Mediterranean Tycoons

‘You can do that, can’t you, Lorenzo?’ his mother queried.

Briefly he flicked Lucy a threatening glance, and she knew he saw the amusement in her eyes before he looked back at Anna.

‘Yes, of course I can, Mother—if Lucy agrees.’ His gaze was on her again. ‘I can probably arrange to get someone there by Wednesday afternoon, so Elaine can show them the ropes.’ An eyebrow rose as he asked innocently, ‘One day or two, Lucy?’

‘One will be fine,’ she said, knowing it was the answer he wanted. What was the point in defying him? She hadn’t wanted to stay longer in the first place, so why prolong the agony? ‘I must be home by Thursday night.’

‘Good, then that is settled,’ Anna said, and they finished their first course of risotto with red wine and porcini mushrooms.

The butler offered more wine and Lucy agreed, surprised to see she had finished the glass. But it was really nice, and very mellow.

Anna could certainly talk, Lucy thought as the plates were cleared by the maid. Mostly about Antonio—while Lorenzo sat looking on, his face a blank mask, adding very little to the conversation.

‘According to the doctor Antonio was a miracle child. He was very ill when he was born, and it was touch and go for a while, but he made a complete recovery and was soon running all over the place like any other child. I did sometimes wonder if it was because I was a lot older when he was born that he had problems—it was ten years after I had Lorenzo. But he grew up to be a wonderful young man. I only wish I had kept him longer … ‘

It occurred to Lucy that if Anna had always been so loquacious about her youngest son it might go some way to explain why Lorenzo had grown into the hard, apparently emotionless man he was.

The conversation stopped as the main course was served—veal escalope Marsala—and Lucy tried to change the subject.

‘You have a beautiful home, Anna. My bedroom is delightful, and the view from the window is lovely. I could not help noticing when I arrived that the gardens are magnificent, and so cleverly designed—whichever way one looks everything flows together perfectly. Someone at some time must have been a keen landscape gardener.’

‘Gardening is my passion,’ Anna said, obviously delighted by Lucy’s interest. ‘When Lorenzo started school my husband gave me permission to have the whole grounds redesigned. It was a huge project, and I spent three years deciding on and finding the flowers, the shrubs, the trees, the fountains—everything. Sometimes Lorenzo would come with me on my search for all the specimens I wanted. Mind you … ‘ she looked lovingly at Lorenzo ‘.his taste ran to the most vibrant colours, which was odd given his serious nature.’

Lucy did not find it odd at all, having seen his apartment, but she could sense Lorenzo almost squirming in his chair, and cast him a sidelong glance. Not a muscle moved in his darkly attractive face, but when he noticed her looking he lifted a negligent brow and turned back to his mother.

‘Lorenzo was a genius at mathematics at a very young age—my husband used to worry he might think he was too clever to settle for the role tradition demanded of him. But his skill was invaluable to me when it came to the design. He was only nine but he worked out all the angles, the lengths of the terraces and the paths where the fountains had to be placed for optimum effect, and made a complete plan for me. All the builder and gardeners had to do was the manual work.’

‘That is amazing!’ Lucy could not help exclaiming.

‘Not really.’ Lorenzo finally spoke. ‘My mother is prone to exaggeration,’ he said coolly, but tempered it with a smile.

The maid arrived and conversation ceased as the plates were cleared again. Dessert was brought in, and talk turned to the planned party.

Finally the butler suggested serving coffee, and Anna got to her feet and said, ‘I never drink coffee at night, but you go ahead. I know you will be glad of some time on your own,’ she prompted with a smile. ‘I have had the most marvellous day I can remember in years, and I’m going to bed now.’

Lorenzo got to his feet to help her, but she refused and patted his cheek, so he bent to kiss hers and she left.

The silence was deafening.

‘That went well,’ Lorenzo finally said. ‘My mother is happy and convinced we are close. Make sure you keep it that way until we leave on Thursday and everything you want is yours.’

Lucy looked up at him, her eyes tracing the hard bones of his face, the cool, steady eyes, the powerful jaw and mobile mouth. He had no idea what she really wanted, she thought sadly and, pushing back her chair, stood up.

‘I will,’ she said. ‘Unlike you, I don’t like deceiving your mother, and this can’t be over quickly enough for me.’ She turned towards the door, adding quietly, ‘if you don’t mind, I’ll forgo the coffee.’

He moved quickly, his hand catching hers, and kissed her palm. ‘I don’t mind anything you want, cara,’ he husked, and her eyes widened in shock.

Her hand trembled in his grasp—and then she realised it was for the benefit of the butler, who had entered the room with the coffee tray. Pulling her hand free, she patted Lorenzo’s cheek with more force than necessary and saw his lips tighten. ‘You enjoy your coffee.’

Swiftly an arm closed around her waist, his dark head dipped, and he kissed her cheek, his warm breath caressing her ear. ‘Not an option,’ he murmured. ‘Remember our deal? Everyone has to be convinced.’ And, raising his head, he said, ‘Take the coffee to the lounge, please, Gianni.’

Then his head bent again and his mouth closed possessively over hers, parting her lips. The prolonged assault on her senses swept away all her resistance. His hand moved sensually over her back to press her closer and she arched into him, her eyes closing in abandon.

Suddenly he lifted his head. ‘Gianni has gone.’

Her eyes flew open as his comment registered. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘I saw the way Gianni looked at you, laughed with you when you entered the dining room with your body blatantly on display in that dress. He is a red-blooded man and he is not going to believe for a minute that holding your hand or a kiss on the cheek would satisfy me or any man. Now he will be convinced, and if he is the rest of the staff will be also.’

For a moment Lucy had the odd idea he was jealous of the butler. ‘Does your brain ever stop working and planning your next move?’

‘I’ve never really thought about it, but probably not—except perhaps in a moment of intense sexual relief,’ he drawled, and ushered her out of the dining room and into the lounge, where the coffee was set on a low table in front of a sofa.

Lucy twisted out of his arm and sat down on the sofa, the colour in her face matching the pink satin, and leant forward to pour out a cup of coffee she did not want simply to hide her blush.

Lorenzo laughed and sat down beside her. ‘You know, Lucy, for an experienced woman it never ceases to amaze me how easily you blush—how do you do it?’

She was tempted to tell him then how little experience she really had, but bit her lip and drank the coffee. He would never believe her. He had formed his opinion of her, coloured by his distorted perception of her brother and the ease with which she had fallen into bed with him the first time. By accepting his deal she had reinforced that low opinion, and nothing she could do would ever make him change his mind.

‘Practice—just practice,’ she said, telling Lorenzo what he wanted to hear.

‘Did you practise with Antonio?’ he asked. ‘You have painted him with a happy smile on his face—did you sleep with him?’

Lucy’s eyes widened to their fullest extent on his unsmiling countenance. He couldn’t be serious, she thought. But he was, she realised—and suddenly she was furious.

Before she said something she knew she would regret, she got to her feet. ‘No,’ she said coldly. ‘Unlike you, he was a gentleman. Now, if you are satisfied I have played my part as required, I am going to bed. And before you get up—don’t bother. There is no one here to see you playing the gentleman.’

And she turned away and walked to the door, leaving him to follow her or not … amazed by his cruel insensitivity.

She looked around the bedroom; someone had laid her nightdress on the bed and turned down the covers. Service at its best, she thought with a wry smile twisting her lips as she entered the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and put them away. She washed her face, cleaned her teeth and, naked, returned to the bedroom. Picking the nightdress off the bed, she slipped it over her head and crawled into the big bed.

She didn’t expect to sleep, but surprisingly she did … She stirred once, at the tail-end of a dream of a shadowy figure of a man standing over her, but went straight back to sleep.

The next morning she awoke to the overpowering smell of strong coffee, and, easing herself up the bed, saw the maid approach with a tray which she placed on the bedside table.

‘Buongiorno, signorina. The Signora say to bring coffee,’ she said in fractured English, ‘Breakfast in one hour.’

‘Grazie!’ Lucy said. ‘Scusi—’ She sprang out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. When she returned, after having been sick, the maid was still there.

‘Signorina? Come stai?’

Lucy saw the worried frown on her face and knew enough Italian to reassure her she was fine. The maid left.

It was probably the wine she’d drunk last night, Lucy thought. She was not accustomed to fine red wine—or any wine, for that matter. She poured out a cup of hot milk, with the merest dash of coffee, and standing looking out of the window sipped it slowly.

The view really was breathtaking … And then she saw the yellow sports car shoot off down the drive. Good—Lorenzo had gone out. With no fear of him appearing, she relaxed a little.

She took a leisurely shower and wondered what to wear. It was a sunny day, and she wanted to have a look around the gardens. With that in mind she decided on a pair of soft denim jeans and bright flowing top. She tied her hair back in a ponytail and finally ventured out of the bedroom.