Page 8 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

‘My business is based in England. I run it with my cousin.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘Property. What business are you in?’

‘I’m not—I’m a trust fund baby.’

‘Rich mummy and daddy?’

Ignoring the faint mocking tone of his voice, she nodded and had another drink.

‘And what do Mummy and Daddy do?’

She told him the first real truth of their acquaintance. ‘Daddy died quite a few years ago and Mummy’s in rehab.’

Gianni made a suitably sympathetic face. Sothiswas how the hustle was going to work. Personally, he would have put his money on her letting slip about a seriously ill close family member—a small niece or nephew would be ideal—whose life was hanging in the balance but who could be saved if only they could afford the excruciating amount of money needed for a proven but experimental treatment that poor Issy would love to pay herself if not for a temporary cash-flow problem. Mummy being in rehab was less heart-rending but, on reflection, a safer bet. No medical jargon to remember.

He mentally applauded her for sowing the seed so early, and made another private bet to himself that by the end of the evening she would have mentioned the excruciating costs of the rehab facility.

‘That must be tough for you.’

‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,’ the clever hustler dismissed airily.

He raised his beer. ‘I will drink to that.’

Clinking bottle to glass again, they finished their drinks. While they waited for fresh ones to be brought over, Issy scoured the menu searching for the meal that contained the least amount of calories.

When this was all over, she was going to hit her favourite fast-food restaurant and bury her face in all the burgers and chips and ice cream she’d spent the last two years denying herself.

She ordered a low-fat Caesar salad and made sure not to sound like she was ordering her personal equivalent of dog food.

‘What does a trust fund baby do all day?’ he asked once their order had been taken.

She fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Why, has fun of course.’

‘And where do you like to have your fun?’

Smiling suggestively, she wrapped a lock of hair around her finger in the same way she’d noted a couple of his old lovers had done. ‘That all depends.’

‘On?’

‘My mood... And the company.’

Eyes gleaming, he laughed. ‘Has anyone told you you’re beautiful?’

I should ruddy hope I look beautiful, Cheesy Chat-Up Man. It cost a ruddy fortune to achieve this look.

Until exactly two weeks ago, when Amelia found the proof they’d been seeking and they’d realised the stars had finally aligned for them, Issy had rarely worn make-up, never bothered with fake tan and her hair had been a lank dark chestnut normally shoved back in a ponytail or plait.

‘Has anyone told you you’re an incredibly sexy man?’

He leaned forwards, wafting his cologne with him. ‘Not in the last ten days.’

Been slacking, have you? Or too busy with the Aurora project that’s about to come to fruition for Rossi Industries and is worth billions to you?Or so you think.

‘Have you been hiding in a cave?’

He grinned. ‘Not quite. Work has been all consuming. Believe me, I’ve earned this break.’

---