The Count of Castelfino (4 page)

‘I hope he would be proud of me. That’s exactly what I intend. I gave him a lot of grief when he was alive, Megan. The least I can do is respect his wishes now. Let’s hope I never have to make a choice between my heart and my heritage.’ His brow creased as though with the effort of fighting some inner demon.

‘Why should you?’ Meg asked innocently, not knowing what she was letting herself in for.

‘Any number of local “princesses” are desperate to become my wife,’ he sighed. ‘The Bellini family blueprint says I should choose one of them. She should be installed
in one of my town houses as my official partner and mother of my heir. There she’ll enjoy a life of pleasure. But that way of life went out with the Middle Ages! Life has moved on. It’s all so different now. Marriage isn’t simply a matter of duty and honour. It’s all pre-nups and making watertight arrangements to secure every stick and stone of my assets for the inevitable divorce.’

To hear him talk about marriage as nothing more than another agreement to be crossed off his list of ‘things to do’ disappointed Meg.

‘There shouldn’t be anything inevitable about divorce! No one should marry for anything less than love,’ she said firmly, stroking her fingers down the long, leathery leaf of a miltonia. Meg was the last person to contradict an employer, but some things ought to be set in stone. ‘Women usually have their own careers nowadays. Marriage isn’t seen as the only life for them. And they aren’t all grasping parasites.’

‘I love women. Don’t get me wrong,’ Gianni said quickly. ‘It’s just that the Italian thoroughbred model holds no interest for me.’

‘Then you’ll have to find someone else.’

‘There
is
no one else. All the women I meet are out for everything they can get—believe me.’

Meg was busy adjusting the ties securing a budding flower stem and replied without thinking. ‘I’m not.’

Gianni sighed. ‘That’s what you say now. But I wonder…’

His voice was heavy with regret. It was such a heartfelt comment that she looked up sharply. In that instant all trace of a smile vanished from his face. He was deadly serious—and all Meg’s wildest, most wanton fantasies were reflected in his eyes.

She caught her breath. She could not look away—and didn’t want to.

And then suddenly she was in his arms.

T
HEY
kissed with a passion that was totally consuming. His hands held her close to his body. Her fingers tangled in his hair, desperate for him. It was everything she had ever dreamed about, all she wanted and would ever need, and more than was right. But…this was wrong in so many ways. Pitched through passion on a tidal surge of excitement, Meg took precious seconds to catch her breath and call a halt.

‘No! Gianni, stop!’

Alarmed, he let her go. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing…not now…’

‘That’s all right, then!’ His hold on her tightened and he chuckled with a sound as irresistible as chocolate.

‘No!’ she yelled, all her conviction boiling up again. ‘Don’t you have
any
morals?’

‘Not when it comes to a girl as beautiful as you…’ He dropped his face to her hair and began nuzzling it playfully.

Meg had to act fast, and totally against instinct. Her fantasies had primed her to find him irresistible. Now she was actually feeling his touch for herself, she was almost at the point of no return. Fighting against the urge to melt into
his coiling embrace, she braced her hands against his shoulders and levered herself out of his grasp.

‘Oh, no, how could I forget? Of course you don’t have any morals!’ she retorted, trying to shock him into retreat. ‘After all, you’re Gianni Bellini, international ladies’ man, aren’t you?’

Gianni wasn’t shocked by anything, especially a girl barely half his size. He was flushed and breathing fast but did not release her straight away. Despite that, Meg sensed she was out of danger. The smile returned to his face. His irresistible charm should have made him more dangerous, not less, but in a strange way she realised he was no longer a threat to her—for the moment at least. She already knew Gianni Bellini had a highly developed sense of family loyalty. He wasn’t the sort of man to risk a scandal by forcing himself on an unwilling member of staff—especially a new member of the team. They were likely to run straight to the press.

‘I came here to work at the Villa Castelfino, not to become a source of entertainment for you,’ she said firmly, in case he was still in any doubt.

Gianni said nothing, but let his hands slide reluctantly away from her body. She looked down to see him bury them deeply in his pockets.

‘I’ll take that as your agreement, Gianni.’

He paused before replying. ‘Think of it more as a qualified acceptance, binding on neither side,’ he said with a flash of roguish humour.

The nerve of the man took her breath away.

‘There really is no arguing with you, is there?’

‘No. As you will soon discover from the rest of my staff, Megan, when it comes to work, it’s my way or the high
way. I wanted to find out exactly how keen you are to keep this job.’

Despite the lightness of his tone, Meg detected a sinister meaning behind his words. From feeling flushed and excited, she went hot and cold with dread.

‘Does that mean…you’re going to sack me after what’s just happened?’

Gianni looked genuinely shocked. ‘Of course not! That would be illegal. But,
far
more importantly as far as I’m concerned, it would be immoral. This is the twenty-first century. I may be your employer, but that doesn’t mean I can force myself on you, against your will. What
do
you think I am?’

Meg’s eyes opened wider than she thought physically possible. Gianni looked as innocent as a priest as he stood in front of her, his hands now outstretched in a gesture of disbelief. Yet only a moment ago he had treated her to a ten-second burst of absolute temptation.

When she didn’t answer, he clicked his tongue in exasperation. Then he reached out and touched a wayward lock of her hair gently back from her forehead.

‘I’m interested in having a good time, but pleasing women is a big part of my enjoyment, Megan.’ His fingers trailed from her brow, lingering around the smooth curve of her cheek before falling away with obvious regret. ‘Blackmail and bullying have no place in my life. If you’re not scared off by what just happened, but you don’t want to sleep with me, then that’s fine. It’s your problem, not mine. ‘

He gave her a crooked smile of rueful acceptance. Meg was lost all over again. She desperately wanted to throw herself back into his arms, but found she couldn’t move. The look in his eyes riveted her to the spot. Then he spoke again, and burst her bubble of temptation.

‘Originally, I came out here to warn you that Cook will be arriving in peace. She won’t expect you to declare Round Two, so be careful not to take your sexual frustration out on her, won’t you?’

With that, he strolled away.

As Meg watched him walk nonchalantly along the greenhouse path a terrifying truth surged through her body. She
did
want to sleep with Gianni Bellini.

She wanted it more than anything she had ever wanted in her entire life.

From that moment on, Meg’s excitement at working in a totally alien environment took a back seat. Thoughts of Gianni Bellini coloured her days and haunted her nights. He had totally bewitched her at their first meeting. As a fantasy lover he was ideal. With those devastating looks and charm, he had no drawbacks. The spell he held over her refused to be broken. Despite her dream becoming reality, his power over her increased rather than dimmed. Although their paths rarely crossed, from that moment on Meg was in heaven. All she dreamed about was their torrid kiss, but as far as Gianni was concerned it might never have happened. He showed no signs of wanting to repeat their wonderful experience. He spent most of each day shut away in the Castelfino estate office. Meg spent virtually all her time out in the gardens and grounds. That meant her chances of catching sight of him were remote. That didn’t stop her keeping a keen lookout for him. His words circled her mind in a torrent of temptation.
’…pleasing women is a big part of my enjoyment…’
Her mind continually played with everything that might mean. Gianni had accused her of being sexually frustrated. If she was, it was because of
him. With only one long-term relationship in her life, Meg was no expert when it came to romance. She used study to save her having to mix with people. Until her first meeting with Gianni, Meg hadn’t realised how much she was missing. He had set light to the fuse of her desire. Now everything about him made her desperate to find out more.

Gavin, her only serious boyfriend, had been too heavy-handed. He was fine as a friend, but he had kept trying to push Meg further than she had wanted to go. On top of that, he had tried to monopolise every second of her free time while she had wanted to study. Meg had resented that. After watching her parents struggle to pick things up by experience, she knew the value of gaining proper qualifications. She was in no hurry to curtail her career by making a serious romantic commitment, either. Or so she had always thought in the past…

Gianni Bellini had come into her life and thrown all her careful plans into chaos. He was like no other man she had met before. Always in her thoughts, he wasn’t often in her sight. Once or twice she saw him pacing around the cypress walk, deep in conversation on his mobile phone. While he was totally absorbed like that, she watched him. It was wonderful. She indulged herself, gazing at him for seconds on end. That was so much more satisfying than the quick glimpses she got when he strode out to inspect the estate with one of his tenants or managers.

Evenings presented Meg with some of her greatest pleasures, and her worst tortures. Her new home stood not far from the villa’s driveway. She always knew when Gianni was going out for the evening. His frighteningly fast Ferrari was just getting into its stride as it accelerated past Garden Cottage. The first time she heard it, the unexpected
roar made her drop a plate of freshly baked cookies. The sudden noise was more terrifying than the RAF’s low-flying exercises at home in England. She soon got used to it, but it was a different matter whenever Gianni returned in the not-so-early hours of the morning. There was never any chance of getting back to sleep after being woken like that at three a.m. Guiltily, she would slide out of bed and creep to her window. Then she hid in the shadows, hoping for a glimpse of him. There was always a tiny window of opportunity, between the moments when he sprang from his car, leapt up the front steps and dived into the main house. Each night Meg held her breath, fearing the worst. Gianni had the villa to himself, so she expected him to bring a whole harem back home, every night. It never happened. He always returned alone.

Meg would have been relieved, if it hadn’t been for one disturbing fact. Gianni always looked up at her bedroom window before he disappeared into the villa. She was careful to stand well back, and tried everything to avoid being seen. It was no good. His last gesture was always a quick glance at her house. It seemed to be directed straight at her. Meg was mystified. Something must alert him, yet he never confronted her about spying on him. That was stranger still. She knew enough about him by now to sense he wouldn’t keep a concern like that bottled up. He would have sought her out at work and said something. It didn’t happen. Meg suffered in silence, but it was no hardship compared to the alternative. That would be to give up her nightly vigils, which she would never—
could
never—do.

Lying in bed listening to Gianni’s footsteps would be no substitute for watching the living, breathing reality of her fantasy man.

Meg lived on in an agony of suspense for several more days. She supervised the last adjustments to the magnificent range of greenhouses she had designed without any more visits from Gianni. It was only when she was putting the finishing touches to the planting plan inside the greenhouse that the axe fell. Her mobile phone interrupted her while she was wiring some young orchid plants to an artistic arrangement of tree branches in the new tropical section.

‘Miss Imsey? The Count di Castelfino wants to see you in his office.’ It was one of Gianni’s personal assistants. Meg’s heart bounced like a ball at the request.

‘OK—when?’

There was a shocked silence. Meg realised this must be the first time anyone had ever tried to keep Gianni Bellini waiting. The reply was terse, and to the point.

‘
Immediatamente
, if not sooner!’

Meg didn’t need any more of a warning. She ran to obey. Covering the distance between the old kitchen garden and the villa at top speed, she was still brushing chipped bark from the knees of her jeans as she dashed into the estate office. Its noisy hubbub fell silent in an instant. The eyes of every secretary and PA followed the journey of each small brown fleck of bark raining down from Meg’s clothes and boots. One woman, as beautiful as a bird of paradise, moved swiftly to sweep up all the bits with a dustpan and brush. A second secretary stepped forward holding a roll of perforated plastic. Chivvying Meg toward an impressive mahogany door labelled ‘Strictly No Admittance’, she knocked on it loudly.

‘Come in!’

Meg had thought she was nervous. Hearing the rich,
smooth sound of Gianni’s voice added an extra frisson to her fear. She froze.

How the secretary threw open the door and bowled the roll of perforated plastic inside so casually, Meg had no idea. It uncoiled as an eighteen-inch-wide strip, protecting the highly polished wood floor of Gianni’s office.

Meg was desperate to break the tension of her ordeal. ‘No red carpet for me, then?’ She giggled nervously to the secretary.

‘No, only a carpet protector,’ the woman snapped, shooing her along.

Meg walked forward. Gianni was sitting behind a vast workstation at the far side of the room. With his back to the windows, head down and engrossed in his work, he presented an imposing figure. Meg wasn’t sure what to do. She looked back the way she had come. As she did so the door slammed shut. That cut off any hope of escape. Edging forward, she stopped a respectful distance before the end of the silver plastic road. There she knotted her hands together in an agony of guilt, and waited. It felt as though one end of her nerves were nailed to the tip of Gianni’s fountain pen. The further across the page his hand moved, the further they stretched.

He was writing an extremely long sentence.

Outside, swifts screamed across the sky. Dust motes spiralled up the shafts of sunlight thrown across the glassy floor of his office. The heat increased. Meg’s temperature rose. Outside, a dog barked down in the village. A clock ticked. The dog barked a second time. Beneath his desk, Gianni shuffled his feet.

He was testing Meg’s nerves beyond endurance. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand it any more.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been spying on you out of my window at night but it’s just that your car always wakes me up when you drive past and I can never get back to sleep after that and it’s become a sort of habit that I have to get up and look out to make sure everything’s all right and you always happen to look up at the wrong time and—’

Her first word stopped his pen. The rest of them lifted both it, and his head. By the time her voice trickled into silence he was staring at her with naked curiosity.

‘That’s interesting, Megan. That’s
extremely
interesting,’ he murmured at last, with a drawl that made her squirm. Throwing his pen down on the blotter, he sat back in his chair. Then he put the tips of his fingers together and looked at her keenly over the top of them.

‘Do you know, I had absolutely
no
idea you were doing that, Megan?’

She squirmed some more.

‘I actually called you in to my office for a completely different reason. I wanted to find out how you’re settling in—nothing more exciting than that. Perhaps you would like to go out, come back in and we’ll start this interview all over again?’

She threw another hunted look over her shoulder at the door. It was the only thing standing between her and the complete destruction of her self-esteem.

‘Do I have to?’

He gave a low, throaty chuckle. It was calculated to snatch her attention straight back to him, and worked like a charm.

‘I wasn’t being entirely serious.’ His expression had all the delicious amusement she had enjoyed at the Chelsea Flower Show. It had the same effect, too, soothing her nerves just enough to let a little smile escape.