Annie Claydon - Falling For Her Italian Billionaire

For now, getting the file straight was Clara’s primary focus, and the idea of a personal approach was disconcerting. She cleared her throat.

‘And what exactly does The Watchlight Trust do?’

‘We’re building a knowledge and research base, and we run courses and conferences for people in the emergency and other rescue services. Alistair Duvall and I co-founded the charity five years ago. We’re both medical doctors with training in traumatic injury. Alistair specialises in physical rehab and limb replacement, and my speciality is in PTSD and its associated disorders. We run a clinic, next door to our offices, which deals mainly with outpatients but we do have facilities for fifteen in-patients as well.’

‘And the clinic is solely for rescue service personnel?’

Gabriel shook his head. ‘Not now. We came to the very obvious realisation that the techniques we were using to help those who were injured while rescuing others could be applied across a wider range of people. We welcome anyone who feels we can help them.’

He grinned suddenly, waiting for her to finish typing the extra information into the file on her laptop. ‘Got all that, or do you want me to go a bit slower?’

‘I’m keeping up. Could someone damage your own reputation or that of DeMarco Pharmaceuticals by attacking The Watchlight Trust?’

‘If anyone attacks The Watchlight Trust then my reputation is the least of my worries.’ The gleam of defiance in his eyes might be commendable, but it wasn’t going to help with the security situation. ‘Legally speaking and in terms of culture and decision-making, the charity is entirely separate from my father’s company.’

‘And in practice?’

Gabriel puffed out a breath. ‘In practice, DeMarco Pharmaceuticals lends us conference and training facilities from time to time, and we have use of the private plane when it’s available. My mother throws a fundraiser every year, which brings in a lot of money. And although I’m nominally a salaried director, I don’t draw my salary because I have an allowance from the family trust.’

‘And do you put any of your own money into the charity?’

‘There are a few high-risk projects that I fund myself, on the basis that they’re largely a gamble.’ She noted the gleam in his eyes as he spoke. Apparently high risk was something that excited him, and that was going to be a concern.

She’d deal with that later. ‘So in terms of public perception, The Watchlight Trust has a very great deal to do with DeMarco Pharmaceuticals. I think we must consider security at their offices.’

He nodded. ‘That sounds wise. Alistair’s the one to contact about that, you have his number?’

Clara nodded. ‘I have a proposal for CCTV and movement sensors that we can install here in your house, too...’

‘No.’ He turned and flipped open a cupboard, raising one eyebrow when he found it empty. ‘You’ve been busy. What did you do with the teabags?’

‘Next cupboard along.’ Gabriel clearly wasn’t inclined to discuss the need to send everything in his kitchen off for testing, any more than he wanted to discuss CCTV. But Clara had to take measures to ensure his safety.

‘Security cameras aren’t designed to invade your privacy. We can position them discreetly and you’ll forget they’re even there...’

He put teabags into two mugs, setting the kettle to boil. Then turned, leaning against the countertop, his arms folded. ‘I’ll save you the trouble. I don’t want any kind of surveillance equipment in my house.’

This was her way in. ‘Then you’ll be pleased to hear that we’ve swept the house for bugs, and didn’t find anything.’

A pulse started to beat at the side of his forehead. Gabriel was obviously coming to the realisation that Clara wasn’t the only one who might be watching or listening. It didn’t seem to please him.

‘What makes you think that you would?’

‘Have you worked out how the flunitrazepam got into your system yet?’

His gaze left her face and Gabriel stared pensively at the floor. ‘No.’

‘Neither have I. Until we do, we need to assume that anything’s possible.’

‘Or maybe we should try not to jump to conclusions, and assume that things are okay until we know otherwise.’

‘And what would you consider a reliable warning that things aren’t okay? You ending up in hospital?’ Clara pressed her lips together. That point would have been better made calmly.

‘I don’t have an answer to that.’ Gabriel looked up at her, the knowingness in his eyes making her shiver. He seemed to see straight through her, past her veil of professionalism and right down to the moment when seeing him lying in that hospital bed had made her want to reach out and touch him.

‘Neither do I. But we’ll know more tomorrow, and until then I need to assume the worst. Which means that the only alternative to CCTV is that I stay here in the house tonight, with a full protection detail.’

Oddly enough, that didn’t seem to bother Gabriel too much. Maybe he’d come to the conclusion that, however good her team was, they couldn’t see through closed doors. ‘I’m always happy to have house guests. I have to make some phone calls and then I’ll make the spare room up for you.’

He’d be infuriating if it weren’t for that charm of his. Actually, he was infuriating, but the charm made it all too easy to forgive him.

‘The spare room won’t be necessary.’ Clara could catch a few hours in a chair, she’d slept in worse places. ‘And if you want to make any calls, would you use my phone? I’m still waiting to hear back about the checks on your landline.’

She slid the phone across the table and Gabriel nodded, turning to pour the tea. He put one cup down on the table in front of her, then picked up her phone and strode out of the kitchen.

* * *

She could handle this. She wasn’t going to mess up. Clara twisted her fingers together in her lap and took a breath. This was the chance she’d been waiting for, a make-or-break career move, looking after one of Gladstone and Sullivan Securities’ most valued clients. She couldn’t allow herself to lose focus.

She’d already come so far. Her parents’ divorce had turned her life into a constant trek between her mother’s and father’s houses, as both of them warred over custody and pretty much everything else. Clara had escaped that and made a home for herself. And then her life had collapsed around her again. When she was tempted to see only Gabriel’s handsome face and his smile, she should remember why she’d promised herself she would never be taken in by a man again.

* * *

Six in the morning, and she’d travelled all night so she could surprise her husband. After an eleven-month tour of duty as a paramedic with the Army Reserve, Clara had arrived home.

Tim would still be sleeping and she took her boots off and climbed the stairs silently. The Clara who had trusted reached out her hand and opened the bedroom door.

She could still feel the tearing pain as she’d seen Tim, sleeping peacefully in the light of early dawn, his arm around a woman Clara had called her friend. It had been at that precise moment that trust had become a thing of the past.

She’d run down the stairs, hearing shocked voices as Tim and Sandra had woken suddenly. Picking up her boots and bag, she’d been gone before Tim had been able to follow her, slamming the front door behind her. Out into a world where her marriage was in ruins and she had nowhere to call home.

* * *

That had been four years ago. Clara had taken that moment and let it drive her. She’d worked hard, calculating every move she made. No more moments of shocked betrayal. And a home that she could truly call her own that no one could take away.