Mediterranean Tycoons

He knew damn fine, Lucy thought, walking down the grand staircase at a minute to eight, that it wasn’t in her nature to be so appallingly bad-mannered. But then again maybe he didn’t know—he thought she was little better than a street walker anyway.

She hesitated in the hall and adjusted the thin straps of the classic short black fitted dress she wore—another of Lorenzo’s purchases. Her thinking was that she might as well wear them in his company, because once this charade was over they were going to a charity shop. She looked around. The walls were lined with what she guessed were family portraits, because the men all had a look of Lorenzo about them—though not quite as striking—and the women were all beautiful. Suddenly she didn’t know what she was doing here, and was tempted to run back up the stairs.

But Gianni the butler appeared, and offered to escort her to the dining room. Smiling, she thanked him, her moment of panic over. Then her high heels slipped on the marble floor and she grabbed his arm, laughing with him as they entered the room, where Lorenzo and his mother were chatting quietly.

Both heads turned, and the butler quietly withdrew as Anna smiled and stepped forward. ‘Lucy, I hope you are rested. I was so overcome by your gift I forgot you had been travelling all day and forgot my manners, I’m afraid,’ she said disarmingly.

Lucy smiled. Anna was a delightful lady—a pity about her son, she thought, glancing at Lorenzo. He was lounging against the fireplace, a glass of what looked like whisky in his hand.

‘Shall we sit down, ladies?’ he suggested, straightening up and crossing to the long dining table perfectly set with silver and crystal. He pulled out a chair for his mother and Anna sat down. Then, crossing to the other side of the table, his dark eyes resting on her, he drawled softly, ‘Lucy, cara. Be seated,’ and gave her a smile, acting the perfect gentleman.

But Lucy knew otherwise, and realised immediately the endearment was for his mother’s benefit. She returned his smile with a false one of her own and took the seat he offered.

After a rocky start, the dinner was not the ordeal Lucy had expected.

Anna insisted she try the red wine she’d had the butler open in her honour—an especially good one from a renowned Tuscan vineyard—and Lorenzo sat at the head of the table, with Lucy and his mother either side of him, which meant the two women could talk easily across the table.

The first thing Anna said, after the wine glasses were filled and the wine tasted, was, ‘Lucy, dear, I know it was presumptuous of me to arrange a party for Wednesday evening, but I didn’t realise your time was so limited and you were going home that day until Lorenzo told me earlier. He suggested it might be difficult for you to stay longer, as you have a business to run, but I do hope you can. All my friends are invited, and the Contessa della Scala is coming—she is really looking forward to seeing you again. Now, with the portrait, the party will be even better. You will make an old woman very happy, plus you and Lorenzo can spend more time together.’ She beamed.

Emotional blackmail at its finest. Maybe it ran in the family? Lucy thought cynically. Lifting her chin, she looked at Lorenzo and caught the taunting gleam in his black eyes. She forced a slow smile to her lips. ‘Your concern for my business is touching, Lorenzo, darling.’ She baited him with an endearment of her own, and turned back to Anna as the first course was presented.

‘Unfortunately my friend Elaine, who is taking care of the gallery, is expecting me back by Wednesday evening because she has a dental appointment on Thursday morning. But it is not an insurmountable problem. I can ring her tomorrow and tell her not to bother opening on Thursday. I can be back before Friday.’

‘No, I would not think of putting you out that way,’ Anna said immediately. ‘Why should you lose business? Lorenzo can find someone to take care of your gallery for you, no trouble at all. In fact you could stay for the rest of the week. After visiting the dentist your friend would probably appreciate having the whole day off and more.’

Lucy had to bite her lip to stop herself laughing at the expression on Lorenzo’s face as he looked at his mother in astonishment—horror quickly masked.

‘You can do that, can’t you, Lorenzo?’ his mother queried.

Briefly he flicked Lucy a threatening glance, and she knew he saw the amusement in her eyes before he looked back at Anna.

‘Yes, of course I can, Mother—if Lucy agrees.’ His gaze was on her again. ‘I can probably arrange to get someone there by Wednesday afternoon, so Elaine can show them the ropes.’ An eyebrow rose as he asked innocently, ‘One day or two, Lucy?’

‘One will be fine,’ she said, knowing it was the answer he wanted. What was the point in defying him? She hadn’t wanted to stay longer in the first place, so why prolong the agony? ‘I must be home by Thursday night.’

‘Good, then that is settled,’ Anna said, and they finished their first course of risotto with red wine and porcini mushrooms.

The butler offered more wine and Lucy agreed, surprised to see she had finished the glass. But it was really nice, and very mellow.

Anna could certainly talk, Lucy thought as the plates were cleared by the maid. Mostly about Antonio—while Lorenzo sat looking on, his face a blank mask, adding very little to the conversation.

‘According to the doctor Antonio was a miracle child. He was very ill when he was born, and it was touch and go for a while, but he made a complete recovery and was soon running all over the place like any other child. I did sometimes wonder if it was because I was a lot older when he was born that he had problems—it was ten years after I had Lorenzo. But he grew up to be a wonderful young man. I only wish I had kept him longer … ‘

It occurred to Lucy that if Anna had always been so loquacious about her youngest son it might go some way to explain why Lorenzo had grown into the hard, apparently emotionless man he was.

The conversation stopped as the main course was served—veal escalope Marsala—and Lucy tried to change the subject.

‘You have a beautiful home, Anna. My bedroom is delightful, and the view from the window is lovely. I could not help noticing when I arrived that the gardens are magnificent, and so cleverly designed—whichever way one looks everything flows together perfectly. Someone at some time must have been a keen landscape gardener.’

‘Gardening is my passion,’ Anna said, obviously delighted by Lucy’s interest. ‘When Lorenzo started school my husband gave me permission to have the whole grounds redesigned. It was a huge project, and I spent three years deciding on and finding the flowers, the shrubs, the trees, the fountains—everything. Sometimes Lorenzo would come with me on my search for all the specimens I wanted. Mind you … ‘ she looked lovingly at Lorenzo ‘.his taste ran to the most vibrant colours, which was odd given his serious nature.’

Lucy did not find it odd at all, having seen his apartment, but she could sense Lorenzo almost squirming in his chair, and cast him a sidelong glance. Not a muscle moved in his darkly attractive face, but when he noticed her looking he lifted a negligent brow and turned back to his mother.

‘Lorenzo was a genius at mathematics at a very young age—my husband used to worry he might think he was too clever to settle for the role tradition demanded of him. But his skill was invaluable to me when it came to the design. He was only nine but he worked out all the angles, the lengths of the terraces and the paths where the fountains had to be placed for optimum effect, and made a complete plan for me. All the builder and gardeners had to do was the manual work.’

‘That is amazing!’ Lucy could not help exclaiming.

‘Not really.’ Lorenzo finally spoke. ‘My mother is prone to exaggeration,’ he said coolly, but tempered it with a smile.

The maid arrived and conversation ceased as the plates were cleared again. Dessert was brought in, and talk turned to the planned party.

Finally the butler suggested serving coffee, and Anna got to her feet and said, ‘I never drink coffee at night, but you go ahead. I know you will be glad of some time on your own,’ she prompted with a smile. ‘I have had the most marvellous day I can remember in years, and I’m going to bed now.’

Lorenzo got to his feet to help her, but she refused and patted his cheek, so he bent to kiss hers and she left.

The silence was deafening.

‘That went well,’ Lorenzo finally said. ‘My mother is happy and convinced we are close. Make sure you keep it that way until we leave on Thursday and everything you want is yours.’

Lucy looked up at him, her eyes tracing the hard bones of his face, the cool, steady eyes, the powerful jaw and mobile mouth. He had no idea what she really wanted, she thought sadly and, pushing back her chair, stood up.

‘I will,’ she said. ‘Unlike you, I don’t like deceiving your mother, and this can’t be over quickly enough for me.’ She turned towards the door, adding quietly, ‘if you don’t mind, I’ll forgo the coffee.’

He moved quickly, his hand catching hers, and kissed her palm. ‘I don’t mind anything you want, cara,’ he husked, and her eyes widened in shock.

Her hand trembled in his grasp—and then she realised it was for the benefit of the butler, who had entered the room with the coffee tray. Pulling her hand free, she patted Lorenzo’s cheek with more force than necessary and saw his lips tighten. ‘You enjoy your coffee.’

Swiftly an arm closed around her waist, his dark head dipped, and he kissed her cheek, his warm breath caressing her ear. ‘Not an option,’ he murmured. ‘Remember our deal? Everyone has to be convinced.’ And, raising his head, he said, ‘Take the coffee to the lounge, please, Gianni.’

Then his head bent again and his mouth closed possessively over hers, parting her lips. The prolonged assault on her senses swept away all her resistance. His hand moved sensually over her back to press her closer and she arched into him, her eyes closing in abandon.

Suddenly he lifted his head. ‘Gianni has gone.’

Her eyes flew open as his comment registered. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘I saw the way Gianni looked at you, laughed with you when you entered the dining room with your body blatantly on display in that dress. He is a red-blooded man and he is not going to believe for a minute that holding your hand or a kiss on the cheek would satisfy me or any man. Now he will be convinced, and if he is the rest of the staff will be also.’

For a moment Lucy had the odd idea he was jealous of the butler. ‘Does your brain ever stop working and planning your next move?’

‘I’ve never really thought about it, but probably not—except perhaps in a moment of intense sexual relief,’ he drawled, and ushered her out of the dining room and into the lounge, where the coffee was set on a low table in front of a sofa.

Lucy twisted out of his arm and sat down on the sofa, the colour in her face matching the pink satin, and leant forward to pour out a cup of coffee she did not want simply to hide her blush.

Lorenzo laughed and sat down beside her. ‘You know, Lucy, for an experienced woman it never ceases to amaze me how easily you blush—how do you do it?’

She was tempted to tell him then how little experience she really had, but bit her lip and drank the coffee. He would never believe her. He had formed his opinion of her, coloured by his distorted perception of her brother and the ease with which she had fallen into bed with him the first time. By accepting his deal she had reinforced that low opinion, and nothing she could do would ever make him change his mind.

‘Practice—just practice,’ she said, telling Lorenzo what he wanted to hear.

‘Did you practise with Antonio?’ he asked. ‘You have painted him with a happy smile on his face—did you sleep with him?’

Lucy’s eyes widened to their fullest extent on his unsmiling countenance. He couldn’t be serious, she thought. But he was, she realised—and suddenly she was furious.

Before she said something she knew she would regret, she got to her feet. ‘No,’ she said coldly. ‘Unlike you, he was a gentleman. Now, if you are satisfied I have played my part as required, I am going to bed. And before you get up—don’t bother. There is no one here to see you playing the gentleman.’

And she turned away and walked to the door, leaving him to follow her or not … amazed by his cruel insensitivity.

She looked around the bedroom; someone had laid her nightdress on the bed and turned down the covers. Service at its best, she thought with a wry smile twisting her lips as she entered the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and put them away. She washed her face, cleaned her teeth and, naked, returned to the bedroom. Picking the nightdress off the bed, she slipped it over her head and crawled into the big bed.

She didn’t expect to sleep, but surprisingly she did … She stirred once, at the tail-end of a dream of a shadowy figure of a man standing over her, but went straight back to sleep.

The next morning she awoke to the overpowering smell of strong coffee, and, easing herself up the bed, saw the maid approach with a tray which she placed on the bedside table.

‘Buongiorno, signorina. The Signora say to bring coffee,’ she said in fractured English, ‘Breakfast in one hour.’

‘Grazie!’ Lucy said. ‘Scusi—’ She sprang out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. When she returned, after having been sick, the maid was still there.

‘Signorina? Come stai?’

Lucy saw the worried frown on her face and knew enough Italian to reassure her she was fine. The maid left.

It was probably the wine she’d drunk last night, Lucy thought. She was not accustomed to fine red wine—or any wine, for that matter. She poured out a cup of hot milk, with the merest dash of coffee, and standing looking out of the window sipped it slowly.

The view really was breathtaking … And then she saw the yellow sports car shoot off down the drive. Good—Lorenzo had gone out. With no fear of him appearing, she relaxed a little.

She took a leisurely shower and wondered what to wear. It was a sunny day, and she wanted to have a look around the gardens. With that in mind she decided on a pair of soft denim jeans and bright flowing top. She tied her hair back in a ponytail and finally ventured out of the bedroom.

She did not need to look for the breakfast room. As soon as she reached the foot of the grand staircase Gianni appeared as if by magic and showed her to yet another room—not as large as the others she had seen, but just as elegant, and somehow more homely. Anna was already seated at the table, and looked up as she entered.

‘How are you, Lucy? Maria told me you were a little unwell.’ She frowned. ‘Please sit down, my dear. My doctor calls to see me most days at noon—if you like you could see him as well.’

Lucy smiled and took a seat. ‘No, that is not necessary. I am fine—just too much wine, I think,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a walk in the gardens after breakfast. The fresh air will do me good.’

‘Well, if you are sure, I will give you a guided tour,’ Anna offered. ‘Really it should be Lorenzo, but he has gone to the bank. I told him to take the day off, but he takes no notice of me. He works far too hard—always has. When my husband died—good man though he was—the bank was left in a poor condition. Lorenzo took over and soon put everything right, expanding all over the world, but sometimes I do wish he would slow down a little. Which is why I am so pleased he has found you, Lucy—you are just what he needs.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ Lucy finally got a word in. ‘We are close friends, but realistically we have very little in common.’ And with a quick change of subject she added, ‘Before I forget, I must call Elaine and tell her of the change of plan.’

Elaine was surprised but happy to agree to the new arrangement of taking Thursday off while the shop was looked after by a temp.

Lucy, on the other hand, was stressed to bits.

Oddly enough, once outside, with the scent of pine trees and perfumed flowers mingling in the warm morning air, Lucy felt better. Meandering with Anna along the paths and terraces of the glorious garden was relaxing. She learnt from Anna the names of dozens of plants, and when they got to the lake learnt the sailing boat had been Lorenzo’s when he was a teenager, and he still used it occasionally.

According to Anna he was still a keen sailor, and spent most of his leisure time at Santa Margherita, where he had a villa. He kept a larger racing yacht at the marina, and sailed it very successfully in quite a few races round the Mediterranean.

Lucy was surprised. When Lorenzo had told her he had a yacht she had assumed he meant some big luxury motorised ship. A smile quirked her lips. She did think he looked like a pirate sometimes, so she should not be surprised, she told herself as they walked back to the house.

Lunch was served, and Anna’s doctor, who was a widower, joined them at the table. He was a distinguished-looking, charming man, and Lucy warmed to him immediately. She had a sneaky suspicion his interest in Anna was more than medical.

Then the butler appeared, and Lucy was surprised when he informed her Lorenzo was on the private line and wishing to speak to her. He escorted her to the rear of the house, into what was obviously a study, and handed her the telephone.

‘Hello?’ she said. She could hear voices in the background, one a woman’s—probably his secretary.

‘Ah, at last.’ Lorenzo’s deep dark voice echoed in her ear. ‘Are you getting along all right on your own, Lucy? No slip-ups?’

‘Yes. And if by that you mean have I told your mother that her brilliant saintly son is really a rat? No, I have not.’

‘Sarcasm does not become you. Do I detect a bit of frustration there? Missing me already?’ he drawled throatily.

‘Like a hole in the head,’ she snapped, and heard him chuckle.

‘No chance I would be given an opportunity to miss your smart mouth—you really know how to dent a man’s ego.’

‘Not yours, that’s for sure.’ Her pounding heart was telling her she was more disturbed by his flirtatious tone than she dared admit, but knowing it must be for his secretary’s benefit she said, ‘Cut the pretence and just tell me what you want. I am in the middle of lunch.’

‘Right.’ His voice was brusque. ‘I have arranged with an English agency for a Miss Carr who lives in Cornwall to help at the gallery. She will call in tomorrow afternoon at three to arrange the details with Elaine. Tell my mother I have back-to-back meetings all day and I’m staying in Verona tonight. I will be back tomorrow evening for the party. Can you do that?’

‘Yes. If that is all, I am going back to finish my lunch.’

Lorenzo was deliberately staying away—or he might even have another woman lined up for tonight, Lucy thought. As if she needed any more proof it was over between them!

‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said, and hung up.

Lucy relayed the conversation when she got back to the table. Anna did not look happy, but accepted the news with grace.

CHAPTER NINE

FOR some reason Lucy hadn’t been able to enjoy her lunch—in fact she’d hardly eaten anything. The doctor, noticing, had mentioned that Anna had told him Lucy had been sick that morning and enquired if she still felt unwell.

Unthinkingly Lucy had told him she thought it was the red wine, because she didn’t usually drink, and then added that she was not used to eating such rich food so late.

The doctor had agreed that might be true, but then mentioned the possibilities of gastro enteritis or food poisoning. Anna had looked mortified, and that was why Lucy was now lying on her bed, having submitted to numerous tests.

Lucy liked the elderly man, and at his enquiries had told the doctor about her medical history—including an operation she had undergone a few years earlier, which was one of the reasons she was careful what she ate and rarely drank, and probably why wine affected her so quickly. He had nodded his head and agreed with her.

Her lips twitched and parted in a grin, and she chuckled—then laughed out loud. She was the guest from hell … who had unwittingly implied her hostess had poisoned her. At least Lorenzo would be happy, because when Lucy left there was not the slightest fear of Anna wanting her to visit again.

On the contrary, Anna appeared to be quite happy when Lucy went back downstairs. Dinner was arranged for seven in Anna’s favourite garden room at the side of the house, where a small table was set for the two of them. The meal was light and delicious, and Anna confessed she usually ate there, only using the formal dining room when Lorenzo was home—which Lucy gathered was not very often.

Wednesday was chaotic. The huge house was a hive of activity as caterers, florists and extra staff bustled around the place.

The doctor came early—he was staying the night—and after lunch, when Anna had retired to her room to rest, told Lucy her blood tests were clear. It was probably, as she’d thought, the wine—or maybe the stress of visiting Lorenzo’s home and mother. He remembered when he’d met his late wife’s parents for the first time he’d been sick with nerves before he even got to their house.

Lucy tried to laugh, thanked him, and followed Anna upstairs.

She had a leisurely soak in the huge bath before washing her hair, and then, not feeling in the least tired, decided to go out into the garden and let her hair dry naturally in the fresh air, as she did at home. She pulled on jeans and a light blue sweater and, slipping her feet into soft ballet shoes, she stuck a comb in her pocket and left the house. There were so many people running around she would not be missed.

It was another sunny afternoon, with a slight breeze rustling the trees, and she wandered down the garden until the noise from the house faded away. Finally she stopped on one of the terraces. A circular fountain stood there, with water cascading down from a fifteen-feet-high centrepiece into a big pool, where koi carp in various shades of gold and yellow were swimming lazily around.

She sat down on a seat conveniently placed, and taking the comb from her pocket pulled it through her hair. It was half dry already. With a sigh she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. Bliss, she told herself. Just one more day and then no more Lorenzo. She would have her life back. But the pain in her heart told her she lied.

‘Lucy—I have been looking all over for you.’

For a second she thought she had conjured his voice up in her mind, then her eyes flew open. Lorenzo was standing a foot away, his dark gaze fixed on her face.

‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Nothing,’ she muttered. He was wearing a suit, but his jacket and tie were loose, his black hair dishevelled, and he was looking grimly at her, as if she had committed a cardinal sin. Even so she felt herself tense in instinctive awareness of the magnetic attraction of his big body. ‘I didn’t realise I had to ask permission,’ she said sarcastically, to hide her involuntary reaction to him.

‘You don’t. But I rang before lunch and spoke to my mother. She told me you were sick and you saw her doctor—are you all right?’

‘You are a day late. That was yesterday, and I am fine.’

His apparent concern was too little, too late, and she wasn’t fooled by it for a second. It was over. He had made that plain on Monday and they both recognised it—which was why she had not seen him since.

‘I guess she told you I think it was the wine and the food. Sorry about that. But, hey—look on the bright side, Lorenzo. She must think I am the guest from hell, accusing her of poisoning me. She will never invite me back.’

He didn’t so much as crack a smile. If anything, he looked even grimmer.