‘From my point of view.’
‘Yes?’ Savannah stared intently at Ethan, ready to jump into armour and fight at his side at the first sign he was preparing to take on the press.
‘I think you should ignore it, as I will. Unless—’ he held up his hands when she was about to leap in ‘—they become a nuisance, in which case I shall act.’
That was just so disappointing. She didn’t want to sit back and have rubbish thrown at her. She was about to challenge Ethan’s decision when a knock came at the door and her bags from the stadium arrived.
‘I haven’t let you down yet, have I?’ Ethan demanded as she checked them over. ‘And I’m not about to start now. And where this newspaper rubbish is concerned you’ll just have to try something new.’
‘Such as?’ Lifting her head, she stared at him.
‘You could try trusting me.’
‘But we’re trapped here,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, in this terrible place,’ Ethan mocked gently. ‘Poor us.’
He only had to say this for warning darts of fire to attack every part of her, and each tiny arrow carried a subtle message. She wanted him, but confronted by Ethan’s worldiness, and by the thought of staying under his roof, she grabbed the edges of her robe and tugged it firmly shut. ‘Haven’t they’ve got anything better to do than speculate about us?’
‘They’re only doing their job,’ Ethan pointed out. ‘We’re newsworthy. You. Me. Both of us together. Now that’s a real story.’
‘But this isn’t a real story. They’ve twisted the truth and made innocent photographs seem so…’
‘Suggestive?’
She hadn’t wanted to say that, and when Ethan looked at her a certain way she wished she hadn’t. Prior to this she had been sure Ethan thought of her as a ward beneath his protection, and the thought that he was now looking at her as a woman was unsettling. It might be everything she had ever dreamed of, but as fantasy hurtled towards reality at breakneck pace she lost her nerve. Getting up, she assured him, ‘Well, don’t worry, if I do have to stay here for any length of time, I’ll keep right out of your way.’
‘How very thoughtful of you,’ Ethan murmured. ‘Tea?’ he proposed. ‘Hot and sweet, perhaps?’ he added under his breath. ‘It’s good for shock.’ He reached for the phone to call the kitchen.
Shock? He thought she was in shock? She probably was in shock after seeing the news bulletin, Savannah conceded. But tea? She didn’t want tea. ‘I think I need something stronger than that.’
Ethan held the phone away from his ear. ‘Espresso?’
His face was poker straight, but his eyes were laughing at her. This humorous side of him—so unsuspected, so attractive—was unbelievably seductive. And terrifying. She had no idea how to handle a man—any man—let alone a man like Ethan. The situation was rapidly spiralling out of control. ‘Gin and tonic, please,’ she said firmly, thinking it might help. ‘A large one.’
For a moment she thought Ethan might refuse, but then he crossed the room to the wet bar where he mixed a drink. At last he was treating her like someone over the age of consent.
‘Here you are,’ he said pleasantly, handing her the glass. ‘I hope I got the balance right?’
She took a large swig in a pathetic attempt to maintain a confident image—and choked. Worse than choked she wheezed and choked, whilst waving her hands frantically in the air as fire consumed her gullet.
‘So, you’re a virgin,’ he said with amusement.
She was aghast that he could tell. ‘How did you know?’
Holding the crystal tumbler aloft, he stared into the clear liquid. ‘You can’t drink a decent measure of alcohol without…’ His voice tailed away as he looked at her. ‘Oh, I see. We’re not talking about the same thing, are we? Well, are we, Savannah?’ Ethan pressed, and, far from being humorous now, his expression was grim.
She couldn’t answer. Her throat had seized up with embarrassment. In the silence that followed everything Ethan had ever thought about her seemed to grow in her mind to grotesque proportions. She was too young for him, too inexperienced, too naïve, and whatever hopes she’d ever had about them ever being together had just turned into dust. But that didn’t stop her wanting him, it just pushed him further away, because Ethan was so principled he would never even think of making love to her, believing her innocence was under his charge.
A virgin? A virgin! Ethan recoiled inwardly. This made the situation so much worse. How much worse he could hardly quantify in thought, let alone words. Savannah was only here to enjoy his protection, yet until a minute ago he had arrogantly contemplated seducing her. She was still so young, and his first thought must always be to protect her. He had to hang onto that thought now if he was to save her from the greatest danger of all, which was him—the very man who was supposed to be taking care of her.
‘Ethan, please don’t be angry with me,’ she begged him as he made for the door.
‘Angry with you?’ He was bemused she could think that. ‘Goodnight, Savannah.’
‘Ethan, please.’
He was halfway through the door when she ran towards him. ‘Sleep well,’ he said, closing the door firmly behind him with Savannah on the other side. He didn’t trust himself to wait and listen to her reply.
She sat on the bed for a long time after Ethan left. With her arms pressed tightly on the top of her head, she knew she’d made such a hash of everything and that she didn’t have a clue how to make it right. She had known for some time now that she loved Ethan. How could she care for anyone as deeply as she did for him and not love him? But he still frightened her. She had played a foolish game of make-believe. The first time Ethan had noticed she was a woman, she had taken fright, and now his principles meant they could never be together. Well done, Savannah, she congratulated herself; there’d be no encores here.
Climbing off the bed, she went to stare into the mirror. What did Ethan see when he stared in his? He lived his life in spite of his injuries. He had triumphed over them. Or had he? Was she only seeing Ethan’s public face? Did those scars torment him when he was alone? Because she cared about him, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. How could she leave Tuscany and Ethan with so many things unresolved? She would go to him and speak to him. She would reason with him in the hope that when she went away they could at least be friends.
The fact that she didn’t have a clue what she was going to say was immaterial, Savannah thought, tugging on her jeans. This was just one of those moments when doing nothing wasn’t an option. She refused to have Ethan think she was repulsed by his scars, or that she made a habit of accepting hospitality and then changing everything around for her host. Caring about someone came with responsibility, which meant she couldn’t turn her back on him. And as this might be her last chance to search beneath Ethan’s public persona, and find the real man underneath, she had no intention of wasting it.
CHAPTER NINE
MAYBE the fates had decided she deserved a bit of luck, Savannah concluded as she followed a group of servants carrying fresh towels and a tray with a pot of coffee on it. There couldn’t be that many people staying at the palazzo, surely?
All she cared about was finding Ethan, and as she waited, concealed in the shadows while one of the servants knocked on a door, she thrilled at the sound of his voice. Finding him filled her with relief.
She waited for the staff to come out again, and when their footsteps had died away she came out of hiding and cautiously approached the door around which they’d been clustered. The handle yielded all too easily, and as she pressed the door open a crack she could hear the shower running.
Opening the door fully, Savannah slipped inside. She found herself in a mannish-looking sitting room where the scent of good leather and books was overwhelming. She looked around. Okay, so now what? There was hardly anywhere to hide. As she had suspected, Ethan’s tastes were plain. The floors were polished wood, and the sofas were dark-brown leather. The walls were lined with b
ooks and not much else, other than some vibrant modern paintings.
Originals, Savannah noted with interest, signed with a letter B that had a diagonal line through it. She could imagine what a psychologist might make of that. And as for the content: frightened, wide-eyed children without faces or proper form. The paintings were brilliant—but, in the same way Edvard Munch’s The Scream both fascinated and repelled, these paintings were deeply disturbing. And there were shadows in them…lots and lots of shadows.
Were the paintings an autobiographical account of Ethan’s childhood?
She’d bet her life on it. And this window into his psyche was both more illuminating and far worse than anything she had imagined. That he had immense talent was in no doubt, and as another type of artist she found that bond between them reassuring—though everything else about the paintings troubled her and told her she was right to be concerned. Listening, she was reassured to hear the shower still running. What other secrets could she uncover in the time she had?
She wasn’t here to pry, but to sense things, Savannah told herself, remaining motionless in the middle of the room. And then the water stopped running. And she was completely exposed. She braced herself. All the clever words and questions she’d been preparing for Ethan deserted her. But when he didn’t emerge from the bathroom curiosity got the better of her. Tip-toeing to the door, she peeped through a crack. Sensation streamed through every inch of her at the sight of Ethan standing in front of a mirror with just a towel around him.
He was magnificent.
Although his scars were far, far worse than she had thought, she had never seen anyone half so virile or appealing. His legs were beautifully shaped and muscular, and his naked torso was everything she had dreamed of. The extent of his injuries, of his scarring, only proved it was a miracle he had made it through, and the thought of the pain he must have experienced cut her like a knife. He was twice the man she’d thought him. And more.
Savannah jumped back in alarm as Ethan thrust his fists down on a marble counter-top. For a moment she thought he’d seen her and that that must have prompted the angry action, but then she realised he was leaning over his braced arms with his shoulder-muscles knotted and his head bowed, as if the sight of his own body had disgusted him. She knew then that everything she had feared for him was true: Ethan’s injuries had scarred more than his body, they had scarred the man.
‘Savannah?’
She gasped out loud as he wheeled around.
‘Savannah! I’m speaking to you!’
The ferocity in his tone made her back away.
‘What do you think you’re doing here?’
‘Looking for you…’ She backed away, hands outstretched in supplication. ‘I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.’
‘You didn’t hear the water running?’
‘I heard it, but.’
‘You didn’t leave immediately?’
‘No, I.’
‘You what?’ he flashed across her. ‘Wanted to try out your amateur psychology on me?’ As he spoke his glance swept the paintings which he knew she must have seen. ‘I thought so,’ he spat out with contempt when she didn’t reply.
‘Ethan, please.’
‘I thought we’d agreed you’d stay away from me?’
‘Did we?’ Her voice was trembling. ‘I don’t remember that.’
Straightening up, Ethan dipped his head. His stare was menacing.
‘Stop trying to intimidate me.’ If only her voice would stop shaking.
‘Then tell me why you’re here.’
‘Like I said, I was looking for you.’
‘Because?’ he prompted harshly.
‘I wanted to speak to you.’
‘And so you sneaked into my room?’
‘No!’
‘Go back to bed, Savannah.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. But how was she going to put all her thoughts and impressions into a few short sentences when Ethan would never give her the time? Shorthand was her only option. ‘I care about you.’
‘You care about me?’ Ethan’s laugh was cold and ugly. ‘If you only knew how infantile that sounded.’
‘Caring for someone is infantile? ’Savannah threw up her hands. ‘Then I’m guilty.’ The feelings she had developed for Ethan were so deep and so complex, at this point she had nothing to lose. ‘I’ll admit, I’m not good with words.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Grabbing his robe, Ethan threw it on, belting it to hide his mutilations from her gaze. ‘Get out of here, Savannah.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she informed him stubbornly.
‘Must I throw you out?’
She wanted to run as far and as fast as she could from the expression on Ethan’s face. He had turned so angry and dark, and so utterly contemptuous of her. ‘You wouldn’t—’
But her voice wobbled and Ethan pounced. ‘Can you be sure of that?’
‘I’m absolutely sure you would never hurt me.’ Standing her ground, she stared him full in the face.
‘Have you finished? Can I continue with my evening in peace now?’
‘I’ve not nearly finished!’ Like a cork in a bottle her frustrations had been tamped down long enough. ‘You can’t dismiss me. I’m not a child!’
‘You certainly look like one to me.’
‘Then you’re not looking closely enough. I’m a woman, Ethan, a woman with feelings; a woman who won’t let those feelings go just because you say I must.’
Ethan’s answer was to curtly angle his chin towards the door. ‘And now I’m asking you to leave.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
He tried sweet reason. ‘It’s been a long day and you should be in bed.’
Savannah shook her head. ‘I’m not a child you can order to bed. All I want to do is talk to you.’
‘Well, I’m right out of conversation. Now, get out of here. Out!’ He backed her towards the door. ‘Try to get this through your head, Savannah…’ Bringing his face so close she could see the amber flecks in his steel-grey eyes, Ethan ground out, ‘I don’t want your company. I don’t want your conversation. And most of all I don’t want you snooping around here, spying on me.’
‘I’m not spying on you,’ Savannah said, raising her voice too. ‘And if it’s these you’re worried about—’
Sucking air between his teeth, Ethan knocked her hand away, but, ignoring him, she reached up anyway. Touching his face with her fingertips, she traced his cruel scars. ‘I don’t see them.’
‘You don’t see them?’ Ethan mimicked scathingly. Rearing back, he turned his face away.
‘No, I don’t.’ Savannah flinched as Ethan walked past her. And flinched again when, having poured a glass of water and drained it, he slammed the glass down so hard she couldn’t believe it hadn’t smashed. ‘It’s no use you trying to shut me out, because I’m not going anywhere, Ethan.’
He remained with his hostile back turned to her. Perhaps she had gone too far this time. Ethan’s massive shoulders were hunched, and his fists were planted so aggressively on a chair back his knuckles gleamed white.
‘Bad enough you’re here,’ he growled without looking at her, ‘But you should have told me you were—’
‘I’m sorry?’ Savannah interrupted, reading his mind. ‘Do you mean I should have told you I was a virgin?’ She waited until Ethan turned to face her. ‘Are you seriously suggesting I should have said, “how do you do, my name is Savannah, and I’m a virgin”?’
‘No, of course not,’ Ethan snapped, eyes smouldering with passion. ‘But if you’d given me at least some intimation, I could have made arrangements for you to stay elsewhere.’
‘In a nunnery, perhaps?’ Savannah cut across him. ‘In a safe place with a chaperon?’
‘And this isn’t safe, and I don’t have a chaperon.’
‘Correct.’
As they glared at each other it soon became apparent that neither one of them was prepared to break the stand-off.
&nb
sp; ‘And if I tell you I feel quite safe here with you?’
‘And if I tell you that the rest of the world will put a very different construction on your staying here with me?’
‘But I thought you didn’t care about gossip?’ she countered.
‘I care how it affects you.’
‘From the point of view that I’m signed to your record company as the next young singing sensation, which means I must appear to the world to be innocent?’
Ethan took her barbed comment with far better grace than she might have expected. It was almost as if they had got the measure of each other, and for once he was crediting her with some sense—though he drew out the waiting time until her nerves were flayed and tender. Relaxing onto one hip then, he thumbed his chin as the expression in his eyes slowly cooled from passion to wry reflection. ‘That’s a very cynical attitude for a young girl to have.’
‘How many times—?’
‘Must you tell me you’re not the young girl I think you are?’ he supplied in a low voice that strummed her senses.
‘If I’m cynical,’ Savannah countered, ‘Surely you’re the last person who should be surprised?’
‘I’m going to say this as clearly as I can.’ Ethan’s voice held a crushing note of finality. ‘I don’t want you here. Please leave now.’
She waited a moment too, and then said, ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ Savannah repeated. ‘You’re asking me to believe I must do everything you say. Well, standing my ground where you’re concerned might not be a big thing in your world, or easy in mine, but it has to be a whole lot better than agreeing to be your doormat.’
‘Have you quite finished?’ he demanded.
‘I’ve barely started,’ she assured him, but even she could see there was little point in pursuing this if she couldn’t persuade Ethan to see her in a different light.
And she couldn’t. He pointed to the door.
Lifting her head, she wrapped what little dignity she had left around her and walked towards it—but when she reached it she just had to know: ‘What’s wrong with me, Ethan?’
The Ruthless Billionaire’s Virgin Page 8