Kitabı oku: «Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss: Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife / The Boss's Unconventional Assistant / The Boss's Forbidden Secretary»

Unworldly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss

Secretary Mistress, Convenient Wife

Maggie Cox

The Boss’s Unconventional Assistant

Jennie Adams

The Boss’S Forbidden Secretary

Lee Wilkinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Secretary Mistress,

Convenient Wife

Maggie Cox

About the Author

The day MAGGIE COX saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loves most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.

To everyone at the Miracle Café for the inspiration

I receive every time I go there!

CHAPTER ONE

‘MIO Dio!’

Jet-lagged and irritable, Fabian Moritzzoni pressed his fingers between his brows and sighed heavily. Finally, in complete exasperation, he rose up from his seat. Outside, the sound of passionately raised voices sliced through the atmosphere—an ill-timed bombardment he was unprepared for and could well have done without. And the loudest voice of all belonged to his housekeeper, Maria.

By the time Fabian reached the twin front doors of his palatial home, the tail-lights of a battered silver Fiat were careening away at speed down the wide, gravelled drive, and Maria stood glaring after them, her hands planted firmly on her amply fleshed hips as though she was quite prepared to take on the whole Roman army if she had to.

‘Are we being invaded?’ Fabian demanded in his native Italian. ‘Because that’s what it sounds like!’

‘The nerve of these people! The audacity! Who do they think they are?’ Turning her affronted gaze towards her employer, Maria passionately elaborated, ‘They were from the press, Signor Moritzzoni. I caught them sneaking around, taking pictures of the villa. Then, when I confronted them, they demanded an interview with you about the anniversary concert and about the celebrities that are going to be there. I sent them packing with a flea in their ear, I can tell you!’

‘They should be speaking to Carmela if they want an interview. No doubt she has organised something to that effect already.’

Shaking his head from side to side, Fabian sighed. Then, in spite of his irritable mood, he found himself succumbing to the wryest of grins.

‘I am fortunate indeed to have you around to protect my privacy, Maria. It is better than having a personal guard! But do me a favour, eh? Keep the volume down first thing in the morning … respect for my poor head, yes?’

‘Of course, Signor Moritzzoni. Shall I make your coffee now and bring it to you?’

‘That would be very good. Thank you.’

Taking his espresso coffee with him, Fabian followed the long, winding concrete path down to the elegant orangerie at the end of his lush private garden. Sitting down beside an intricately fashioned wrought-iron table outside on the terrace, he glanced back towards the graceful Palladian house that dazzled in the early-morning Tuscan sunshine, and at the plethora of pristine white marquees that had been erected in front of it. At the end of the coming week those marquees would be milling with the cream of Italian glitterati, as well as family and friends, all attending the now famous concert that Fabian organised every year in memory of Roberto Moritzzoni—his father.

The house was, inevitably, a hive of activity, in preparation for the big event. Add to that the altercation outside earlier with the press, and he craved some time alone to drink his coffee and think his thoughts in peace. Although the notion of peace and his father definitely did not go hand in hand …

The prospect of the coming concert had been playing on Fabian’s mind for days now, and had induced the tension and irritation in him that he’d come to know only too well. Add to that a frightening schedule, travelling here there and everywhere, and he had to own to not receiving the same satisfaction and pleasure from his work as he normally did. As a highly successful businessman, dealing in valuable art as well as giving support to several important and worthy charities, his presence seemed to be in almost constant demand, and lately he had had the compelling notion that he ought to jump ship for a while and really look at where his life was going. God knew, a review was well overdue.

Scraping his hand through the strands of his dark gold hair, he grimaced. With such a gruelling work schedule a restorative vacation seemed light years away, never mind the possibility of the other pressing item that had been on his mind of late—marriage and children.

‘So this is where you are hiding. Maria said that she’d seen you head this way.’

Her pretty mouth shaped into a teasing grin, his PA, Carmela, suddenly hove into view. He’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that Fabian hadn’t even registered her approach. Inevitably accompanied by her trusty notepad and pen, she was clearly primed and ready for work. So much for time on his own to sit in quiet contemplation!

‘I have been back but one day in my own house, after my trip to America, and it is like returning to a football stadium! Apart from my private suite, I swear there is not one room anywhere that is not overflowing with people! Do you wonder that I have to hide?’ Fabian grumbled.

Carmela gave him another broad grin. ‘Poor Fabian! But I have some good news for you, so perhaps hearing it will cheer you up.’

‘And what is this good news you have to cheer me? You are not going on honeymoon just before the concert after all?’

Carmela’s grin disappeared. ‘Of course I am going on honeymoon, Fabian! I have already postponed it once in deference to the demands of work. Vincente is a patient man, but not that patient! No … I came to tell you that my friend Laura will be arriving from the UK later on this afternoon, and I will be showing her the ropes so that she can take over from me when I leave the day after tomorrow.’

‘Stepping into your shoes and handling such an important event is a big responsibility to put on the shoulders of a novice, Carmela. Are you sure this friend of yours will be up to the task?’

‘She’s been a music teacher for some years now, and has also organised some local concerts where she lives, so she’s not exactly inexperienced. And she will, of course, be very familiar with the artistic aspect of the work.’

‘Does she speak Italian?’ Pressing his fingers against the tender spot between his dark gold brows again, Fabian winced, as though some medieval instrument of torture was doing its best to bring him to his knees.

‘She’s a very fast learner, and when I was at school with her in London she was always top of the class in languages. Anyway, your own English is practically perfect, so you won’t have to worry.’

‘Good … just as long as she does not expect me to hold her hand and guide her every step! Quite frankly, I will be very glad when this whole tedious affair is over and my home can return to normal.’

Tossing back her head of raven curls, Carmela took instant umbrage. ‘The concert is a wonderful event that raises a lot of money for the children’s hospice. Surely you do not regard the privilege of holding it as “tedious”, Fabian?’

‘Of course not! That is not what I meant at all!’ Now it was his turn to display offence. ‘Okay,’ he continued impatiently, ‘let us get back to your friend. I am very grateful that you have found her for us. Has she been to Tuscany before?’

‘No. I have invited her many times, but in the past few years things have been rather difficult for her, and circumstances did not allow her to make the trip. She tells me she is definitely overdue for some sunshine, and I know she will fall in love with this place and the beautiful Villa de Rosa … who could not? That reminds me … I must speak with Maria to check if Laura’s rooms are ready. That is the other positive aspect of the situation that should help make things less stressful for you, Fabian. She’ll be here on the premises whenever you need her. Shall I get you another coffee? That one looks as though it is going cold.’

‘Please.’ Pushing the cup in its matching cream saucer towards Carmela, Fabian could no longer suffer in silence. ‘And bring me a glass of water and something for a headache, will you?’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have any more coffee if you have a headache?’

‘So you are my mother now, as well as my assistant?’

‘I was only trying to—’

‘You should know by now I am impossible without my coffee in the morning! But take heart, Carmela … In a day or two you won’t have to think of my needs. It will be your very fortunate husband who will command all your attention!’

Yet again her boss’s wry humour prevented her from feeling too indignant, and his young assistant immediately forgave him his grouchy mood. She realised he had a lot on his plate, and that he was probably handling it a lot better than most would do in his situation.

‘I will bring what you ask and make sure you are not disturbed for an hour at least … will that help?’

‘If you can do that you are a miracle-worker!’

‘A moment ago I was your mother!’

Rolling her eyes heavenwards, Carmela hurried away, and as he watched her retreat Fabian found himself considering yet again the rather intricate subject of a wife and heir. Intricate because he was not at present in a relationship, nor intended to be. When a man had been scorched by flame once in his life he got wise to the danger, and learned never to stand so close to the fire again. But he was thirty-seven years old, and time was not standing still.

Because of his considerable wealth, and the responsibilities that came with the ownership of the palatial Villa de Rosa—the home that had been in his family for centuries—he needed a son or daughter to inherit. No … there simply had to be another way to get what he wanted other than embarking on some doomed love affair. Over the next few days he would seriously apply himself to finding the solution.

‘It’s so good to have you here at last! It’s been such a long time … too long! Of course I am looking forward to my honeymoon, but it would be so nice to be able to spend some time with you. Promise me you won’t run off straight away when I return in two weeks’ time?’

Regarding the perfectly groomed, curvaceous brunette who had been her best friend at school, Laura wondered how the intervening years since they’d last met had flown by so quickly. It had been at least ten years since they’d seen each other. Of course they’d kept in regular contact by letter and e-mail, and sometimes by phone, but it wasn’t the same as seeing someone on a regular basis and having the chance to deepen your friendship with them. But now that she was here in Tuscany Laura was determined to make the best of the opportunity that had fortuitously come her way.

Carmela’s offer of a job—albeit a temporary one—had been a Godsend, quite frankly. Laura didn’t even mind that this was to be no holiday, because music was her absolute passion. Just to be around it would do wonders for her spirit and morale, she was certain.

‘I don’t have a job to return to as yet, Carmela,’ she answered now. ‘So I have nothing to rush back to the UK for.’

‘That is good to hear. Not that you don’t have a job, of course, but that you will be able to stay and visit me properly!’

‘I’ve been looking forward to renewing our friendship for a long time.’

Laura crossed her arms over the pretty white antique lawn and lace blouse she wore with a pastel blue skirt, and her smile was genuinely heartfelt. Then, with a soft sigh, she turned her grey eyes away for a moment, drawn by the beautiful sunlit gardens she saw through the huge Palladian windows.

The white roofs of the elegant marquees glinting in the afternoon sunshine reminded her of a medieval joust, where richly dressed lords and ladies would make their entrance at any moment to take their seats for the coming performance. The sea of white made a stunning contrast against the surrounding shimmering green of the perfectly mown lawns. In the distance was an ornate white marble balustrade, with steps just beyond it leading into what was clearly a much more private section of the garden. Meanwhile, the scents of honeysuckle and wisteria drifted through the opened windows, filling the air with a soporific fusion of rare delight. It was like stepping into a dream …

‘And what do you think of your rooms?’ the dark-haired girl pressed eagerly. ‘I’ve put you near the back of the house, where it is a bit more private should Fabian have guests staying, and the views from your windows are quite spectacular!’

‘They’re lovely, Carmela—just lovely! I shall be able to indulge every girl’s fantasy of being a princess with such elegant rooms to myself, as well as sleeping in that beautiful four-poster bed!’

‘Carmela—have you spoken to the press yet? This morning they—Excuse me. I did not realise that you had company.’

At the sound of that richly voiced Italian, Laura turned. Viewing the man that was responsible for it, she saw him momentarily hesitate, his glance sweeping over her with mild surprise, before entering the room. There was a strange kind of tension immobilising her, that made her thought-processes feel as if someone had pressed a slow motion button. Was this Carmela’s boss? If it was, he was the antithesis of what she’d been expecting.

Golden-haired, blue-eyed, with a strong, lean jaw and of an imposing height, he might easily have hailed from Denmark, Sweden or even Germany. Yet the confident, slightly arrogant way he bore himself, and the way he wore his clothes—as though they and he were in complete enviable accord—easily convinced her he was a true son of Italy.

Azure, they called the colour that was so reminiscent of the Mediterranean, and that was the startling hue conveyed by this man’s disturbingly direct glance as he focused it on Laura. Feeling heat assail her from all sides, she quickly looked away—taken aback that she should experience such an emphatic reaction to someone she’d only just met.

‘Fabian! You’re just in time to meet Laura. She arrived only an hour ago, and I was just about to come and find you to introduce you.’ Putting her hand behind the fair-haired girl’s back, Carmela impelled her forward, as if concerned she would be too reticent. ‘Laura, this is Signor Fabian Moritzzoni … owner of the Villa de Rosa and my employer. Fabian, this is my dear friend Laura Greenwood.’

Automatically Laura held out her hand, and felt the man’s large cool palm enclose hers, his clasp neither too firm nor too slack, yet without a doubt signifying authority—and she found herself immediately under disquieting surveillance.

‘My pleasure, Signorina Greenwood. It appears I am indebted to you for agreeing to stand in as my assistant in Carmela’s absence. You had a good journey from the UK, I trust?’

‘I did, thank you.’

‘And this is your first time in Tuscany, I hear?’

‘It is, but that’s not because of any lack of desire. Carmela’s been asking me to visit for ages, but somehow it never seemed to be the right time. Still … I’m here now and I hope that I’ll be able to be a real help to you, Signor Moritzzoni.’

‘That is my wish too, Signorina Greenwood.’ Fabian’s tanned brow furrowed slightly as he gazed back at Laura. ‘So. You will take the rest of the day off to settle in, and presumably start work tomorrow? Carmela will put you in the picture about what needs to be done. Does that meet with your approval?’

His unsettling examination didn’t waver for an instant. He had the glance and acuity of focus of the shrewdest of businessmen. Laura would not like to be on the receiving end should she be someone who was trying to deceive him. But then she thought of something else. Had he seen the scar? Was that what he was looking at so intently? She lifted her hand automatically to touch the pale golden strands of her fringe, suddenly self-conscious of the disfigurement beneath it. No doubt it must displease him, in this land of the terrifyingly good-looking to gaze upon a woman whose already average looks were marred by an ugly scar. She wished he would finish talking to Carmela and go. Her confidence and determination in taking this job and making a success of it had not disappeared—but it had definitely been a little shaken.

‘There’s no need for me to wait until tomorrow to make a start,’ she said. ‘If Carmela needs me to give a hand straight away, then that’s fine with me. I want her to be able to leave for her honeymoon with a settled mind, knowing that she’s left the situation in good hands. The sooner I get to grips with what needs to be done, the better.’

‘You see, Fabian?’ Carmela cheerfully exclaimed. ‘I told you there would be nothing to worry about with Laura here!’

‘I am sure that you are right.’

His voice was smooth as amontillado and oloroso sherry combined—nonetheless, Laura detected a definite edge to the Italian’s disturbing glance that seemed to say I will be extremely disappointed if you should let me down. Inwardly she shivered as her eyes determinedly met his, and it took every ounce of will she possessed to hold his gaze and not look away.

CHAPTER TWO

SINCE the arrival of the opera company and the orchestra that morning for rehearsals the house and grounds had joyfully vibrated with the sound of music and song. Listening in wonderment, Laura wished the children she’d taught could hear what she was hearing now. They might only have been six or seven years old, but they’d quite quickly acquired a fine appreciation of some of the classical pieces that she’d brought into class for them to listen to, as well as enjoying listening to their teacher occasionally playing the piano. They’d all been so eager to learn an instrument too, and Laura had done much to encourage their fledgling interest. But she hadn’t taught her class for over two years now, and as a consequence there was a hollow ache inside her that couldn’t easily be filled.

There had been a time in the past when she’d dreamt of a career performing music herself, but once she’d discovered her love of teaching it to children she had honestly believed she’d found her true calling. Now, after a period of enforced rest and recuperation because of her accident, she would have to start the search for a similar fulfilling post all over again. As soon as she got back from Tuscany she fully intended to redouble her efforts to that end, but at the moment she was pretty much in seventh heaven here, in this stunningly exquisite house, helping out a friend in need. Her spirits and morale were already uplifted by the sound of the music around her.

While Carmela consulted her master plan for the concert, in order to properly explain it all to Laura and make sure she hadn’t left anything important out, her friend busied herself with more practical things. She didn’t want to be idle with so much clearly to be done. Everyone she met seemed to have a hundred and one jobs to do. That being the case, Laura took it upon herself to help out wherever she saw she might be needed.

On checking back with Carmela a while later, she found her still fine-tuning arrangements, as well as making some important phone calls that only she could deal with. Seeing that the kitchen staff were run off their feet, she gave them a hand by carrying trays of drinks and food to the hard grafting workmen on the site, erecting the stage and lighting inside the largest marquee.

‘Buongiorno, Signorina Greenwood.’

Halfway across the lawn, transporting empty glasses back to the kitchen, Laura came to a standstill at Fabian Moritzzoni’s greeting.

‘Buongiorno,’ she replied, aware that her voice was not quite steady.

The man had ruffled her, suddenly confronting her like that when she hadn’t been expecting it. He was wearing a white linen shirt over ecru-coloured chinos, with his sunglasses pushed back on top of his darkly golden head, and his appearance had a raffish sort of Bohemian quality about it, rather than the look of almost intimidating businessman of yesterday—though it would be a foolish individual indeed who believed he was anything less than one hundred per cent sharp … one hundred per cent on the money in every way. Being so painfully aware of the charismatic quality of this man could potentially be the most distracting drawback to this job, Laura concluded. Immediately she recognised the indefinable threat he represented to her peace of mind, and the still tender, wounded part of her wanted to instantly retreat.

‘I see that you are already in the thick of things. An event like this is a lot of work, no?’ He smiled, utilising that gesture with the easy confidence of a man who had had the world’s attention from the moment he was placed into his doting mother’s arms as a baby. Next to the supreme vitality he radiated, Laura felt like a very pale shadow in comparison.

Fabian had forgotten how delicate-looking this replacement assistant for Carmela was. Yesterday he’d had an impression of snow-pale skin and enormous grey eyes in an elfin face, and today her fragility was further emphasised by the sight of a body as slender as the stem of a birch tree at the mercy of strong winds. Her white muslin top and slim fitting skirt could not help but draw his attention to her tiny waist, boyish hips and small breasts, and her fine blonde fringe did its best to conceal a painful-looking scar.

Fabian sensed his smile quickly turn into a frown. ‘Where are you taking that?’ he demanded, jerking his head towards the tray she carried. ‘To the kitchen? Let me take it for you. It looks heavy.’

But as he reached for it Laura moved deftly to the side, her pale cheeks suddenly flooded with pink. ‘I’m stronger than I look, Signor Moritzzoni!’ she announced with spirit, and Fabian silently acknowledged feeling surprised at her vehement response. ‘Presumably you’re not going to pay me for letting someone else do the work?’ she went on. ‘Anyway … I don’t want to hold you up. I’d best get on.’

When she would have moved away, Fabian had the oddest notion to keep her there for a moment. ‘You are not holding me up, and I did not mean to cause offence by offering my help. However, I am surprised to see you doing domestic work when I naturally expected Carmela to be occupying you with the organisation of the concert.’

She blushed even pinker than before. ‘I was just trying to make myself useful while she did some last-minute checking of the plan before showing me the ropes. I’d best take this to the kitchen and get back there, to see if she’s ready for me now.’

‘Signorina Greenwood?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do not forget that at midday we all stop for siesta … no matter how busy we are! The sun is far too hot to work then.’

‘Thank you for the reminder,’ she replied diffidently, before hurrying away from him.

‘Piccolo fiocco di neve … little snowflake.’ Giving quiet voice to the whimsical observation that had crept into his mind, Fabian broodingly watched her as she negotiated her way gracefully across the shimmering sunlit lawns towards the house.

Taking a further moment to remind himself of where he had been heading and why, he realised her appearance had drawn his attention as emphatically as an elegant hovering butterfly ensnared the gaze in an unexpected moment of quiet, contemplative delight.

At her friend’s behest at the end of the day’s work, Laura accompanied Carmela to the piazza in the village to have dinner with her and her husband in one of the bustling atmospheric restaurants there. Eager to experience some of the vivid flavours of Tuscan cuisine, as well as to meet Vincente, she was only too pleased to join them. Carmela’s husband was as charming as she’d guessed he would be, with smouldering good-looks and an engaging sense of humour, and she took to him immediately.

Afterwards, while the newlyweds lingered over their coffee—their eyes clearly only for each other—Laura made her way from the covered eating area of the restaurant into the balmy piazza itself. Leaning against a wide stone wall, with her light stole loosely around her shoulders over her pale lemon summer dress, she observed with interest the parade of beautifully attired men and women who strolled casually by. This, she’d learned, was the passeggiata—a nightly event that took place in many towns and villages all across Italy. It was an opportunity for both sexes to openly admire each other and cast a glance over someone special who had caught their eye. Italians worshipped beauty in all its forms, Carmela had told her friend, and welcomed every chance to display and celebrate it.

Feeling pleasantly tired after her exertions of the day at the Villa de Rosa, Laura experienced no guilt at taking a few moments out simply to enjoy the warm magnolia-scented evening and to join the rest of the onlookers in the piazza. There were some stunning-looking individuals populating the square, but none in her opinion that could hold a candle to the frighteningly attractive Fabian Moritzzoni. Surprised at such an out-of-the-blue and definitely disturbing thought, Laura felt a little flutter of unease in the pit of her stomach.

‘Buonasera, signorina.’

A young man with flashing dark eyes and a dazzlingly white shirt passing by with a friend stopped deliberately in front of her and smiled. Taken aback at his interest, Laura knew the same debilitating sense of panic that she always experienced whenever a man glanced her way. Her scar made her extra-sensitive over her looks, despite her determination to try and ignore it. But she was definitely the odd one out in this outwardly harmless parade of beauty, and she’d best not forget it.

Briefly dipping her head in acknowledgement of the unknown man, and starting to withdraw, she was suddenly aware of something of a commotion not far from where she stood. Laura’s gaze, along with that of the young men beside her, turned towards the tall, broad-shouldered owner of tarnished gold hair, who seemed to be heading their way. His progress was being impeded by several enthusiastic compatriots, eager to shake his hand and acknowledge him. It struck her then that Fabian Moritzzoni must be an important man in this community. His handsome face was wearing a patient smile as he returned the effusive greetings that came his way, and he seemed to command the equivalent adulation of a much admired celebrity, but for some inexplicable reason Laura sensed that all was not well beneath the smile that appeared so natural and sincere. Was it the concert that was troubling him?

Finally, he arrived in front of her.

‘Signorina Greenwood.’

His glance made a desert of her mouth with its piercing directness. For a moment all thoughts were suspended as she bathed in that captivating sea of Mediterranean blue. After a deferential ‘buonasera’, her uninvited companions politely made themselves scarce.

‘Hello,’ she breathed.

‘I knew it was you. Your bright hair and equally bright dress singled you out. What have you done with Carmela and Vincente?’

‘They’re still at the restaurant, enjoying their coffee.’

‘But of course … They are newlyweds and, I suppose, anxious to be alone together. I regret that my poor assistant has had to wait so long for the privilege. My schedule is clearly too insane if it has come to this and she cannot take leave even to go away on honeymoon!’

‘Can you not do something about it?’ Laura enquired.

‘What do you mean?’ His gaze narrowed.

‘Well … sometimes it’s good to have a review of things, don’t you think? Might it not be possible for you to lessen some of your commitments and perhaps think about making your schedule a little less demanding?’

Fabian was still mulling over her surprising response when a gentle breeze lifted the edges of her fringe. Immediately her hand went up to pat it down again, and a shadow seemed to move across eyes the hue and colour of palest moonlight.

‘I think I’d better go …’ She tugged the edges of her stole closer together across the bodice of her lovely yellow dress, her smile uncertain and defensive. ‘Carmela might be looking for me.’

Aware that she was obviously self-conscious about the scar marring her otherwise perfectly unblemished skin, Fabian wondered how she had acquired it. Then he told himself not to be concerned. She was only working for him, and other than affecting her ability to do the job she’d been hired for her personal business was just that … personal.

‘If she was going to give you a lift back to the villa, why not let me take you?’ he heard himself suggest. ‘I am going back there myself shortly. We will go and find her and tell her.’

‘I don’t want to impose.’

‘Nonsense! How could you possibly be imposing when you are working for me as well as sleeping under my roof?’

‘In that case then I accept your offer … grazie.’

The night was inky dark, and roads like treacherous narrow ribbons were illuminated by the car headlights as Fabian smoothly confronted each one as if he regularly negotiated far trickier terrain—in even poorer light and with equal impressive ease. His hands were fascinating to watch. Lean, yet powerful, with flawless tanned skin—they would draw a woman’s eye whether he were sculpting clay, digging in the earth or holding a child …

Laura cut off the thought abruptly, even though the picture it conjured up was almost too tantalising for words.

‘Am I driving too fast for you?’

Both amusement and mockery wove through his compelling voice, and Laura glanced at his smiling profile with no little agitation. ‘I have no doubt that you are perfectly in control, Signor Moritzzoni, but I’d be a liar if I told you that the minuscule width of these roads plus the speed we are travelling at didn’t scare me! Would you mind slowing down just a little?’

The impressive Maserati responded to the lightest touch from Fabian—like something wild suddenly tamed—and immediately Laura sensed the powerful machine slow down to a much more acceptable pace. Her relieved sigh was clearly audible in the intimate confines of the luxurious interior, and a swift glance from Fabian told her that he was still somewhat entertained by her caution. He probably thought she was a complete scaredy cat. She had every reason to be cautious, but her new employer did not know that …

‘Is that better?’

‘Much … Thank you.’

‘So what did you think of our little town, hmm?’

‘I thought it was quite delightful. I got the feeling that there was a real sense of community amongst the inhabitants that’s very appealing to a city girl like me! The passeggiata was fascinating too!’

‘We are a very traditional culture, as you probably know, and that is more often reflected in the smaller towns and villages. But Italy is also very modern … more so in places like Milan or Rome.’

‘They always seem such impossibly glamorous destinations, hearing about them back in England! And although I would definitely like to visit them, I think I might just prefer your small town … even though it might not be so modern.’

‘So you are a traditionalist? The type of woman who would prefer home and family to a career and a glamorous social life?’

‘A glamorous social life has certainly never been on my personal agenda, but the conflict between bearing children and having a career doesn’t seem to get any easier for most women. However, I do think that the decision to have a child is such a momentous one that the child’s needs and welfare should definitely come before the demands of a career—you only get one chance at a childhood. But in an equal partnership that could equally apply to a man making that decision. If that view makes me a traditionalist, then I suppose I must be!’

For a few moments Fabian didn’t reply. Withdrawing his gaze only very briefly from the winding road, he examined Laura’s impassioned expression in the semi-dark, wearing a seriously thoughtful one of his own. ‘It is good to know that there are still young women who care so deeply about the welfare of children that choosing to stay home to take care of them over pursuing a career is not seen as such a sacrifice,’ he commented. ‘When what values we have left in western culture have been so cheapened by television and the media it is reassuring to learn that not everyone is so enamoured of or fooled by them.’

As if by mutual agreement they fell silent after that—as though both of them were privately surprised that they had found some unexpected common ground—and it seemed almost no time had passed before they were travelling the final road to their destination.

‘See?’ Fabian said softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a suggestion of pleasure. ‘There are the lights of the villa up ahead. We are almost home.’

Home … Laura wished her dream of what that entailed could be a reality … the reality her heart sorely longed for.

‘Fabian has asked us to join him for lunch,’ Carmela announced absent-mindedly as she breezed into the office midway through the morning. She picked up the master plan for the concert from her desk and glanced down at it with a small frown between her perfectly arched brows.

‘He has?’ On her knees in the middle of the sumptuously carpeted floor, unpacking yet another box of champagne flutes and checking that none was broken, Laura glanced up in shock and surprise.

The heat had descended like a tropical blanket, and the fans dotted round the room were rendered practically useless against such deadening temperatures. Her sleeveless pink linen dress clung stickily to her too-warm skin, yet Carmela looked as fresh and cool as an exotic water lily in comparison.

‘I know I was meant to be leaving at midday, but he insisted I stay for lunch and I agreed.’ Glancing up from her clipboard, the Italian girl rested her lovely gaze on Laura. ‘When Fabian insists on anything, one cannot really argue! Besides … he has been very good to me, and I do not like to disappoint him. He is a considerate, generous man … not a tyrant like some bosses you hear of!’

‘Yes, but why would he invite me too?’ Her brows drawn together in genuine puzzlement, Laura brushed a drifting strand of pale hair away from her face. ‘I’m only here temporarily, and there’s so much to do I really should just crack on. I can eat something later.’

‘That will not do at all!’ Carmela was aghast. ‘I told you. Fabian was most insistent that we both join him. He likes to entertain when he is at home—which is not very often because he travels so much. It helps him unwind, and a lunch like this is also an opportunity for him to get to know you a little before you start to work together, Laura.’

‘Well … in that case I suppose I should go.’

Summoning a smile, Laura silently reflected on the challenge of being driven home by her new employer last night—and now contemplating eating lunch with him today! The intimate arrangement of the seating inside his luxurious sedan, with its attendant and somehow sexy smells of leather and burnished wood, had made her far too aware of the man sitting beside her. So much so that every molecule of air around him had throbbed with the sheer force of his presence, and made it impossible for Laura to feel completely at ease. The conversation they had shared had worked its magic on her too. And even though Fabian had initially been driving too fast for her comfort, it had been a long time since she had felt so safe on a car journey.

The recollection of all this left a far too vivid impression on her already overloaded senses which was hard to dispel. But it was perfectly true what she’d said to Carmela. There was still so much to do, what with the concert scheduled to take place in just four days’ time, and as confident as the Italian girl appeared to be in Laura’s abilities, she had yet to earn that confidence.

Allowing himself the faintest of private smiles as he glanced round the elegantly laid luncheon table, Fabian started to relax. Surrounded by three very beautiful women, he had no argument about not being in his element.

As Aurelia Visconti—a vivacious raven-haired opera star from Verona—chatted to Carmela about her upcoming Caribbean honeymoon, Fabian found his gaze settling on the young Englishwoman. She looked a little flushed from the heat as they sat beneath the luxurious awning outside the orangerie, where they were dining, and her fine blonde hair kept descending in gentle drifts of diaphanous silk around her heart-shaped face …

He realised he was staring. ‘You are a little uncomfortable with our climate, I think, Signorina Greenwood?’ he commented, watching her pale eyes widen, as though she were startled from a dream.

Her fingers moved a little restlessly over the white linen tablecloth. ‘I’ll get used to it. Believe it or not, it was almost as hot in the UK before I left! Climates are changing all over the world, I think.’

‘That certainly seems to be the case.’

‘Still … when you look at the history of the world, the earth always seems to right itself again somehow. I don’t mean to say we can’t take steps to improve things, or admit our part in it, but at the end of the day it’s out of our hands, isn’t it?’

‘Another indication, perhaps, that we are not the ones in charge?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not an entirely comfortable thought for those who like to map out their lives down to the finest detail,’ he remarked with droll humour, leaning back a little in his chair. ‘So … you are not one of those people, Signorina Greenwood—if you believe that our fate is pretty much out of our hands?’

‘No. These days I neither plan nor look too far ahead. Life has a nasty habit of intervening whenever I try to control anything, I find.’

A cloud seemed to pass before her eyes, and Fabian intuited that her mind had visited a dark place for a moment. She was thoughtful and quiet, and seemingly without guile—it struck him how different she was from most women he got into conversation with. For a start there was not the slightest hint of flirtation in her eyes and—without being conceited—he had become accustomed to such an occurrence. Was she in a relationship and perhaps completely devoted to her partner? So much so that she would not dream of making eyes at someone else?

Finding the very concept much too alien to easily embrace, Fabian drummed his fingers on the table. He realised that he would not exactly be averse to Laura flirting a little with him. It was definitely time to divert his thoughts away from such dangerous ground.

‘Carmela tells me that you taught music in England? What ages were your pupils?’

‘Six and seven.’

‘So young!’

‘You are never too young to enjoy music.’

‘And clearly, by the look on your face, you enjoyed teaching the subject to them?’

‘I loved it, as a matter of fact.’ Her blush was in evidence again, and Fabian couldn’t help but derive pleasure from the sight of it. ‘That’s why I was pretty devastated when I lost my job,’ she admitted.

‘What happened?’

‘I was in an accident.’ Appearing as though she’d inadvertently taken a road she would clearly prefer not to go down, Laura grimaced. ‘Consequently I had to take a long period of time off, recuperating. When it was time for me to go back, the school principal told me that the authorities had decided to close down the music department due to lack of funding, and therefore there was no longer a position for me. Music wasn’t exactly a high priority in the school curriculum, but knowing how much the kids loved my classes, I think it’s a crying shame that they took that view.’

Remembering how passionate she’d sounded on the drive home last night when talking about children, Fabian felt an undeniable tug of profound interest.

‘Some educational establishments can be very shortsighted where the arts are concerned … but perhaps that will change in time, with enthusiastic teachers like you to point out the benefits?’ he suggested.

‘It would be nice to think so.’

About to enquire further about her work experience, and curious about the accident that had robbed her of her job, Fabian found his attention suddenly claimed by Aurelia Visconti.

Laying a smoothly plump hand bedecked with diamond rings possessively over his, her ruby-red lips forming a definite pout, ‘Darling!’ she exclaimed dramatically. ‘You are making me feel quite left out, talking to your little English friend over there instead of me! I am sure she has plenty to do, helping to arrange the concert, without monopolising your valuable free time as well!’

CHAPTER THREE

LAURA didn’t understand everything the other woman said, but she’d been listening to language tapes and devouring phrase books ever since she’d agreed with Carmela that she would fly out to Tuscany and act as her stand-in. Consequently she was quite capable of getting the gist of what the opera star’s meaning was, even if the look of disdain in her eyes didn’t render the message loud and clear.

All of a sudden she fervently wished that the final course would arrive. Then she could make her excuses and get back to work. In fact, she wondered if their host would protest if she bypassed the dessert altogether and left now? As she found herself glancing towards Fabian, and the possessive diva by his side, his startling blue gaze met and claimed hers for a long, perturbing moment. Her stomach dived into empty space, as though she were plunging off the edge of the earth.

‘Is something the matter, Laura?’ he asked, completely confounding her by using her first name and not the more formal address she’d been becoming used to.

‘No … nothing’s the matter. I was just wondering if you would mind if I didn’t have dessert and went back to work instead? I’m anxious to keep on top of things and I—’

‘It is my express wish that you stay until the end of our lunch!’ Looking surprised, then furious, Fabian glowered formidably. ‘I am not accustomed to my guests suddenly getting up to leave in the middle of a meal! As important as your duties undoubtedly are, they will just have to wait.’

Feeling everyone else’s gaze on her now, as well as their host’s, Laura knew the heat in her face must cover every shade from puce to cerise in one fell swoop. All she had wanted to do was escape a situation where she was struggling to feel at ease, and she genuinely wanted to get on with the job she’d been hired for. But instead she’d unwittingly offended the very man she couldn’t afford to offend. His attention had returned to the dazzling creature by his side, but Fabian’s hard, slightly arrogant jaw clearly confirmed her conclusion. Feeling miserable now, as well as hot, Laura reached for her glass of water and took a long draught of the ice-cold liquid, hoping it would help cool her embarrassment as well as quench her thirst.

Laura had been wished an affectionate farewell by a flushed and happy Carmela, eager to be off on her honeymoon at last, and had spent the rest of the afternoon familiarising herself with her new duties. She’d rung several of the companies that were providing their services on the night of the concert to introduce herself, and sent out a last small batch of invitations to staff at a local hospital. Carmela had deliberately kept a few back for this express purpose.

In the middle of arranging for flowers to be delivered from Fabian to the formidable Aurelia Visconti, at the villa she was staying at until just after the concert, Laura glanced up in surprise as the man himself put his head round the door. Could it be that there was something going on between him and the beautiful opera star? She told herself it was only human to speculate after the way the older woman had so clearly staked her claim on him for most of their lunch—although Carmela had mentioned in passing that her boss was divorced and unattached.

‘How are you getting on with everything?’ he asked.

‘Fine so far.’

‘No problems?’

Breaking off her telephone conversation, with her concentrated gaze Laura conveyed the fact that he had her full attention.

‘Nothing I couldn’t handle.’

‘Good. I just came to tell you that I am going out for a while, and do not expect to be back until later this evening.’

‘Okay.’

‘And tomorrow you will be moving into my office with me.’

‘Oh … is that really necessary? I mean, I’ve just got used to where everything is, and won’t a move take up valuable time away from organising the concert?’

‘It will take up hardly any time at all. You will need me around to ask questions, and sometimes to talk to people and problem-solve. It will be easier for us both for purposes of work if we are in closer proximity. Was there anything you needed to ask me before I go?’

‘Not that I can think of right now.’

Feeling heat throb through her at the realisation that from tomorrow onwards she would be working in the same office as Fabian, Laura willed herself not to appear flustered by the news. The incident at lunch had made her even more wary of the man than she’d been initially, and she wished she could just erase it from her memory. Yet, perversely, she’d also experienced frustration at not having a chance to ask him more about the concert.

Their little exchange about life and planning had prompted her curiosity about how he personally viewed such things. Was the anniversary concert something that was set in stone as far as Fabian and his family were concerned? Did he ever find the responsibility of hosting such an event year in, year out, somewhat daunting—onerous, even?

Still she grappled with the idea of sharing an office with him …

‘Then have a good evening, and enjoy the dinner that Maria is preparing for you,’ he said now, the faintest suggestion of a smile touching his lips. ‘My housekeeper is an exceptional cook, and she makes the best lasagne in Italy! Ciao!’

‘Ciao …’

The next moment he was gone, leaving just a faint impression of sandalwood and spice hovering in the air, and the slam of another door outside somewhere indicated he was on his way out to his car. Was he visiting Aurelia at her villa, perhaps?

Impatient that such an irrelevant consideration should hijack her thoughts, Laura leant back in her chair behind a desk that screamed to be tidied and ran the flat of her palm over her hair. Shaking the soft fall of golden butter-coloured strands loose from its confining band, she sighed at the release of tension that flowed out of her neck and shoulders, as if a small trapped inlet that had been shut off by a boulder could now flow freely.

The delicious lasagne eaten, and most of the other staff and work teams who had inhabited the building and grounds all day now gone—along with the orchestra and the opera company—Laura found the huge gracious house had become blissfully quiet again. But, although relative silence prevailed, inside Laura’s head all she could hear were echoes of the amazing music that her ears had been treated to throughout the day. She realised that despite everything she was feeling happier than she’d been in ages. She’d made contact at last with a friend she’d very much missed, and had been given this marvellous opportunity to work in an environment that was about as idyllic as she could imagine. Surely it was a sign that life in general was improving vastly?

Humming to herself, she inserted the final invitation to an after-concert supper party into its gilt-edged envelope—this was an event that Fabian was throwing for some local dignitaries—and put it with the others, before tackling the chaos on her desk. That accomplished, she went to kneel on the floor to check through the two boxes of glassware that lay there unopened, wincing slightly as a familiar ache throbbed through her thigh. But the heady scent from the climbing wisteria outside the window, perfuming the tranquil night air, immediately distracted her, and the tune that Laura had been contentedly humming turned into a fully-fledged song.

As Fabian walked into the softly lit marble-floored hallway of the villa all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The voice he could hear singing was so delightful, so exquisitely pure, that he just stood where he was listening, hardly daring to even breathe. Who was this angel? He had never heard her sing before, of that he was certain. Such a voice one would not soon forget! Perhaps she was a younger, more recently recruited member of the company?

As the last notes of the song clung, quivering, to the hushed atmosphere of the night, Fabian let out his breath and moved his head in mute astonishment. He simply had to meet her!

Following the direction whence the voice had come, he walked down the wide, gleaming corridor of closed doors. Everything was absolutely still, with no indication of anyone else’s presence. Knocking at each door before he entered a particular room, he called out, ‘Ciao? C’e nessuno li?’ Is there anybody there? But every room he visited was empty of any other human being but him.

Had he imagined what he’d just heard? Ridiculous! Clearly one of the company was rehearsing somewhere in private and he had unwittingly disturbed them. He would make it his mission to find them, offer his sincere apologies then introduce himself.

A few minutes later Fabian went still as a statue as the exquisite voice he had heard sounded on the air again. He made his way to the office that Laura was now occupying instead of Carmela. There was a tension inside him that seemed to build with every step. Entering the room, he saw his temporary assistant with her back to him, straightening some files on a bookshelf. He saw she had dispensed with her shoes and her feet were bare, and her previously bound hair fell softly around her shoulders. But most of all he realised that the amazing voice that he was hearing belonged to her.

A sense of shock interwoven with pleasure electrified Fabian’s spine. He said nothing—he fully intended to let her finish the song before addressing her—but all of a sudden she stopped, turned round, and gazed at him with a slightly stunned expression.

‘Oh!’

‘Your voice is exquisite … I had no idea.’

‘I hope I didn’t disturb you? I was just enjoying being here in your beautiful house, and I let my happiness and pleasure spill over. I always sing when I’m happy.’

‘Do not apologise. That is a remarkable talent you have, Laura. Carmela never mentioned that you could sing.’

‘I last saw her about ten years ago. Although we kept in touch we never really talked about things like that. Besides … it’s just something I do to amuse myself these days. Nothing more.’

Her hand slid over her cheekbone and he glimpsed a silver earring with a small pale blue stone shimmering on her lobe as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Fabian could hardly believe she was so dismissive of a talent that other people would trade their life savings for.

‘Why is that?’ he asked immediately. ‘With the right people to guide you, you could have an impressive career. I have been around singers, musicians, artists all my life … I do not say this lightly.’

‘But I don’t want an impressive career! What I want is to be able to teach music to children, like I was doing before. I would do it for nothing if I could afford to!’

Stunned by such an unexpected and passionate response, Fabian lifted his brows in surprise. It was no exaggeration to say that people these days seemed to idolise fame and fortune, and yet this slender reed of a girl—although she clearly had talent in abundance—appeared to scorn it in preference to teaching children! He hadn’t felt so taken aback or intrigued by someone in a very long time. Certainly his ex-wife would never have displayed such altruism or heartfelt generosity. Just the opposite, in fact!

But Fabian didn’t want to think about the avaricious and deceitful Domenica. Right now it was this woman who had all his attention.

‘If you would do what you love to do for nothing that is an admirable quality indeed … if a little naïve. You do realise you could very quickly become quite wealthy with a voice like yours, Laura? You would never have to worry about money again.’

‘I told you.’ Moving across the room, she bent down to collect her discarded sandals, and after sliding her small elegant feet inside the soft brown leather she straightened and rested her gaze directly on Fabian. ‘I’m not interested in a career as a singer. I had that dream a long time ago, when I was young, but I’ve since found something I feel far more passionate about. It may never make me rich, but then wealth doesn’t have the fascination for me that it does for some people. Not everyone is so enthralled by the idea of it!’ She bit her lip in sudden anxiety. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offence.’ ‘None taken.’

‘My needs are simple … that’s all I meant. I think I’ll say goodnight now, if you don’t mind? I want to make an earlier start tomorrow.’

‘You have already worked a long day. There is no need to make an earlier start than normal.’

‘If you say so.’

‘What about the man in your life? Surely he would want you to make the most of your exceptional talents?’

Fabian was fishing unashamedly, and for a moment Laura appeared dazed by his question.

‘I’m a single woman. There is no man in my life apart from my father.’

‘Even so … surely he must—?’

‘He only wants whatever makes me happy.’

Her small chin came up, and her pale eyes signalled such defiance that Fabian glimpsed unexpected steel in her character that warned him this was as far as he should go right now.

Unable to think of any other reason to keep her there right then, he slid his hand into his trouser pocket and briefly inclined his head. ‘Then I will see you in the morning, Laura. Sleep well.’ ‘And you.’

Her moonlit gaze withdrew, and she slipped past him like the brush of silk against bare skin—the air she left behind intoxicatingly and beguilingly scented with a perfume that was both sultry and innocent at the same time. For a long time after Fabian’s feet claimed the same spot on the carpet, as though welded there …

‘The lanterns need to be arranged in the trees on either side of the road, so that the drive is clearly lit when people arrive.’

In the middle of explaining some of the external decorating requirements in an earnest blend of English and Italian to the two cheerful and willing workmen standing in the office with her, Laura gave only a perfunctory glance at her boss as he came in through the door, bringing his cup of coffee with him. From today, she was in his domain, and she had never before set foot in such a plush, richly decorated office.

It was nearly twice the size of Carmela’s and—along with the crystal chandelier that hung suspended from the cathedral-like ceiling—it was full of the most exquisite art and objets d’art. Earlier, the same workmen who were with her now had moved her desk and computer to the opposite side of the palatial room from Fabian, and another young man had appeared to connect everything up again. Sunlight streamed in through the enormous windows as though it were worshipping at a shrine.

She couldn’t deny her stomach had flooded with butterflies at the idea that they would be working together so closely. And she couldn’t help but recall what had happened last night when Fabian had discovered her singing. She’d been taken aback by the compliments he had paid her on her voice, and the suggestion that she could have a lucrative career out of it, but it had done nothing to change Laura’s mind about the career she desperately wanted to resume … that of working with children. Her singing had been a spontaneous, unplanned event, brought about by a contentment she had not experienced in a long time, and she had not sought or expected an audience, much less acknowledgement!

‘Buongiorno!’

He included everyone in the convivial greeting as he went to his desk and set down his coffee cup, nonetheless Fabian’s glance came to rest specifically on Laura. It was a feat quite beyond her to glance away from the ocean of achingly vivid blue that blazed back at her.

‘You slept well?’ he asked her.

‘Fine, thank you … You?’

‘Like a bambino!’

His lips broke into the most boyish and captivating grin Laura had ever seen. The sun pouring in through the huge windows behind him illuminated him in a dazzling aura of gold. She knew she was staring, but she would defy anyone—man, woman or child—not to do the same.

‘Really?’ she murmured.

‘Last night I heard an angel singing.’ The expression on Fabian’s face was deliberately provocative, and it made Laura’s skin heat and her heart race. It seemed to suggest that they shared a secret … a secret that placed her in his power somehow. ‘Yes … I went to sleep with the sound of her exquisite voice lingering tantalisingly in my ears … bella!’He kissed his fingers in an extravagant gesture and his smile grew even wider.

The two workmen grinned hugely at this, nodding in vicarious appreciation. Meanwhile, Laura’s whole body was trembling so hard she felt sure everyone must see it.

‘Yesterday the house was full of so much beautiful music.’ Forcing herself to smile nonchalantly, she returned her attention to the waiting workmen, because it was far safer than allowing herself to be caught up in the dangerous spell that Fabian seemed to cast so easily. Striving to maintain an even, slightly authoritative tone in her voice, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘Now, you know what’s to be done? The lanterns are all ready and waiting in the storeroom. They arrived yesterday, and I’ve checked that we received the right number. When the job is completed I’ll come and have a look. Grazie.’ ‘Si, signorina.’

The room fell silent again after the workmen’s departure, and Fabian dropped thoughtfully down into his seat. Running his critical gaze over his assistant’s porcelain skin and willowy form, he noted that she was looking almost as pale as the marble of one of Michelangelo’s sculptures this morning. Had his teasing upset her? Hearing her sing was the first thing he had thought about that morning on waking, and he had been thinking about it ever since.

‘Why didn’t you join me for breakfast?’ he asked.

‘Maria very kindly brought some coffee and fruit to my room.’

‘Coffee and fruit? Are you trying to starve yourself? No wonder you are so slender!’

‘I assure you there is nothing wrong with my appetite, Signor Moritzzoni! I enjoy my food just like anyone else! This just happens to be my natural build.’

‘No doubt many women would envy you.’

Even as he made the comment, Fabian knew his own preference usually ran to the more voluptuous feminine form. Yet he could not deny that Laura’s small frame was perfect for her fine, delicate bone structure.

‘I doubt it. I am well aware of how I look, and there is hardly anything to envy.’

Surprised by her self-deprecating reply, Fabian did not believe she’d said it to elicit his protest to the contrary. Yet he could not help but find it a puzzle that she seemed not to realise her own attraction. After all … a scar was just a scar. To him it hardly signified at all, yet he understood that for a woman it might not prove so easy to bear in the looks-obsessed culture that they lived in. About to turn away from her, he saw that she now had two spots of colour in her otherwise still pale cheeks.

‘Anyway … I promise I will make up for my small breakfast by eating a good lunch, so you need not worry that I might faint from hunger at your feet, Signor Moritzzoni!’

‘That would definitely not be good for my reputation, Laura,’ he answered dryly. ‘And, please … it is about time you started to call me Fabian. Formality only gets in the way when we are working so closely together.’

‘If that’s what you prefer. Now, there are a couple of things I need to ask you concerning the supper party after the concert.’ Turning back to her desk, she picked up a sheaf of paper and a pen.

There was something quite irresistible about the expression she got on her face whenever she was concentrating, Fabian realised. It had the strange effect of making all his muscles tighten with what he had to acknowledge was most assuredly sensual pleasure. He clenched his jaw a little as she approached. Her captivating summery scent reached him first, and he was genuinely perturbed that his reaction to her was so acute. It was an unexpected discovery that could no doubt lead to some unnecessary complications if not handled correctly.

‘What is it you want to know?’ he asked, frowning.

‘It’s about the protocol for the evening.’

To his further discomfiture, she came round to stand by his side, then crouched down low, so that he could clearly see the list of invitees with their various titles and designations. But all Fabian could really focus on right then was how her hair seemed to be woven through with dancing sunlight, and how with her small straight nose and delicate jaw her profile was like the most exquisite cameo …

‘Si.’ Taking the list out of Laura’s hands, Fabian heard the dismissive tone in his voice. ‘I will make some notes in English at the side of each name for you. In the meantime I have some important phone calls to make. This afternoon after lunch we will go through the entire plan and programme together, and find out exactly the state of play.’

‘That would be good. Thank you.’

He had said to Carmela that he hoped his new assistant would not expect him to hold her hand or guide her step by step, yet here he was—her desk conveyed to his office and a strangely inexplicable impulse in him not to leave her to cope on her own …

Moving away from him, she suddenly paused. ‘Your father must have loved music very much … and this is such an exquisite setting for such an event. Was it your idea to hold a concert in his memory each year?’

Stunned by the question, Fabian stared hard at Laura. A muscle throbbed in his cheek and for a long moment he struggled to stem the swift tide of resentment that flowed through his bloodstream. ‘Music meant a lot to him, yes. He considered himself an avid aficionado of the opera. He considered himself an expert in many things as a matter of fact! But holding the concert was not my idea. Far from it! My father left instructions in his will. Even in death, Roberto Moritzzoni wanted to ensure that he was not forgotten. He did not easily let go of his possessions or his life.’

‘I see.’

‘I doubt that you do, Laura. But perhaps one day before you leave the Villa De Rosa … I will explain.’

Moving his coffee cup out of the way, Fabian concentrated his focus on the list of dignitaries in front of him. They were all—with the exception of some of the key performers in the concert—ex cohorts of his father’s who still ‘milked’ their association with Roberto Moritzzoni for all it was worth. As if they had not dined in the style of kings enough throughout the years at the expense of Fabian’s family! At that moment he honestly felt like putting a lighted match to that damned list and having done with it. Glancing up, he saw that Laura had quietly made her way back to her desk, her attention captured by whatever was on the computer screen in front of her. What would Roberto have said if Fabian had introduced someone like her to him as his wife-to-be? He could hear the old man’s mocking laughter even now, after all these years, at the thought that he would even entertain such an absurdity! Everything about her would have been wrong, he realised—starting with the fact that she was not Italian. Add to that the probability that she had no important or useful family connections—that would be two more strikes against her suitability. As for her looks and figure—Roberto would no doubt have disparagingly dismissed her as too pale, too thin, and not maternal or voluptuous enough to be the bearer of his grandchildren …

‘Bigoted old fool!’ he muttered savagely beneath his breath.

‘Is something the matter?’ At the other side of the sun-filled room, Laura studied him in surprise. ‘You seem upset,’ she pressed, when he did not immediately reply.

‘You are right. I am upset. Thinking about my father usually ensures that reaction. He was not the most—shall we say … pleasant of men, Laura. He could be quite cruel in fact … especially to those that were closest to him. Does that shock you?’

Her sweetly shaped mouth turned down a little and her big eyes looked concerned. ‘Cruelty always shocks me … even though I know it is hardly rare in the world.’

Fabian grimaced. ‘Then let us change the subject and think about something more pleasant. If you want to restore my good mood, perhaps you would be kind enough to go and get me some more coffee?’

‘Of course. I’ll go and find Maria and get you some.’

She was on her feet immediately, her shy gaze touching him briefly as she left the room, and as Fabian watched her go he was filled with a longing that he didn’t dare examine too closely. The kind of longing that could definitely play havoc with their fledgling boss/secretary relationship.

CHAPTER FOUR

SOME of Fabian’s well-heeled friends turned up unexpectedly for lunch, and he insisted that Laura join them. They ate al fresco, at a table on another spectacular terrace overlooking a lush sea of olive groves. The sun shone and the wine flowed, and although her boss showed an interest in the conversations that went on around him—even occasionally laughing or smiling with his companions—Laura detected that his mind was not entirely focused on the present.

As she cut a sweet red apple into neat quarters and bit into one, she recalled his surprising comments about holding the concert in his father’s memory. The revelation that he had been a cruel man had disturbed her—mostly because of how that must have affected the young Fabian, growing up. Now that she’d gleaned his relationship with Roberto had been less than idyllic—and that obviously this concert held in his memory was reminding him of the fact—she wasn’t surprised that Fabian’s thoughts appeared to be elsewhere. She couldn’t begin to imagine the money, time and effort it took to organise one of these impressive events—and how much must he be resenting that if it was something he did out of duty and not love? Could it be that he was willing the whole event to be over instead of anticipating it with pleasure?

Her curiosity and concern deepening, Laura lifted her gaze—only to find it on a collision course with Fabian’s. Next to her, an Italian count with an unpronounceable name laughed hard at a joke he had made—but she barely registered the sound because once again she’d dived into that flawless blue ocean and found herself short on oxygen. Expecting him to say something, she was honestly deflated when he didn’t, but simply glanced away again and started talking to the elderly gentleman beside him.

‘Lo zio, Fabian!’

A small girl with glossy brown pigtails and eyes the colour of luscious cocoa appeared at the top of the terrace steps, ran towards the table and climbed onto Fabian’s lap. Weaving her sturdy brown arms around his neck, she buried her head into his chest.

‘Cybele!’

There followed an affectionate demonstration of delight bar none from Fabian, and Laura watched him make a fuss of the child with a sense of almost dizzying surprise and pleasure that she couldn’t deny. They made the most compelling tableau—the man with the kind of masculine beauty that would haunt you to your grave and the enchanting dark-haired child—and an old longing swept through her heart and made her want to weep, because she knew it would probably never be realised. A longing that had been almost utterly destroyed by a relationship turned dramatically wrong.

Everyone around the table was either applauding or making some admiring comment about the child’s beauty and their host’s obvious pleasure in her company. Simply for being herself, the child commanded all their attention. But that was just as it should be Laura thought smiling.

‘Scusa, Signor Morittzoni?’

Now Maria appeared at the top of the steps, puffing and clearly out of breath in her sombre black dress, a delicate lace handkerchief mopping the perspiration that beaded her brow. From what followed, Laura gathered that Cybele was her grandchild, come for a visit. Delighted to learn that Fabian was home, she had rushed ahead to find him.

Fabian told Maria not to worry. He was more than happy to see the child, and asked if she would like to stay and have some food with them. Maria thanked him, but insisted that Cybele go with her and let the grown-ups enjoy their meal in peace. The child went reluctantly, waving goodbye until she and her grandmother finally disappeared from view.

‘What a gorgeous little girl!’ Laura remarked.

‘You like children, signorina?’ The elderly man next to Fabian leant towards her across the table, the thin, faintly bloodless lips beneath his military-style moustache curving in a knowing smile. ‘Yes, I do. Very much.’

‘Then you will make a perfect mamma! But first you need a husband, si?’

There was a chorus of approving laughter, and as Laura tried to field the wave of embarrassment that swept over her at suddenly being the centre of so much attention Fabian’s penetrating gaze seared into hers with undisguised interest. But he said nothing.

‘Put everything on hold for while … we are going out.’

Re-entering the office after a short but necessary meeting with Maria and her kitchen staff—Laura stared at Fabian in surprise. She got the distinct sense that he’d been pacing and thinking hard about something in her absence, and the tousled appearance of his golden hair indicated he’d tunnelled his impatient fingers through it several times.

‘Where?’

‘I am taking you to visit the hospice that the concert is being held in aid of. It will be a good opportunity for you to see for yourself the necessity for such a valuable organisation to continue to receive our help.’

‘Well, then …’ She hovered in the doorway, taken aback by the impromptu nature of this planned visit, as well as by the overwhelming idea of seeing children who were suffering and sick and in some cases dying. Already Laura’s senses were clamouring in sympathy and trepidation. ‘If you just give me a minute I’ll go and get my jacket.’

She hardly registered the helicopter ride to the simple whitewashed group of buildings set deep in the Tuscan hillside. During the short journey, both she and Fabian had lapsed into thoughtful silence, mutually respected and understood. She had questions, without a doubt—but for now they would have to keep.

On their arrival at the hospice they were greeted by a joyful elderly nun—Sister Agnetha—who welcomed Fabian with a beaming smile and a fiercely affectionate hug. The sight made Laura’s legs feel unaccountably wobbly. There was no sense of awkwardness or embarrassment evident in him at all, and his arresting eyes clearly reflected his genuine heartfelt pleasure at the reunion. The man was beginning to intrigue her more and more.

Once inside, they were guided from ward to ward, room to room, and in every case Fabian sat on the edge of the sick child’s bed and conversed with him as though he were a personal relative, and the children responded in kind—their delight at seeing him palpable, even though they were so ill. For his part, during those encounters a myriad of emotions crossed his startlingly handsome face. Laura saw sympathy, kindness, humour and love written there. At times during the visit, her heart was so full she could barely speak.

It was well into the evening when they emerged from the hospice, and the night was silky soft and fragrant with the rich natural scent of the stunning Tuscan countryside. Laura couldn’t help but think that on such a night all should be well in the world … there shouldn’t be innocent children suffering and dying. She bit her lip and could not bring herself to look at Fabian in case he saw her distress. After receiving an affectionate goodbye hug from Sister Agnetha herself she knew her mind and emotions were swamped with impressions and feelings both raw and tender, and her already tenuous grip on her self-control was under serious threat.

‘Are you all right?’ Fabian asked gruffly at her side in the helicopter, as the powerful rotor blades roared into action and lifted them off the ground.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, turning her face away to stare out of the window at the fast disappearing earth below.

There had been babies as well as older children there. That was the sight that had almost completely undone her. What was the point of such short desperate lives full of suffering? She could only imagine what agony their parents were going through. Yet the staff at the hospital had been full of smiles and humour, and some of the less ill children had responded with ready laughter to Fabian’s teasing and joking around. This side of his character had been a wonderful revelation to Laura, and she was still reeling from the evidence of it.

‘It is hard the first time to see the little ones in such a condition,’ he said thoughtfully, his voice raised to compete with the almost deafening sound of the rotor blades. ‘But they are so brave … so strong. The least we can do is make sure that they have every facility and comfort available to alleviate their situation as much as possible. Here …’

Finding a large white handkerchief pressed into her hand, Laura dabbed disconsolately at the tears she suddenly couldn’t hold back, vaguely aware of the scent of Fabian’s arresting cologne on the soft linen square crumpled in her palm. Still she couldn’t speak.

‘It is late and we have not yet eaten. I will get the pilot to take us to one of my favourite little restaurants so we can have dinner and talk … si?’

She managed a nod and the wobbliest of smiles. The smile Fabian delivered to her in return stole her breath away with the sheer dazzling power of its beauty and warmth.

‘You were so easy with the children … so natural.’ Laying down her fork on the pristine tablecloth, Laura held his gaze almost reluctantly.

Fabian sensed she was still self-conscious about the emotional response that she hadn’t been able to contain during and after their visit to the hospice, but her reaction only confirmed to him that she would make the most caring of mothers herself. The thought was at the forefront of his mind when he finally responded to her quiet observation.

‘It is not difficult to be oneself with children, no? They are just themselves, and so that makes it easy. And these particular little ones are such an example of courage and strength in the face of adversity that it humbles one … it truly does.’

The visit had also reminded him why he went on with the concert year after year—even though the event had been instigated by a father who had not been the best of examples, and memories of Fabian’s own painful childhood were inevitably stirred by it’s existence.

‘Clearly you have a great bond with children yourself, Laura … Motherhood is something that you must have considered from time to time?’

Taking a deceptively relaxed sip of the fragrant red wine he had ordered with their meal, he realised that there was definite tension inside him as he awaited her response. A faint becoming flush bloomed on her cheeks as she glanced away from him, and he glimpsed sadness in her eyes before she tore her gaze free to stare out at the twinkling lights of the town below.

Situated on a charming terrace high on the hillside, the restaurant had a view that was breathtaking and magical. The cuisine was also exceptional, which was why it had fast become one of Fabian’s favourite places to dine when he was back home.

‘Laura?’ Knowing he had triggered something hard to bear inside her, he felt the tension in the pit of his stomach grow.

‘I would love to be a mother,’ she answered quietly, returning her glance warily to his. ‘I didn’t tell you before but … I was married up until just over two years ago.’

Married? Shock and surprise imploded inside him. Carmela had not acquainted him with such a startling piece of information—but then why should she?

‘My husband died. We were in a car accident, and unfortunately he was killed outright.’

‘Please accept my condolences.’

Even as he voiced the stilted-sounding words, Fabian duelled with feelings of relief as well as regret that Laura had suffered such a shocking event. Relief that she had survived and—if he was honest—relief that she had a husband no longer …

‘Thank you. I wanted children—of course I did. But my husband, he …’ She folded her hands on the tablecloth, interlinking her ringless fingers with an agitation she wasn’t quick enough to disguise. ‘He didn’t feel the same way.’

Lifting her glass, she drank some wine, as though striving to contain whatever bruising memories had surfaced inside her. When she returned it to the table again she looked slightly calmer. But Fabian wasn’t fooled. It must have been devastating to a woman who loved children as she did to be with a man who had not shared that feeling.

‘And the accident did not affect your ability to bear children in the future?’ he heard himself ask.

‘Thankfully, no. Broken bones … cuts and bruises … that was the extent of my injuries. I’m lucky there was no internal bleeding, or anything that could have caused a major problem.’

She had escaped being killed in a car crash, had lost her husband and been left with physical scars as well as psychological ones, no doubt—and she thought herself lucky?

‘I am sorry that I have inadvertently raised a subject that brings you so much pain and sorrow.’ His hand moved across the table to cover hers. It was deathly cold. ‘The visit to the hospice clearly upset you far more than I had envisaged, but I did not know beforehand that you had your own personal tragedy to endure.’

‘How could you have known? But don’t think for one second that I regret going. It makes me want to work even harder to help make this concert the very best it can be! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet those wonderful children. I’ll always remember them.’

‘Now you must eat something. Food and wine can help in times like these. And if we do not look as though we are enjoying our meal my good friend Alberto, who owns this restaurant will think we do not like it and will worry that he has done something wrong!’

It wasn’t until he glanced downwards that Fabian saw he was still holding Laura’s hand, and she had made no move to dislodge it.

She had wondered what Fabian’s incredible hands might look like holding a child, and since yesterday at the hospice, and before that with Maria’s granddaughter Cybele, she had seen for herself. Now Laura could hardly get the image out of her mind.

Her thoughts were thus occupied when he came up behind her at the photocopier, and Laura sensed the air crackle with the electricity of his presence. She didn’t turn around.

‘You are very quiet today. Is anything wrong?’

Pressing the keypad to issue further copies she did not really need, Laura hid behind the confusion of noise to disguise her feelings—disturbing feelings that she barely knew what to do with.

‘I’m fine! There’s nothing wrong. I’m just concentrating on my work, that’s all.’

‘You are still perhaps upset at seeing the children yesterday? It is completely understandable and nothing to try and hide.’

To Laura’s disconcertment she felt his hands come to rest on either side of her hips, the contact all but burning her through her thin silk dress. Heat descended like soft, intoxicating warm rain on skin laid bare to its touch.

‘I like this dress you are wearing,’ he murmured softly behind her, his warm breath stirring her loosened hair.

Sucking in her own breath, she felt shock and pleasure roll through her with equal force. He’d already filled her with myriad longings by the touch of his hand holding hers last night at dinner to comfort her, but this … this had to be the sweetest, most sensual torment she’d ever experienced!

‘It’s nothing special.’

‘On the contrary. Do you really not realise how enticing it is?’

The touch of his lips at the place where her neck sloped down into her collarbone made Laura gasp out loud. She was glad she was standing next to something she could lean on, because all of a sudden her limbs had no bones to hold her upright.

‘Fabian … you shouldn’t be—please don’t do that!’

With a supreme effort she forced herself to move, to turn around and face him, and was stunned to see the liquid heat that blazed back at her from his azure eyes. A heat that confirmed to her it was desire that interested him right now … not the demands of the concert or running his estate or anything else. It had been a long time since Laura had thought of herself as desirable, and it was hard to believe a man like him would look at her that way … as if he could eat her up with just a glance!

‘You looked so pretty … so fragile and thoughtful … as you stood there with the sunlight glinting in your hair. I could not resist you!’ His fingers tipped up her chin. They were hard, warm and insistent, so that she had no choice but to face him. ‘Do not be afraid of me, Laura … I would never do anything to hurt you.’

‘I—I know that. Look, I’d really better get back to work. The list of things to do seems to be growing ever longer, and time isn’t standing still!’

She broke away from him so abruptly she nearly fell over a nearby chair, and with her face flaming with embarrassment she bolted from the room before Fabian could stop her.

He had mulled over the stunning and perhaps crazy idea he’d had over and over again until finally—restless and slightly agitated from its relentless demand—he’d left Laura amid the detritus of organisation and gone for a walk.

The Moritzzoni family estate included several hundred acres of fertile land around the villa, and Fabian had headed off deep into the hills, uncaring that the afternoon sun laid its hand upon his unprotected head like an overheated iron. Eventually driven to seeking some shade, he’d dropped down onto his haunches beneath a dense grouping of trees, and now he wiped the sweat from his brow and the back of his neck with an unconnected, distracted air.

A compelling picture stole into his mind … the soft, melting glance on Laura’s face when Cybele had appeared during lunch yesterday. And when his old friend Lachimo had made that comment about her making a perfect mother Fabian had felt an answering leap of confirmation deep in his gut. Later on in the day, when they’d visited the children at the hospice, another layer of admiration and approval of her maternal instincts had been beguilingly reaffirmed.

Perhaps it wasn’t so crazy after all to contemplate the route that had become almost too persuasive to ignore? If he were going to commit to such an undertaking at all then he would much prefer it to be with a woman who had no connection with his past or his family. That way it would be a completely fresh start for both of them. A woman who genuinely appeared to love children as well as sharing his own passion for music might be persuaded to see that the idea had much to commend it—despite her avowed uninterest in wealth. Their partnership would not be complicated or sullied by the kind of emotional entanglement that Fabian wanted to avoid at all costs. Yet there would be physical consolation too. He recalled how aroused he’d been when he’d kissed her neck and felt her delightful body quiver through her thin dress. What if she really did turn out to be the solution he’d been searching for?

From the moment he pushed to his feet again and swept his sweat-dampened hair off his brow he had convinced himself that he should not let this potential opportunity to realise the thing he wanted most—an heir—slip away.

Working late into the evening again, Laura was surprised when Fabian returned to the office to rejoin her after dinner. He had said little during the exceptional stracotto di fagiano that Maria had served up for them, and continued to wear that same distracted, pensive air about him that he’d worn yesterday at lunch. Now he paced the floor as Laura endeavoured to tick off the myriad jobs she’d managed to accomplish that day, though it was practically impossible to ignore his eye-catching physique in fawn coloured chinos and sky-blue linen shirt as he walked back and forth in front of her. It was even more impossible not to let her gaze rest upon his perfectly shaped, highly erotic tanned bare feet as he did so …

Withdrawing her fingers from the keyboard, she flexed them a little, sensing a trickle of perspiration meander sluggishly down her back. It was as though invisible strings were pulling her attention back to him every time she tried to look away, and the fact that she couldn’t resist played on her mind. Given that she had made a spectacularly wrong choice about a man once before, her interest troubled her deeply.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ she asked now, her softly modulated voice sounding almost too loud in the quiet room.

‘No.’ He stared at her as though in a trance.

‘It’s just that you seem so—’

‘Si,’ he said abruptly, suddenly approaching her desk and leaning his hands on it.

Suddenly his compelling face was right in front of hers, and Laura saw the shadowed imprint that cleft his strong chin with such definition, and the faint but discernible threads of maturity that waved on his brow. As for his too-disturbing gaze—Laura did her best to skim over it, lest she willingly drown in that perfect river of blue.

‘I would like you to take a walk with me.’

‘Now?’

‘ Si. You have not had an opportunity to see the grounds properly yet, and we should go before the light dies. Fetch a wrap or shawl, if you have one, and I will meet you at the front entrance.’

In the end, it didn’t matter that it was almost dusk. Nearly everywhere Laura glanced were softly glowing lanterns and fairy lights, and the extensive grounds of the impressive Villa de Rosa took on a quality of enchantment that would ensure she never forgot the breathtaking impression it made for as long as she lived.

‘We will stop here for a moment.’

Fabian touched her arm and Laura sensed the contact sear through the delicate lace of her antique shawl, permeate her skin and reach down inside the very marrow in her bones. Ever since he’d kissed her neck she was like the most inflammable tinder to his touch. All her defences seemed to be in tatters where he was concerned.

They were standing by a weathered wooden bench positioned against an aging brick wall, and the glorious scarlet bougainvillaea that tumbled over it sang its seductive perfume to the gentle night air.

‘We will sit for a while.’

‘Something is bothering you, isn’t it? Is it anything to do with the organisation of the concert?’

‘No. I can see that you have everything under control where that is concerned, and I am impressed by what you have accomplished so far and your dedication to doing a good job.’

As he laid his hand on her knee, she saw the stunning gold and emerald signet ring on his little finger glint in the softly diffused light.

‘Then what is it?’

‘I have been thinking that we should get to know each other a little better.’

Hardly prepared for such a statement, Laura stayed quiet. But, even so, wave upon wave of heat coursed through her in a seemingly unstoppable flow.

‘What I mean is, this is a good opportunity for us to talk. Why don’t you start by telling me a little bit more about yourself? I know that you went to school with Carmela in London, that you have the most surprisingly angelic voice and have a passion for teaching music to children. What else?’

Laura’s mind seemed to freeze for a moment. Telling him more about herself would inevitably bring up the past again, and she’d really like to avoid that if she could.

‘Laura?’ His voice was edged with slight impatience.

‘I was just thinking. What kind of things would you like to know?’

As soon as the question left her lips she knew it was the wrong one. She’d been trying to buy time and it had backfired on her. Now she’d left herself wide open, perhaps to some too dangerous examination.

‘You said that your husband did not feel the same way you did about having children? Will you tell me why?’

‘Why?’ Her temples throbbed with pain.

‘Yes—why?’

Her mouth was like a desert as she spoke, and she tried to choose her words carefully. ‘Mark was a very jealous man. He said he wanted to have me to himself. He didn’t even like me seeing my friends. Children were never going to be on the cards in such an impossible situation.’

‘Yet you stayed with him.’

He’d hit the bullseye, and her heart started to thump hard inside her chest. The enchanting night receded, along with the heady scent of flowers and the chorus of insects making their nocturnal sounds in the background.

‘Yes … I stayed. Unbelievably, I was married to him for three years.’