question? ‘Yes,’ she said, frowning. ‘I couldn’t study full-time and support myself. The materials I needed were too expensive.’
Other students on her textile design course had juggled part-time jobs along with their studies, but they’d had only themselves to think about. They hadn’t been facing the same dilemmas, the same fears. They hadn’t been in Helena’s position. Alone and pregnant.
Careful.
She shrugged. ‘I might go back one day. But that’s not important. Leo, what I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not here for my father.’
‘Then why are you here?’
She leaned forward. ‘Because what you’re doing will hurt the people I do love. And before you remind me that my father—and thus his family—stands to gain financially from having his company torn apart, it’s not about the money.’
Helena hesitated. She had to choose her words with care. Miriam Shaw might be too proud to admit to herself, let alone the world, that she was a victim, but she was none the less entitled to her privacy. Her dignity. She wouldn’t want the painful truth about her marriage shared with a stranger. Who knew what Leo might do with such sensitive information?
‘My father can be...difficult to live with,’ she said. ‘At the best of times.’
Leo sat so still he barely blinked. Seemed barely to breathe. ‘So what exactly do you want?’
‘I want you to reconsider your plans for ShawCorp.’ The words tumbled out so fast her tongue almost tripped on them. ‘At the very least give my father more time to come to the table. Offer him a chance to have a say in the company’s future. Maybe keep his position on the board.’
He gave her a long, hard look. ‘That’s a lot of want, Helena. You do realise my company is overseen by a board of directors? I am not the sole decision-maker.’
‘But you have influence, surely?’
‘Of course. But I need good reason. Your concern for your family is admirable, but this is business. I cannot let a little family dysfunction dictate corporate strategy.’
‘Can’t you at least delay Tuesday’s deadline by a few weeks?’
His eyebrows slammed down and he muttered something under his breath. Something not especially nice.
He rose. ‘We will finish this talk later.’
Warmth leached from her face. Her hands. Had she pushed too hard? Said too much? ‘Why can’t we finish it now?’
He moved behind her chair, lowered his head to hers. The subtle scent of spice twined around her senses. ‘Because we’re about to have company.’ His hot breath fanned her cheek. ‘Important company. And if you want me to consider your request you will be very, very well behaved.’
LEO STRAIGHTENED AND quelled the urge to mutter another oath.
Of all the damnable luck. This night was going from bad to worse. First a call on his mobile from a board member whose angst over a minor matter had required twenty minutes of placation, followed by his relief at finding Helena hadn’t done a runner in his absence turning into stunned disbelief over her staggering revelations—revelations his reeling brain had yet to fully process.
And now Carlos Santino. Here in London. At this hotel. At this function.
Tension coiled in his gut as the older Italian approached. Santino stood a full head shorter than Leo, but the man’s stocky build and confident gait more than made up for his lack of stature. Add to that hard, intelligent eyes above a beaked nose and a straight mouth, and you had the impression of a man who tolerated weakness in neither himself nor others.
Leo liked him. Respected him. Santino Shipping dominated the world’s waterways, and in the last three years its cyber security needs had generated sizable revenue for Leo’s company. The two men shared a business relationship based on mutual trust and respect.
But Leo had not seen Carlos Santino for several months.
Not since he’d rejected the man’s daughter.
‘Carlos.’ He gripped Santino’s hand. ‘This is unexpected. What brings you to London? I thought few things could prise you away from Rome.’
His client grunted. ‘Shopping. Shows. Anything my wife and daughter can spend my money on.’ A chunky gold watch and a heavy signet ring flashed in the air. ‘Nothing they cannot get in Rome, or Milan, but you know women—’ he shrugged expressively ‘—they are easily bored.’
Leo fired a loaded glance at Helena, but she was already rising, gifting the newcomer a million-dollar smile that drove a spike of irrational jealousy through his chest because he wasn’t the recipient.
‘Helena, this is Carlos Santino, head of Santino Shipping.’ A deliberate pause gave his next words emphasis. ‘One of my company’s largest clients.’
She extended a slim hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Santino.’
‘The pleasure is mine.’ Santino’s hand engulfed hers. ‘And, please, call me Carlos.’ For a long moment he studied her face in a frank appraisal that nearly but not quite overstepped the bounds of propriety. By the time he released her hand, her cheeks glowed a delicate pink. He turned to Leo. ‘Business is not your only good reason for visiting London, si?’
Leo forced a smile that almost made his eyes water. ‘This is a coincidence, running into you here.’ He pulled out a vacated chair for his client. ‘Maria and Anna are with you?’
Carlos waited for Helena to resume her seat before taking the proffered chair. ‘This was Anna’s idea. She remembered you were patron of this organisation and...well—’ another very Italian shrug ‘—when my wife planned the weekend Anna called your office and asked if you would be in London.’ His smile offered only the vaguest apology. ‘You know my daughter. She is resourceful and persistent. And furious with her papà right now. She woke with a bad cold this morning and I forbade her to come out. The tickets were already purchased and Maria insisted she and I still come.’ He waved his hand. ‘My wife is here somewhere—no doubt talking with someone more interesting than her husband.’
Some of Leo’s tension eased. The young, voluptuous Anna Santino was an irritation he’d spent several months trying hard to avoid. Running into her this evening, or rather running from her, would have turned the night into a complete disaster.
Carlos switched his attention to Helena. ‘It is fortunate, I think, that my daughter could not be here tonight. I fear she would be jealous of such a beauty at Leo’s side.’
The provocative compliment heightened her colour but her hesitation was brief. ‘I’m so sorry to hear your daughter is too ill to come out, Mr San—Carlos. That really is most unfortunate.’ Her voice sang with sympathy. ‘I do hope she’ll be back on her feet again soon. You must tell her she has missed a wonderful, wonderful evening.’
Leo fought back a smirk. She might blush like a novice in a convent, but there was backbone beneath that pseudo-innocent charm. He noted a quirk at the corner of Santino’s mouth. A flash of approval in his eyes.
Carlos inclined his head. ‘I will, my dear.’ To Leo, he said, ‘I owe you an apology, my friend. When you told my daughter you had someone special in your life I assumed you were letting her down gently with a lie. I see now I was mistaken. You do have a special lady, indeed. And I am pleased to make her acquaintance at last.’
Leo felt the flesh at his nape tighten. He’d known that small white lie would come back one day and bite him. But flat-out rejecting the daughter of a client as powerful as Santino had seemed as sensible as cementing his feet and jumping into the Tiber. Claiming he was committed to another woman had seemed a kinder, more effective solution.
Carlos’s