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The Ruthless Billionaire’s Virgin

Page 5

by Susan Stephens


  ‘You gave them your private number.’

  ‘How else are they supposed to call me?’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘Your mother seemed reassured,’ he said, unbending a little. His reward was to see Savannah’s face softening into a smile.

  Her mother had been reassured, Savannah reflected with relief. Her romantic mother had always been a sucker for a strong man, though she preferred them safely corralled on the cover of a book or on a screen at the cinema, and kept a well-trained beta hero at home. She wondered if her mother would be quite so reassured if she could see Ethan in the flesh.

  ‘I have another call to make,’ Ethan told her, turning away.

  As Ethan stood in profile his scars were cruelly exposed, and it appalled her to think one person could do that to another. But surely it couldn’t have been one person—it had to have been more—a gang, maybe? She’d felt a fraction of Ethan’s strength today and he was bigger, stronger and fitter than most men. What kamikaze group of yobs would have dared to take him on?

  Trained yobs—professional thugs, truly evil men—was the only conclusion she could possibly come to. No casual attack could result in such serious injuries. But who would pay such men to beat Ethan so severely he’d nearly lost his life and had lost his sporting career? Professional rugby might be a highly competitive sport, but it was hardly a killing ground.

  As Ethan finished his call and stowed the phone, turning the wheel to negotiate a bend in the river, Savannah was wondering if the person behind Ethan’s beating also accounted for the darkness in his eyes. If so Ethan carried far more scars than were visible to the naked eye. ‘Are we going to the airport?’ she said, noticing he was steering the boat towards a tributary.

  ‘To the airport first, and then to my place in Tuscany—just until the heat dies down.’

  ‘To Tuscany?’ She was feeling more out of her depth than ever.

  ‘Unless you’d prefer me to leave you to the mercy of the press?’

  Savannah’s heart turned over as Ethan looked at her. How childish he must think her. Women would scratch each other’s eyes out for the chance to be with Ethan like this, and yet she had sounded so apprehensive at the prospect of staying with him. ‘I don’t want to be left to that pack of hounds,’ she confessed. ‘But I’ve put you out so much already.’

  ‘So a little more trouble won’t hurt me,’ Ethan reassured her dryly.

  Maybe his lack of enthusiasm didn’t match up with her fantasies, but what Ethan had suggested was a sensible solution. And his place in Tuscany sounded so romantic—such a pity it would be wasted on them. ‘Are you sure it wouldn’t be easier for you if I just fly home?’

  ‘If you do that you won’t be able to take advantage of the security I can provide. It would take me quite some time to get the same level of protection set up for you in England, which is why I’ve made some arrangements for your parents.’

  ‘Arrangements? What arrangements?’ Savannah interrupted anxiously.

  ‘I decided a cruise would take them well out of the range of prying eyes.’

  ‘A cruise?’ She gasped. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be serious?’

  ‘You mean you booked a holiday for them?’

  ‘It’s the best solution I could come up with,’ he said, as if booking fabulously expensive trips was nothing unusual for him.

  Savannah couldn’t stop smiling. ‘You have no idea what this will mean to them. I can’t remember the last time they went away—or even if they ever have been away from the farm.’

  ‘The farm?’

  ‘I live on a farm.’ She shook her head, full of excitement. ‘You must have seen my address on file?’

  ‘Lots of addresses have the word “farm” in them. It doesn’t mean a thing.’

  ‘Well, in this instance it means a great deal,’ she assured him, turning serious. Savannah’s voice had dropped and emotion hung like a curtain between them, a curtain Ethan swiftly brushed aside.

  ‘Well, I’m pleased I’ve made the appropriate arrangements.’

  ‘Oh, you have,’ Savannah said softly, thinking of all the times she’d wished she could have sent her exhausted parents away for a break, but she had never had the money to do so. Their grief when they’d lost their herd of dairy cows to disease had exacted a terrible toll, and they’d only survived it thanks to the support of the wonderful people who worked alongside them. Those same people would stand in for them now, allowing them to take the holiday they deserved.

  ‘You’ve no idea what you’ve done for them,’ Savannah assured Ethan.

  He brushed off her thanks, as Savannah had known he would. But because of his generosity she thought he deserved to be wholly in the picture, and so she told him how her parents had stood by and watched their whole herd being slaughtered—animals they’d known by name.

  ‘That must have cost you all dearly,’ he observed, looking at her closely. ‘And not just in financial terms.’

  It was a rare moment between them, but Ethan scarcely gave her a chance to enjoy it before switching back to practicalities. He treated emotion like an enemy that must be fought off at every turn, Savannah thought as Ethan told her that her bags would probably arrive at the palazzo before she did.

  ‘Just a minute,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘Did you say “the palazzo”?’ Of all the day’s surprises, this was the biggest. Ethan had just turned all her points of reference on their head. As far as Savannah was concerned, a palazzo was somewhere people who existed on another planet lived.

  ‘There are a lot of palazzos in Tuscany,’ Ethan explained, as if it were nothing, but as Savannah continued to stare incredulously at him he finally admitted, ‘Okay, so I’ve got a very nice place in Tuscany.’

  ‘You’re a very lucky man,’ she told him frankly.

  In the light of what Savannah had just told him about her parents’ hardships, he had no doubt that was true. At least they’d be able to put plenty of space between each other at the palazzo, he reminded himself thankfully.

  ‘Tell me about your palazzo.’

  Finding he was staring at her lips as she spoke, he turned away. ‘Later,’ he said, relieved to see his driver waiting exactly where he had asked him to, by the landing stage. He waved to the man as he cut the engines and allowed the powerboat to glide into shore. ‘We’ll disembark first, and then I’ll tell you more about it when we’re on my jet.’

  But she was back on the ground and in the back of a second limousine before Ethan turned to answer her questions.

  ‘The name of the palazzo?’ he resumed, leaning over from the front seat where he sat next to the driver. ‘The Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati.’

  ‘That’s quite a name.’ Savannah laughed as she tried to say it, stumbling over the unfamiliar Italian words, acutely conscious as she did so that Ethan was watching her lips move.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said, congratulating her on her accent.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Savannah found that she badly wanted to hold Ethan’s attention.

  ‘It means “the Palace of the Golden Sunset”.’

  He hadn’t meant to enter into conversation with her, but how could he not when she glowed with pleasure at the smallest thing? It reminded him, of course, of how very young she was, but even so he couldn’t subdue the urge to tell her about a home he loved above all his others.

  ‘It sounds so romantic!’ she exclaimed, her eyes turning dreamy.

  ‘Yes, it’s a very old and very beautiful building.’ He knew he was being drawn in, but he would never forget his first sight of the palazzo, and he’d had no one to share it with before. ‘The towers glow rose-pink at sunset,’ he explained, though he left out the emotional angle, which had entailed a longing to own the ancient palazzo that had come from the depths of his soul.

  ‘The palazzo is located in a glorious valley blessed with sunlight, and the medieval village surrounding it is inhabited by wonderful peopl
e who appreciate the simple things in life.’ And who had taken him to their heart, he remembered with gratitude. As he tried to convey something of this passion to Savannah without becoming overly sentimental, she remained silent and alert, as if what he didn’t say told her everything she needed to know.

  She confirmed this, saying softly when he had finished, ‘You’re even luckier than I thought.’

  ‘Yes, well…’ He left the statement hanging, feeling he’d gone too far. He wasn’t a man to brag about his possessions, or even mention them.

  Ethan was full of surprises. His sensitivity was obvious once he started talking about the palazzo. He flew planes, he rode bikes, he drove powerboats, and he had a perfect command of the Italian language. The thought that he did everything well and was capable of such passion sent a frisson of arousal shimmering through her.

  Which she would put a stop to right away! Savannah’s sensible inner voice commanded. It was one thing to fantasise about sexual encounters with Ethan, but quite another to consider the reality of it when she was saving her virginity for some sensible, ‘steady Eddie’ type of bloke, and then only when they were married.

  ‘Are you too warm?’ Ethan asked, misreading the flush that rose to her cheeks as she moved restlessly on the seat. ‘I can easily adjust the temperature for you.’

  Savannah bit her lip to hide her smile.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded suspiciously.

  What was so funny? Ethan was the man most women had voted to go to bed with, and she was the woman most men had decided not to go to bed with—that was funny, wasn’t it?

  ‘I asked you a question, Savannah.’

  The easy atmosphere that had so briefly existed between them had suddenly gained an edge.

  ‘Is it my scars?’ he pressed. ‘Do they make you nervous?’

  Ethan had read her all wrong, Savannah realised. He was so far off the mark, she shook her head in shock. ‘Of course they don’t.’ It was no use, because Ethan wasn’t listening.

  ‘Is that why you’re trying so hard not to laugh?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ve told you, no!’ She held his gaze. There must be no doubt over this. She would be the first to admit she was overawed by Ethan, and that he even frightened her a little, but those feelings were all tied up in his worldliness contrasted with her own inexperienced sexual-self, and had not the slightest connection with his scars. If he thought she was shallow enough to be intimidated by them…Savannah shook her head with disgust at the thought. As far as she was concerned, Ethan’s terrible scars were just a reminder that even the strongest tree could be felled. ‘I see the man, not the scars,’ she told him bluntly.

  In the confines of the limousine his short, disbelieving laugh sounded cruel and hard.

  That had to come from some memory in his past, Savannah reassured herself, refusing to rise to the bait. Sometimes it was better to say nothing, she was learning, and to persuade Ethan she was more than the fluffy girl he thought her would take action, not words. She had been raised on a working farm and knew the value of hard work. She was used to getting her hands dirty and wasn’t frightened of much.

  Just as well, Savannah reflected as Ethan turned away with a face like thunder to continue his conversation with the driver, because there was nothing easy about Ethan Alexander. But whatever Ethan’s opinion of her, she would stand up for herself. Perhaps he had learned that much about her. If nothing else this journey was giving them both the opportunity to learn a little more about each other. What she’d learned might not be reassuring, but it hadn’t put her off Ethan either—in fact, quite the reverse.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AS THEY approached the end of the journey they sat in silence, and Ethan could sense Savannah’s unease. For all her excitement at the thought of seeing his palazzo, she was wondering what she had got herself into. He had always been intuitive. His mother had told him he was keenly tuned, close to the earth and all its mystery. She’d told him that before the crystal sphere she’d kept next to her bed told her to marry for the fourth time, apparently. At seven years old he had begged her not to do it, believing it would be a disastrous move for his mother and for himself. She had ignored him and the marriage had been a disaster. So much for his mother’s belief in his special powers. The beatings had begun the day his new ‘daddy’ had arrived back from their honeymoon. He’d gone away to school that September, and had been the only boy in his class relieved to be living away from home.

  And why was he remembering that now? He moved so that Savannah was no longer in his eyeline in the mirror. Was it because for the first time since his rugby career had been ended he wished he could be unblemished inside and out? Was it because Savannah Ross was too innocent to know the ugliness inside him?

  Realising he was only paying attention to half the things his driver was telling him, he made some token comment and started watching Savannah again. She looked so small and vulnerable, sitting all alone on a sea of cream leather. The Bentley was the right scale for a man his size, but she was dwarfed by it. And she was a distraction he couldn’t afford, he warned himself, especially if he was going to remain aloof from her when they reached their destination.

  Stately cypress groves provided a lush green counterpoint to the rolling fields of Tuscany, and with the sun burning low in a cobalt sky Savannah wondered if there might be enough beauty here to distract her from her main obsession—but her main obsession turned at that moment to speak to her.

  ‘We’ll be arriving at the palazzo at the perfect time.’

  ‘Sunset,’ Savannah guessed. A thrill of excitement overtook her fear that Ethan had not forgotten or forgiven her for the earlier misunderstanding. As the light faded his face was in shadow, so she couldn’t see his expression to gauge his mood, but there was something here that had lifted it—his palazzo, she suspected. Following the direction in which he was looking she searched hungrily for her first sight of the building. The sky was a vibrant palette of tangerine and violet so dramatic, so stunningly beautiful, she had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of what might come next. She could sense Ethan was also buzzing with expectation, and try as he might to be stern all the time, an attractive crease had appeared in his face. He’d softened just a little. Now if he could only soften a little more and smile at her that would be a gift—the only gift she wanted.

  ‘When we cross the river, you’ll see the palazzo in this direction.’

  As Ethan pointed towards the shadowy purple hills, she sat bolt upright, tense with expectation.

  ‘I don’t want you to miss the approach,’ he said, seeing her interest. ‘It’s quite spectacular.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she assured him as anticipation fluttered in her stomach. Something told her that this was one of those precious moments that would mean something all her life and must be cherished.

  She was only half right, Savannah discovered. When it came into view the palazzo exceeded her expectations so far it took her breath away. Rising like something out of a legend from the mist was a winding road and an old stone bridge, and then the towering walls. A glittering snake of water travelled beneath the bridge, and as they crossed it she thought the restless eddies were like mirrored scales carrying the sun-fire to the sea.

  ‘Now you understand why the palazzo got its name.’

  Even Ethan couldn’t quite keep the excitement from his voice.

  ‘Understatement,’ she breathed. The turreted spread of the Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati appeared framed in fire, and even her fertile imagination hadn’t come close to doing it justice. This wasn’t the Gothic horror she’d feared Ethan might inhabit, but a palace of light, built from pink stone that might have been sugar-rock. Glowing warm beneath the red-streaked sky, it couldn’t have appeared more welcoming.

  ‘What do you think?’ Ethan prompted.

  Savannah was surprised her opinion mattered to him, and the thought touched her immensely—though she mustn’t read too much into it, she reminded herself. ‘I
think it’s stunning,’ she told him honestly. ‘The colour of the stone is extraordinary.’

  ‘Pink?’

  The touch of irony in his voice made her smile. Were they connecting at last? Just a little, maybe? But she wasn’t going to push it. ‘You must admit, it’s unusual,’ she said, trying to sound grown up about it, though the prospect of staying in a pink palace, and one as beautiful as this, would have excited anyone.

  ‘The stone is pink because millions of years ago this whole valley was a deep marine-gulf,’ Ethan explained. ‘The pink hue is due to the millions of tiny shells and fossils locked in the rocks.’

  ‘What a magical explanation.’ And romantic, Savannah mused as Ethan settled back to enjoy the last leg of the journey. He might fight as hard as he could to keep his distance from her, but he had brought her to one of the most romantic places on earth. Ethan might shun everything pink or soft or feminine, but he’d let his guard down by showing her his palazzo. ‘The Palace of the Golden Sunset,’ she murmured happily as the limousine made a smooth transition from slick tarmac to the winding cobbled streets.

  ‘Can you see the fragments of the original walls?’ Ethan said, turning towards her again.

  His enthusiasm was framed in a scholarly tone, but he was clearly determined to share this with her, and he didn’t need to tell her how much he loved his palazzo when she could feel his passion like a warm cloak embracing her. ‘Yes, I see them,’ she said, pressing her face to the window. In some places there was little more than raised ground to show where the original walls must have stood, but at others she could see what remained of them. They looked like blackened silhouettes pointing crooked fingers towards the blazing sky.

  ‘Much of the structure dates from medieval times,’ Ethan continued.

  Like the thinking of its master? Savannah wondered. What would it take to have Ethan see her as a grown woman rather than as a singing sensation recently signed to his record label? And was she sure she wanted him to think about her that way? Wasn’t it safer to remain as she was—a ward under his protection?

 

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