With a curse, he turned away. His body had sprung to life as it always did at the sight of a pretty girl. How could it possibly play a tasteless trick on him like that, today of all days? A keen interest in all things feminine was only natural, but noticing such fine detail at a time like this was grotesque. Gianni dropped his gaze to his feet. And then he heard her laugh. It was as captivating as a charm of goldfinches.
‘Signor Bellini! What a surprise! I never expected to see you again, let alone here! What a lovely surprise!’
He heard her take long, confident strides toward him across the gritty forecourt. From his vantage point on the terrace he could look down on her with the mere flick of a glance. As she noticed his bitter, twisted expression she stopped smiling. In half a dozen steps she went from delight, through puzzlement, to concern. Her steps became hesitant, and when she spoke again her voice was halting and uncertain.
‘You are the man I met at the Chelsea Flower Show, aren’t you?’
‘Sì. I am Gianni Bellini.’
He dropped the words like icicles, but then recognition swept over him. This was the flower girl. Gianni never forgot a pretty face—or a curvaceous body like hers. Manufacturing a smile, he nodded a brief welcome. Details slowly came back to him. This one was not only beautiful, she was clever, too. That was enough of a novelty for her to have made a special impact on Gianni at the time, but he had never dreamed of seeing her a second time.
The force of his reply didn’t stop her. She advanced with another laugh and stuck out her hand in greeting.
‘Good grief, I never would have believed it. You’ve changed—all those girlfriends must be running you ragged, signor!’
‘What are you doing here?’ he enquired in a voice like cut glass. As he spoke he looked down at her outstretched hand as though he would rather shake a viper by the tail.
She frowned, looking into his face as though searching for recognition.
‘I work for the Count di Castelfino. I’m moving into the Garden Cottage today. Someone usually meets me at the airport, but for some reason the chauffeur didn’t turn up today.’
‘That is because my father is dead. I’m the Count di Castelfino now,’ he announced with crisp formality.
Her smile vanished, and she stared at him in growing horror.
‘Oh…I’m so sorry.’ Helplessly she looked from the taxi, to her heap of suitcases and then back to him. ‘How crass of me to arrive in such a flurry like this…C-can I ask what happened?’
‘He suffered a stroke some days ago, in Paris. He died yesterday—no, the day before—’
Shaking his head, Gianni raised one hand and dragged it wearily down over his face. The rasp of stubble under his palm was loud and intrusive in the horrible, thick silence.
‘I—I’m so sorry…’ she repeated, her voice soft and insubstantial.
Exactly like her, Gianni thought instinctively, before silently cursing his reactions again.
‘You weren’t to know. I didn’t know you were expected. That’s why no one was sent to meet you. I was only driven back here an hour ago.’ Distracted, he looked across at the taxi and pulled out his wallet. ‘I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. You’ll have to go back to wherever you came from. How did you get past my security guards at the gate, in any case?’
Her eyes opened wider and wider as he spoke until they looked like two clear reflections of the cobalt sky.
‘They were expecting me…my name is on today’s visitor list…so they just waved my taxi straight through…’ Her voice was faint. As it faltered still further he had to lean closer to hear what she was saying. ‘But I can’t go back…all the plants here will need someone to look after them. The count—the old count—would have wanted them cared for properly…’
Gianni shook his head. ‘I’m the Count di Castelfino now, and I have my own plans. It’s the start of a new regime. There’s no room here for anything that doesn’t pay its way. Whatever projects my father may have had in mind won’t be going ahead. I’m in charge now, and my interests are much more practical.’
As he spoke he saw the heaven of her eyes become cloudy and misted with tears. She shrank visibly, and when she spoke her voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘You can’t mean that, signor?’
‘I’m afraid so. The Castelfino vineyard is my only concern. I’m interested in practical projects, not hobbies.’
Springing lightly down from the terrace, he started to walk towards the taxi. Because old habits couldn’t be shaken off, he put a comforting arm around her shoulder to lead her in the same direction. ‘Don’t worry, signorina. I’ll pay your taxi fare back to the airport. By the time you get there, my staff will have phoned through and arranged a return ticket for you. Where did you fly from, by the way?’
‘Heathrow—but—’
As they reached the open passenger door of the taxi Gianni took his arm away from her. After pressing far too much money into the taxi driver’s hand, he swivelled on his heel and walked off. As he headed back to the villa he threw a few disjointed words over his shoulder at her.
‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, signorina. Goodbye.’
Closing a mental door firmly in her face, he forced himself to push thoughts of her inviting full lips and big blue eyes right to the back of his mind. He ought to be concentrating on his plans for Castelfino Wines, not distractions like her.
And then a voice interrupted his thoughts, ringing out through the hot, still air.
‘No, thank you, Signor Bellini.’
He stopped and frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. If the girl was going to say anything at all, it should have been a diffident ‘yes'. That was the way things worked in Gianni’s universe. People did what he told them to do. While he stood wondering how she could possibly have misunderstood his instructions, he heard a muffled bang. It was followed by the sound of light footsteps in the dust. That made him look back, over his shoulder. What he saw puzzled him still more. The girl had dropped her hand luggage and was running to catch him up.
Gianni Bellini, Conte di Castelfino, thought of all the staff members who would be watching this fiasco from behind the Villa Castelfino’s shutters. They all knew his reputation. The old place must be alive with gossip already. Playboy he might be, but Gianni knew what to do. It wouldn’t hurt to reinforce his authority. When this girl launched her screaming, hysterical scene, he would silence it with a single roar of his own.
He snatched a deep breath, but never got to use it.
‘With all due respect, signor, I think I ought to stay.’
She skidded to a halt, almost within his reach. Her voice had been little more than a whisper. He hadn’t expected that. When she glanced nervously at the front of the house before speaking again she surprised him a second time.
‘For a little while, at least. Please?’
Totally wrong-footed, Gianni was stunned into silence. Not by what she said, but by the way she said it. An arrow of thought shot through his brain. It’s almost as though she’s as concerned for the staff as I am…but, no, she couldn’t be…
Words hissed through his clenched teeth like a November blast.
‘You have the nerve to speak to me of respect? A woman who bursts in on a house in crisis with laughter?’
Meg was so close she could hear the breath labouring in and out through his parted lips. She was petrified, but desperation kept her standing firm. She had to hope that she could make her new boss see reason and keep her on. It was vital.
‘I meant no harm, signor. I would never have made such a fuss if I’d known the circumstances. Can’t we draw a line under all this and start again?’
Within seconds she realised her mistake. Gianni Bellini had no reverse gear.
From the moment she’d arrived, she had realised this was going to be difficult. Now it looked close to impossible. She felt weak with terror, but couldn’t let him see that. She needed this job. Too many people were relying on h
er to simply roll over and accept what this strangely changed Gianni said.
With nothing to lose but her dignity, Meg pressed on. She lowered her lids. It was a slow, methodical gesture like that of a diver standing on the topmost board. To her surprise, he reacted by giving her time to speak.
‘When your father was alive, he specifically wanted me to come and work here,’ she said with measured calm. ‘I was the most highly qualified applicant for the post, and without my skill his plants will soon suffer. He had all sorts of plans in mind for the Castelfino Estate. Now he’s…well, let’s just say he’ll need a fitting memorial. He was always worrying about the future, and a lot of his ideas were practical. He spoke about throwing open his plant collection to the public one day, as a way of encouraging tourism in the area. I’m sure you’ll be carrying on all his other good works, signor,’ she added, and was relieved to see her innocent remark seemed to impress him. ‘Any man would be proud to leave such a legacy. Believe me, I know.’
His attitude hardened. ‘How do you know? Because you have a fistful of paper qualifications?’ he scoffed, clearly unimpressed.
‘No, I can say it because my father was exactly the same,’ she said evenly. ‘When he was taken seriously ill, he spent so much time worrying about what he would leave behind, he couldn’t rest. He was his own worst enemy. Your father was a good, kind man, signor. He deserves a living tribute. I worked with him closely on his new project here. He was so keen for it to go ahead, I really think it would be a mistake for you to cancel it just yet.’
Gianni stared at her for a long time. Then the corners of his mouth lifted in the slow, devastating smile that had been haunting all her dreams since their first meeting. He took a step forward, and held out his hand. ‘Allow me to congratulate you, Miss—?’
‘Imsey. Megan Imsey.’
His fingers felt deliciously warm as he enfolded her hand. It was a heat reflected in the colour of her cheeks.
‘Well done, Miss Imsey. I’m lost for words—something that has never happened to me before!’
Meg smiled back. She was a fast learner. In the last few minutes Gianni Bellini had morphed from her dream man into a living, breathing human being. Someone she could reach out and touch. To her surprise she realised they had at least two things in common. Work was everything to him—and he was as good at hiding his real feelings as she was. He might have started off as her fantasy lover, but Meg recognised a realist when she met one. Brought up on the breadline by devoted parents, she had become ultra ambitious to try to cushion them from poverty. She needed this job, for their sake. If that wasn’t reason enough to make a stand, Gianni Bellini was so magnetic. His playboy side had entranced her at Chelsea. He was so much more glamorous than anyone she had met before. Now he had been catapulted into a position of power, she wanted to see what his ambitions would make of her careful plans.
‘Surely you don’t need to make a snap decision about something as insignificant to you as my job, signor? Right now, you must have a thousand and one other things to think about.’
That at least was uncontroversial. He might be practised in the art of blocking his emotions, but for a split second Meg saw pain in his eyes. Anyone else would have missed it, but she’d been in some cold, dark places herself. She remembered how it had felt when her own father was hovering between life and death. With a pang she put her hand out to her new employer, but couldn’t quite manage the intimacy of a touch. Instead she withdrew, and let her words convey her sympathy. ‘And top of that list should be you.’
Her feelings were totally genuine, but they weren’t welcome. Gianni frowned.
‘No…I’m all right.’
‘You look as though you’ve been out all night,’ Meg said, torn between sympathy and adding the judgemental word again. It was hard not to remember all those plants she had gift-wrapped for his string of girlfriends.
‘I wasn’t there when it happened,’ he muttered, almost to himself. ‘I was in a nightclub with a thousand other people, none of whom would have cared if I dropped dead in front of them. I went straight to the hospital and sat beside him, trying as hard as I could to feel something. There was nothing…but then—’
He stopped.
‘It’s OK,’ Meg said softly, reaching out again. This time her dreams didn’t come into it. She laid her hand lightly on his sleeve, but taking a step backward he quickly put himself out of her reach again.
‘Then I came straight back here because this place won’t run itself…’ Gianni’s words began briskly enough but the lids of his olive-dark eyes were growing heavier all the time. He checked his watch. ‘Dio! I haven’t been to bed for days…’ he finished with weary disbelief.
‘I can see that,’ Meg said softly. He looked as though he had been sleeping in his beautiful designer clothes. As she watched he put a clenched fist up to his brow and scrubbed at it roughly. Meg knew how he felt. She had fretted for days and nights about her own father, when he was lying in Intensive Care.
Her memories were still too raw, and suddenly they overwhelmed her. Rushing forward, she put her arms out to him. She couldn’t help herself. His reaction was equally instinctive as he threw up his hands to stop her.
‘No! It’s fine. Please—don’t.’
Meg stopped. Forced to resist the urge to comfort him, she mirrored his gesture with one of peace.
‘All right—all right—you’re concerned that we’re being watched by your staff. I know. But you aren’t doing yourself or anybody else any favours by going beyond the point of exhaustion, signor. You need rest, and unless you get some you’ll be in hospital, too! Who will take care of the Villa Castelfino and all your staff then?’
He looked at her steadily for a long time. As he did so his dark, enigmatic expression began to stir a transformation deep within her body. Meg reacted to his scrutiny like a bud growing beneath snow. Gianni Bellini was unshaven and exhausted, yet he still looked totally irresistible. All the wicked fantasies she had dared to dream about him filtered back into her mind. She had spent so many long, lonely nights remembering his face, his smile, all his easy charm. Now here he was, right here in front of her. She began to blush. Something that began as heat rising from her breasts to her cheeks blossomed into the colour of a guinée rose, and silenced her.
‘Why are you doing this, Megan Imsey? You’ve only just got here. Why should you care about me? I’m a cold, unfeeling taskmaster. You’ll hear that from anyone outside the clubs and beaches. When I shelve all my father’s wild ideas, there’ll be no job here for you.’
Meg raised her eyebrows. The old count’s plans had all seemed perfectly sensible to her. This was her dream job, but there was definitely no place for daydreams in Gianni’s new regime. It was time to tell him some of her hard home truths.
‘I can’t afford not to care,’ she said in a careful, matter-of-fact voice. If he wouldn’t recognise simple compassion, that must mean he didn’t want any. ‘I’m on the Villa Castelfino payroll, but so far you’re the only person here who knows I’ve turned up for duty. To put it bluntly, it’s in my interests to take great care of you if I ever want to be reimbursed for this pointless jaunt, Signor Bellini. And there’s always an outside chance you might see reason, and stick with the old count’s plans as I suggest,’ she finished boldly.
It took some time, but Gianni’s expression gradually moved from resignation to distaste. ‘I might have guessed. With women, it all comes down to money in the end. And people wonder why I keep them all at arm’s length!’ He grimaced at last.
His reply was a final wake-up call for Meg. In real life, he was turning out to be quite a different prospect from the ideal man she wanted. With regret, she recognised he was as practical and down-to-earth as she was. It was beginning to feel as though work was the only certainty in her life. With no illusions left about Gianni, all she could hope to do was to secure her future. Apart from all the pressing practical reasons, her parents had waved her off at the airport with such high hop
es for her. She couldn’t bear to disappoint them by returning home without achieving anything.
‘It isn’t simply money, signor. Common sense and practicality come into it, too. My family back home are relying on me as a backstop. I’ve put their business back on an even keel. They’re doing really well at the moment but we all know from bitter experience how circumstances can change overnight.’
When she said that, Gianni briefly made eye contact with her. He nodded, but didn’t speak.
‘That’s why I need this job, signor. Your father arranged for me to live in the Garden Cottage here on the Villa Castelfino estate. I’ve visited before, so I know where it is. There’s no need to worry about me,’ she said, in the unlikely event Gianni Bellini ever worried about anyone but himself. ‘I can sort myself out. I’ll be absolutely no trouble. We can talk about all this later. You just see about getting yourself some rest.’
‘No. I need to be alert.’
He looked as belligerent as only a sleep-deprived man could look.
‘Of course you do, signor.’ Meg smiled as he played straight into her hands. ‘That’s why you must get some sleep. Don’t worry; I’ve already had some experience of how this house works. They’ll keep you informed. You won’t miss a thing,’ she said soothingly. ‘The previous count was always telling me he was careful to employ only the very best staff.’
Gianni locked eyes with her for a long time. Then unexpectedly he took her hand again and raised it to his lips for another heart-stopping kiss. It brought back every spine-tingling sensation he had ever evoked in her, and left her gasping. When he looked at her now his expression overflowed with all the dark promise she remembered from their first meeting.
Then he said slowly, ‘Yes. He was. I can see that now.’
Chapter Two
The Count of Castelfino Page 2