be lost and the people who will stay in those restored buildings. If even half of them understand that,likethat, it will be worth it, and long term we will recoup the costs!’

By the end of her tirade his anger had turned into amazement. Not just at her knowledge, but her apparent passion.

Could it be genuine?

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