The Rumours Collection

Holly wanted to believe him. She ached to believe he cared enough to sacrifice his privacy, his reputation and even his family for her. But she wasn’t worth it. She knew he would come to resent her for it. The press would never leave them alone. Her stepfather would see to it. Her stepfather would taint their relationship. He would sully it. Cheapen it.

And ultimately destroy it.

‘I don’t think you’re listening to me, Julius,’ Holly said. ‘I don’t want to stay. I wouldn’t stay if you paid me to. I’ve got plans. I’m not changing them. My future is in England; it’s not here with you.’

His mouth tightened. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. Holly got the feeling he was at war with himself. Fighting back the impulse to reach for her. ‘Fine,’ he said at last. ‘Leave. I’ll call Natalia and get her to pick you up. You won’t be able to leave the country until your community service time is up.’

Holly knew it would be the longest three days of her life.

Julius stood in a stony silence as Holly was driven away by her caseworker. It felt as if his heart was tied to the rear of the car. The tugging, straining, gutting sensation took his breath away. He was sure she was lying and yet...and yet what if he was wrong? What if she had set him up from the start? She was a troublemaker. A rebel. She had openly admitted to wanting to make his life difficult. He thought back to the pool. Both times she had lured him out there...hadn’t she? It had been her idea to make love out there. It wasn’t something he would normally do. She was always poking fun at his conservative nature. Was that why? So she could set him up and shame him the in the most shocking way possible?

But then he thought of how she had trusted him enough to tell him about the horrible stuff that had happened to her as a child. That wasn’t an act. She had the scars to prove it. Her stepfather was behind this photo scandal. He had to be. Julius just had to prove it. If he could make Holly feel safe by seeing justice served then maybe, just maybe, she would trust him enough to admit to her feelings.

He reached for his phone and called a close friend, Leandro Allegretti. Leandro was a forensic accountant who occasionally did some work for Jake’s business analysis company. They had gone to school together and Leandro had spent many a weekend or holiday at Ravensdene while they’d been growing up. If anyone could uncover secrets and lies, it was Leandro. He made it his business to uncover fraud, money laundering and other white-collar crime.

‘Leandro?’ Julius said. ‘Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I have a little project for you...’

Holly had finally made it to England. She had found a tiny flat in central London and even landed a job in a deli, which should have made her feel as if all her boxes were ticked, but she felt miserable. The weather was freezing, for one thing. And it never seemed to stop raining. She had spent years dreaming of the time when she would be here, doing normal stuff like normal people, and yet she felt lost. Empty. Hollow. As if something was missing. Even the shops didn’t interest her. She hadn’t heard from Julius, but then she didn’t expect to, not really. She had cut him from her life in the only way she knew how. Bluntly. Permanently.

But she missed him. She missed everything about him. The security she felt when she was with him was only apparent to her now it had been taken away. She had felt safe with him. Now she was anchorless. Like a paper boat bobbing about in the middle of the ocean.

Holly was on a tea break in a nearby café when she flicked through the day’s newspaper and her eyes honed in on an article that was only a couple of paragraphs long about a recent criminal charge in Argentina. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw her stepfather’s name cited as the man at the centre of the investigation that had uncovered a money-laundering and drug-running scheme that had gone on for over twenty years.

Holly sat back in her seat with a gasp of wonder. It had finally happened. Franco Morales’s lawyer said his client had pleaded guilty and bail was denied. How had that come about? Who was behind it? Who had shone the light of suspicion on her stepfather?

A cramped space inside Holly’s chest suddenly opened. Julius. Of course he would have gone after her stepfather. Hadn’t he promised he would not allow anyone to hurt her? He had been true to his word. He had taken on one of Argentina’s most notoriously elusive criminals and brought about justice. For her.

Holly shot out of her seat. She had to see him. She had to see him to thank him in person. To tell him...what? She sat back down in her seat. Huddled back into her coat. She didn’t belong in his world. How could she? She worked in a deli. She had no qualifications. He was the son of London theatre royalty.

And his mother hated her.

‘Is this seat taken?’

Holly looked up to see a woman standing next to the empty chair on the opposite side of the table. She looked vaguely familiar but Holly couldn’t quite place her. Maybe she had served her in the shop in the past week or so. ‘No; I’m leaving soon, in any case.’

The woman sat down. ‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’

Holly blinked as the woman took off her sunglasses. Why anyone would be wearing sunglasses on such a miserably wet day in London had occurred to her but then she figured it took all types. Now she realised it was all part of a disguise. A very clever one, too. No one would ever guess Elisabetta Albertini would frequent a humble little café in Soho dressed like a bag lady. ‘No,’ Holly said. ‘Even your accent is different. But then, I guess you can do just about any accent.’

Elisabetta gave her a sly smile. ‘So, how’s London working out for you?’

‘Great. Fine. Brilliant.’

‘You’d better stick to your day job,’ Elisabetta said. ‘You’re a terrible actor.’

Holly grimaced. ‘Yeah, I know. But I hate my day job. I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life. Nor do I want to be cleaning up after people.’

‘What did you want to be when you were a little girl?’

‘I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher—but why are you even asking me this after the way you spoke to me at Julius’s? And how did you find me?’

‘Julius told me.’

Holly frowned. ‘But how does he know where I am?’

‘He made it his business to find out,’ Elisabetta said. ‘Look, I was wrong to speak to you the way I did. Richard’s parents did the same thing to me all those years ago when he brought me home to introduce me to them. They made me feel so worthless. I swore I would never treat any daughter-in-law of mine like that, but then I went and did it to you.’

‘Daughter-in-law?’ Holly said, frowning harder. ‘No one said anything about marriage. We had a fling, that’s all, and now it’s over.’

‘He loves you, Holly,’ Elisabetta said. ‘He’ll want to marry you because that’s his way. Jake would be another thing entirely. But with Julius you can be assured he’ll always do the right thing.’

Holly narrowed her eyes. ‘Did he make you come here to apologise to me?’

Elisabetta gave her a coy look. ‘Does it matter? If he’s going to marry you, then I’m going to have to accept it or lose him.’

Holly’s frown deepened another notch. ‘He shouldn’t have done that. You’re his mother. He’s lucky to have you. I wish I had a mother. I have no one. No one at all.’

Elisabetta put her hand over Holly’s and gave it a light squeeze. ‘I’m not the best mother in the world. I know that, and it upsets me if I allow myself to think about it, so I don’t think about it.’ She pulled her hand away as if she had a time limit on touch and sat back in her seat. ‘But who knows? Maybe I’ll do a better job as a mother-in-law.’

‘You mean you wouldn’t...mind?’

Elisabetta gave a short but not very pleasant-sounding laugh. ‘Of course I mind. But I’m an actor; I’ll pretend I don’t. But don’t tell Julius. It can be our little secret.’

Holly gave her a telling look. ‘You won’t be able to fool him no matter how brilliant an actor you are.’

The older woman’s gaze was suddenly very direct. ‘Do you love my son?’

Holly gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘So much it hurts to think I might never see him again.’

Elisabetta smiled a mercurial smile and popped her sunglasses back on as she got up to leave. ‘I have a feeling you’ll be seeing him very soon. Ciao.’

Holly gathered her things and made to get up but a tall shadow fell over her. She looked up to see Julius standing there, beads of rain clinging to his cashmere coat, his hair and even to the ends of his eyelashes. ‘I know my mother’s a hard act to follow, but here I am. Did she apologise?’

‘Yes...’ Holly licked her suddenly dry lips. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to talk about his mother’s ‘apology’. ‘I can’t believe what you did for me. It was...amazing. Unbelievable. I can never thank you enough.’

‘There is one way,’ he said. ‘Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Holly thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest cavity with sheer joy. Could this really be happening? ‘Why me? You could have anyone. I’m no one.’

He took her by the hands and gripped them tightly. ‘You’re everything to me. Everything. I love you, Holly. More than I can ever tell you. I know this isn’t a dream proposal. In fact, I can’t believe I’m proposing to you in a public place—but I can’t bear another moment without knowing you’ll agree to spend the rest of your life with me. You don’t have to come back to Argentina if you don’t want to. I can move back to England.’

Holly looked at him in stunned surprise. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Of course.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘But the weather’s foul.’

‘I know, but at least we could cuddle up in bed,’ he said with a glint in his eyes.

Holly grinned back. ‘I guess we could split the time between here and there. Summer here, winter there.’

‘Sounds like a good plan to me,’ he said, drawing her close. ‘I missed you so much. I never realised what a boring life I’ve been living until you came into it.’

Holly felt the sting of happy tears at the back of her eyes. ‘I was miserable from the moment I got on that plane. I’d planned that moment for years. I’d looked forward to it. Counted the days, the hours, even the minutes. But as soon as we took off I felt empty. As if I was leaving a part of myself behind.’

Julius blotted a tear that had escaped from her left eye. ‘Do you love me or have I been deluding myself?’

Holly held his hand against her cheek. ‘I love you. I’m not sure when I started. Maybe when you took me out on the balcony. You were so kind and patient. I didn’t stand a chance after that.’

He smiled a tender smile. ‘So will you marry me, my darling?’

Holly wanted to pinch herself to check she wasn’t dreaming. ‘No one’s ever proposed to me before.’

‘Lucky me to be the first.’

Holly put her arms around his waist and smiled as his mouth came down towards hers. ‘Lucky us.’

Awakening the Ravensdale Heiress

Melanie Milburne

To Holly Marks. Thank you for being such

a wonderful fan. Your lovely comments on

Facebook have lifted me so many times.

This one is for you with much love

and appreciation. xxxx

CHAPTER ONE

MIRANDA WOULDN’T HAVE seen him if she hadn’t been hiding from the paparazzi. Not that a fake potted plant was a great hiding place or anything, she thought. She peeped through the branches of the ornamental ficus to see Leandro Allegretti crossing the busy street outside the coffee shop she was sheltering in. He didn’t seem aware of the fact it was spitting with rain or that the intersection was clotted with traffic and bustling with pedestrians. It was as if a transparent cube was around him. He was impervious to the chatter and clatter outside.

She would have recognised him anywhere. He had a regal, untouchable air about him that made him stand out in a crowd. Even the way he was dressed set him apart—not that there weren’t other suited men in the crowd, but the way he wore the sharply tailored charcoal-grey suit teamed with a snowy white shirt and a black-and-silver striped tie somehow made him look different. More civilised. More dignified.

Or maybe it was because of his signature frown.

Had she ever seen him without that frown? Miranda wondered. Her older twin brothers, Julius and Jake, had been boarding school buddies with Leandro. He had spent occasional weekends or school holidays and even university breaks at the Ravensdale family home, Ravensdene, in Buckinghamshire. Being a decade younger, she’d spent most of her childhood being a little intimidated by Leandro’s taciturn presence. He was the epitome of the strong, silent type—a man of few words and even fewer facial expressions. She couldn’t read his expression at the best of times. It was hard to tell if he was frowning in disapproval or simply in deep concentration.

He came into the coffee shop and Miranda watched as every female head turned his way. His French-Italian heritage had served him well in the looks department. Imposingly tall with jet-black hair, olive skin and brown eyes three or four shades darker than hers.

But if Leandro was aware of his impact on the female gaze he gave no sign of it. It was one of the things she secretly most liked about him. He didn’t trade on his appearance. He seemed largely unaware of how knee-wobblingly gorgeous he looked. It was as if it was irrelevant to him. Unlike her brother Jake, who knew he was considered arm candy and exploited it for all he could.

Leandro stood at the counter and ordered a long black coffee to take away from the young, blushing attendant, and then politely stood back to wait for it, taking out his phone to check his messages or emails.

Miranda covertly studied his tall, athletic figure with its strongly corded muscles honed from long hours of endurance exercise. The broad shoulders, the strong back, the lean hips, taut buttocks and the long legs. She had seen him many a time down at Ravensdene, a solitary figure running across the fields of the estate in all sorts of weather, or swimming endless laps of the pool in summer.

Leandro took to exercise with an intense, single-minded concentration that made her wonder if he was doing it for the health benefits or for some other reason known only to himself. But, whatever reason it was that motivated him, it clearly worked to his benefit. He had the sort of body to stop female hearts. She couldn’t stop looking at him, drinking in the male perfection of his frame, her mind traitorously wondering how delicious he would look in a tangle of sheets after marathon sex. Did he have a current lover? Miranda hadn’t heard much about his love life lately, but she’d heard his father had died a couple of months ago. She assumed he’d been keeping a low profile since.

The young attendant handed Leandro his coffee and as he turned to leave his eyes met Miranda’s through the craggy branches of the pot plant. She saw the flash of recognition go through his gaze but he didn’t smile in welcome. His lips didn’t even twitch upwards. But then, she couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile. Or, at least, not at her. The closest he came to it was a sort of twist of his lips that could easily be mistaken for cynicism rather than amusement.

‘Miranda?’ he said.

She lifted her hand in a little fingertip wave, trying not to draw too much attention to herself in case anyone lurking nearby with a smart phone recognised her. ‘Hi.’

He came over to her table screened behind the pot plant. She had to crane her neck to meet his frowning gaze. She always felt like a pixie standing in front of a giant when she was around him. He was an inch shorter than her six-foot-four brothers but for some reason he’d always seemed taller.

‘Are the press still hassling you?’ he asked, still frowning.

Of course, Leandro had heard about her father’s scandal, Miranda thought. It was the topic on everyone’s lips. It was splashed over every newsfeed or online blog. Could it get any more embarrassing? Was there anyone in London—the entire world—who didn’t know her father had sired a love child twenty-three years ago? As London theatre royalty, her parents were known for drawing attention to themselves. But this scandal of her father’s was the biggest and most mortifying so far. Miranda’s mother, Elisabetta Albertini, had cancelled her season on Broadway and was threatening divorce. Her father, Richard Ravensdale, was trying to get his love child into the bosom of the family but so far with zero success. Apparently Katherine Winwood had failed to be charmed by her long-lost biological father and was doing everything she could to avoid him and her half-siblings.

Which was fine by Miranda. Just fine, especially since Kat was so beautiful that everyone was calling Miranda ‘the ugly sister’. Argh!

‘Just a little,’ Miranda said with a pained smile. ‘But enough about all that. I’m so sorry about your father. I didn’t know about him passing otherwise I would’ve come to the funeral.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘But it was a private affair.’

‘So, how are things with you?’ she said. ‘I heard you did some work for Julius in Argentina. Great news about his engagement, isn’t it? I met his fiancée, Holly, last night. She’s lovely.’ Miranda always found it difficult to make conversation with Leandro. He wasn’t the small talk type. When she was around him she had a tendency to babble or ramble to fill any silence with the first thing that came into her head. She knew it made her seem a little vacuous, but he was so tight-lipped, what else was she to do? She felt like a tennis-ball machine loping balls at him but without him returning any.

Fortunately this time he did.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Great news.’

‘It was a big surprise, wasn’t it?’ Miranda said. ‘I didn’t even know he was dating anyone. I can’t believe my big brother is getting married. Seriously, Julius is such a dark horse, he’s practically invisible. But Holly is absolutely perfect for him. I’m so happy for them. Jasmine Connolly is going to design the wedding dress. We’re both going to be bridesmaids, as Holly doesn’t have any sisters or close friends. I don’t know why she doesn’t have loads of friends because she’s such a sweetheart. Jaz thinks so too. You remember Jaz, don’t you? The gardener’s daughter who grew up with me at Ravensdene? We went to school together. She’s got her own bridal shop now and—’

‘Can I ask a favour?’

Miranda blinked. A favour? What sort of favour? What was he going to say? Shut up? Stop gabbling like a fool? Stop blushing like a gauche twelve-year-old schoolgirl? ‘Sure.’

His deep brown gaze was centred on hers, his dark brows still knitted together. ‘Will you do a job for me?’

Her heart gave a funny little skip. ‘Wh-what sort of job?’ Stuttering was another thing she did when she was around him. What was it about this man that turned her into a gibbering idiot? It was ridiculous. She had known him all her life. He was like a brother to her...well, sort of. Leandro had always been on the fringe of her consciousness as the Ideal Man. Not that she ever allowed herself to indulge in such thoughts. Not fully. But they were there, like uninvited guests at a cocktail party, every now and again moving forward to sneak a canapé or a drink before melting back against the back wall of her mind.

‘My father left me his art collection in his will,’ Leandro said. ‘I need someone to catalogue it before I can sell it; plus there are a couple of paintings that might need restoring. I’ll pay you, of course.’

Miranda found it odd he hadn’t told anyone his father had died until after the funeral was over. She wondered why he hadn’t told her brothers, particularly Julius, who was the more serious and steady twin. Julius would have supported Leandro, gone to the funeral with him and stood by him if he’d needed back up.

She pictured Leandro standing alone at that funeral. Why had he gone solo? Funerals were horrible enough. The final goodbye was always horrifically painful but to face it alone would be unimaginable. Even if he hadn’t been close to his father there would still be grief for what he had missed out on, not to mention the heart-wrenching realisation it was now too late to fix it.

When her childhood sweetheart Mark Redbank had died of leukaemia, her family and his had surrounded her. Supported her. Comforted her. Even Leandro had turned up at the funeral—she remembered seeing his tall, silent dark-haired figure at the back of the church. It had touched her that he’d made the time when he’d hardly known Mark. He had only met him a handful of times.

Miranda had heard via her brothers that Leandro had a complicated back story. They hadn’t told her much, only that his parents had divorced when he was eight years old and his mother had taken him to England, where he’d been promptly put into boarding school with Miranda’s twin brothers after his mother had remarried and begun a new family. He had been a studious child, excelling both academically and on the sporting field. He had taken that hard work ethic into his career as a forensic accountant. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

‘Did your mother go to the funeral?’ Miranda asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘They hadn’t spoken since the divorce.’

Miranda wondered if his father’s funeral would have brought back painful memories of his estranged relationship with him. No son wanted to be rejected by his father. But apparently Vittorio Allegretti hadn’t wanted custody after the divorce. He had handed over Leandro as a small boy and only saw him on the rare occasion he’d been in London on business. She had heard via her brothers that eventually Leandro had stopped meeting his father because Vittorio had a tendency to drink to the point of abusing others and/or passing out. There had even been one occasion where the police had had to be called due to a bar-room scuffle Leandro’s father had started. It didn’t surprise her Leandro had kept his distance. With his quiet and reserved nature he wasn’t the sort of man to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

But there was so much more she didn’t know about him. She knew he was a forensic accountant—a brilliant one. He had his own consultancy in London and travelled all over the globe uncovering major fraud in the corporate and private sectors. He often worked with Jake with his business analysis company and he had recently helped Julius in exposing Holly’s ghastly stepfather’s underworld drug and money-laundering operations.

Leandro Allegretti was the go-to man for uncovering secrets and yet Miranda had always sensed he had one or two of his own.

‘So this job...’ she began. ‘Where’s the collection?’

‘In Nice,’ he said. ‘My father ran an art and antiques business in the French Riviera. This is his private collection. He sold off everything else when he was first diagnosed with terminal cancer.’

‘And you want to...to get rid of it?’ Miranda asked, frowning at the thought of him selling everything of his father’s. In spite of their tricky relationship, didn’t he want a memento? ‘All of it?’

The line of his mouth was flat. Hardened. Whitened. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have to pack up the villa and sell that too.’

‘Why not use someone locally?’ Miranda knew she was well regarded in her job as an art restorer even though she was at the early stages of her career. But she wouldn’t be able to do much on site. Art restoration was more science now than art. Sophisticated techniques using x-rays, infrared technology and Raman spectroscopy meant most restoration work was done in the protective environment of an established gallery. Leandro could afford the best in the world. Why ask her?