‘Not a reason, but surely part of being a parent is the desire to pass on your values or beliefs. A part of yourself.’
The very idea made him go cold. ‘I think that’s a bit egocentric. You can’t have children just to inculcate them with your beliefs.’
‘No!’ She shook her head, impatience in the movement. ‘You’re making it sound as if I want to instil them with questionable propaganda. I don’t. But I do believe we are programmed with a need to nurture. To love and be loved.’
‘Well, I’m the exception to the rule.’
Her chin angled in defiance. ‘Or your programming has gone haywire.’
Ethan picked his glass up and sipped the fizz. No way would he rise to that bait.
‘The point is, even if you’re right, it is wrong to put that burden on someone. That responsibility. You shouldn’t have a child just because you want someone to love and love you back. There are enough people out there already. The world doesn’t need more.’
‘Actually...’ Ruby hesitated.
‘Actually, what?’
‘Nothing.’
Before he could respond the boom of Tony Pugliano’s voice rang out. ‘So, my friends. It was all to your liking?’
* * *
Ruby’s thoughts whirled as she strove to concentrate on Tony’s question, primed her lips to smile. Maybe this was an intervention from providence itself—a reinforcement of her decision to cease with the confidences.
‘It was incredible, Tony!’ she stated.
‘How could it be anything else?’ the chef declared. ‘And now we have the perfect end to the perfect meal—I have for you a sample of the very best desserts in the world.’
He waved an expansive hand and the waiter appeared with an enormous platter, which he placed in the middle of the table.
‘I, Tony Pugliano, prepared these with my own hands for your delectation. There is praline mousseline with cherry confit, clementine cheesecake, almond and black sesame pannacotta and a dark chilli chocolate lime torta.’ He beamed as he clapped Ethan on the shoulder. ‘And of course all this is on the house.’
There went her jaw again—headed kneewards. On the house. She doubted such words had ever crossed Tony’s lips before.
‘You look surprised. No need. Because never, never can I thank this man enough. You saved my Carlo—my one and only child. You are a good man, Ethan, and I thank you with all my heart.’
Tony seemed sublimely unaware of Ethan’s look of intense discomfort. Yet the shadow in Ethan’s eye, the flash of darkness, made her chest band in instinctive sympathy.
‘I think this meal goes a long way towards thanks,’ she said. ‘It was divine. I don’t suppose you would share the secret of the truffle sauce in...?’
The tactic worked. As if recalled to his chef persona, Tony gave a mock roar and shook his head.
‘Never. Not even for you would I reveal the Pugliano family secret. It has passed from one generation to the next for centuries and shall remain sacrosanct for ever. Now—I shall leave you to enjoy the fruit of my unsurpassable skills.’
Once he had made a majestic exit, Ethan nodded. ‘Thanks for the change of subject.’
‘No problem.’ Ruby reached out and selected a mini-dessert. ‘I knew it took more than charm to get Tony Pugliano grazing from your hand. Whatever you did for his son must have been a big deal.’
Ethan shrugged his shoulders, the casual gesture at variance with the wariness in his clenched jaw. ‘I was in a position to help his son and I did so. Simple as that.’
‘It didn’t sound simple to me. More like fundamental.’
‘How about another change of subject?’
Picking up a morsel of cheesecake, he popped it in his mouth. His expression was not so much closed as locked, barred and padlocked—with a ‘Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted’ sign up to boot.
‘I think our dinner conversation has gone a bit off the business track.’