The conversation Elise had had with Agnes last night over dinner had been interesting. Marco had gone out to eat with some business associates, so she did not have to deal with her own, very confusing reaction to Mimi's father. Never in her life had she had such an instant reaction to a man before. That was Jemima's department. Maybe the garish clothes were converging some of Jem's personality into her, heaven forbid.
Agnes, a stout middle aged woman with a broad Scottish accent, had looked her up and down when she'd tracked Mimi down in the kitchen.
“Goodness, lassie, what’s this? You're no gonnae actually try an' blend in, are yae? Mind, it wid stop his lordship fae storming aroond the place like a bear wae a sore heed. She's coming over tomorrow, or so I’ve been telt, so yae ken what that means. Batten doonthe hatches and hide the silver!”
“Urm, she?”
“Elise, where’s yer heed at the night? She 'who mustnae be named'… Are yae sure yer feeling all right, my lass? Yae look a wee bit peaky. Yer no coming doon wae something, are yae? Cause he willnae like that. It'll be Sunday lunch at Mamma Giovanni's this week. He’ll want yae there tae deflect Stella.”
“Urm, deflect Stella?”
Agnes had looked at her then, really looked at her, and Elise had squirmed in her seat under all that scrutiny of her grey-blue eyes.
“Well knowing Mamma G, she's bound tae hae some bairn lined up fir him, like last time. Yae remember whit mood he was in after that, and yae agreed tae take the heat aff. Yae ken… well, as the last man on earth I'd ever fancy, I suppose ah could… conversation? Yae havnae changed yer mind have yae, lassie?”
Oh no, that definitely sounded like some hare-brained scheme of Jemima’s. Why had she not mentioned that vital piece of information?
“Yes, of course I remember that conversation, but surely he would not expect me to go through with that?”
“Well yer no his usual type, of course, but he did ask me to give yae that and tae make sure tae use it afore Sunday!”
Elise looked at the credit card in her name, her mouth falling open.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?”
Agnes had thrown her another one of those looks.
“I believe the exact words were… ‘And fer god’s sake make sure she buys something appropriate that disnae hurt my eyes’. Got tae be honest, he’s got a point. That shirt is, well, interesting.”
Elise had forced herself to laugh along with her, trying her best to act more like Jemima. But even so, Agnes had given her a few assessing looks, her lips pursed. In the end Elise had pleaded a headache, and Agnes had sent her upstairs, saying she would sort Mimi out as usual.
Jem, Jem, Jem, what did you do? And how did you get away with it for so long? Surely the nanny was expected to put Mimi to bed. But then again, knowing Jemima, she could charm the wings off a canary, so she must have wrapped Agnes around her little finger.
Oh, she was never going to pull this off. At last, a pair of leggings, pink zebra prints admittedly, but they would at least cover her legs. Seriously, did Jem not have one single top in here that wasn't either garish or so low cut it was indecent?
"It's not funny, Mimi. I can't take myself seriously like this, so how is anyone else supposed to?"
Mimi just giggled some more, and when Elise caught sight of herself in the mirror she burst into hysteric fits of laughter, too. Her hair was a mess, very Jemima-like it had to be said, the zebra patterned leggings clung to every curve, and the pink low cut top she was wearing made her look like a giant candy floss.
****
Marco stopped on the landing outside the nanny's room. Feminine laughter, mixed in with Mimi's giggles, brought a brief smile to his grim features, before the insistent ring of the doorbell made him swear under his breath. Great, the bitch is early.
"Ah hello, Agnes, you always look so pleased to see me. Where is Marco? We have things to discuss…. Well go get him, will you? … I don't like waiting!"
The door to the nanny's room opened, and Marco took a step back at the vision in pink holding his daughter. By all the saints of all that was holy, he would need sunglasses in his own house soon. She looked like a giant patisserie, straight out of his shop and those leggings ought to be banned. She looked good enough to eat, and he involuntarily stepped closer, inhaling her sweet scent. Dannazioni, what am I doing? Mimi beamed at him, and Elise watched him warily, her breathing heavy. Interesting. If only he had the time to explore that further, but the shrill tones of his ex-wife made him draw his eyebrows together in disgust at what was waiting for him downstairs. His voice was gruff, barking at Elise.
"Keep Mimi upstairs until she's gone."
He almost groaned at the woman's confused expression. May the saints preserve him from ditzy females, especially ones who made him wonder whether her skin would taste as sweet as she looked? Man, what is wrong with you? He prided himself on keeping his emotions firmly in check, and he was not going to give in to his suddenly reawakened dick!
"Marco, honey, don't make me come and get youuu," Jennifer's honey drawl, coming up the stairs made him groan out loud. His ex-wife reached the top of the landing, shaking her bleached blonde hair seductively, her bright red lips curved in a saccharine smile.
"Ah there you are. Not hiding from me, are you?"
"Hardly, Jennifer. Get back downstairs. I'll be with you in a moment."
"Ah, and who have we here? You must be the new nanny. Hello, Mimi, how are you today?"
She bent forward to take Mimi from Elise, but to Marco's surprise and grudging gratitude, his pastry pink nanny frowned at Jennifer. She took a step back, turning her body slightly, so that Mimi was shielded from her mother. He mouthed a thank you at a still rather confused looking Elise, who nonetheless kept a firm grip on his trembling daughter, whilst glaring at him. Like this was his fault. Damn females!
Elise's actions were not lost on Jennifer; neither were Mimi's reaction of burying her face into Elise's neck as she shut out the world. Jennifer's blue eyes narrowed speculatively.
"Mimi is fine, Jennifer; now let's get this over with. I have it all ready in my office, so…" Marco gestured towards the stairs.
Jennifer pouted, but mercifully decided to go back down to his office, not without throwing one last venomous look at Elise.
Marco sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and, throwing a rueful smile towards his nanny, stalked after his ex-wife.
****
Elise released the breath she had been holding, looking down on little Mimi who had her in a strangle hold. The little girl trembled in her arms.
"It's okay, baby. She's gone; relax."
Mimi lifted her head and fixed her with one of those long stares of hers, before jumping at the suddenly raised voices that drifted up the stairs. Oh heck. It seemed Mimi's parents were having a hell of an argument. Not that Elise could understand a word they were saying as they were jabbering away in Italian.
"Come on, little one. Let's go and see Agnes. She may have some of those pastries left that you like."
Elise all but raced down the stairs, mindful of the tense way Mimi was holding herself.
Agnes stood in the kitchen, her pensive expression softening into a smile, when she spotted the two of them.
"Always the same when she turns up, eh? Now, Mimi, breakfast, right? What would mah wee princess like?"
The front door slammed shut a little while later with such force that Elise could feel the vibrations under her still-bare feet.
A furious string of Italian curses followed before a scowling Marco marched into the kitchen. He grabbed a startled Elise by the arm and dragged her with him into the study.
He waved a letter under her nose.
"What the hell is the meaning of this, woman?"
Something was very, very wrong here, and Elise's heart started racing at the murderous expression on Marco's face.
Chapter Three
Oh he had to give it to her, she did the innocent act very well, but then
what female didn't? Had he not learned the hard way never to trust a woman? But this, this….. Oh she was going to pay for this, big time.
"Mr. Giovanni, I'm sure I don't know what you mean, and please refrain from shouting at me. I am not deaf and you will frighten your daughter. Quite frankly, she has heard enough of your shouting for one morning. If you must argue with your ex-wife perhaps you could do it out of earshot of Mimi."
The pink vision of his nanny actually stood scowling at him, her brown eyes frosty, full of righteous indignation, and Marco swore loudly in Italian. The nerve of the lady.
"Leave my daughter out of this, woman. This is about you!"
"I beg to differ, Mr. Giovanni. After all the only reason I'm here is to care for Mimi, so this is indeed all about her. I'm simply doing what you're paying me for, looking out for Mimi's interests, and quite frankly someone has to."
That did it. How dare she? He ground his teeth, and he had to remind himself to breathe evenly. There was no way he was going to let some scrap of Italian pastry lookalike dictate to him in his own house.
"Don't you think it's a bit late for you to remember your responsibilities? I have seen little evidence of it so far after all. All you have achieved is throwing the house into uproar and giving me a permanent headache."
He pointedly looked down on her strange clothing assembly and took a menacing step towards her. To his surprise she held her ground, hands on hip, glaring up at him.
"You will be pleased to accept my resignation then." She spat the words at him, before turning around as if to leave.
Oh no lady, that's never going to happen.Not when the solution to all of his problems suddenly hit him in the gut. It was so simple, really.
Marco put himself in front of the door, his arms crossed.
"Back to that again, are we? I've told you before there will be no resignation, not until you've paid off what you owe me, and this," he waved the offending letter in front of her nose again, “means you'll be here for some time yet. Besides, for some reason I'm sure I will never figure out Mimi likes you, so you're staying, lady, even if I have to chain you to me."
Now there was a thought, but why the hell had he just said that out loud? Marco shifted uncomfortably in his suddenly tight jeans, remembering that part of last night's dream with unwanted clarity. Why now, and why her? She was completely and utterly wrong for him on so many levels. He had no business wondering what colour her eyes would turn if he gave in to the sudden impulse to suck that full lip she was worrying with her teeth, into his mouth.
Instead he swore again, watching Elise rise on tiptoes, shoulders squared, cheeks flaming as she took one step towards him.
"If you think for one minute that you can intimidate me into staying, then you have another thing coming. There are laws against sexual harassment!"
****
Elise's heart hammered so loudly, she was surprised the man couldn't hear it. She shouldn't have stepped so close to him; she really shouldn't have. She could feel the heat emanating off his tightly coiled body, and his clean male scent surrounded her. He looked mean and sexy as hell, stood there, clad in tight jeans and a cut off shirt, his arms crossed, his eyes boring into hers, still clutching that letter.
"Indeed there are, but it's only harassment if the other party is not willing, my dear, and we have an agreement remember."
Oh what the hell had Jemima done? Had she been lying about not sleeping with him, too? The mere thought made Elise feel faint, and her voice was not as collected as she would have liked when she replied.
"I don't care about any agreement. I will not sleep with you, if that's what you mean."
The harsh laugh that followed chilled Elise to the bone.
"Don't flatter yourself, lady. Folks will just need to believe that we are. As deception comes naturally to your kind, that shouldn't be too difficult."
"My kind? What exactly is that supposed to mean, Mr. Giovanni?"
"Marco, cut the formality crap, lady. It doesn't wash, and what do I mean? Oh let's see, females in general, and you and my ex-wife in particular. Tell me, did you have a good laugh at my expense over this?"
And he threw the letter at Elise with so much force; she winced when it hit her in the face.
"If you think for one minute I'm going to do this then you are sadly mistaken. A slave for a day, that woman is not going to have the satisfaction. She's taken enough of me over the years. No more, no more…" His voice faded to a low whisper as he stared on the floor.
Elise scanned the letter in disbelief. Jemima had put him up for auction on Ebay of all places, and it seemed his ex-wife had won him for an obscene amount of money. Elise felt faint looking at the amount. Twenty thousand pounds to go towards Headway, the head injury charity.Good lord, Jemima, what have you done?
Elise closed her eyes as painful memories assaulted her again. Hell, not now. She would forever associate Headway with the smell of hospitals, the hope, the despair, the pain and the soulless eyes that would haunt her forever.
"I will pay the charity, of course, but there is no way I am being anyone's slave, and you will work for me until you have paid every last penny off. You can add that to the money you already owe me for those tickets, and stop the act."
Marco's voice was ice cold, but the arm that went round her waist was warm and strong even as he was swearing again. Elise found herself held against his hard body as she struggled to find her way back out of the painful grip the past had on her, the blood rushing in her ears, her knees buckling.
Marco shook her none too gently, muttering in Italian. He lifted her clean off the floor and dumped her on the low couch in the corner of his study. His hand pushed her head between her knees firmly, his voice a low rumble in her ear.
"Breathe, dammit, woman."
Elise did just that, and slowly the rushing in her ears subsided, her heart rate slowed down, and the room came back into focus. She struggled to sit up, and Marco let go of her immediately, watching her through narrowed eyes.
"What the hell was that all about?"
Elise shook her head, too confused to make any sense of anything. Oh shit. She had thought she was over her panic attacks, but clearly not. Damn you, Jemima, for putting me into this position.
"I'm waiting for an explanation, Elise!"
From somewhere Elise found her voice, a shaky impression of it, but hey, she had to say something.
"Nothing, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She made herself look into the cloudy eyes which were studying her with a mixture of contempt and concern.
"Make sure that it doesn't. By the way I hope your friend is enjoying his trip. "
"Urm, trip?"
"The tickets you put on my credit card, remember those? You said you were helping out a friend."
Oh no, had Jemima fleeced his card for her boyfriend? No wonder she needed to leave so suddenly. Marco’s harsh laugh made her wince.
"Having trouble keeping the lies straight?"
"I do not lie!"
Another taunting smile. "You do surprise me, Miss Donovan. Next you'll be saying you were not in on the auction thing with my ex-wife."
"Of course I wasn't! I would never—"
"Never what? Are you denying that you put me up for auction like some piece of meat, the day after I took the card off you and confronted you about those tickets? The day you were more than willing to do anything to pay me back? After all, your friend only has weeks to live and all that."
The sneer on Marco's face said it all. Elise was going to really and truly ring Jemima's neck this time. She had gone too far.
"You think I did this out of spite? I would never…"
"Spare me, Elise, not more lies!"
Elise shook her head in frustration. "I. Do. Not. Lie! And I would never do something that spiteful." Jemima clearly had though, damn her. "And if you don't believe me, why will you not accept my resignation?"
Marco startled her by his sudden low growl, and the heat in his eyes when he rak
ed her body up down.
"Trust me; I'm beginning to wish that I had, my little pasticcino. But you got Mimi to laugh. That is the only reason you're still here. Besides I severely dislike being taken to the cleaners, so you will pay me back every penny; and there will be no more friends. And before you get any ideas, the new card comes with a personal shopper to make sure you buy something decent. After all, my fiancée needs a better dress sense!"
"Your what?"
Marco's smile was ice cold when he quietly uttered the most damning words.
"Si, did I not tell you? You have graciously accepted to be my wife. Quite a Cinderella story we have going here, and don't even think of saying no, or you'll find your cute little ass behind bars for fraud before you can blink!"
Chapter Four
Elise nervously twisted the exquisite diamond engagement ring Marco had given her before they left the house, glancing across at the man's profile. They were in his Range Rover on the way to Mamma G's, as she would forever be known to Elise now, Mimi in the back seat, quietly looking out of the window.
It had been a crazy couple of days to say the least. She'd literally run from his study after that horrendous announcement, once it had become clear that he had indeed been deadly serious, only for him to come after her. He'd taken every last one of Jemima's clothes and bundled them up in two black bags, with distinct instructions to an astonished Agnes to burn them. When Elise had tried to protest, he'd used his body to crowd her against her bedroom wall, his eyes a menacing, ice cold blue, his mouth hovering over hers, before he raised his eyebrows, his voice as cold as his eyes.
"They're going, lady, and you have an appointment at one. I suggest you keep it!"
Too Cold To Love Page 2