Summer with the Millionaire

by Unknown

  Was she planning to leave Luca?

  Only it didn’t seem as if he cared one way or another. Maybe she could stay here anyway. She had done a good job, even he accepted that. She could just stay out of his way, watch as he found someone stable and steady, moved on.

  Just the thought of it was like a punch to the stomach. She couldn’t do that—and that was why she’d have to say goodbye.

  ‘Buongiorno.’ Without even a glance at her, Luca strode to the lectern and began proceedings. For all the formal business—board reports, sales figures, expansion plans—it was a lively presentation. Luca was unexpectedly funny and charming in parts, serious and focussed in others. It was mesmerising. The whole room was quiet, all their attention on the tall man who obviously loved his work, their work, so passionately.

  Minty shivered. Suddenly all she wanted was his attention; for some of that passion to be directed at her; to see heat in those golden eyes. Even anger would be better than amusement. Emotion would show he cared.

  Not that she deserved it, but surely if there was love there was forgiveness? That was the fairy tale anyway. Rose had forgiven her time after time, had been there no matter what. She was the only person who had been. Could Luca live up to her legacy?

  Was she even worth it?

  Minty was jolted out of her thoughts as the lights dimmed and the familiar music filled the room, the tune that accompanied the videos posted to the web. She had seen a couple of them many times, obsessively editing to make them perfect in every way, whilst preserving the genuine naturalness that made them authentic. The others were new and watching the staff talk about why they loved their jobs—and, of course, their favourite gelato combination—was so moving that a lump formed in her throat and tears once again threatened, prickling the back of her eyes.

  ‘Part of the campaign will include competitions for the public to win the chance for their ice-cream ideas to be made up into special editions,’ Luca said as the lights came up. ‘We thought we would kick-start that process with special editions designed around some of you, as a thank-you for some exceptional work this year. I would like to start off with Giulia. Would you like to come up here please?’

  There were three winners overall. Luca congratulated each of them before presenting them with a glass of ‘their’ gelato, designed with their personalities in mind: sweet praline for the blushing, shy Giulia—a bold dark-chocolate and espresso for the taciturn Bruno; a sophisticated fruit and sorbet concoction for the elegant Marietta. Minty found herself applauding warmly as the three returned to their seats, aware that this signalled the end of the presentation. She had to face Luca again, sign whatever she needed to sign and leave. In an hour’s time, this would all be behind her.

  Luca’s voice rang out, strong, confident. ‘Okay, I have one more special award to give out to the woman who came up with the idea in the first place. Minty, would you like to come and receive your prize?’

  Minty sat frozen in her chair. Surely he didn’t mean her? Surely he wasn’t turning to look at her, heat finally blazing out of his eyes? It was as if time had stopped, Luca’s words echoing round and round in Minty’s head. She blinked at him in disbelief.

  ‘You made me an ice cream?’ Her words were low, forced out of her by her shocked surprise, but he heard her, smiling across the stage at her with infinite tenderness.

  ‘Of course. And it was harder than I expected. You know,’ he said confidingly to the audience, ‘this should have been the easiest of the lot, with a name like Minty! And yes, of course, mint was the starting flavour. But with what? Choc-chip? Too obvious, and our Minty is anything but. Eventually I decided that a light fruit base was required. I did try elderflower but, no, that wasn’t quite right. Raspberry was too overpowering, limon too bitter. And then it hit me...’ He paused dramatically and the audience waited expectantly.

  Minty couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. What did Luca think encapsulated her? Marshmallow—sweet and insubstantial? Despite her love of lemon sorbet, she was glad he’d rejected it. She didn’t want him to think her acidic and sour.

  She shook herself. It was ice cream, just ice cream. And yet it felt like so much more. Anxiety gnawed away at her stomach. She couldn’t stay silent, keep her cool any longer. ‘So, what did you choose?’

  Tawny eyes held hers, their expression completely serious, penetrating. ‘A rich strawberry sorbet was the next step, but it was still missing something. I added dark chocolate and a hint of lime and it worked. It was delicious, but not yet complete. And then it hit me.’ A smile entered the eyes still looking directly into hers until she felt dizzy, lost in the amber depths. ‘It needed something light, fizzy but with unexpected depths... Prosecco.’

  ‘Sounds delicious.’ She couldn’t say anything but platitudes but she was filled with a tumultuous mixture: gratitude; joy; longing. Longing for this man who stood opposite showing the world that he understood her. All of her. Many people thought they could sum up Lady Araminta Davenport in just a few words; thought they could pigeonhole her: rich, flighty, frivolous. And she was; she was all of those things. But she hoped, she knew, that she did have unexpected depths—only no one had ever wanted to dig deep enough to find out.

  ‘Here.’ He was holding a cone out to her. ‘A cone, not a cup. A sugar cone, too.’

  He’d remembered.

  ‘It’s the only way,’ she said, getting to her feet, hoping she would make it across the stage to him. Slowly she walked across, her eyes fixed on his, and took it, holding the cone gingerly, almost afraid to try the sorbet. She took a hesitant nibble. Flavours flooded her mouth. The sweet richness of strawberry and swirls of dark chocolate were a sharp contrast to the freshness of mint set off by the hint of lime, the Prosecco a mild counterpart.

  ‘What do you think?’ Luca’s assurance seemed to have deserted him; he was gazing at her anxiously.

  ‘Perfect.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say. ‘Thank you, it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.’ Trite, yet truer than she could express.

  The marquee erupted into applause as Gio came forward to congratulate her and round off the official part of the day. Minty stood caught in the spotlights for a moment, unsure where to go, relieved when Luca took her wrist and ushered her to the back of the stage and down the steps away from the glare of the lights, the noise and the attention.

  She stood for a moment just staring at him, her eyes drinking in the rightness of him. The staff, the marquee and the occasion were disappearing. All that mattered was the tall man in a well-cut suit, dark hair falling over his forehead, a man with killer cheekbones and an even deadlier smile. He stood looking back at her, the smile replaced with something darker, hungrier, more intense.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, concentrating on choosing the right words, on not letting his presence overwhelm her. ‘For this.’ She gestured with her ice cream. ‘I can’t tell you...’ She stopped, caught her breath and couldn’t continue, momentarily overwhelmed. She gave up and concentrated on the sorbet instead, as if there was nothing else, as if the man beside her was a mirage.

  ‘Minty, look at me.’ His voice was gentle, coaxing. Despite herself, she allowed him to take her chin and tilt her head up to meet his fiery gaze. ‘I’m sorry I let you go.’

  He was apologising to her? She shook her head. ‘I was the one who left.’

  Again. The unspoken word hung in the air.

  ‘Si, you did.’ Now it was Luca’s turn to shrug ruefully, his hand moving from her chin to her shoulder, a light, tingling touch. ‘But I let you go. I didn’t fight for you. You needed someone to, and I didn’t.’

  Minty wanted to deny it but his words had a core of truth that pierced her. That was what she had been waiting for. Someone to fight for her, someone to rescue the little girl abandoned in an empty school; someone to show her that she was worth it, no matter
what.

  ‘I acted just like all those other fools,’ Luca continued, his hand continuing to stroke her shoulder, his thumb tracing circles on the delicate skin at her neck. Minty wanted to lean into his caress like a cat, rub against the tantalisingly light touch. ‘I allowed you to push me away. And by the time I came to my senses it was too late; you were gone. I nearly came to London—even the tiny matter of having no idea where you were didn’t stop me booking a ticket, driving halfway to the airport. But I knew that I needed more than simply to turn up at your door, roses in hand and a prepared speech on my lips.’

  What would she have done if he’d turned up at her door? Would she have shut him out? She was half-afraid she would have; half-sure she would have fallen on him and never, ever have let him go.

  ‘Minty, I am a simple man, an ice-cream maker...’

  ‘You’re more than that!’ she said impulsively. Was that really how this extraordinary man saw himself? ‘You’re so much more: a businessman, an employer, a farmer, a gentleman, a good friend and nephew... A lover.’ The heat filled her cheeks as the memories of just how good a lover he was flooded through her, memories evoked by the torturous, languid caress.

  He laughed softly, a warm, intimate sound. ‘Grazie, cara, but at heart an ice-cream maker. I thought, I hoped, if I could make you the perfect ice cream, somehow I could convince you that I know when you’re playing a role. And that it wasn’t businesswoman Minty or black-tie Minty or even Sorrento Minty I was falling for, although you are all of those people. It was the spoilt and wilful, serious and empathic, intelligent and resourceful, untrusting yet hopeful, loving you.’

  Minty’s hand had crept up to find Luca’s. She linked her fingers through his, squeezing it convulsively. ‘What if I hadn’t shown up?’ she whispered through the large lump forming in her throat.

  Luca removed the hand from her shoulder, the fingers of his other hand tightening on hers reassuringly, promising that he would never let her go. ‘I have a ticket,’ he said, pulling out an airline ticket from his back pocket. ‘The plane leaves tonight. There’s a tub of ‘Araminta’ at the warehouse in London. I was pretty sure I could get it to you before it melted to slush.’

  ‘The second I got here I wanted to stay. I knew I had made a mistake,’ Minty said, looking up at him, reassured by the understanding and hot need in his eyes. ‘In London I got by with pretending, throwing myself into getting a job—a real job—and preparing for a sensible future. But the nights were different. Every morning I had to start again.’

  ‘You have a new job?’

  Pride welled up inside her. ‘I do, and without using my connections or my name to get it. I used my second name so that they took me seriously. I even had a real CV showcasing my time here and the work I did promoting the cupcake shops. It worked. You’d have been proud, I think. I’m meant to be starting next week, but...’ Minty’s voice trailed off. She wanted him to ask her to stay, tell her that he needed her, that the company needed her.

  Only hadn’t he already put himself on the line? He had made her an ice cream, bought tickets and planned a declaration. She had just shown up. It was time for her to face rejection. ‘I haven’t actually signed a contract. I mean, if you wanted me to stay...’

  Minty wasn’t sure of the response she wanted. Tears? To be gathered up in a hug? Hard, hot kisses right here and now, and sod the very real chance of discovery? Actually, she knew full well which response she wanted. Five minutes standing this close to Luca and barely touching him had her burning with the need to sink into him.

  What she hadn’t expected was for him to take a step back, to drop her hand and look at her intently. ‘That’s great, because I have something I want to ask you.’

  Oh, no, those horribly familiar words. Possibly the phrase she hated most in the whole of the English language, even when they were said in an Italian accent. She hoped he wasn’t going to get down on one knee.

  She hoped she didn’t say yes, even though part of her wanted to say yes more than anything else in the world.

  Only his knee didn’t even bend a little.

  ‘I want you to take charge of all the overseas operations. I know you’re inexperienced but I have a good team who will support you—and I think you’ve earned it.’

  The words hammered themselves into Minty’s stunned brain. He wanted to offer her a job? He didn’t want her body, her connections, her money—he wanted her brain. She stood still. ‘This is all about work? Not about us?’

  Where had those words come from? She should be happy, elated, that he recognised her hard work and saw her potential. That he was offering her such an important role. But she expected more, wanted more. Much more.

  Although, he hadn’t actually said that he loved her, had he? Just that he knew her and had fallen for her. Had she misinterpreted his meaning?

  All doubt was banished as Luca pulled her tenderly in and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Such a small, gentle kiss, yet it fizzed through her body like a firework, carrying hope and desire with it. ‘Of course, I’m hoping that eventually you will move back in with me.’

  Tears filled Minty’s eyes. She couldn’t look at him; all her attention was on the weave of his jacket at the shoulder, at the small vee of exposed throat, so close, so eminently kissable as he continued.

  ‘I know I need to convince you that I love you, all of you—not the parts of you that fit my life but every part of you, all the untidy, ridiculous, shoe-wearing, variety-loving, city-girl bits that make you, Minty. I need to let you prove to yourself that I offered you this job because I would be crazy not to, not because I want you back with me. I’m hoping it doesn’t take too long, because I miss you. Being near you and not being able to kiss you properly is driving me crazy, and I think that will only get worse. But I will wait, for as long as it takes. And when I do convince you...’ Minty looked shyly up at him. ‘I will not waste a single moment with an engagement. I have no intention of being fiancé number four—I do, however, plan to be your one and only husband.’

  His tone was light, almost jocular, but the look in his eyes told a different story. It was blazing sincerity and need, love and desire. Minty stared back, tongue-tied, unable to find the words. This was the boy who had spent a day letting her win at games to make her smile; the youth who’d taken her on a wild ride to make her forget; the man who’d treated her like a grown-up. This man was her first crush, her last lover.

  Only Luca would spend days perfecting a recipe just for her. No wonder she’d been so miserable; for the first time, she’d found the man she didn’t want to get engaged to.

  Instead she’d found the one man she wanted to spend her whole life with.

  ‘I get bored easily,’ she felt she had to warn him. ‘I have more issues than the entire cast of a soap opera. I’m irrational and selfish...’

  The grip on her chin tightened. ‘You’re big-hearted and whole-hearted and warm-hearted. You’re you, and that’s all I need.’

  Minty stared at him, this tall, sensual man with the blazing eyes. How could she ever have thought him stuffy or bossy? ‘I need you too—’ Her voice broke. She had never said those words to anyone, had never admitted needing anyone, not even to herself. ‘I need you and I love you and I want you, and I never want to spend another day away from you.’

  ‘You’ll come home with me?’

  Tears were running freely down Minty’s face as she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his, luxuriating in the familiarity, the safety, the essence of him. ‘Of course I will,’ she whispered against his mouth. ‘I’ll go anywhere with you. Anywhere.’

  He stood back, just a little, and looked at her with infinite tenderness. ‘We’ll work it all out, Minty—marriage, children, we’ll work it out together. As a team. And no matter what the future brings I’ll be there, every step of the way.’

 
‘I can face the future if I’m with you,’ Minty told him and she meant it. She wasn’t afraid any more. Wild excitement filled her, mingling with the happiness and desire. She was about to spend the rest of her life with this man, her biggest adventure yet.

  And Minty couldn’t wait.

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from BECOMING THE PRINCE’S WIFE by Rebecca Winters.

  CHAPTER ONE

  AS CAROLENA BARETTI stepped out of the limousine, she could see her best friend, Abby, climbing the stairs of the royal jet. At the top she turned. “Oh, good! You’re here!” she called to her, but was struggling to keep her baby from squirming out of her arms.

  At eight months of age, little black-haired Prince Maximilliano, the image of his father, Crown Prince Vincenzo Di Laurentis of Arancia, was becoming big Max, fascinated by sights and sounds. Since he was teething, Carolena had brought him various colored toys in the shape of donuts to bite on. She’d give them to him after they’d boarded the jet for the flight to Gemelli.

  The steward brought Carolena’s suitcase on board while she entered the creamy interior of the jet. The baby’s carryall was strapped to one of the luxury leather chairs along the side. Max fought at leaving his mother’s arms, but she finally prevailed in getting him fastened down.

  Carolena pulled a blue donut from the sack in her large straw purse. “Maybe this will help.” She leaned over the baby and handed it to him. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

  Max grabbed for it immediately and put it in his mouth to test it, causing both women to laugh. Abby gave her a hug. “Thank you for the gift. Any distraction is a blessing! The only time he doesn’t move is when he’s asleep.”

  Carolena chuckled.

  “So you won’t get too bored, I brought a movie for you to watch while we fly down. Remember I told you how much I loved the French actor Louis Jourdan when I was growing up?”