The Count of Castelfino

His eyes narrowed into channels of suspicion. ‘You mean to say he never complained to you about the way I only wanted money spent on cost-effective projects, not his hobbies? I’ve been studying the work you did for him. All of it—and that includes the dummy sets of figures forwarded to my accountants. Do you deny that they were prepared to stop me discovering exactly how much money my father was frittering away on this…this…?’ Exasperated, he waved his hand towards the exotic display of orchids and coloured foliage.

‘It was all perfectly legal. The late count’s own financial advisors always submitted the correct figures for audit. It was thought you would object to his budget, so he had a separate set made up in case you wanted to inspect them. We didn’t want to worry you, that’s all.’ Meg threw up her head to challenge him with a glare, but something happened. Their eyes met, and for Meg it was the point of no return. She had always thought Gianni was stunning. Now, with the sun lighting a bronze shimmer in his devastating eyes, words didn’t do him justice. The breath caught in her throat, stifling all sound. He knew only too well what power lay behind his eyes. As she watched he lowered his lids a fraction, tempting an unconscious sound to escape from her all too self-conscious lips.

‘I hope my father didn’t lead you to believe that I’m mean.’ Gianni’s voice was a drawl, as lazy as the air moving through the lemon house. ‘On the contrary: I can be the most generous of men if the circumstances—and the woman—are right,’ he said, leaving the suggestion in his final words hanging in the air.

‘I know. When you were in London I supplied you with all those flowers for your girlfriends, remember?’ Meg breathed, trying to keep her voice steady. She was getting dizzy, but it wasn’t only the lack of oxygen. The nearness of Gianni in this small, sun-soaked space sent her senses reeling. The light citrus fragrance of his aftershave was so clean and fresh in an atmosphere charged with the heavy hints of bark and mosses. It sent a charge of electricity fizzing down her spine. Without realising it she moved slightly towards him, hungry for contact.

‘Then you’ll know what I’m going to say next?’

Meg’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She knew what she wanted to hear, but moved her head slowly from side to side.

‘I’ve decided this new range of greenhouses would be a great memorial to my father, after all. You were right to suggest it—very clever, and very provocative. There aren’t many women who would think of pampering mere greenery like this.’ His voice was as low and inviting as a cool river in the enveloping heat of the tropical house. Meg sighed as his expression softened. The greenhouse she already thought of as hers was working its magic. It was beautiful, and she could make it even better. He could sense that, and she was spellbound.

He was gazing at the wonderful display of brightly coloured flowers and trailing foliage around them, but at any second he might turn that wonderful look on her…at least, that was her dream.

‘You’re going to cost me a fortune,’ he murmured, when she could hardly breathe for suspense.

‘That depends on what you want. This is Tuscany. Everything’s ripe for enchantment.’ Her voice was husky.

‘And it all has its price.’ He watched her carefully, gauging the effect of his words.

Meg suppressed another sigh. ‘Do you agonise like this over your women?’ she asked, giving him a knowing look.

‘I’m not agonising. It’s merely an observation. The price of this new construction is a minor consideration to me. Women are a far more serious matter. There’s a lot more than mere money at stake when it comes to the future of my family. The Bellinis haven’t lasted this long without being able to pick winners. That’s why my father never remarried after my mother died, thank goodness.’

Meg said nothing. The way she fidgeted uncomfortably within her clothes said it all. She was becoming unbearably hot, but her rising temperature had nothing to do with the tropical house.

‘It may sound a harsh judgement to you, Megan, but I know what I’m talking about. When it came to matters of the heart, my father knew his judgement couldn’t be trusted.’ Gianni continued to gaze at the soft sea of butterfly-bright foliage surrounding them. A playful breeze blew in through the open greenhouse door. It ruffled his dark curls over his brow, giving him a dangerously piratical look. Meg laughed, a little nervously.

‘Your father certainly got one thing right,’ she said quietly. ‘He would be proud of you, Gianni.’

He turned to face her slowly. When Meg got the full benefit of his dark, restless eyes she felt her heart respond. From that moment on she knew that if he ever made a move on her she would be powerless to resist. It was a perfect dream, but something she couldn’t dare risk in reality. This job meant a lot to her, and her family. She wasn’t about to throw it away for a boss’s whim. Even if that boss was gorgeous Gianni…

‘I hope he would be proud of me. That’s exactly what I intend. I gave him a lot of grief when he was alive, Megan. The least I can do is respect his wishes now. Let’s hope I never have to make a choice between my heart and my heritage.’ His brow creased as though with the effort of fighting some inner demon.

‘Why should you?’ Meg asked innocently, not knowing what she was letting herself in for.

‘Any number of local “princesses” are desperate to become my wife,’ he sighed. ‘The Bellini family blueprint says I should choose one of them. She should be installed in one of my town houses as my official partner and mother of my heir. There she’ll enjoy a life of pleasure. But that way of life went out with the Middle Ages! Life has moved on. It’s all so different now. Marriage isn’t simply a matter of duty and honour. It’s all pre-nups and making watertight arrangements to secure every stick and stone of my assets for the inevitable divorce.’

To hear him talk about marriage as nothing more than another agreement to be crossed off his list of ‘things to do’ disappointed Meg.

‘There shouldn’t be anything inevitable about divorce! No one should marry for anything less than love,’ she said firmly, stroking her fingers down the long, leathery leaf of a miltonia. Meg was the last person to contradict an employer, but some things ought to be set in stone. ‘Women usually have their own careers nowadays. Marriage isn’t seen as the only life for them. And they aren’t all grasping parasites.’

‘I love women. Don’t get me wrong,’ Gianni said quickly. ‘It’s just that the Italian thoroughbred model holds no interest for me.’

‘Then you’ll have to find someone else.’

‘There is no one else. All the women I meet are out for everything they can get—believe me.’

Meg was busy adjusting the ties securing a budding flower stem and replied without thinking. ‘I’m not.’

Gianni sighed. ‘That’s what you say now. But I wonder…’

His voice was heavy with regret. It was such a heartfelt comment that she looked up sharply. In that instant all trace of a smile vanished from his face. He was deadly serious—and all Meg’s wildest, most wanton fantasies were reflected in his eyes.