Irresistible Bachelors: The Count of Castelfino / Secretary by Day, Mistress by Night / Sweet Surrender with the Millionaire

‘Have I done any damage?’ she risked as the upholstery surged forward against the small of her back.

‘Only to my nerves.’ Gianni glanced at her before checking his rear-view mirror. ‘Cars are like women. They must be treated with care and respect.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I’ll pay for anything that needs to be fixed.’

He laughed, loosening up as his Ferrari hit the autostrada. ‘I think working for the Bellini family will extract a high enough price!’

‘I liked your father. He was a good employer,’ Meg said, filling every word with meaning.

‘And you’re hoping I’ll carry on the family tradition, bambola?’ Gianni slipped the words slyly across at her. ‘I doubt that. I’m entirely different from my father. For one thing, he had been desperate to marry. It turned out to be the worst mistake he ever made, and I’ve learned from it. When my mother died in childbirth it was the ultimate irony. The whole experience damaged him so badly he spent thirty years licking his wounds. I intend to take my time choosing a bride. Not for me the flighty socialite, ready to bleed me dry in the name of marriage,’ he finished darkly.

‘I think you’re very wise.’

‘Really?’ he drawled, grinning across the car’s interior at her. ‘And is that the only reason you accepted this lift? It wouldn’t be because you were thinking of renegotiating your terms of employment, would it?’

The look he gave Meg then told her exactly what he meant by that. His mind, like hers, was savouring their kiss all over again. The warmth of his expression spoke to the deepest, darkest parts of her. She reacted with a furious blush, and the knowledge that she would never be free from the temptation of Gianni for as long as she lived.

‘While I’m living at the Villa Castelfino, I’m not remotely interested in anything other than work,’ she announced, being careful to stare at the countryside rather than look at him. ‘When I mentioned about getting paid for turning up ready for work you looked at me as though I was a gold digger. What illusions could I possibly have about a man who treats an employee like that on her first day?’

The taboo subject of money had been mentioned again. Every muscle in Meg’s body tensed. For an awful minute she thought Gianni might throw her out of the car for being hard-hearted and interested only in her bank balance. When he didn’t, she began pulling her fingers through the wind-whipped tangle of her hair. It was easier to worry about her appearance than to apologise.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gianni shrug. ‘It’s a shame more women don’t think like you do. All the girls I meet are out for everything they can get. I’m definitely not looking for the same kind of woman who ruined my father’s life, and mine. So far, I’ve been proud to say I’m not the marrying kind.’

‘I hope you never used that phrase on any woman when you lived in England. It has a meaning there you wouldn’t like,’ Meg warned.

He winced. ‘Of course I didn’t. In any case, once a woman is with me, she knows I’m one hundred per cent male.’

At that moment he turned another unmistakeable look on her. It was rich with lingering meaning. Meg had to fight the urge to reach right out and touch him. Then she saw the juggernaut thundering towards them and snatched at her seat instead.

‘Gianni! Look out!’

’Inferno, woman! Do you think I would risk an accident now? In my new car, I mean?’ he added quickly, before she could read any more temptation in his words.

Gianni was careful to drop her off at the nearest possible point to the first shop on her list. Ignoring all the blaring horns around them, he parked his car, got out and opened the passenger door for her.

‘How much would you like for a tip?’ she asked mischievously as she unfolded herself from the front seat.

‘I’ll let you have it on account.’

Meg’s heart almost stopped as she saw his watchful expression. When he caught up her hand and kissed it, she was speechless. If he hadn’t leapt straight back into his car and roared away, she would have thrown herself into his arms then and there. Breathless with amazement, she stood on the pavement and stared, long after his car had turned a corner and disappeared from view. An afternoon off to take her pick of clothes from some of the world’s most decadent shops was one thing. For Gianni to kiss her hand the same way he had done at Chelsea was a dream beyond anything Meg had ever imagined. She felt inches taller, and even began to look forward to her shopping expedition. The man was a miracle worker.

Meg usually looked on shopping as a torture. This was a different outing altogether. Today she was under Gianni’s instructions to buy something she really liked, while he picked up the bill. She usually bustled through crowds, head down and hurrying. Today she strolled, taking time to enjoy her afternoon off in the sun. The touch of his lips still tingled on her fingers. Only one tiny cloud lingered on her horizon. It was the thought of what embarrassments might lay in wait for her inside the beautiful shops she would be visiting.

It took her quite some time to pluck up the courage to put her hand to the door of the first boutique on her list. After that, things happened in such a blur she didn’t have time to lose her nerve. The door flew open as a tall, stick-thin woman decorated with twenty-four carat jewellery strode out. Meg was bundled aside in the rush but a voice from inside the shop was quick to apologise.

‘Miss Imsey?’

She looked up in amazement to see an exquisitely turned out Florentine matron holding the door open for her.

‘H-how did you know it was me?’ Meg stammered.

‘The Count di Castelfino himself rang to tell us to expect you. Now come inside out of this heat!’

Meg was made to feel at home instantly, despite all the designer labels. She was almost disappointed to find the perfect dress within minutes. It was a close fitting sheath of sky-blue moiré. Sleeveless and low cut with a matching jacket, it would make the most of her newly acquired tan. The assistant helped her choose an outrageously high pair of silk slingbacks to complement the outfit, and promised they would be dyed to match in time for Gianni’s party. Strutting through a gallery of full-length mirrors, Meg marvelled at her transformation. She felt like a million dollars, and the effect on her was obvious. She glowed. It was amazing—this outfit took pounds off her, and gave her so much confidence! She had never dreamed she could look so good. For the first time she revelled in her own reflection. Instead of seeing Gianni’s coming banquet as a terrifying ordeal, she actually began to look forward to the experience. Expansive with self-confidence, she cheerfully announced that she would take the dress and the shoes, which should all be charged to the Count di Castelfino’s account.

The manageress shook her head gravely.

‘Not yet, madam. I was instructed to ask how many shops you have visited so far before agreeing to sell you anything.’

‘This is the first,’ Meg answered honestly, but soon wished she hadn’t. A second assistant gently lifted the beautiful blue outfit from her hands and whisked it away to a back room.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll keep it safe for you. But knowing the new count, it is as well to follow his instructions to the letter.’

Meg could believe it. Her heart sank. All she wanted to do was get back to her little house on the Villa Castelfino estate. It was the only place in this foreign land she felt truly comfortable. She understood all there was to know about plants, but shopping was a mystery she’d never had enough money to investigate before. It was made only slightly less nerve-racking by the fact that Gianni would be paying.

‘Oh, no…does that mean I have to do this all over again, from top to bottom of the city?’ She stared at the sheet of paper Gianni had given her. Her face was as long as his list.

‘It may not be so bad, madam. Try to put a brave face on it,’ the assistant sympathised. Her words brought Meg straight back to her senses.

‘Good grief, to hear me talk anyone would think this was hard work! If all I’ve got to do to please him is to rifle through a few clothes racks, I’ll be finished in no time!’ she announced.

Things didn’t go quite according to Meg’s master plan. She swept in and out of the next shop at high speed, but as she progressed down the list each visit became longer, and more leisurely. Although she never found anything that suited her taste and Gianni’s instructions as perfectly as the blue sheath and jacket, she actually began to enjoy herself. All the shop assistants fawned around her as though she were royalty. She was offered drinks, sweets and snacks everywhere she went. Trying on clothes became a delight rather than a chore. She learned that rich fabrics needed to be enjoyed and lingered over, not pulled on and off at speed. When she got to the final establishment on her list, she was amazed to find it was a real wrench to leave. But at last, awash with coffee and stuffed with cantuccini, she returned to seal the deal on her ideal outfit.

She had arranged to meet Gianni near the Ponte Vecchio. He was already there, laughing into his mobile. The moment the weight of his gaze fell on her, he ended the call. Walking towards her with a smile, he pulled out his car keys.

‘You haven’t taken as long as I thought you would!’ His gaze ran over her, and Meg’s mouth went dry. The afternoon was so hot she’d been convinced her temperature couldn’t possibly climb any higher. She was wrong. He looked magnificent. The contrast between his olive colouring and the brilliant white shirts he favoured was one she always admired. Today she was in for an extra treat. Gianni had not only turned back his cuffs so they exposed his smooth tanned forearms, he had also taken off his tie, and there were enough buttons open at his neck to expose a dark shadow of hair. Meg’s pulse began to race away with her manners. It was all she could do to keep either under control.

‘Don’t worry, Gianni. I’ve got everything for the business banquet, exactly as you instructed. Thank you so much. And would you believe it—I got most of it only after I ended up back at the very first shop I visited! They’re going to deliver it as soon as all the alterations have been made. Now—let’s get back to the villa. I can’t wait to get home, kick off my shoes and—’

She stopped, painfully aware she was gabbling. Gianni raised his eyes to heaven and clicked his tongue.

‘Women! If they’re at home they want to be out shopping. If they’re out and about, they want to get back home! They’re all the same!’ he said in a voice full of Italian indulgence.

I’m not. How I’d love to linger here with you. Oh, if only you knew…Meg thought, but bit her tongue. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

The days before Gianni’s first formal banquet passed in a whirl of preparations.

‘I knew I made the right decision in employing a female head gardener,’ he announced innocently as Meg knelt on a hearth, working at a flower arrangement. When he said that she sat back on her heels.

‘So you weren’t the man who threatened me with redundancy the moment I arrived?’ she mocked, without looking at him.

Gianni ignored her comment. He was too busy surveying the floral decorations draped around the summer dining hall. ‘I ask you—what man could have done this so beautifully?’

‘My great-great-grandfather and his contemporaries, for a start,’ Meg said, adding an extra spray of tiny orchid flowers to the display of lichen-and moss-encrusted logs set in the fireplace. She had designed everything, from the colour schemes to the hand-tied bouquets. It had given her so much pleasure. Gianni’s praise more than doubled her satisfaction, and she smiled as she put the finishing touches to the floral fire in the empty hearth. It was a sparkling mass of red and gold flowers, all cosseted in the perfect environment of the estate’s brand-new greenhouses. That was an extra source of pride for Meg. She had done it all herself.

‘Years ago floral art was part of every head gardener’s job description, no matter how tough and manly he was,’ she continued. ‘Going even further back, it was a prized skill among samurai swordsmen in Japan.’

‘I’d prefer geishas myself.’