there is a performance somewhere we can go to a concert or a recital, perhaps? My personal preference is for classical music, but I fully accept that you might prefer something else.’ Pausing, he lightly drummed his long, tanned fingers on the desk, his glance honing in on her like a laser. ‘All this will, of course, be at my expense. Each morning I will send a car to collect you and bring you back here. Once you arrive we can discuss what we would like to do that day. And there is one more thing …’
If she hadn’t felt quite so numb with shock, Grace would have pricked herself with a pin to convince herself that she still inhabited her physical body and wasn’t either hallucinating or dreaming. ‘What’s that?’
‘I forgot to include shopping in the itinerary. I have never met a woman yet who would not put that at the top of her list of favourite things to do on holiday.’
‘Well, you have now.’ Shakily circling a small patch of the desk with the tip of her forefinger, she couldn’t help but be affronted. ‘It’s never been top of any list for me and never will be.’
‘Hmm …’ Marco’s expression was definitely amused. ‘Do you really expect me to believe you do not like beautiful clothes … exquisite jewellery?’
‘Why would I pretend I’m not interested if it’s the truth?’
‘Maybe you think you should play down such an interest? Who knows? There is no need. I am an extremely wealthy man. The women who come into my life have certain expectations. Clothes and jewellery are the very least they expect.’
‘What a shame.’ A strong wave of compassion assailed Grace as she thoughtfully digested this information and observed him.
‘What do you mean?’ A shadow moved across his piercing dark gaze.
‘I mean it’s a shame that women can’t just like you for yourself … without you having to buy things for them.’
‘Thankfully, I do not suffer with the same regret. I am a realist, if nothing else. And the truth is I do not indulge their love of beautiful clothes and expensive jewellery for nothing . I too have certain expectations—of them.’
Embarrassment at what he alluded to made Grace shift uncomfortably in her seat. But she was still genuinely sorry to learn that Marco must enter into such coldblooded liaisons with women believing he had to pay for the privilege. She didn’t doubt that it couldn’t exactly make him feel very good about himself, for all his talk about being a realist. Inside, she guessed that the small boy he had once been was still searching for evidence that he was valued in some way, and maybe felt he always had to give something in order to get something back in return. It made her want to show him that he was valued and didn’t need to deserve it. He was a good man. Grace was certain of that.
‘That’s all well and good,’ she said, ‘but I still think you’re missing something important if a woman doesn’t just want to be with you because she genuinely finds pleasure in your company and—and cares about you.’
He scowled. ‘You are clearly a romantic, Grace, and not remotely a realist.’
‘If realism means that people can’t like me unless I give them something, then I’m glad I’m what you label a romantic. Look … please don’t be offended by what I’ve said …’ Her irked glance automatically softened. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate or wound him by expressing her perhaps too frank opinions. After all, she had utterly no experience of the kind of world Marco moved in, or the compromises and personal sacrifices he found himself having to make. ‘It’s just that the things I find most beautiful are all natural … a sunset over a green valley, a deserted sandy beach as dusk falls, a bluebell-carpeted wood or the scent of roses in an English country garden … the joy on the faces of children who are simply happy that an adult is paying them some real attention …’
Her avid listener sat up straight in his
If she hadn’t felt quite so numb with shock, Grace would have pricked herself with a pin to convince herself that she still inhabited her physical body and wasn’t either hallucinating or dreaming. ‘What’s that?’
‘I forgot to include shopping in the itinerary. I have never met a woman yet who would not put that at the top of her list of favourite things to do on holiday.’
‘Well, you have now.’ Shakily circling a small patch of the desk with the tip of her forefinger, she couldn’t help but be affronted. ‘It’s never been top of any list for me and never will be.’
‘Hmm …’ Marco’s expression was definitely amused. ‘Do you really expect me to believe you do not like beautiful clothes … exquisite jewellery?’
‘Why would I pretend I’m not interested if it’s the truth?’
‘Maybe you think you should play down such an interest? Who knows? There is no need. I am an extremely wealthy man. The women who come into my life have certain expectations. Clothes and jewellery are the very least they expect.’
‘What a shame.’ A strong wave of compassion assailed Grace as she thoughtfully digested this information and observed him.
‘What do you mean?’ A shadow moved across his piercing dark gaze.
‘I mean it’s a shame that women can’t just like you for yourself … without you having to buy things for them.’
‘Thankfully, I do not suffer with the same regret. I am a realist, if nothing else. And the truth is I do not indulge their love of beautiful clothes and expensive jewellery for nothing . I too have certain expectations—of them.’
Embarrassment at what he alluded to made Grace shift uncomfortably in her seat. But she was still genuinely sorry to learn that Marco must enter into such coldblooded liaisons with women believing he had to pay for the privilege. She didn’t doubt that it couldn’t exactly make him feel very good about himself, for all his talk about being a realist. Inside, she guessed that the small boy he had once been was still searching for evidence that he was valued in some way, and maybe felt he always had to give something in order to get something back in return. It made her want to show him that he was valued and didn’t need to deserve it. He was a good man. Grace was certain of that.
‘That’s all well and good,’ she said, ‘but I still think you’re missing something important if a woman doesn’t just want to be with you because she genuinely finds pleasure in your company and—and cares about you.’
He scowled. ‘You are clearly a romantic, Grace, and not remotely a realist.’
‘If realism means that people can’t like me unless I give them something, then I’m glad I’m what you label a romantic. Look … please don’t be offended by what I’ve said …’ Her irked glance automatically softened. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate or wound him by expressing her perhaps too frank opinions. After all, she had utterly no experience of the kind of world Marco moved in, or the compromises and personal sacrifices he found himself having to make. ‘It’s just that the things I find most beautiful are all natural … a sunset over a green valley, a deserted sandy beach as dusk falls, a bluebell-carpeted wood or the scent of roses in an English country garden … the joy on the faces of children who are simply happy that an adult is paying them some real attention …’
Her avid listener sat up straight in his
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