Kitabı oku: «Rich and Outrageous»

‘You are under my employ as a fill-in housekeeper,’ he said. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas of filling in other areas of my life.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘You would have to pay me a king’s ransom to become your latest mistress,’ she said.

Alessandro felt his lower spine zap with searing heat. ‘Dangerous words, Rachel,’ he warned silkily. ‘Don’t go throwing challenges down at me like that. I might just take you up on it.’

Rachel glared at him. ‘People like you think you can buy anything you want, don’t you? But I am not selling myself—and certainly not to you.’

‘Sleeping rough not your thing any more, little rich girl?’ he asked, with a mocking slant to his mouth.

She ground her teeth. ‘I am offering to work as your housekeeper. Nothing else.’

CHAPTER ONE

RACHEL had waited for over an hour to meet with the proposed financial backer of her fashion label. She still hadn’t quite got in front of the jet lag and had to fight to keep her eyes open on the magazine she was leafing through as she waited in the plush reception area.

At last she was led through to the corporate executive’s office by his receptionist on legs that felt woolly with excitement.

This is it, she thought as she walked through the door. I won’t have to lose everything I have worked so hard for.

‘I am sorry, Ms McCulloch,’ the late middle-aged corporate executive said with an apologetic smile even before Rachel could take a seat. ‘We have changed our mind. Our company is undergoing some restructuring. We are not prepared to take a risk on such a relatively unknown designer as you. You will have to go elsewhere for the financial backing you require. We are no longer interested.’

Rachel blinked at the older man in shock. ‘Not interested?’ she choked. ‘But I thought … Your letter said … But I’ve come all this way!’

He held up a hand as if directing the heavy traffic that rumbled over the cobbled streets of Milan outside. ‘We have been advised against it by a highly respected business analysis expert,’ he said. ‘The board has made its final decision. I suggest you consider other options for finance.’

Other options? What other options? Rachel thought in gut-twisting despair. She had to get her evening wear label launched in Europe. Everything she had worked for, all the sacrifices she had made, all the heartache and hard work surely couldn’t end like this. She would look a fool all over again if this failed. If she didn’t get this money the company would go into receivership. She needed money and she needed it quickly.

She could not fail.

Rachel frowned as she addressed the executive. ‘Who exactly advised against backing me?’

‘I am sorry but I am unable to divulge that information,’ he said.

She felt her spine go rigid, suspicion crawling over her skin like a long-legged insect. ‘You said it was a highly respected business analysis expert.’

‘That is correct.’

‘Would that be Alessandro Vallini by any chance?’ she asked with a pointed look.

‘I am sorry, Miss McCulloch,’ he said. ‘I am not at liberty to confirm or deny anything.’

She stood up, hoisting her handbag over her shoulder with grim determination. ‘Thank you for your time,’ she said curtly and left.

Rachel found the address of Alessandro Vallini’s Milan office on the search engine on her phone. It was a gracious-looking building, old but classy and stylish, signifying the success of the man behind the business. It was a stellar rise to the top. As self-made men went, he surely was an outstanding example of how far one could go irrespective of a disadvantageous background. Seeing him face to face was not something she had originally planned to do, but clearly he had engineered this so she would track him down.

‘I would like to see Signor Vallini,’ Rachel said without preamble to the smartly dressed receptionist behind the desk.

‘I am sorry but Signor Vallini is currently taking an extended summer break at his villa in Positano,’ the receptionist said. ‘He is conducting all his business from there.’

‘Then I would like to make an appointment to see him at the earliest opportunity,’ Rachel said.

‘Are you an existing client?’ the receptionist asked.

‘No, but I—’

‘I am sorry but Signor Vallini is not taking on any new clients until after he returns from his break,’ the receptionist said. ‘I could schedule something for you in late September, perhaps?’

Rachel frowned. ‘But that’s more than a month away. I’m only here until the end of the August.’ ‘I am sorry but—’

‘Look, I’m not really a client,’ Rachel said, hoping she could pull off the little white lie. ‘I’m a … an old friend of his from Melbourne. He used to work for my father. I was hoping we could catch up while I am here. My name is Rachel McCulloch.’

There was a slight pause.

‘I will have to speak to him first,’ the receptionist said, and, picking up the receiver, added, ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat over there?’

Rachel sat on one of the butter-soft leather sofas, trying not to think of the last time she had seen Alessandro. If her instincts were right and he had been the one to sabotage her attempt to gain financial backing it proved one thing clearly: he still hadn’t forgiven her.

‘I am sorry but Signor Vallini does not wish to see you,’ the receptionist said.

Rachel shot to her feet. ‘But I must see him,’ she insisted. ‘I absolutely must see him.’

‘I am under strict instructions to inform you that under no circumstances will Signor Vallini agree to see you,’ the receptionist said.

Rachel was outraged. He was obviously playing with her. Did he really think she would take no for an answer after what he had just done? As paybacks went it was certainly an effective one but she wasn’t going to allow him to get away with it. Of course he would see her.

She would make him see her.

Rachel’s stomach dipped and dived all the way down the Amalfi coast road leading towards Positano, but it had little to do with the hair-raising twists and bends the bus wove around. She had planned to hire a car but her credit card had been declined at the booking counter. It had been an embarrassing experience, one she was unlikely to forget in a hurry. The phone call to her bank back in Australia had given her little comfort. It seemed a red flag had come up on her account and it would take at least twenty-four hours to clear it given her financial history after Craig had forged her name on various loans three years ago. She needed money more than ever and she needed it now.

The bus dropped her at the foot of the road that led to the Villa Vallini set high on the cliff. But when the driver opened the luggage compartment to locate her one bag it was nowhere to be seen.

‘It must have been put on one of the other buses,’ the driver said, closing the compartment.

‘How could that have happened?’ Rachel asked, trying not to panic.

He shrugged. ‘It happens now and again. I will contact head office and make sure it is delivered to your hotel. If you give me your details I will see to it.’ He took out a pen and a clipboard.

‘I haven’t actually booked a hotel as yet,’ Rachel said, chewing at her lip as she thought of her current lack of funds.

‘Just give me your mobile phone number then and I will call you when we locate the bag,’ he said.

Rachel stood on the roadside as the bus finally pulled away, and then her eyes went to the villa above her. The magnificent private residence was set slightly apart from its neighbours. It was centuries old, built on four levels, with luxurious terraced gardens and an infinity pool that was set high above the ocean. The sun sparkled off the brilliant blue water invitingly, making each bead of perspiration rolling down between Rachel’s shoulder blades all the more unbearable. The sun pierced her eyeballs like dressmaking pins, and the vague headache she had been fighting all day now started to inflict hammer blows of pain around her temples.

She garnered her determination and trudged on up the long steep steps that led to the imposing front gates of the villa. The double gates were locked and so too was the side gate for foot traffic. There was however an intercom button that was set in the stone wall beside the ornate shiny black and gold gates.

‘Non ci sono visitatori,’ a woman said before Rachel could say a word.

Rachel leaned closer to the speaker. ‘But I—’

The intercom went dead. She looked up at the villa, wincing as the sunlight stabbed again at her eyes. She clutched at the wrought iron of the gates and took a couple of deep breaths before she pressed the buzzer again.

The woman answered again, this time in heavily accented English. ‘No visitors.’

‘I have to see Alessandro Vallini,’ Rachel said. ‘I am not leaving until I do.’

‘Please go away,’ the woman said.

‘But I have nowhere else to go,’ Rachel said, almost to the point of begging. ‘Could you please tell Signor Vallini that? I have nowhere else to go.’

The intercom went dead again and Rachel turned her back against the hot stone and slid down to sit in a patch of shade. She lowered her head to her bent knees, unable to believe this was happening to her. It was as if she had stepped into someone else’s life. She had grown up with money, lots of money, more money than most people saw in a lifetime. For so long she had taken it for granted. She had wanted for nothing and had not for a moment thought it could all be taken away. But it had been, and, although she had worked hard to rebuild her life over the last couple of years, now she was reduced to begging at the gates of the man she had walked away from five years ago. Was this karma? Was this how fate had decided to play things? She closed her eyes and prayed for the pain in her head to ease. Then she would get up and try again and again until Alessandro finally agreed to see her.

‘Is she still there?’ Alessandro asked his housekeeper Lucia.

‘Sì, signor,’ Lucia said, turning from the window. ‘It has been over an hour. It is very hot out there.’

Alessandro rubbed at the tense spot in his jaw as he fought with his conscience. He was locked away in his tower while Rachel was down there in the boiling heat but his gut clenched with the dread of her seeing him like this. He hadn’t expected her to arrive unannounced. He had already had his secretary refuse her an appointment. He had hoped that would be enough to put her off. How long until she gave up and went away? Why wasn’t she getting the message? He didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want to see anyone.

‘Mon Dio, I think she is going to faint!’ Lucia said grabbing at the window sill with both hands.

‘It is probably an act,’ Alessandro said calmly, turning back to the papers on his desk, doing his best to ignore the two flick knives of guilt and anguish inside his stomach.

Lucia frowned as she stepped away from the window. ‘Perhaps I should take her some water to see if she is all right.’

‘Do what you like,’ he said, flipping a page of the document he had lost interest in half an hour ago. ‘Just keep her away from me.’

‘Sì, signor,’

Rachel opened her eyes to see an Italian woman in her mid to late fifties holding a glass of water in one hand and a jug with ice cubes and a slice of lemon in the other.

‘Would you like a drink before you move on?’ she asked, passing the frosted glass through the bars of the gate.

‘Thank you.’ Rachel took the water and drank thirstily. ‘I have the most appalling headache.’

‘It is the heat,’ the woman said refilling the glass Rachel had passed back. ‘August is always like this. You are probably dehydrated.’

Rachel drank another glass and another before she gave the woman a grateful smile as she handed back the glass. ‘Grazie. That literally saved my life.’

‘Where are you staying?’ the woman asked. ‘In Positano or somewhere else?’

Rachel dragged herself to her feet, using the bars of the gate as leverage. ‘I haven’t got a place to stay,’ she said. ‘I’ve got no money to pay for anywhere. And now my luggage has gone missing.’

‘You can’t stay here,’ the woman said. ‘Signor Vallini insists on no—’

‘I just want five minutes with him,’ Rachel said, brushing her damp hair off her face with a weary hand. ‘Please? Can you organise that for me? I promise I won’t keep him long. Just five minutes of his time is all I’m asking of him.’

The woman set her mouth. ‘I could lose my job over this.’

‘Please?’ Rachel couldn’t keep the pleading note out of her voice.

The Italian woman let out a long-winded breath as she put the jug and glass down on the flagstones. ‘Five minutes but that is all,’ she said as she unlocked the gate.

Rachel picked up her handbag and stepped through before the woman changed her mind. The gate was closed and locked behind her with a resounding click that was strangely eerie in the hot still summer air.

The gardens on either side of the entrance to the villa were magnificent. Roses of every colour imaginable bloomed in abundance from behind neatly trimmed ankle-high hedges, their heady sweet fragrance intensified by the sun. There was a huge fountain in the middle of the driveway, the cascading water as Rachel walked past throwing off a fine mist that was deliciously cool and refreshing. She wished she could just stand there and let the soothing spray ease all the tension out of her muscles.

The housekeeper set aside the jug and glass as she opened the front door of the villa. The cooler air of indoors was like a fan as soon as Rachel stepped in. The floor of the foyer was highly polished marble, as was the grand staircase that swept upwards in a two-sided arc that met on the massive landing above. Crystal chandeliers hung above her in glittering elegance, and priceless works of art hung from the walls, the stately windows in between allowing the sunlight to come in via golden shafts that gilded everything it touched.

The villa was breathtaking and so far from the background Alessandro had come from. How had he done it? How had a man who had once been a runaway street kid from the outer suburbs of Melbourne achieved so much in so little time? After working in a variety of jobs after leaving school, at around twenty-four he had started his own one-person landscaping-gardening business while studying part time for a business degree. He had later sold his business as a franchise offering landscaping and gardening services for the top end of the market. Now at thirty-three he owned and operated a business analysis and management empire that had gone global. Had it been her rejection that had fuelled his determination to succeed or had he always been destined to achieve?

‘If you will wait here while I speak to Signor Vallini,’ the woman said, indicating an antique chair next to a table in the foyer.

Rachel ignored the chair in order to look around. The villa was better than any of the five-star hotels she had ever stayed in and she had stayed in plenty over the years. She had thought her family mansion had been magnificent and certainly compared to many it had been. But this was on another level entirely. This place felt like a palace with its priceless art works and sophisticated decor. She went to a French table with an intricate gold inlay on the top where a vase of roses sat. She touched one of the fragrant blood-red petals and it fell to the table’s surface in a velvet silence.

Footsteps sounded behind her and the Italian woman appeared. ‘He has agreed to give you five minutes,’ she said.

Rachel let out the breath she had been holding and followed the woman up the marble staircase. It was only as she passed a mirror on the second landing that she wished she had asked for a moment or two to freshen up. Her hair was sticky about her too-pink face and the end of her nose looked as if it had caught the sun. Her sleeveless top had damp patches in between her breasts and her shoulder blades, and the crisp white linen trousers she had put on this morning now looked as if they had been worn for a week on an archaeological dig. She didn’t look anything like a fashion designer. She looked like a sunburnt, down-on-her-luck vagrant.

The housekeeper knocked on a door on the second level, and, stepping to one side, opened the door for Rachel to go through.

The door closed behind her as Rachel stepped into the room. It was a library—study with three walls of bookshelves and a huge desk set in front of long, heavily curtained windows. Compared to the brightness of the rest of the villa this room seemed dark and brooding, not unlike the man who sat behind the leather-top desk.

Rachel met his eyes across the distance of the room and her heart gave a little involuntary stumble. His eyes were as blue and as deep and as unfathomable as the ocean she had walked past this morning—a startling, incongruous blue given his olive-skinned Italian colouring and jet-black hair.

The silence was like a wall of thick glass dividing the room in two. All Rachel could hear was the sound of her thudding heartbeats. The noiseless air contained a hint of something faintly disturbing. It made her heart beat all the faster and her breathing stalled as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

He had an interesting face. Not handsome in a classical sense but certainly arresting. The Roman nose gave him an aristocratic air, so too did his sharply honed uncompromising jaw.

His mouth was unsmiling.

An errant thought slipped into her head as she wondered when he had last smiled and who had been the recipient of it. A lover perhaps? She had done a little research and found out he had ended a relationship with a cosmetic model a couple of months ago. But there was nothing unusual about that. The same research had turned up that none of his relationships ever lasted more than a month or two. There was nothing else she could find out about his private life other than he was now one of Italy’s richest and most eligible men.

‘It was very good of you to agree to see me,’ she said with forced politeness.

He leaned back in his chair and quietly assessed her with his gaze. It annoyed her that he hadn’t even had the decency to rise when she entered the room. Was he doing it deliberately? Of course he was. He wanted to demonstrate his contempt of her and what she had done. But she was not going to be treated like trailer trash. She might have lost just about everything else, but she still had her pride.

‘Sit.’

One word.

A command.

An order.

An insult.

Rachel remained standing. ‘I won’t take up too much of your time,’ she said, working hard to control the thread of resentment in her voice.

A corner of his mouth went up in undisguised derision. ‘No, indeed you will not,’ he said. He flicked his gaze to his expensive-looking watch. ‘You had better say what you came here to say and say it quickly, for you have just under four minutes left. I have another commitment straight after this and it has a much higher priority.’

Rachel felt a tremor of anger rumble through her. So this was how he wanted to play it, was it? Sitting on his high horse, deigning to meet with her, only to play cat and mouse with her until he was satisfied he had got his revenge. It had to be about revenge. What else could it be? How he must be gloating about how the tables had turned. The once lowly gardener had made good while the little rich girl was now penniless. ‘I want to know if you are the one who sabotaged my attempt to raise finance for my fashion label,’ she said, eyeballing him.

His dark eyes held hers steadily. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ he said.

Rachel was incensed. ‘Don’t play me for a fool. I know you did it. The executive all but gave me your name.’

He continued to look at her as if she were a small out-of-control child in the middle of a temper tantrum. ‘You have your wires crossed, Rachel,’ he said in an annoyingly calm voice. ‘I have not advised anyone in regards to your label.’

Rachel chewed at the inside of her mouth, fighting for patience. ‘I came over to Italy specifically to sign a contract for finance for my label. But as soon as I walked into the office I was told they were no longer going to back me because of the advice they had been given by an expert in business analysis. A highly respected expert.’

He gave a semblance of a smile, a fractional movement of his lips that didn’t reveal his teeth. ‘I appreciate the compliment that you automatically assumed I was the highly regarded expert, but I can assure you I had nothing to do with it.’

Rachel glared at him furiously. ‘I am about to lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. I had everything riding on that backing and I think you damn well knew it. That’s why you did what you did. No one will help me now that they’ve heard your opinion. But that was your plan, wasn’t it? To make me so desperate I would come crawling to you for help.’

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes quietly assessing her flustered features as he idly rolled a gold pen between his index finger and thumb. ‘This little meeting you’ve cleverly orchestrated,’ he said, ‘it’s all been a ruse to get me to agree to give you money, is it not?’

Rachel was almost beyond rage. ‘I’ve orchestrated nothing! And as for you giving me money I wouldn’t dream of …’ Her words trailed off as her thoughts ran ahead. What if he were to give her the money? He was a very rich man. He had contacts and connections all over Europe that could help her like no one else. Her pride would take a beating, of course, which was probably his intention in the first place, but what was a bit of pride when she stood to lose everything if she didn’t secure finance in the next twenty-four hours? ‘Would you agree to give me money?’ she asked in a voice that hardly sounded like her own.

He continued to look at her with those incredible blue eyes, steady, watchful, unreadable. ‘I would have to know more about your business structure before I made that sort of commitment,’ he said. ‘Perhaps that is why your previous backers pulled out. Maybe they did a little digging into your background. Perhaps they were worried your fiancé might redirect their hard-earned money into his underworld drug-dealing operation.’

Rachel felt the slap of his statement. The shame of her past rose in her cheeks like a stain that nothing would wash away. She wondered if there would ever come a time when she could put it behind her: her mistakes, her blindness, her stupidity, her stubbornness. ‘I am no longer involved with Craig Hughson and I haven’t been for over three years.’

Alessandro kept rolling the pen between his finger and thumb. ‘So what about your father?’ he asked. ‘Surely he could spare some of the McCulloch millions to help his daughter?’

Rachel bit her lip, annoyed at herself for not being able to stop the betraying gesture in time. ‘I haven’t asked him.’

The dark brow lifted again and the rolling of the pen ceased. ‘Because he wouldn’t be able to help you even if you did ask him, sì?’ he said.

She gripped the strap of her handbag a little tighter. ‘I suppose you heard he lost everything three years ago,’ she said, hating him for reminding her of it. How he must be relishing in how dramatically the tables had turned. Her father had treated Alessandro appallingly in the time he had worked for him. Why Alessandro had stayed as long as he had had always surprised her. Surely there were other jobs he could have taken without the put-downs and cutting criticisms from her father.

‘He always was a gambling man,’ Alessandro said. ‘What a pity he didn’t always measure the risks.’

‘Yes …’ Rachel mumbled in response. She had found her father’s fall from grace extremely upsetting. Not because she was close to him, for, even though she was his only child, she had never managed to do anything to win his approval, apart from agreeing to marry Craig Hughson. But calling off the wedding so close to the day made her feel responsible for her father’s bankruptcy. All the money Craig had sunk into the business had been immediately withdrawn. The fact that it had been dirty money didn’t ease her conscience one iota. The family business had folded within days and her career as a model had come to one of the most ignominious halts in the history of Melbourne’s modelling world when her name and reputation had been sullied in the very public fallout.

The leather of Alessandro’s chair squeaked as he shifted his position. ‘How much are you after?’ he asked.

Rachel’s heart gave a little stumble of surprise. ‘Y-you’ll do it?’

His eyes remained steady on hers. ‘For a price.’ She tried to read his inscrutable look. ‘Interest, do you mean?’

‘Not interest, no.’

She frowned. ‘I’m not sure I’m following you,’ she said. ‘It’s financial support I’m after at this point to carry me through to a successful launch in Europe. It will have to be drawn up legally, of course. I’m prepared to pay interest but not if it’s unreasonable. I can’t stretch myself too far. I have other commitments and—’

‘I am not talking about a loan,’ he said. ‘Consider it a gift.’

Rachel’s insides gave a flip flop movement. ‘A … a gift?’

His sapphire-blue eyes held hers. ‘With conditions.’

‘I can’t possibly accept a gift of money from you,’ she said. ‘I insist on paying it back as soon as I can. It might take a while depending on how successful the launch is but—’

‘You misunderstand me, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I am not going to back your label.’

She looked at him in confusion. ‘But I thought you said you were going to give me a gift of money?’

‘I am.’

Rachel’s heart began to beat overtime. ‘But I don’t understand why you would want to do that,’ she said. ‘The last time we spoke …’ She cleared her throat, not really wanting to recall that dreadful scene on the night of her twenty-first birthday party.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me what the conditions are?’ he asked.

Rachel chewed at her lip. ‘If you want me to apologise for how things turned out … urn … between us, then I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I wanted to tell you about Craig and the expectation that one day we would marry. I should have told you. But as soon as you and I started dating I just couldn’t seem to do it. I didn’t want anything to spoil what we had …’

He remained silent, his face now set in stone.

She took a breath and continued, ‘I’ve had to work so hard to get this far, to be taken seriously after my modelling fiasco. I have people depending on me to make this work. I have staff with mortgages to pay and children to educate and feed. This isn’t just about me wanting to prove I can do it. It’s not just my money that will be lost if this falls over. My business partner has put everything she has into the company as well. I can’t let her down. She’s been a good friend to me.’

Alessandro slowly drummed his fingers on the desk as he sat watching her shift from foot to foot. He had waited a long time to hear her apologise for choosing another man’s money over his love. But was she apologising out of desperation or real regret?

He studied her features, drinking them in even though he had not for a moment forgotten how she looked. Her grey-green eyes were indelibly imprinted in his brain, so too was her shoulder-length glossy brown hair, the way it caught the sunlight at certain angles bringing out its natural highlights. She had aristocratic cheekbones, and a retroussé nose that gave her heart-shaped face an innocent, childlike air that was at odds with her true personality. She was all innocence on the outside but on the inside she had turned out to be a hard, conniving, conscienceless little opportunist just like every other gold-digger he had known.

Her mouth was something else he had never quite forgotten, but, instead of it being imprinted on his brain, it was for ever imprinted on his lips. He could still feel that pillowy softness beneath his mouth, the way she had opened to him like an exotic flower to the sun. He could still taste the sensual heat of her, the heady temptation she had dangled before him until she had got tired of playing with the hired help and moved on to more affluent pastures.

‘I will give you ten thousand euros,’ he said into the loaded silence.

‘But I need much more than that,’ she said, biting at her lower lip.

‘Ten thousand and that is all,’ he said.

Her grey-green eyes narrowed slightly. ‘But why would you do that? If you don’t want to back my label then why give me anything at all?’

He gave her a sardonic half-smile. ‘Because it will be worth it if you accept my conditions.’

Her eyes flared a little more and the column of her slim elegant throat slid up and down as she swallowed. ‘Wh-what are the conditions?’ she asked in a hoarse-sounding voice.

Alessandro held her trapped-in-the-headlights gaze for a pulsing moment.

How ironic she thought he was after revenge when that was the very last thing on his mind right now. ‘You can have the money in your bank account within the next half-hour,’ he said in a cool and controlled tone, ‘but only if you agree to walk out of here and never come back.’

CHAPTER TWO

HER mouth opened and closed and her throat rose and fell again. Her face paled and then flooded with colour. She glared at him, her eyes like flashes of green-tinged lightning, her slim body tight with tension, every muscle contracted in fury. ‘You’re paying me to … to leave?’ she asked.

Alessandro leaned back in his chair again. ‘Take it or leave it, Rachel. You have one minute to decide before I take the offer off the table. And I won’t be making another.’

Her hands clenched in fists by her sides, the action dislodging the precarious sling of her handbag. She shoved it back over her shoulder but the hand that pushed it back was visibly shaking. ‘That’s outrageous!’ she said.

‘That’s business,’ he returned.

‘Business?’ Her soft lip curled. ‘What sort of businessman are you that you have to pay someone to go away?’

‘You are not welcome here, Rachel,’ he said. ‘You want money and appear to be very determined not to leave until you get it. This is a compromise of sorts. For each minute you overstay your welcome the figure will go down.’

She looked at him in bewilderment. Gone was her cocky I’m-a-rich-girl-better-than-you haughtiness, in its place was a shocked, out-of-her-depth ingénue. ‘So, let me get this straight …’ She ran the tip of her tongue out over her lips before she continued. ‘You want me to walk out of here with ten thousand euros of yours, as long as I promise never to return?’

Alessandro gave a single nod.

‘But I don’t understand,’ she went on. ‘Why would you want to give me that amount of money for … for essentially nothing?’

‘I am a rich man,’ Alessandro said, borrowing a bit of her father’s philosophy. ‘I can do anything I want.’

She pressed her lips together, obviously wondering if she could trust him or not. If he hadn’t been feeling so cornered it would have amused him to watch her. She was oscillating, clearly tempted to take things on face value. It wasn’t a lot of money by her standards but it was still money. But if things were as precarious as she made out it would at least get her a bed and meals for the rest of her time in Italy. Would she take it and go, or would she try and weasel some more out of him?

He glanced at his watch. ‘The figure is now nine thousand euros, Rachel,’ he said. ‘What is your decision?’

Her eyes moved away from his, the colour on her cheeks still high. ‘You have to understand if this was just about me I would have walked out of here five minutes ago,’ she said. ‘In fact I wouldn’t have come here in the first place if it hadn’t been for what you did to sabotage—’

‘You are robbing yourself of another thousand.’

She met his gaze again, her tongue sweeping over the surface of her lips again. ‘Can I have a little more time to think about this?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘But that’s crazy!’ she said. ‘How do I know I can trust you? You might give me the money and then change the rules.’

‘I will not change the rules,’ he said. ‘I simply want you to take the money and leave.’

Her mouth flattened in anger. ‘This is payback, isn’t it? You want to make me pay for how I chose Craig instead of you.’

Alessandro kept his expression bland, uninterested, totally unmoved. ‘If you don’t want the money I am sure I can find someone else who does.’

‘But I need much more than that amount,’ she said. ‘I need to get my—’

‘That is all I am prepared to give you,’ he said. ‘Now please make up your mind before the amount left is not worth taking.’

She shifted her weight agitatedly, her mouth opening and snapping closed as if she was not quite ready to allow the words out. ‘I will accept your offer,’ she finally said.

‘Good,’ Alessandro said. ‘Give me your account details and I will transfer the funds as soon as I see you walk out of that gate.’

She wrote them on a piece of paper and passed them across. ‘So that’s it?’ she asked. ‘You don’t even want to offer me a drink or a meal or anything?’

‘No, you can get that at your hotel.’

‘I haven’t got a hotel,’ she said, ‘or at least not yet.’

‘I am sure you will find one. Positano is full of them suitable for most price brackets.’

‘But I haven’t got any luggage. It’s been misplaced. I don’t know when it’s going to turn up, if ever.’

‘Not my problem,’ he said.

‘You heartless bastard,’ she railed at him. ‘Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?’

He elevated one of his dark brows. ‘I have taken a leaf out of your book, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I no longer do anything to please anyone but myself.’

‘Do you have to pay your lovers to arrive as well as leave?’ she asked with a biting look. ‘You have a quick turnover of women in your life, or so I have heard.’

‘So you have been reading about me in the press, have you, Rachel?’ he asked, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction.

‘The Australian press don’t have access to too many details of your life,’ she said, ‘but now and again one of the UK magazines I occasionally buy mentions you and your latest girlfriend on the society pages.’

‘Does it seem ironic to you that the man you turned down all those years ago is now richer and more powerful than both your father and your ex-fiancé combined?’ Alessandro asked.

‘How did you do it?’ she asked, but then bit down on her lip as if she had regretted the words as soon as she had said them.

‘I was prepared for success and jumped at it when the first opportunity presented itself,’ he said. ‘Leaving Australia and coming over here opened up new avenues for me that would not have occurred otherwise.’

‘It’s a shame you don’t have any family to be proud of you,’ she said.

Alessandro clenched his jaw at her little jibe. He was used to her throwing her blue-blood lines in his face in the past. She was the rich girl with the pedigree; he was the abandoned mongrel who trawled the streets for the scraps thrown to him. He hated her for tricking him into thinking he’d had a chance with her. She had lured him into her sweet honey trap before flicking him away like an annoying insect. He was not going to make that mistake again, not with her or any woman. ‘Yes, but I have many friends who more than make up for the lack of close family,’ he said. ‘Now if you will excuse me I have work to do.’

‘Aren’t you going to accompany me to the door of your fortress to make sure I don’t pinch the silver on the way out?’ she asked.

‘I will leave Lucia to escort you off the property,’ Alessandro said. ‘I have better things to do with my time.’

‘She seems very nice,’ Rachel said, deliberately stalling. ‘Your housekeeper, I mean.’

‘Lucia is a kind soul,’ he said. ‘She has worked for me ever since I came to Italy. She is like a mother to me.’

Rachel thought of her own mother, an increasingly vague, amorphous image that drifted in and out of her consciousness from time to time. She had died when Rachel was three and a half but she still missed her. There was a mother-shaped hole inside her that nothing and no one had filled since in spite of her father’s many and varied partners over the years. She wondered if Alessandro, without either of his parents in his life, felt the same. He had never said. He had never talked of his childhood. All she knew from what little she had heard from others was he had spent a lot of time in foster homes or on the streets while growing up. Maybe his parents were dead. Maybe they were alive. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

Alessandro pressed an intercom button on his desk and summoned Lucia. ‘Miss McCulloch is ready to leave.’

‘Sì, Signor,’ Lucia answered. ‘I will come now.’

Rachel didn’t like being dismissed. It irritated the hell out of her that he just sat there issuing orders. She wanted more time with him so she could irritate him right back. Her anger towards him bubbled up inside her. She wanted to grab him by the front of his immaculate shirt and tell him exactly what she thought of him. ‘You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘Careful, Rachel,’ he said, eyeballing her darkly. ‘Don’t go biting the hand that is about to pay for your next meal.’

Lucia arrived at that moment. ‘Signorina? I will see you to the gate,’ she said, holding the study door open.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, but not before flinging one last cutting glare to Alessandro. ‘Goodbye, Alessandro. I hope I never have to see you again.’

He didn’t answer, which irritated her even more.

Alessandro watched as his housekeeper accompanied Rachel to the front entrance of the villa. He clenched and unclenched his hands on the side of his chair in rising tension. He turned away from the window and stared at his computer screen sightlessly. A couple of months ago he would have paid her to stay. He would have paid her to occupy his bed. He would have enjoyed showing her all she had missed out on in choosing Craig Hughson over him. And then he would have cast her adrift, coldly, callously, just as she had done to him.

But everything was different now.

He couldn’t afford to let her know what had happened to him. So far only his housekeeper and doctor and physical therapist knew. People in business were unpredictable, fickle at the whisper of a personal problem. One word in the press that he had suffered a health setback such as this could jeopardise his negotiations for the biggest coup of his career. A massively wealthy sheikh from Dubai was considering using Alessandro’s business analysis services. It was the sort of contact that would bring in even more wealthy clients, those with the sort of wealth that outshone even his current ones. He didn’t want anything to compromise the already tricky negotiations. The doctor had told him he needed another month of rehabilitation. One more month of privacy and then he could get on with his life.

The intercom sounded on his desk and he leaned forward to answer. ‘Yes, Lucia?’

‘I had to bring Miss McCulloch back into the villa,’ Lucia said.

‘Why?’ he barked the word at her.

‘She’s not well. I think she has a touch of heatstroke.’

Alessandro drummed his fingers on the desk until his fingertips went numb. His conscience jabbed at him again. He could hardly send her away ill. He could probably get away with a couple of days and nights with her in the villa without revealing the extent of his condition. Lucia would be discreet. It might even be amusing to see Rachel leave at the end of her brief stay with no idea of what he was hiding from her and the world at large. ‘All right,’ he said to his housekeeper. ‘Put her in one of the guest suites well away from mine. Does she need to see a doctor?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Lucia said. ‘She just needs to get some fluids on board and rest for a day or two. She is still a little jet-lagged.’

‘You’re too soft, Lucia,’ Alessandro said gruffly.

‘Maybe, but she seems a nice young woman,’ Lucia said.

‘You don’t know her like I do,’ he said. ‘For all you know this could be an act.’

‘It’s not an act,’ Lucia said. ‘She was sick a few minutes ago. I had to half carry her back to the villa. I thought she was going to pass out.’

Alessandro frowned. ‘Are you sure she doesn’t need a doctor?’

‘I will call one if she doesn’t improve after a rest,’ Lucia said. ‘I think she’ll be a lot better by tomorrow.’

Alessandro sat back in his chair once the conversation ended. One or two days was all he was prepared to allow Rachel to stay. It was risky, but then wasn’t everything in life that was enjoyable? A slow smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of entertaining her. It would be quite diverting to see her grovel for more money. He assumed that was what she would do. She hadn’t got what she wanted from him and would surely have another go to achieve her goal. He wondered how far she would take things. What sort of artifice would she employ this time to get him to lower his guard? He would play along with it, reeling her in just as she had done him, and then he would pull the rug from under her feet.

That would be the most entertaining part of it all.

Rachel woke from a deep and refreshing sleep. She looked at the clock by the bed and was shocked to see she had slept the clock around. Her headache had thankfully gone and the grumbling nausea had passed. Her temperature was normal and after a shower she felt almost human again, even though she had no choice but to put the same clothes back on, although the housekeeper had very kindly laundered and pressed them for her. Rachel had yet to hear from the bus company about the whereabouts of her luggage. There were no messages on her phone and no missed calls.

Her mobile rang from beside the bed and she reached across to answer it. ‘Hello?’

‘So how did it go?’ Caitlyn asked. ‘I’ve been waiting for hours and hours for you to tell me. Did you get the backing?’

‘No, not exactly,’ Rachel said and quickly filled in her friend and business partner on what had occurred.

‘Gosh, that’s disappointing,’ Caitlyn said. ‘Do you think you can have another talk to him about it?’

‘I’ll try but I don’t think it’s going to work,’ Rachel said. ‘He’s only allowing me to stay here now because I was ill yesterday. And that was only after the housekeeper put the hard word on him.’

‘He sounds very bitter.’

‘He is,’ Rachel said. ‘He looked at me with such loathing I found it unnerving.’

‘Well, you did turn down his marriage proposal in the past,’ Caitlyn said. ‘Some men find rejection really hard to take.’

‘But I wasn’t sure if I loved him enough to marry him,’ Rachel said in her defence.

‘You didn’t love Craig either,’ Caitlyn reminded her.

‘I know,’ Rachel said, feeling a cringe of shame at how she had handled things. In an effort to please her unpleasable father she had chosen money over a man’s love. Alessandro had told her he loved her. Even her father had never said those three little words. Craig had never said them either.

Rachel hated thinking of the two years of hell she had lived through being engaged to Craig Hughson. Thank God she hadn’t married him. She had come close but had found out just in time about his double life. How could she have been so naive to have allowed him to control her the way he had? It had taken the last couple of years to move on but, even so, now and again something would appear in the press about his underworld connections and it would bring it all back to her. This latest red flag on her account made her worry that she might never be able to put it behind her.

This much-anticipated trip to Italy was the first time she had felt a glimmer of hope that her luck was going to change, that she would find her feet again, be the success she had always dreamed she could be, not because of her looks, not because of her family background, but because of her own hard work. The sudden withdrawal of financial backing had knocked her sideways. But that had surely been Alessandro’s plan. He had deviously engineered things so that he could maximise her humiliation. She hated him for it.

There was a knock on the door and the housekeeper, Lucia, announced that refreshments would be served out by the pool if she felt up to joining Alessandro. Feeling hopelessly unprepared, Rachel made her way down to the pool area. She had no bathing costume. Her bikini was in the luggage somewhere between here and Milan. Not that Alessandro had shown much interest in her as a woman, she thought. She could probably turn up naked and he wouldn’t blink. She had tried to gauge his expression during their brief meeting to see if he gave off any signals of physical interest, but to her chagrin he had not. She was annoyed with herself for feeling piqued. She was not vain; well, certainly not as vain as she had been in her youth. Craig’s constant put-downs had more or less destroyed her self-esteem, and in the years since she had worked hard to build up her confidence again. But she wouldn’t be female if she didn’t appreciate the occasional compliment, either verbal or non-verbal. But while Alessandro hadn’t said or shown any interest, there had been that faintly disturbing undercurrent in the room. She still felt it now, the dusting of goose bumps on her skin when she thought of his dark blue unwavering gaze holding hers.

The terrace where the pool was situated was drenched in warm afternoon sunlight with a light breeze coming in from the ocean so far down below. Rachel felt her heart give a little kick when she saw Alessandro was in the pool, swimming in long easy strokes, his arms slicing through the water effortlessly, his long tanned legs barely needing to kick for the powerful strength in his upper body. She couldn’t stop looking at him, the way the muscles of his back and shoulders bunched beneath his tanned skin with each movement he made. The way the water sluiced off his hard male flesh in shiny droplets that splashed like diamonds as they fell back into the pool. He didn’t tumble turn at the end, but stopped and looked up and met her eyes with his water-spiked dark, thickly lashed blue ones.

‘Do you have swimwear with you?’ he asked, glancing at her white linen trousers and top.

‘No, I didn’t think I would be staying any longer than a few minutes,’ she said, feeling her colour rise in her cheeks. ‘And I’m still waiting to hear from the bus company about my luggage.’

‘Lucia can find something for you,’ he said. ‘I am sure there are bikinis somewhere upstairs from previous guests.’

Rachel put up her chin. ‘I am not wearing one of your ex-lovers’ cast-offs.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Then you will have to swim naked, won’t you?’

Rachel felt the searing heat of his gaze as it ran over her from head to toe. She felt as if every article of clothing she wore were suddenly transparent. Her skin burned and tingled, her breasts tightened and peaked against her bra, and her inner thighs flickered with a sensation she flatly refused to identify as desire. She hated him more every minute she spent in his company. He was an annoying reminder of all the mistakes she had made in the past. She didn’t like the way those critical dark blue eyes made her feel so exposed. She felt he could see right through her poise and sophisticated veneer to the insecure woman she still felt on the inside. He had always made her feel that way. She had never been able to hide behind her social standing with him. He threatened her in a way she could not handle. He still had that powerful effect on her and she didn’t have a clue how to manage it or counteract it. ‘I am perfectly fine sitting out here,’ she said coldly.

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, brushing his wet hair back off his face with one of his hands.

Rachel rolled her lips together, wishing she could tear her gaze away from the broad expanse of his chest, but her eyes were like two iron filings being lured by a powerful magnet. His pectoral muscles were so well defined. He must be lifting bulldozers in the gym, she thought. Unlike a lot of men of his generation he had resisted removing the masculine sprinkling of hair that went from a T shape across his chest to a narrow trail that disappeared beneath the black bathers he was wearing. She was glad the edge of the pool prevented her from looking any further. She had more than once felt the hard ridge of his maleness against her lower body when he had kissed her in the past. Her response to him back then had totally shocked her. It had shamed her that she had been so wanton with him, that in his arms she had turned into a ravenous tigress desperate for his kisses and his searing touch.

He was not the type of man her father had wanted her to associate with. He was beneath her in every way imaginable, he was untouchable, he was forbidden fruit. But still she had been drawn to him time and time again, unable to stop herself from stealing clandestine moments with him. Her behaviour had been unpardonable. She had led Alessandro on shamelessly when all the time she had never had any intention of going against her father’s wishes.

Rachel became aware of Alessandro’s gaze on hers and wondered if he was remembering those few stolen passionate kisses and that final showdown the night of her twenty-first birthday party when her engagement to Craig had been formally announced. It still made her heart jerk painfully when she recalled the look in Alessandro’s eyes that night. She had never seen such loathing, such contempt and anger. It had been red-hot. It had scorched her to the backbone. No wonder he still wanted to punish her.

She swallowed the tense knot in her throat, hating that she was hot and sticky and perspiring while he looked so cool and composed. It was ironic that he was the one in deep water, but, although she was standing on the rock-steady sun-baked flagstones, she felt as if she were in over her head.

‘Lucia has left drinks on the table over there in the shade,’ Alessandro said. ‘Would you mind bringing me a cold beer?’

Rachel glanced at the tray of drinks and then pursed her lips when she faced him again. ‘Why don’t you get it yourself?’ she said.

‘I am enjoying the water too much,’ he said.

She folded her arms in a recalcitrant manner. ‘I am not your slave.’

He gave her a slow smile that sent another shock wave between her thighs. It unsettled her so much she turned on her heel and stomped over to the drinks and poured herself an ice-cold wine. She sat down on the terrace furniture, crossing one leg over the other as she sipped from her glass. She had almost finished the wine and he still hadn’t moved from the side of the pool.

She knew he was watching her. She felt the weight of his gaze. She had always been aware of him watching her in the past. She had developed a sixth sense where he was concerned. She poured herself another wine and began sipping it, slower this time, aware that she was probably still a little low on fluids given how warm it was. The last thing she wanted to do was lose her head while in the presence of Alessandro Vallini.

God, she was so hot. Why hadn’t she packed a bikini in her handbag? It would have taken no space. Why hadn’t she thought? Luggage went missing all the time. It was one of the drags of travelling. She should have been more prepared. She pushed some sticky strands of hair off her face and took another cautious sip of her wine.

‘Have you got sunscreen on?’ Alessandro said.

‘Have you?’ she threw back.

‘I always use protection.’

Rachel felt that disturbing quiver again deep and low in her belly and to distract herself, jumped up and snatched a cold lager off the tray and took it to him. ‘Do you want a glass with that?’

‘No, this is fine. Thank you.’

She watched as he tipped his head back and drank from the bottle, the column of his long strong throat making her wonder what his skin would taste like if she were to trail her tongue along the dark stubble along his jaw …

She shied away from her traitorous thoughts like a cat springing away from a snapping dog. She went back to the chair in the shade and picked up her wine, holding it with both of her hands to control their sudden trembling. She had definitely been too long in the sun or something. She was acting so out of character. She wasn’t the type to be affected by a hot body and a slow sensual curve of a smile. Not any more. She was sensible and sorted out now. Life had taught her to get her priorities in order. No more infatuations, no more silly little dreams of being loved unconditionally. Everyone was out for what they could get and she was no different. She wished she could make him change his mind about backing her, however. If only she had more time with him to convince him of the potential of her label. If she could just get him to sit down with her and look at her spring and summer collection surely he would see how serious she was about this? How could she get him to change his mind?

Alessandro finished his beer and set the bottle well back from the edge of the pool. ‘Are you sure you won’t join me?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you.’

‘You could swim in your bra and knickers,’ he said. He waited a beat and added with another glint in his eyes, ‘You are wearing a bra and knickers, aren’t you?’

Rachel’s face felt like a furnace. How she hated him for taunting her like this. He was reminding her of the times when he had been at her father’s estate in the early years when she had deliberately paraded her scantily clad body before him. She had thought it amusing back then. It had made her feel so powerful. But now he was the one with all the power.

‘Of course I am wearing underwear,’ she said primly.

‘I am sure it is far more modest than some of the bikinis I have seen in this pool,’ he said.

Rachel could just imagine the minuscule scraps of fabric his lovers would prance around in. Not that she could talk. She had worn plenty of racy little numbers herself in the past. And he had seen her in them too. She had made sure of it. These days she went for a more classic look. ‘I might come down later after you’ve gone,’ she said.

‘I’m not planning on leaving any time soon,’ he said. ‘I swim for an hour each day, sometimes twice a day.’

Hence the strong pecs, Rachel thought. ‘That seems rather excessive,’ she said. ‘Are you training for something? The next Olympics maybe?’ She didn’t care that she sounded sarcastic. She didn’t see why she should pull any punches with him. He had insulted her from the moment she had stepped into his presence. It wasn’t helping her cause, she knew, but it sure felt good to give as good as she got from him.

His expression became shuttered, closed off, shadowed. ‘I like the exercise,’ he said. ‘It’s good for the mind as well as the body.’

He resumed swimming, length after length, the same rhythmic action having an almost hypnotic effect on her as she watched from the shade.

She sat for a bit longer finishing her wine, and in spite of the overhanging branches of the tree beside the table and chairs the heat became a torment. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps it was the streak of wilfulness in her personality that refused to let Alessandro think he could win any tussles with her.

She stood up and slipped out of her sandals and linen trousers and top, leaving them folded over the back of the chair she had just vacated. The bra and knickers ensemble she was wearing was thankfully a decent set Caitlyn had bought her for her last birthday. It was white with tiny pink rosebuds sewn in between the cups of the bra and on the front of the knickers. It covered her far more than some of the bikinis she had worn in the past, but even so as she walked towards the pool she felt as naked as the day she had been born.

Alessandro was at the other end of the pool when she slipped into the water but he turned to look at her as if some internal radar had signalled to him she had joined him. ‘Changed your mind?’ he said.

‘I was practically melting out there,’ she said, disguising a sigh of pure bliss as the cool water embraced her.

‘You should be used to the heat coming from Melbourne.’

‘It’s winter there now and it’s been a cold one,’ she said.

He leaned against the end of the pool in an indolent pose. ‘Come over here,’ he said. ‘It’s deeper.’

‘I’m fine here,’ Rachel said. ‘I like to be able to touch the bottom.’

‘You can still swim, can’t you?’

‘Of course, but I’m clearly not in quite the same league as you,’ she said.

‘I’ve been putting in a little extra practice just lately,’ he said in a tone touched with wryness as he effortlessly hauled himself out of the pool to sit on the edge, his legs still dangling in the water.

Rachel’s eyes went to his flat abdomen seemingly of their own volition. There was not a spare gram of flesh on him. Every abdominal muscle was clearly defined as if drawn by an anatomy artist. Her fingers itched to explore those hard ridges, to feel the texture of his skin, to tiptoe through the hair that marked him as a healthy potent male. Her heart began to beat heavily and she hadn’t even swum a stroke. Her breathing too was uneven, stopping and starting in her chest as if her lungs were being squeezed on and off by a large hand.

‘Are you going to do a length or two?’ Alessandro asked.

‘Are you going to criticise me if I don’t do it like a professional athlete?’ she tossed back archly.

He gave a slow, lopsided smile. ‘You need to learn to take constructive criticism, Rachel,’ he said. ‘How else can one learn to improve oneself if one is not open to feedback?’

Rather than answer him she slipped into the water and began swimming. She had never been more conscious of her body, and yet she had strutted on catwalks in several major cities before her career had been blown apart by her ex-fiancé’s double life in dealing drugs being exposed.

She got to the other end of the pool and had to draw breath. Obviously her fitness was something she needed to work on.

‘You need to stop fighting the water,’ Alessandro said from where he was sitting on the poolside. ‘You’re making it harder for yourself. You’re expending twice as much energy as you need to.’

She pushed the hair back off her face. ‘Yes, well, it’s not easy when I can’t see where the heck I am going.’

‘You need to tie your hair back or wear a swimming cap, goggles too, if you don’t like the water in your eyes.’

‘If I had known I was booking in for boot camp I would have packed accordingly,’ she said tartly.

His mouth was tilted in that half-smile again. ‘Try another lap without thrashing the water,’ he said. ‘Let the water support you as you move through it.’

Rachel went back and it did seem a little easier this time. She wasn’t quite so breathless, although that soon changed when she saw the way Alessandro glanced at her breasts. Heat flowed through her at the intimate contact. It felt as if he had touched her, cupping her with those broad strong hands of his. Her skin tingled in response, her nipples peaking as if he had just brushed the pads of his thumbs over them. There was no way of hiding her reaction to him. Could he tell? Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he remembering how he had once brushed his hot mouth against her tightly budded nipple in a stolen moment in the summer house?

His eyes came back to hers and held firm. ‘How about trying some breaststroke?’ he suggested.

Rachel gave him a look. ‘I just bet you’re an expert at that.’

His eyes glinted. ‘You could say I’m very experienced.’

Her belly flickered and fluttered at his double entendre. She slipped back into the water and did her version of the stroke, which she had always felt was more of a combination of a dog trying not to drown and a frog with a wonky leg. That Alessandro thought so too was more than apparent when she saw the grimace on his face when she stopped at his end. ‘Needs some work?’ she asked.

‘What a pity you aren’t staying longer than forty-eight hours,’ he said. ‘I could have given you some free tuition.’

‘I could always stay a little longer,’ she said, blinking the droplets of water out of her eyes. ‘My return ticket isn’t until the first of September.’

He held her look for a pulsing moment. ‘Two days, Rachel. That’s all. I want you out of here by tomorrow morning.’

Rachel felt her resentment building all over again. He was practically throwing her out on the street. What had happened to good old-fashioned hospitality? Did he really hate her that much? ‘But what if my luggage doesn’t turn up by then?’ she asked.

‘You’ll have to buy some clothes with the money I gave you.’

‘But practically all the money you gave me is going to be used up to pay off debts back home,’ she said.

‘Then you will have to find a job to tide you over.’

Lucia came out at that point and Alessandro frowned when he saw the harried look on her face.

‘Lucia? Is something wrong?’ he asked in Italian.

‘Sì, Signor,’ Lucia said, wringing her hands agitatedly. ‘I am afraid I have a family emergency to attend to. My daughter-in-law has been admitted to hospital. There is a problem with her pregnancy. My son needs me to babysit my grandsons. I am so sorry. I must go. I will hopefully only be away for a night, two at the most. I called Carlotta to fill in for me but she is visiting her mother in Sicily.’

Rachel had no real idea of what was being said since they spoke in such rapid Italian but it was clear Alessandro was not happy about something. A heavy frown pulled at his brows and his jaw tightened like a clamp.

Lucia glanced at Rachel before turning back to her employer, this time speaking in English. ‘What about Miss McCulloch?’

‘No. Non è assolutemente,’ he said firmly.

‘But she is already here with nowhere else to go until her luggage arrives,’ Lucia continued. ‘She could fill in until I get back or until we find a replacement.’

‘Is there something I can do to help?’ Rachel offered.

Alessandro frowned heavily. ‘No. I do not need your help.’

Lucia wrung her hands some more. ‘Signor, please, I beg you. I must leave as soon as I possibly can. My son is waiting for me so he can be with his wife. I need to pack a few things before I go.’

‘All right,’ Alessandro said. ‘Do what you have to do. I will see what can be arranged.’

Lucia bustled off, her flat sensible shoes almost flying across the flagstones in her haste.

‘I take it there’s been some sort of an emergency,’ Rachel said.

‘Yes,’ Alessandro said. ‘It seems I am without a housekeeper for the next day or two unless I can find a replacement.’

‘I could always fill in for Lucia,’ she said. ‘I can cook and I can clean.’

Alessandro looked down at her upturned face. Could he risk it? Could he employ her for the next couple of days and wear the consequences? It would solve one problem even if it threw up some others. He knew the press was already wondering why he was here without a mistress. Since his breakup with Lissette there had been speculation over who would take her place. Who better than the young woman who had turned him down in the past? It would be different this time of course. He would employ her. It would be a business deal. They would both get what they wanted. No emotional involvement, just cold hard cash. He would have to protect himself legally, of course. He would get his legal people to draw up an agreement immediately. One indiscreet word to the press from her and his business deal could be jeopardised. But he was prepared to risk it if it meant he could have Rachel at his beck and call even for a day or two. She had no idea what she was taking on. That was part of the appeal for him. She would leave as soon as she found out, he was sure of it. It would prove to him all over again that she was without compassion, without a care for anyone but herself. And right now he needed reminding of it. Having her here had already awakened urges he had soused with cynicism years ago. Her sassiness and spirited and wilful nature excited him much more than any of the compliant partners he’d had over the years.

‘You really want to work for me?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘If working for you for a few days will convince you to consider backing my label, then yes, I will do whatever you want me to do.’

Alessandro hooked one brow upwards. ‘Anything?’

A flicker of uncertainty came and went in her gaze. ‘Anything within reason,’ she said.

‘Just how far are you prepared to go for the financial backing you require?’ he asked.

Her teeth snagged at her full bottom lip. ‘Pretty far …’ ‘I am known to be a hard taskmaster, Rachel,’ Alessandro said. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to satisfy my exacting standards?’

Her cheeks flushed with delicate colour as she valiantly held his gaze. ‘I will do my best to give the best service possible,’ she said.

‘Do you realise that by sharing the villa with me even for a couple of days that people will jump to conclusions about what exactly is the nature of our relationship?’ he said.

The colour on her cheeks deepened. ‘It’s been my experience that people will think what they like no matter what the truth is,’ she said.

‘As long as you understand you are under my employ as a fill-in housekeeper,’ he said. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas of filling in other areas of my life.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘You would have to pay me a king’s ransom to become your latest mistress,’ she said.

Alessandro felt his lower spine zap with searing heat at her defiant words. His groin burned with the sudden flash fire of longing, a burgeoning heat that threatened to overthrow every bit of his resolve to have nothing to do with her. He had always wanted to tame her shrewish streak and now was a perfect opportunity to do it. ‘Dangerous words, Rachel,’ he warned silkily. ‘Don’t go throwing challenges down at me like that. I might just take you up on it.’

CHAPTER THREE

RACHEL glared at him. ‘People like you think you can buy anything you want, don’t you? But I am not selling myself, and certainly not to you.’

‘Sleeping rough not your thing any more, little rich girl?’ Alessandro asked with a mocking slant to his mouth.

She ground her teeth. ‘I am offering to work as your housekeeper, nothing else.’

‘I think it will be quite diverting to have you around waiting on me hand and foot,’ he said. ‘This is quite a change in circumstances, sì? I’ll have to find something really menial for you to do. I wonder if you will be able to handle it.’

Rachel hauled herself out of the pool with a strength she had not known she possessed. She flung her wet hair back from her face and glared down at him. There was something about him just sitting there with his long tanned legs dangling in the pool that sent her anger skyrocketing. He was acting so cool and collected, so calm and clinical, so in control—of her. ‘You bastard,’ she said through lips trembling with rage. ‘I bet you planned this right from the start.’

‘I haven’t planned anything, Rachel,’ he said in the same calm even tone. ‘I have simply offered you a business proposition. That is all this is: a temporary contract between us. Once Lucia is back you are free to go.’

She put her hands on her hips and continued to glare down at him. ‘So you’re not even going to consider backing my label?’

‘One thing you need to know about me, Rachel, is I don’t rush headlong into things without serious consideration,’ he said. ‘I am not putting my name to something that is not worthy of my time and commitment and hard-earned money.’

‘Will you at least look at my designs and my business plan?’ she asked.

‘I will consider it if you behave yourself.’

‘You mean if I sleep with you,’ she said with a hardened look.

His eyes slowly moved over her, leaving a smouldering path on her flesh in their wake. ‘Is that the way you normally conduct business?’ he asked.

‘No, of course not!’ Rachel said. ‘I just assumed you would want to—’

‘You should not assume anything when it comes to me,’ he said with one of his enigmatic barely there smiles.

Rachel felt emotionally stranded. What did he want from her if not to sleep with her? Their brief affair had not been consummated five years ago. Wouldn’t forcing her to sleep with him for money be the perfect revenge? In the past he had always only ever touched her once she had given him encouragement, which was more than she could say for her ex-fiancé who had seemed to think he could do anything he wanted whenever he wanted irrespective of her wishes.

But if Alessandro were to sleep with her he would find her a very poor partner, certainly nothing like the exotic and physically confident women he was used to. It would be so humiliating to have him find out how limited she was sensually. But for all her inadequacies sexually, she still felt an electrifying energy in the air when she was with him, an undercurrent of sensual heat that was visceral. She felt the dancing nerves of her skin when his eyes rested on her. She felt the stirring of her blood, the escalation of her pulse every time he spoke in that rich, deep, well-modulated voice of his. He was having a tumultuous effect on her senses that she could not in any way control. Was he aware of it? Was that his intention in having her here like this? To show her how it felt to be the one spurned? Why hadn’t she realised one day there would be a price to pay?

‘I will give you the rest of the day to think it over,’ Alessandro said. ‘I will have an agreement drawn up legally. It will be ready by dinner for you to sign.’

Rachel frowned at him. ‘An agreement? What sort of agreement? Why does it have to be so formal?’

‘By agreeing to live here with me for even a day or two you will be required to sign a contract that forbids you to speak to the press,’ he said.

‘You don’t trust my word?’ she asked.

‘You should go and shower,’ Alessandro said, ignoring her question. ‘You will burn if you stay in the sun any longer.’

‘Are you coming in now?’ Rachel asked, not really liking the feeling of being summarily dismissed.

‘No, I want to swim some more,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner. I hope you can find your way around the kitchen. Lucia keeps it well stocked. I would like to dine at eight-thirty and I expect you to dine with me.’

‘Isn’t that a bit unusual?’ she asked. ‘You don’t take any of your meals with Lucia.’

‘This is an entirely different situation,’ he said. ‘You are here as a guest as well as a temporary employee.’

‘I’m not really a guest though, am I?’ she said. ‘You never wanted me here in the first place, or so you said.’

‘If I am not the most welcoming host you have only yourself to blame,’ he said. ‘But now that you are here I am prepared to make the best of it. I suggest you do the same.’

Rachel collected her dress and sandals but decided against dressing and instead took one of the towels that was lying on the sun lounge and used it like a sarong. She glanced back at the pool but Alessandro was still sitting on the edge looking at the water, a frown pulling at his brow. Her heart gave another tiny unexpected squeeze but she quickly shook off the sensation and walked back into the villa and up the staircase to her room.

She wasn’t sure why she went to the window but she found her feet taking her there as if they had developed a mind of their own. She looked down to the terrace below but there was no sign of Alessandro in the pool. He was no longer sitting on the edge either. There was no sign of him anywhere.

She moved towards the en suite but when she came out after her shower she could hear in the background the mechanical whirr of some kind of machinery from deep within the villa. A lift perhaps? She assumed it was Lucia leaving to go to her family. Maybe the housekeeper found the four flights of stairs too much given she had to keep the massive villa in order, which she seemed to do with meticulous care, Rachel thought as she looked longingly at the pristine bed.

A short nap before she started on dinner would hopefully prepare her for another verbal fight with Alessandro. She didn’t like admitting it but she was almost looking forward to it.

After her rest Rachel changed back into her linen trousers and top. She had no jewellery other than a tiny diamond pendant that had been her mother’s. She never went anywhere without it. She had no make-up to put on. Her cosmetics bag was inside her luggage, which had still not been located. She had a tube of lip gloss in her handbag, which made her feel marginally less unsophisticated. She pulled her hair back into an elegant chignon at the back of her head. It was her power hairdo; no stray hairs to make her look like a child that had just come in from playing in the back garden.

She walked down the staircase, her hand sliding down the cool marble as she went. She had to find her way to the kitchen on her own, but then she hadn’t been given a tour. Alessandro had been adamant about the two-day limit on her stay, but now with Lucia’s family crisis working in her favour she had a window of opportunity to change his mind about backing her. How to get him to change his mind was something that was certainly going to be a challenge. The money he had given her would not last the week given the state of the company’s finances. Would she go as far as to beg for his help? Was that what he wanted her to do? He was such an intriguing man: mysterious, aloof and so disturbingly, tantalisingly male. Living with him as his housekeeper for a day or two would test her in ways she had not expected to be tested. She hadn’t expected to still feel that strange flutter of nerves every time he looked at her. His gaze was like a physical touch. She felt it following her every move. She felt the stirring of her blood, the heating of her flesh as if his gaze were a brand sealing the invisible connection she felt each time she was in his presence.

She decided she would have to be careful.

Very careful.

The kitchen was a cook’s dream and there was no shortage of fresh and store-cupboard ingredients to whip up a gourmet meal. Rachel dived into the task, determined to show Alessandro how capable she was. Long gone were the days of hiring cooks and cleaners to do the work for her. She had learned a lot over the last few years and took pride in being able to cook for a couple or a crowd.

Rachel hadn’t heard Alessandro enter the dining room. She came in to put the finishing touches to the table to find him already seated at the head of the table next to the bottle of champagne and white wine she had placed in an ice bucket earlier.

‘Dinner won’t be long,’ she said. ‘I just have to check the chicken casserole.’

‘I said dinner was to be at eight-thirty,’ he said, challenging her with his dark blue eyes.

Rachel felt her back come up. ‘My watch says it’s only eight-twenty.’

‘Then your watch must be wrong,’ he returned.

‘Are you usually so pedantic about mealtimes or is this just for my benefit?’ she asked.

‘You are now under my employ, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I will not tolerate sloppiness or unpunctuality in any form.’

She tried to stare him down but in the end she had to look away. Resentment burned inside her like hot coals as she flounced back to the kitchen to bring in the meal.

He was still sitting at the head of the table when she came in with their starter. She placed it before him and went to stand by her place opposite. It annoyed her again how he just sat there like a king waiting for his subjects to appear before him. He must be doing it on purpose, to make her feel she was not worth the effort of acknowledging her or by rising when she came into the room. The very least he could have done was to stand up and pull out her chair for her. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t started on your food before I’ve even sat down,’ she said.

‘It is the height of rudeness to begin eating one’s meal until every guest is seated at the table and has each been served their meal,’ Alessandro said.

‘It is also rude for a man not to rise when a lady enters the room,’ Rachel quickly shot back.

He looked past her as if looking for some other guest to appear. ‘I had not noticed any ladies enter the room,’ he said with a cool stretch of his lips that kept his teeth concealed. ‘Perhaps you will inform me if and when one does.’

Rachel clenched her hands on the back of the chair in case she was tempted to slap him for his insulting slight. ‘You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘You’re getting a sick sense of enjoyment out of this turn of the tables. Your lord-of-the-manor routine is pathetic. No amount of wealth is going to be able to change your background. You can whitewash it all you like with your wealthy surroundings and priceless possessions but underneath it all you are still a rough kid from the suburbs who got lucky.’

‘Sit,’ he said, his eyes locked on hers, fire meeting ice.

She gripped the chair even harder, defiance pushing her chin forward. ‘I will sit when you stand.’

‘You will be waiting a long time, Rachel,’ he said. ‘Now sit before I lose my temper.’

The air began to crackle as if charged with thousands of volts of electricity as his dark sapphire eyes held hers in a powerful lockdown.

A feather of unease danced up Rachel’s spine. There was no visible sign of anger on his face, but she felt it all the same. It was invisible but very, very real. It moved around her, closing in on her like invisible coils that were tightening her chest with every beat of her heart.

The silence throbbed and throbbed but then he broke it by saying, ‘I have the papers here for you to sign.’ He passed them to her.

Rachel hesitated, but then she took them with an unsteady hand. It annoyed her how the slight rattle of the pages betrayed her state of being while he remained so cool and untouched. It seemed so unfair for her to be feeling like a chastised child while he acted the role of the reprimanding authority figure.

‘You should read them carefully before you sign them,’ he added.

She pulled out her chair and sat down before she realised what she had done. She’d had no intention of taking her seat while he was still sitting but somehow he had got his way. ‘Nice one, Vallini,’ she said, giving him a narrow-eyed glance. ‘Read the document, Rachel,’ he said expressionlessly. She read through the document carefully. It stated that she was to be temporarily employed as his housekeeper and in doing so was required to sign a confidentiality agreement. If she spoke to the press during the time of her employment or for up to six months afterwards she would have to repay all monies paid to her, including the ten thousand euros he had already given her.

‘Is there a problem?’ Alessandro asked. She looked across at him, wondering why he was being so calculated about this. It seemed a bit extreme for a two-day stay. But then he had good reason to think she would do anything to get the money she so desperately needed. A quick spill to the press had the potential to earn her thousands but there was no way she would dream of doing that to someone, not after knowing firsthand how it felt to have your private life splashed across every headline. ‘No, not really,’ she said. ‘It seems pretty straightforward. You’re paying me to keep my mouth shut.’

‘A day or two at the most is all I want from you,’ he said. ‘Once that time is up you are free to go. You will not owe me a penny unless you act with indiscretion.’

Rachel took the pen, her fingers feeling the warmth of where his had been. He hadn’t touched her, not even a brush of his fingers as he handed her the pen, but her hand felt as if it were on fire. She signed her name before handing the pen and the document back to him. ‘Do you get all your mistresses to sign confidentiality agreements before you sleep with them?’ she asked.

His eyes glinted darkly as they held hers. ‘You are not technically being employed as my mistress, Rachel.’

Rachel felt her colour rise. ‘How do I know you won’t add it to my list of duties?’

He took a long time to answer. A very long time. ‘I don’t like mixing business with pleasure,’ he said. ‘It is a dangerous combination that can leave one open to exploitation.’

Rachel knew he was having a dig at her for the way she had led him on in the past. From his point of view she had acted like a trashy little tart, offering herself to him at every opportunity. She had flirted with him and teased him and had enjoyed every moment of it. He had made her feel so feminine and gorgeous and so irresistible that it had gone completely to her head. But looking back now she wished she had been a little more mature and a little more sensible about how she had conducted herself.

Alessandro put the papers to one side and reached for the bottle of champagne. ‘Shall we celebrate our temporary arrangement?’ he said.

‘Why not?’ Rachel said, affecting a carefree tone when she felt anything but.

He handed her a glass of sparkling bubbles and then, taking his own, held it against hers in a toast. ‘To standing up for oneself,’ he said and drank a hefty mouthful.

She took a small sip and then frowned as she traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip. ‘I’m a lot better at it now than I was.’

Alessandro put his glass down. ‘I don’t know about that. I think you’ve always been good at fighting from your corner.’ There was a little silence.

‘When did you decide to end your relationship with Hughson?’ he asked.

She looked at the contents of her glass rather than meet his eyes. ‘I could see things were not working out between us,’ she said. ‘We had very little in common apart from our backgrounds. I think I always knew that but I was under pressure from my father to do the right thing.’

‘Meaning he wanted you to marry money.’

His statement sounded like a criticism. ‘Yes, but then that was the way I was brought up,’ Rachel said. ‘I was taught to mix with the right people.’

‘But you amused yourself by the occasional fraternisation with the lower classes,’ he said.

Rachel met the glacial glitter of his unwavering gaze. ‘I can’t really explain my behaviour,’ she said, looking away again. ‘I didn’t intend to hurt you. I think I just got carried away. I had spent years insulting you and then I was suddenly fighting an attraction that was beyond anything I had experienced before.’

‘So you ended your engagement,’ Alessandro said after a pause.

‘Yes. I would have broken things off a lot earlier but … but it was hard to … well, to admit I had got it so wrong about him.’

‘Pride.’

She looked up at him, her white teeth snagging at her bottom lip in that bewildered-child manner that never failed to stir something deep and primal in him. ‘Yes, pride and the fact that my father thought Craig was everything a future son-in-law should be. I called off the wedding twenty-four hours before it was scheduled to go ahead, and my father has never let me forget how it contributed to his bankruptcy. I knew Craig had poured a bit of money into the business but I hadn’t realised how much. Of course he subsequently pulled out everything once I called off the wedding. And then there was all that food, all those flowers, the dress, the cake—you can probably imagine how it went.’

‘I can.’

She bit her lip again, deeper this time, so deep Alessandro wanted to reach out and brush her soft lip with the pad of his thumb to restore its soft plumpness.

He picked up his glass instead and took another mouthful of the champagne. He didn’t want to think about her with her ex-fiancé. He hated thinking about her with that creep. Every day of that liaison had been like a lighted poker to his flesh. It had tortured him to think of her with that brute’s hands and mouth and body on hers. But it was what she had chosen. She had chosen Hughson’s money over his love. He had been totally gutted by her shallowness and greed. He had fought for years to put it behind him, to keep his emotions in check, to live life without feeling anything for anyone. But now his hatred for what she had done returned with a vengeance. For so long he had ignored it, but now it was back like a filthy choking tide clogging his blood. He hated her with the same passion as with which he had once loved her.

‘You never liked him, did you?’ she said, looking at him again.

Alessandro put his glass down. ‘Are we talking about your father or your fiancé?’ he asked.

Twin flags of colour rose in her cheeks. ‘Both really …’

‘I realise it is never comfortable hearing someone criticise someone you love,’ he said. ‘But then that is what is so endearing about young children. They only see the good in their parents.’

‘I was hardly an infant when you came to work for my father,’ she said. ‘I was eighteen years old, legally an adult.’

Alessandro pictured her back then, all rich-kid attitude with no idea how the real world worked—the world he had been dragged through for as long as he could remember. Her silver-spoon lifestyle made her feel superior. She had looked down that up-tilted nose of hers and sneered at anyone who wasn’t dressed in the latest designer wear or driving the fastest sports car. He had taken it on the chin for the first couple of years, putting up with her catty remarks about his background or his clothes or the second-hand car he drove. But then she had started flirting with him. He had ignored it at first but after a time she had been impossible to resist. The first time he had kissed her his senses had imploded. His body had throbbed and ached for her but he had never pushed her to sleep with him. He hadn’t felt comfortable concealing their relationship. He had wanted to go public with it but she had always insisted no one must know. Little had he realised it had all been a game to her; leading him on for weeks on end, only to reject him like a stray mongrel dog that had the audacity to have turned up at a pedigree show. For the last few years he had felt glad she had got her comeuppance. He had watched from a distance as she had lost her modelling contract, and then how the slurs on her reputation were played out in the press, which left her with no one willing to take her on, and he had felt nothing but satisfaction.