‘But this place is supposed to be deserted.’ Frustration was building in his chest. He turned around and gestured at the fading building behind him. ‘I mean, look at it. How long has your sister had it? She hasn’t done any work at all. This place is falling apart at the seams.’
Portia’s dark eyes gleamed. ‘I think you’ll find that this place has been like this for around the last fifteen years. When was the last time you were here, exactly? Sofia let things fall by the wayside. She didn’t keep up the house maintenance. After her relationship with Crown Price Ludano ended, I’m not sure she had the means.’ Portia glared at him. ‘My other sister Miranda and her husband Cleve have made some temporary repairs to the roof and electrics. I was hoping to tidy up a bit while I was here. Posy is a ballerina. She doesn’t have any spare funds right now, let alone enough money to carry out the extensive repairs that this place will need.’ It was obvious she was on the defensive.
But so was he.
‘Last I heard no one was staying here at all.’ All the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on the offensive. Press. He had to get rid of her. How on earth could he sort things out with someone like her around?
‘So you thought you would just break in?’ she shot back.
He pulled the ancient large key from his pocket. ‘I didn’t break in. My mother has a key to Villa Rosa—she has done for years.’
‘And that gives you the right to just appear here and let yourself in? My sister inherited this property. It’s hers.’ She placed her hand on her chest and raised her eyebrows. ‘I know that I’m supposed to be here. But I’m quite sure you haven’t asked her permission. Particularly when you don’t even know her name.’
Javier was stunned. He wasn’t used to people treating him like an unwanted guest. He certainly hadn’t expected anyone to be here. He’d wanted the place to himself. But it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.
It was too late now to go anywhere else. The last ferry to the mainland had left hours ago. There weren’t any hotels nearby.
If Ms Portia Marlowe wanted to toss him out to the kerb, movie star or not, he was in trouble.
It was time to use the old Italian charm. He’d won awards for his acting. He might not mean a single word of it, but that didn’t matter right now. He needed a bed for the night and could sort the rest of this out in the morning.
He smiled. He already suspected she might have had a few drinks. Maybe it was time to play on the situation.
He put his hand to his forehead and gave it a rub, throwing in a little sway for good measure. He wasn’t an actor for nothing. ‘Yeow!’ He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, giving his head a shake.
She frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
He gestured to the glass on the terrace. ‘I didn’t notice at first. But that glass packed a bit of a punch.’ He shot her a smile and shook his head again. ‘I’m fine. Just dizzy for a second.’
For the briefest moment her eyes narrowed, almost as if she suspected she was being played. But then, guilt must have swamped her. She moved forward and pointed towards the rocking chair behind them. ‘Do you want to sit down? Will I get you some water?’
He gave a nod, and stepped backwards to the chair. It creaked as he lowered himself into the wooden frame and he prayed it wouldn’t splinter and send him sprawling on the ground.
Peaceful quiet surrounded him.
From up here he could hear the lapping sea. Hear the rustling leaves. Hear the occasional chirrup of a bird. Tranquillity. This was what he’d come here for. This was what he’d hoped to find.
Aldo would have loved this place. He wished he’d had the chance to bring him. He would have adored the waves crashing into the cove. At one point Aldo had fancied himself as a surfer, but the sea had had other ideas. When they were young guys, every holiday Aldo had hired a surfboard and spent hour after hour wiping out. Most of the time they’d nearly drowned laughing. His fists clenched. Why had he never taken the opportunity to bring him to Sofia’s? It spun around in his head, adding to the list of things he ‘should’ have done. Instead, time had just slipped away. Life had been too busy. There was always tomorrow.
Until there wasn’t.
A fact he was going to have to learn to live with.
Too busy. Too busy filming. Too busy in meetings. Too busy to answer the phone to an old friend. He’d meant to call back that night. But after sixteen hours on set it had just slipped from his mind.
The next call he’d received had ripped his heart out.
That was why he’d come here. To find space. To find peace. For a reality check on the life he was living.
Instead, he’d found Portia Marlowe. A beautiful woman, but a Hollywood reporter. It was like a romance and a horror movie both at once. He would have to manage this situation carefully.
He closed his eyes and let the chair rock back and forth. Maybe she was due to go home in the next day or so? This might actually be okay. He only planned to stay here for a few weeks. Just enough time to give him some space. Some alone space.
There was a tinkling noise. Portia was on her knees sweeping the broken glass up with a dustpan and brush, her face a little pink. She caught his gaze and shrugged. ‘I didn’t know who you were. You caught me unawares.’
‘So did you.’
The answer came out before he had time to alter it. She looked surprised. Her dark gaze locked with his. Against the backdrop of the now purple and pink sky Portia almost looked as if she were standing inside the painted drawing room. A cameraman would wait hours for a shot like this. But right now, Javier was the only person with this view. Portia blinked, breaking their gaze and picking up the bottle of water she had next to her feet. ‘Here, it’s not too cold. The fridge seems to be a temperamental teenager right now. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t bother.’
He nodded and took the lukewarm bottle of water, his fingers brushing against hers. A film director would have added a little twinkle and sparkling stars to match the pulses that shot up his arm.
He pushed the feeling aside. Being attracted to Portia Marlowe wasn’t an option. Not for a second. It couldn’t go anywhere. He had enough to sort out without bringing a Hollywood reporter into the equation.
She leaned forward, the soft curves of her breasts only inches from his hand. Her thumb brushed his forehead. ‘There’s not even a mark. I should probably be relieved.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Can you imagine the hoo-ha if I’d damaged the face of one of the world’s most famous film stars?’
Her face paled and her hand gripped the edge of the rocker. His stomach sank. The enormity of her actions had just hit her—him too. A scar would have resulted in his agent and publicist probably having some kind of fit. In the space of a few seconds, he could see the headlines, the plastic-surgeon consultations, the juggling of schedules and the threatened lawsuits all from an action that hadn’t really been intentional. It had been reactive. Not pre-planned. When he’d feigned feeling dizzy it had only been for his own ends. He didn’t want to spend the night sleeping on the street when he’d come here uninvited. Now he felt like some kind of cad.
He breathed in slowly, inhaling some of her rose perfume. It was tantalising. Or maybe that was just Portia. He gave his head a quick shake, trying to realign his senses. ‘I think maybe I just need to sleep. I’ve been travelling for a long time. I’m sure after a good night’s sleep I’ll feel fine.’
He let the words hang in the air. She opened her mouth to start to speak then closed it again. He could practically see the thoughts tumbling around in her brain. Her English sensibilities and good manners were obviously bubbling underneath the surface.
‘I’m sure I can fix up a bed for you. One of the other bedrooms is almost cleaned. I did some laundry the other day.’ There was hesitation in her voice.
Javier shot her his
best smile. ‘That’s really kind of you. Thanks very much.’
He closed his eyes again as he heard her walk back into the house. He rocked back and forward in the chair. This was almost therapeutic.
And he needed that right now.
Because his time at Villa Rosa had just changed beyond all measure.
CHAPTER TWO
PORTIA LAY IN her bed wondering if the man in the next room was up yet.
Or maybe he’d died in the night of some hidden head injury she’d caused by throwing the wine glass?
She groaned and rolled onto her side. Sleep had been a stranger to her. She’d tossed and turned all night.
Somehow, Javier Russo had ended up sleeping in the room next to hers.
Talk about messing with her head.
She’d interviewed dozens of famous stars and met every personality trait. The smug. The bored. The sweetheart. The ignorant. The people pleaser. The desperate. And the person who appeared to be from another planet.
Javier had been charming in the way that only an Italian film star could be. But it was all an act. Last time she’d met him he’d been arrogant. He could barely even bother to say hello. He’d looked at her with those steely grey eyes as she’d asked a question and replied, ‘Is that really the best you can do?’ before walking away with a dismissive glance. It was obvious he hadn’t thought she’d been important enough to speak to.
Stars being rude was nothing new to Portia. But it had felt as though he was mocking her. And that had stung.
Most Hollywood stars at least pretended to like the press. Some tried to charm her. A few had even sent her gifts. One particularly sleazy older guy had slipped his hand a bit too low and earned himself a slap and he was apparently happily married. Five years in Hollywood had fast made her realise that everything was merely a façade. Hardly any of it was real—let alone the love stories.
The charm was all superficial. As for Javier Russo? Last time around he hadn’t even feigned interest—she’d felt as welcome as something on the bottom of his shoe. It was only when his press officer had nudged him and whispered in his ear harshly that he’d tried to turn on the charm again—but with the next person in line.
And it had annoyed her beyond belief that as soon as he’d started to speak the rhythm of his words in that alluring tone had sent shivers down her spine.
That same voice that she’d heard last night.
She still wasn’t entirely sure why he was there.
And that was pretty much the reason she couldn’t sleep.
This was it. This was her chance. This was her chance for a story. Why on earth would Javier Russo be here? The man could probably afford to rent an entire hotel to himself. What on earth was he doing at Villa Rosa?
She tried to remember everything she’d ever heard about him. The truth was there was very little scandal around him. Yes, he was arrogant and sometimes aloof. But there were never on-set rumours about weird demands or keeping others waiting for hours. His star had definitely risen in the last few years and he’d been known to date a model, a pop star, and a few co-stars.
She hadn’t realised his mother had been friends with Sofia. They’d both been models around the same time; it made sense that they’d moved in the same circles. Sofia had photograph album after photograph album in the attic above Portia’s head. Doubtless she would find some memento of the women’s past history together.
In the meantime she was trying to keep calm. She shifted uncomfortably in the bed. This could be the story that could save her career. Or it could be nothing. It could simply be about a film star that had just filmed back-to-back movies and was looking for some peace and quiet. It wasn’t really that outrageous a thought. Apart from an occasional interest in the royal family, L’Isola dei Fiori wasn’t exactly the most sought-out destination. The ferry boat from the mainland was the only way here. Tourism was low. This place was off the beaten track. That was partly why she was here too.
But maybe it was something else? Maybe there was much more to Javier Russo than anyone knew. Her stomach flipped a little. She was still annoyed at him being so dismissive at their last meeting—one that he didn’t even remember. Maybe finding a story on Javier Russo would give her the boost she needed for her flagging career?
She pushed the horrible nagging feeling to the back of her head.
She’d only agreed to let him stay here one night. Maybe if there was a chance of a story she should reconsider?
There was a noise from downstairs. She frowned and swung her legs out of bed. It only took a few minutes to source where the noise was coming from.
Oh, Javier Russo was awake all right. He was so awake he was standing bare-chested in the painted drawing room. She rubbed her eyes. Maybe she hadn’t woken up yet. Maybe this was all just some kind of weird dream. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and black boots. And he was mixing something in a bucket, his actions allowing her to admire every chiselled muscle in his arms and abs. She was pretty sure her chin just bounced off the floor and came back up again. That smattering of dark curls across the chest then thickening and leading downwards... There should be a law against this kind of thing.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
He looked up and smiled. ‘Just making myself useful.’
There was quiet confidence in those words that actually made her smart. The painted room was her favourite in the whole house and she knew that Posy felt the same. Although they hadn’t exactly spoken about it, she was sure that getting repairs done in a room like this was entirely outside all of her sisters’ budgets.
He smeared some of the white plaster on a metal square he held in one hand. There were a number of different-sized trowels lined up on the floor, some brushes and a large open bag of plaster powder.
‘Where on earth did you get all this?’
He smiled again. ‘I borrowed the scooter parked in the garage and went to the local hardware store early this morning. If you know what you’re looking for you can always find it.’
She shook her head as she eyed the bag of plaster. That had to be heavy. ‘Where even is the hardware store? I didn’t even know one existed.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And when on earth did you go there?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s on the outskirts of Baia di Rose. Most tradesmen like to start their work early. They don’t like to work in the heat of the day. The hardware store opened at six.’
He ran his hand along the wall and frowned, grabbing a piece of sandpaper and giving a gentle rub around the crack.
‘What do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch that. You’ll make it worse. This place is in a bad enough state without you deciding to play Mr Handyman.’
Javier sighed and shook his head. ‘You act like I haven’t done this before.’
‘You haven’t!’
He took a step closer and gave her a serious look. ‘Don’t you do your homework on the people you interview? I’ve said a number of times that I worked in the summers as a teenager with my Uncle Vinnie—the best handyman in the world.’ He waved the piece of metal smeared with plaster. ‘There are a number of jobs I can do around here in the next few weeks. Plastering was one of the things I was best at. I can repair the cracks and skim the walls in all the rooms. It will be a good foundation for any other decorating your sister has planned.’ He waved his other hand. ‘And the conservatory. I can replace the broken glass. Another of my specialities.’
Portia couldn’t speak. She was astonished. She didn’t like to be caught unawares. There were probably a million women the world over that would currently love to be in her position. A half-dressed Javier Russo offering to work as handyman. She blinked and put her fingers at the edge of her hip and gave herself a sharp pinch.
Yep. She was definitely here. She was definitely awake.
He’d just crit
icised her. He’d implied she wasn’t good at her job. He’d implied she didn’t do her homework. Oh, this guy was clearly going to drive her crazy. Half naked or not.
And she hated to admit it right now, but she didn’t know that much background on Javier Russo. Annoyance swept through her. She wasn’t going to let him get the better of her. There was a story here. She could practically smell it in the air between them.
She licked her lips. Her intention had been to throw him out today. But the thought of a story was making her reconsider. Maybe she wouldn’t mention anything today at all.
She glanced downwards and realised she was standing in her pale blue wrap robe and slippers, her hair tied in a tangled knot on her head. Not entirely appropriate. She’d been so focused on what the noise was she hadn’t really thought about her appearance.
She sucked in a deep breath and tried to take a reality check on what was happening. She knew exactly how to play this. She laughed out loud and held up one hand, putting the other on her hip.
Javier looked amused. Perfect. ‘What is it?’
She kept laughing. ‘Well, I’m just thinking, whatever that wine was that I drank last night—and I only had two glasses—I think I better hunt down the rest of it.’
Javier lifted his hand from the wall. ‘Why?’
She clicked her fingers. ‘Well, look what’s happened. I drink two glasses of wine, Javier Russo, world-famous movie star—and I think I remember you were last year’s Most Eligible Bachelor—has turned up half naked in my sister’s dilapidated old villa, offering to be my handyman for the next few weeks. This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real.’
He nodded slowly, contemplating her words. Javier had that tiny little gleam in his eye. It was famous. Often caught in pictures and on camera in films. It made him look as if he were talking to only you, sharing a joke only with you.
And right now, he was talking only to her. There was a real possibility of story here.
‘What will it take to convince you?’
The Mysterious Italian Houseguest Page 3