Kitabı oku: «The Italian's Christmas Proposition»

CHAPTER ONE

‘ROSIE! ARE YOU going to focus on what I’m telling you?’

The cut-glass accent was a mix of despair, impatience and long-suffering love and Rosie guiltily dragged her eyes away from the far more stimulating sight below of people coming and going, skis on shoulders, imbued with the unique excitement of being on holiday in the run-up to Christmas.

The luxury five-star resort—a jewel nestled in the heart of the Dolomitic Alps in the Veneto region of northern Italy—was the last word in the very best that money could buy and as good as a second home to Rosie, who had been coming here with her family for as long as she could remember. She could close her eyes and accurately visualise every beam of deep burnished wood, every swirl and curve of marble, the timeless cool greys of the exquisite indoor swimming pool area and the oversized chandeliers dominating the Michelin-starred restaurants.

Right now, sitting in the galleried landing with a latte in front of her, Rosie was in prime position to admire the dramatic twenty-foot Christmas tree sweeping upwards by the reception desk, a vision of tasteful pink and ivory and tiny little electric candles. She could almost smell the pine needles.

‘Of course I am,’ she said with a suitable level of sincerity and enthusiasm. Across from her, her sister was on the verge of another of her laborious, long-suffering sighs. ‘You were asking me what I intend to do once the ski season is over. I don’t know, Diss. Right now, I’m just enjoying the ski instructing. It’s fun. I’m meeting some really lovely people and plus, let’s not forget, I’m looking after Mum and Dad’s chalet while I’m here. Making sure it…er…doesn’t get burgled…or anything…’

‘Because burglars are a dime a dozen here in Cortina?’

‘Who knows?’

‘You can’t keep flitting from place to place and from job to job for ever, Rosie. You’re going to be twenty-four on your next birthday and Mum and Dad…well, all of us—me, Emily, Mum, Dad…we’re all concerned that it’s getting to a point where you can’t even be bothered to try and…you know what I mean…’

‘Become an accountant? Get a mortgage? Find a decent man to look after me?’ Rosie flushed and looked away. She was particularly sensitive on the subject of men and, in her heart, she knew that this was what her parents were worried about—that she was never going to find Mr Right, as both her sisters had. That she was going to spend her life drifting from Mr Wrong to Mr Really Bad Idea to Mr Will Take Advantage. She had, as it happened, been down several of those roads in the past and, whilst she had put a cheerful face on each and every disappointment, each and every one had hurt.

At this point in time, if she never had another relationship in her life again, she wouldn’t lose sleep over it. The last guy she had gone out with had been a fellow traveller in India. He had been out there buying cheap Asian artefacts to sell for a profit in a market somewhere near Aldershot. They had had fun before he had taken a shine to a tall brunette and disappeared with her, leaving only an apologetic note in his wake.

The only saving grace in all these disappointing relationships, as far as Rosie was concerned, was that she hadn’t made the mistake of bed-hopping. One guy. That was it. The one guy all those years ago who had broken her heart. She’d been nineteen and finding her feet all over again, having dropped out of university, and he had been there to catch her as she was falling. A biker with a refreshing disdain for convention and the first guy who had been a world away from the upper-class posh boys she had spent a lifetime meeting. She had loved everything about him, from his tattoos to the ring in his ear.

He, in the end, had loved the financial package she came with more than he had loved her for who she was, and had thrown a fit when she had promised to dump all her worldly goods for him. She still shuddered when she thought about what could have been the biggest mistake of her life. Since then, she’d enjoyed life without getting in too deep.

‘Whoever said anything about becoming an accountant?’ Candice rolled her eyes and grinned, and Rosie grinned back, because Emily’s husband, wonderful as he was, could be a little tedious when he began pontificating about exchange rates and investment opportunities.

Still, he earned a small fortune, so he had obviously played the game right.

Whilst she, Rosie, hadn’t started playing it at all.

‘With Christmas just three weeks away…’ Candice shifted and Rosie looked at her sister with narrowed eyes, smelling a conversation ahead that she would not want to have.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the chalet is in tip-top shape for the family invasion. You know how much I love the whole decorating thing. Plus, I’ll make sure there are lots of chocolates hanging on the branches of the tree for Toby and Jess.’

‘There has been a slight change of plan. The snow is so magnificent at the moment that everyone’s coming over a little earlier than originally planned.’

‘Earlier than planned?’

‘Tomorrow, as it happens. I’m the advanced warning party, so to speak. I know you and I had planned a couple of girly days together but you know Mum and Dad…they can’t resist the slopes and the atmosphere here at Christmas. And there’s something else,’ Candice said in a rush. ‘They’re thinking of asking the Ashley-Talbots over for a long weekend. Bertie too. He’s something or other in the City and doing quite well, I hear. They think it might be nice for you two to…er…get to know one another…’

‘No.’

‘It’s just a thought, Rosie. Nothing’s confirmed. He’s always had that crush on you, you know. It might be nice!’

‘Absolutely not, Candice.’

‘Mum and Dad just thought that there’s no harm in actually meeting someone a little less…unorthodox.’

‘When you say that you’re the advance warning party—’ Rosie narrowed suspicious eyes ‘—does that actually mean that you’ve been sent to start preparing me for lots of lectures on getting my house in order, starting with dating Robert Ashley-Talbot? Well, no way will I be getting involved with him! He’s…he’s the most boring guy I’ve ever met!’

‘You can’t say that! You might find that you actually enjoy the company of someone who has a steady job, Rosie! Emily and I both happen to agree with Mum and Dad! Give me one good reason, Rosie-Boo, why you won’t at least give it a go. If you find that you really don’t like Bertie, then that’s fair enough, but you haven’t seen him in years.’

‘A year and a half, and he can’t have changed that much.’ Nerdy, prominent Adam’s apple, thick-rimmed glasses and a way of getting onto a really dull topic of conversation and then bedding down for the duration.

Rosie looked down. Down to the lively buzz of excited guests, down to the glittering Christmas tree, down to the clutch of leather chairs in the foyer, where a group of three people was gathering some papers, shaking hands, clearly about to leave.

‘And—’ she turned her clear blue-eyed gaze back to her sister ‘—I wasn’t going to say anything but…but… I’m just not in a good place for meeting Bertie, Diss. Or anyone, for that matter.’

On her lap, she crossed her fingers and told herself that this was a perfectly sensible way out of a situation that would turn Christmas into a nightmare. She didn’t want Bertie coming over. She didn’t want to have to face the full force of her family gently trying to propel her to a destination she didn’t want to go because they were concerned about her.

She leaned forward. ‘I’ve had my heart broken while I’ve been out here.’

‘What on earth are you talking about, Rosie?’

‘You say that I never go for the right kind of guy? Well, I did. I fell for one of the guests here. A businessman. As reliable and as stable as…as…the day is long. He was everything you and Ems and Mum and Dad would have wanted for me, which just goes to show that those types just aren’t for girls like me. I bore them in the end. It was just a holiday fling but I guess I got more wrapped up in him than I thought I would.’

‘I’m not sure I believe you,’ Candice said, eyebrows raised. ‘It’s very odd that this is the first I’m hearing of this and we’ve been sitting here for what…an hour? What a coincidence.’

‘I wasn’t going to mention it but I felt I had to when you told me that Mum and Dad were thinking of asking Robert and his parents over for the weekend. I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all. I know I’ve dated the wrong sorts but I really felt that this guy might be the one. I went into it with my eyes wide open and I was hurt. So… I just need a bit of time out to lick my wounds.’

‘And where is this mysterious disappearing man right now?’ But her voice was hesitant, on the cusp of believing.

‘As a matter of fact…’

And there was that group of three again. She recognised the elderly couple—Bob and Margaret something-or-other. She had given them both a lesson, filling in for their usual instructor who had called in sick when Rosie knew for a fact he had been suffering from a hangover. They had said were there to try and learn to ski because, although they were in their late sixties, they believed that old dogs could be taught new tricks and, since their daughter loved her skiing, they were up for giving it a try. They were going to be retiring. Selling up. A nice young man, Matteo, would be coming in for a flying visit to do the deal. Exciting times.

With his back to her as he shook hands with the older man, Matteo—or the man she assumed was Matteo, because who else could it possibly be?—was just the candidate for the role of businessman heartbreaker. There was no way she intended to spend her Christmas dodging Bertie, and a broken heart was the only excuse she could find that might save her from that dreadful possibility.

‘There he is. Matteo. With that couple about to leave. He’s here on business with them. He doesn’t know that I’m up here looking down at him. Thinks I’m out on the slopes giving a lesson. He’s probably completely forgotten about my existence already.’

She looked at her sister who stared down to the group of three, eyes narrowed.

‘That creep was the guy who hurt you?’

Rosie mumbled something inarticulate, meant to convey an affirmative reply without going into further detail. Not a liar by nature, she was guiltily aware that she was blackening a perfect stranger’s character with her little white lie.

Distracted, what happened next took her by surprise. It was so out of keeping with her cool, collected, elegant blonde sister. Candice was always so controlled! But here she was now, angrily rising to her feet, hands slapping down on the table, and then she was hurtling between tables, feet flying at a pace while… Rosie watched, mouth open, horror slowly dawning because she knew that this was not going to end well for her…

She would have to stop her sister before things went any further. She didn’t waste time thinking about it. She leapt up and followed in hot pursuit.

For once, Matteo Moretti wasn’t looking at his watch. He usually did. The end of a deal always awakened a restlessness inside him, an impatience to move on to the next thing. True, the signatures on the dotted line were technically not there yet, but that was a formality. Hands had been shaken and, as soon as the horror of the Christmas season was over and done with, the lawyers would be summoned and the finishing touches put to a purchase that meant a great deal to him.

Bob and Margaret Taylor, the most unlikely of clients, were beaming up at him. Bob, yet again, was congratulating him in his bluff, Yorkshire accent for getting past the post.

‘Land’s worth a bob or two.’ He slapped Matteo’s arm and winked. ‘Can’t tell you how many wanted to get their greedy paws on it but you’re the first person the missus and I feel we can trust to do the right thing.’

‘Honoured that you think that,’ Matteo responded with sincerity.

He’d been here at this eye-wateringly pricey resort for the past three days, wooing Bob and his wife. A different type of approach for a very different type of deal.

Around him, Yuletide merriment had been a constant backdrop, getting on his nerves, reminding him that it was high time he did what he always did every single Christmas—escape. Escape to his villa on the outskirts of Venice, which was a mere couple of hours from here.

He worked in London and had a penthouse apartment there, indeed lived most of his life there, but his elegant, yellow-stone villa here in Italy was his bolt-hole and the only place where he felt perfectly at peace. Every year he removed himself from the canned carols, the ridiculous Santa lookalikes ringing bells outside supermarkets and the pounding of crowds on pavements, frantically hunting down presents, wrapping paper, Christmas decorations and all the paraphernalia that seemed to arrive earlier and earlier in the shops with every passing year.

Two weeks away from it all, isolated in his sprawling manor with two trusted employees to cook and clean for him while he worked. God bless broadband and the Internet. It enabled him to avoid the chaos of the festive season while still keeping on top of each and every detail of what was happening in his various offices across the globe. He might live in England but he was Italian and this bolt-hole in Italy reminded him of his heritage and everything that went with it. He threw money at his PA, told her to do as she wished when it came to entertaining the troops at various office Christmas parties and he disappeared.

‘Just a couple more “i”s to dot and a couple more “t”s to cross and it’s yours, lad, and we couldn’t be happier.’

Intensely private and remote, Matteo felt the twist of something highly emotional swell inside him because this was the one and only deal he had ever done that had real personal significance. His background, his childhood—in a way the very reason he was where he was now—all lay in that land he was on the verge of buying and the halfway house within it. It was a place of retreat for foster kids, an escape where they could feel what it was like to be in the open countryside, with nature all around them. Horses to ride, quiet, secret places to go and just be, chickens to feed and eggs to collect. An idyll.

So many years ago, but a fortnight spent there, when he had been just ten and about to go off the rails in a big way, had done something to him, had given him something to hold onto. He had found an anchor in a restless, rudderless existence and had somehow held onto that. Bob and Margaret hadn’t been in charge at the time. They had come later, and of course he’d kept that connection to the place to himself, as he kept everything of a personal nature to himself. But with ownership of that special place within his grasp… Yes, he felt strangely emotional.

Shaking Bob’s hand as they made plans for their final meeting, Matteo was ill prepared for what happened next.

A scene.

A blonde woman bearing down on them from nowhere. The high pitch of her voice was as piercing as the scrape of fingernails on a blackboard. Heads spun round, mouths opened and closed and there was a flurry of activity as stunned hotel employees and guests alike gasped and wondered what was going on.

For a split second, Matteo was utterly lost for words. Next to him, Bob and Margaret were also stunned into immobility.

‘Who do you think you are… Matteo whoever you are…? How dare you mess with Rosie? People like you should be strung up! And I guess you’re going to run away and leave her all broken-hearted. And I bet you won’t even look back. You have no morals at all! She’s been hurt too many times!’

‘Are you talking to me?’

‘Who else could I be talking to? Is your name Matteo?’

‘Yes, but there seems to have been some kind of misunderstanding…’

Matteo, already on the back foot, peered around the tall blonde to see a shorter, plump girl, wearing an expression of dismay, borderline panic and acute embarrassment.

For a few seconds, he was utterly nonplussed. She was staring directly at him and she had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Her hair was vanilla-blonde, a tangle of unruly curls framing a heart-shaped face that was, just at the moment, suffused with colour. Her mouth was a perfect bow shape and her skin was satiny smooth.

Words failed him. He stared. He registered that she was calling his name and then, somehow taking advantage of that moment of weird disorientation he had experienced at seeing her, he realised she was leading him away from the others with a sharp tug on his arm.

‘Please, please, please…’ Rosie was whispering, simultaneously tiptoeing and tugging him down so that she could whisper into his ear, ‘Could you just play along with this for the moment? I’ll explain in a bit. I’m really, really sorry, but all you have to do is…’

Is what? Matteo thought. Through the confusion of his thoughts, he felt her small, delicate hands clutch at his arm. She was so much smaller than Matteo, his tall form and muscular body towering over her.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Matteo kept his voice low, a whispered conversation that he knew looked a lot more intimate than it was. He was thinking fast but was disconcerted by the softness of her body and the sweet, floral scent of her hair. She was much shorter than him and her reaching up to him somehow emphasised the fullness of her breasts, pushing against her jumper, just brushing against him.

‘Rosie. Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I had no idea my sister would rush down here like a tornado…’

‘This isn’t what I expected from you, son. You know how traditional I am when it comes to treating other people the way you would want to be treated yourself.’ This from behind him—Bob’s voice, thick with disappointment.

How the hell did the woman know his name? And who was she anyway? His head was clearing and one thing was certain—the ramifications of what was going on were becoming patently obvious.

No deal.

Lengthy unravelling of this mess was going to take time and time was not on his side. Bob was making noises under his breath, wondering whether he hadn’t made a dreadful mistake, while his wife was trying to be the voice of reason. The deal was disappearing into the ether. He had no idea who was the woman imploring his help. His assumption was it was some kind of set-up somehow to extract money from him. He was made of money. Public accusations of some kind? Blackmail? Press somewhere waiting in the wings, cameras at the ready?

His levels of anger bordered on volcanic. Of key importance was to take this scene away from Bob and his wife and sort out the consequences later. Damage limitation was essential. He wanted this deal and he was going to do whatever it took to seal it.

And the only thing he could think of doing right now was to follow the lead of the pink-faced girl still looking at him and play along, much as he didn’t want to.

He smiled and Rosie went a shade pinker.

‘Rosie,’ he murmured, spinning her round and edging them both back to the group, who had fallen silent during their whispered tête-à-tête, including the screeching sister. ‘You know we talked about this…’

He looked at Bob and Margaret with a self-deprecating smile and anchored the fiery little blonde closer to him so that she was nestled against his side. ‘She’s gone off the rails because she thinks I’m going to be one of those fly-by-night guys…’ He shook his head, leant down and brushed his mouth against her cheek. ‘How can I convince you, my darling, that this isn’t just a fling for me?’

Rosie looked at him. Her skin burned where he had brushed it with his mouth. His arm, hooked around her waist, was doing all sorts of things to her body, making her squirm.

In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t quite appreciated just how stunning the guy was. Raven-black hair, bronzed skin and eyes as dark as midnight. She knew that she was breathing quickly, just as she knew that she wasn’t thinking straight. She was conscious of her femininity in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

‘Um…’

‘This feels like the start of something big, Bob,’ Matteo said in a darkly persuasive voice. ‘I would have mentioned it to you but I didn’t want to jinx it.’

‘So romantic,’ Margaret was saying with approval.

‘Isn’t it?’ Matteo commented neutrally. He tightened his hand on Rosie’s waist and gave her the tiniest of squeezes, nudging her ever closer, thigh against thigh, his arm resting just below her breast now.

Rosie felt the tightening of her nipples. She had no intention of catching her sister’s eye but she could feel Candice looking at the pair of them and heaven only knew what was going through her head. Candice was astute but it had to be said that this dark stranger, dragged into a charade not of his making, was doing a fine job of pulling it off and her only question was why?

‘You should head back to your hotel.’ Matteo’s primary objective at this point was to put distance between Bob, Margaret and the combustible situation unfolding in front of them. ‘Long day tomorrow finalising our deal.’

‘You’re getting a good man in this one,’ Bob said warmly, moving in to shake Rosie’s hand. ‘Glad everything’s sorted, lad. Misunderstandings can get out of control! Nice to see you’ve got the makings of a family man within you. A good woman is always the making of any man.’ He chuckled and gave his wife a hug.

Matteo thought it best to speed things along. He had no idea what was going on but the threat of it all blowing up was a distinct possibility and one he intended to divert with everything at his disposal. He mentally bid a temporary farewell to his Venetian villa that was waiting for him the following evening. It wasn’t going to happen.

‘So they say,’ he murmured as he thought ahead to how he intended to squash whatever machinations were afoot. ‘Comprehensively’ was the word that sprang to mind.

‘Hope we get to spend some time with the two of you before we head back to Yorkshire. Family is everything, like I say, and I wouldn’t mind raising a glass or two to celebrate young love.’

Matteo murmured, nodded, half-smiled, brushed his lips against Rosie’s hair… He exerted every ounce of charm to smooth over the sudden, alarming pot holes that had surfaced on the very smooth road. He walked them to the glass door, where they were waiting to be met, the little blonde still by his side because question time was about to begin.

Rosie watched with mounting dread as Matteo disposed of her sister with ruthless speed. He was the essence of charm, even though his hand on her waist carried the hint of a threat that sent shivers racing up and down her spine. She could hardly blame him. She listened in mutely as he smoothed over Candice’s doubts, laying it on thick until Candice was smiling and telling him how relieved she was that things were back on track, apologising for the fuss and then, somehow, laughingly blaming Rosie for having given her the wrong impression.

Rosie couldn’t believe the way events had transpired. Who knew that her five-foot-ten, ice-queen sister could let rip with such uncharacteristic drama? Candice was the one who flinched if someone raised their voice slightly too loudly in a restaurant. She moaned about people shouting into their mobile phones in public! She’d once told Emily off, when they had just been kids, for laughing too much.

Candice out of the way, Matteo dropped his hand, stood back and surveyed the blonde coldly.

‘So,’ he said flatly, ‘Let’s find somewhere nice and cosy and private and have a little chat, shall we?’

Rosie quailed. The man was sexy, dangerous…and from the expression on his face in the presence of his quarry.

‘I’m really sorry, I—I know how this must look…’ she stammered, only dimly aware that he was leading her out of the crowded foyer. She found she couldn’t quite meet those wintry eyes.

‘Do you, now?’ Matteo purred.

Where was he taking her? She cast a desperate backward glance behind her, back down to the marbled foyer with the tall Christmas tree. The low buzz of curious voices that had greeted the little scene earlier had died down but there would still be curious eyes looking to see whether it might kick off again.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere private,’ Matteo murmured, voice as smooth as silk and as razor-sharp as a knife, ‘Where we can have our cosy little chat.’

‘I’ve already apologised…’ Her legs, however, were obeying his command. She stood up and began walking alongside him, hyper-aware of his presence. There was a leashed power to the guy that made her quiver with a combination of apprehension, downright fear and a weird sort of breathless excitement that stemmed from a place she couldn’t quite put her finger on.