Mediterranean Tycoons

She walked back into the bedroom and, switching on the bedside light clicked off the main one. Dropping the towel, she climbed wearily onto the big bed. She pulled the satin and lace cover over her and laid her head down on the plump pillows. It was comfortable, and she heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh. This time tomorrow she would be at home in her own bed, all her problems solved, financially solvent, and free …

She should be ecstatic, so why did she feel so hurt, so defeated? She knew the answer. After Lorenzo’s outburst this afternoon she had recognised at last the implacability of his contempt for her. Was it possible to desire someone and hate them at the same time? Yes, she thought bitterly. Lorenzo could.

From the very beginning when she had felt they’d made love Lorenzo had felt … nothing … She moved her hand slowly over her naked body, remembering. Not strictly true. She thought of the dark desire, the passion in his black eyes, the need he could not hide when buried deep inside her.

Then she remembered his comment on Monday night. The only time his brain stopped working and planning was in a moment of intense sexual relief … The only time he stopped despising her … And then she knew she didn’t care what proof he thought he had. She had suffered enough pain to last a lifetime because of him.

Her eyes filled with moisture; in a house full of people she had never felt so alone in her life.

Turning, she buried her face in the pillow and gave way to grief for all those she had loved and lost, letting the tears fall. For her mother, her father, her brother—but most of all for the love she had never had and never would have from Lorenzo.

CHAPTER TEN

LORENZO had watched Lucy ascend the stairs. He had been watching her all evening. It was crazy, he knew, and he had to stop. Even if she had not been the sister of a man he despised she was still not for him. She was too young. Paolo was nearer her age, but he’d had some nerve, trying to put his arm around her. For a second he had wanted to knock the cheeky young devil down.

He glanced around the room. The crowd was thinning fast—time to do his duty as host and see them all out. He was not a lover of parties at the best of times—especially in his home—but at least his mother had enjoyed herself.

Gianni was on hand to round up the stragglers, and an hour later only the doctor was still in the lounge, as he was staying the night.

He glanced around the empty hall and saw again in his mind’s eye Lucy descending the stairs earlier, a vision in silver and white. Damn it! She was in his head again. She had been in his head for the best part of three months, and it had to stop. He had to forget her exquisite little body was curled up in bed a few metres above his head, despite the frustration coursing through him. The woman was driving him mad. The sooner he could stick her on the plane in the morning and forget he’d ever known her the better.

With the last guest gone, he strode into the salon. He was too tense to sleep, and spotted the doctor still seated on a sofa. He shrugged off his jacket and pulled off the bow-tie, crossing to the drinks cabinet and pouring cognac into two glasses. He handed one to the doctor and sat down in a chair opposite.

‘Brilliant party, my boy.’

Lorenzo agreed, and automatically asked him about his mother’s health.

‘Nothing to worry about. Her blood pressure is fine, and Anna is better than she has been in years. Lucy has given her a new lease on life. You as well, Lorenzo, I shouldn’t wonder. You are a very lucky man.’ He beamed at him, sipping his glass of cognac, more than slightly drunk. ‘That young woman of yours is a true gem—beautiful and talented, with a heart as big as a lion, loving and compassionate … maybe too compassionate for her own good. If I had been her doctor I don’t think I’d have advised a teenager to do it.’

‘Do what?’ Lorenzo asked, draining his glass. He placed it on the low table and reclined back in his chair. Had Lucy had an abortion? he wondered cynically, knowing how the doctor felt about such a procedure, being deeply religious.

‘Why—give one of her kidneys to her brother, of course.’

A rushing noise filled Lorenzo’s head. The colour leached from his face, and he sat up straight and stared at the doctor with horrified eyes. ‘Lucy did what? When?’ he demanded in a hoarse voice.

‘Surely you must know? When her brother returned to England—after the climbing accident. Apparently the Swiss clinic he spent a day in said he was naturally a bit exhausted, but fine, and discharged him. A couple of weeks later his own doctor and local hospital weren’t much better, and three months later he ended up in the Hospital for Tropical Diseases in London. They finally diagnosed him as having a rare disease, probably picked up in South America at the beginning of the year, that attacked the kidneys. The only solution was a transplant. Lucy was a perfect match—not that it did much good. She told me her brother died last year.’

‘Lucy … ‘ Lorenzo groaned her name as the enormity of what she had done hit him. ‘Will she be all right?’ he asked, terrified of the answer.

‘Yes, she is fine—very fit. One kidney is almost as good as two. I got her blood results this morning. No food poisoning—nothing wrong at all. Probably, as she said, the wine and too much rich food. She is a very sensible girl, who rarely drinks and watches what she eats. I think Anna was hoping Lucy might be pregnant, but she isn’t—and she is not on the pill, either. Doesn’t believe in putting anything in her body that is not necessary to her health—very wise.’ He suddenly stopped and added belatedly, ‘But I should not have told you—doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.’ Rising to his feet, he said, ‘Time I went to bed. Goodnight, Lorenzo.’

But Lorenzo didn’t hear. He was fighting to breathe, his heart pounding in his chest as the full weight of what the doctor had revealed exploded in his mind. Lucy—his Lucy—with the laughing eyes and the brilliant smile. It would kill him if anything happened to her. And in that instant he knew he loved her—probably had from the day she’d walked into his office and he had kissed her.

A host of other memories flooded though his mind: their first night together, when he’d carried her upstairs and she’d given herself to him so willingly. For the first time in his life he’d lost control. He should have known then he loved her.

He remembered kissing the scar at the base of her spine and asking her how she’d got it the second night they were together—when, after the first rush of passion, they had made long, slow love … caressing, exploring and having fun together. She had said it was just a cut, and, so engrossed in what she was doing to him by then, he’d never queried her answer. Later that night he had delivered a cruel cut of his own, and he couldn’t bear to think how brutal he had been.

He had actually accused her brother of manslaughter and ended their weekend affair with a ruthlessness as insulting to her as it was shaming to him. Groaning, he buried his head in his hands.

Lucy was never going to forgive him—how could she? He was the staid, arrogant banker she’d called him, who thought he was always right. She had tried to tell him this afternoon, when he’d shoved his so-called proof at her. She had accused him of seeing things in black and white and suggested her brother might have been weakened or passed out. But had he listened? No.

Lorenzo had no idea how long he sat there with every day of the last few months he’d spent with Lucy replaying in his mind—every word, every action. He had read somewhere that love was a kind of madness and, given the crazy way he had behaved since he’d met Lucy, he could believe it.

Finally he got to his feet, and with a steely glint of determination in his eyes walked upstairs. He hesitated for a second outside her bedroom, then opened the door and walked in.

He crossed to the bedside and stared down at where she lay on her back, her beautiful face illuminated by the bedside light, her eyes closed peacefully in sleep. His conscience told him the way he had behaved towards her was despicable and he should leave now. Let her go home as planned, and get on with her life without him. But he was not that altruistic. What he wanted he fought tooth and nail to get—and he wanted her with a passion, a depth of love, he had never imagined possible. Just the thought of never seeing her again tore him apart. She stirred slightly.

‘Lucy.’ He said her name and sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Lucy.’ he said again, and raised his hand to rest it on her shoulder.

Somewhere in her dreams Lucy heard Lorenzo call her name, and her eyelashes fluttered. She moaned a soft, low sound—'Lorenzo … ‘ Her lips parting in the beginning of a smile. Then she heard it again, louder, and blinked. ‘Lorenzo?’ she repeated, and felt his touch. She opened her eyes. This was no dream—he was sitting on her bed. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, knocking his hand away and scrambling back against the pillows, tugging the coverlet to her neck and suddenly very aware of her naked state.

‘I had to see you—to talk to you—make sure—’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ she cried. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

‘Yes—out of my mind with loving you.’

Loving her.

Her green eyes opened wide. She had to be still dreaming. But, no—Lorenzo was there, larger than life, minus his jacket, his shirt open at the neck. His black hair looked as if he had run his hands through it a hundred times, and his face was grey, but it was the pain in his eyes that shocked her most.

‘You look more like a man on death row than a man in love,’ she tried to joke. She could not—would not—believe what he had said.

‘Oh, Lucy,’ he groaned. ‘I might as well be if you don’t believe me. I love you—it is not a joke.’ And, reaching out, he curved his hands around her shoulders. ‘The only joke is on me, for not realising sooner,’ he said, staring down at her with haunted eyes. ‘Dio, I hope I am not too late.’

Lucy hung on to the coverlet as if her life depended on it and looked at him. This was a Lorenzo she had never seen before. Gone was the hard, emotionless man. She could see the desperation in his eyes, feel it in the unsteady hands that held her, and she could feel herself weakening, beginning to believe him … Her pulses were beating erratically beneath her skin, her heart pounding.

‘I have sat downstairs for ages, wondering how to explain my actions … the appalling way I have behaved towards you since the day we met … and the only explanation I have is because I love you.’

Her heart squeezed inside her. ‘That has to be the dumbest reason I have ever heard for declaring you love someone.’ She wanted to believe him, but with a cynicism she had never had until she’d met him she said, ‘What is this? Some ploy to get a farewell lay? Well, you are wasting your time. I know exactly how contemptuous you think I am—a promiscuous, greedy woman who can’t help herself around men and who you can pay off. But you’re wrong.’

She was angry—at herself for her body’s instant response to his closeness, and at Lorenzo for doing this to her now, when she had finally resigned herself to their parting.

‘I only ever had sex once in my life before you. As for your paying me off—that convoluted deal was all your doing. All I ever asked from you was for you to vote with me and not sell your shares to save my family firm. I ended up blackmailed into your bed. So excuse me if I don’t believe you love me. Just leave me alone. I am packed and ready go.’ And then she added, ‘Try Olivia. I’m sure she will oblige—probably already has, according to rumour.’

He looked stunned. ‘Rumour is completely unfounded. My relationship with Olivia Paglia is strictly business, and I will sue anyone who dares repeat it.’ He sounded genuinely affronted. ‘How the hell did you find out about the rumours?’

‘I met you coming out of her apartment building, remember? The Contessa told me.’

‘I thought better of the Contessa—she is not known as a gossip,’ he said, and she saw disillusion in his dark eyes.

‘In fairness,’ Lucy began, ‘the Contessa did not believe them—and now I think you should leave.’

Suddenly he pushed her back against the pillows and leaned over her, his face only inches away. She heard the heavy pounding of his heart—or was it hers?

‘Damn it, Lucy, I don’t care what you heard. I can’t leave you alone, and you are not going anywhere. I know I don’t deserve you, but I love you—I want you and I need you.’ he stated, staring into her eyes and seeing the darkening pupils. ‘Though you don’t love me, you do want me,’ he said, with some of his usual arrogance returning.

She stared back, her mouth going dry, her body heating beneath the pressure of his.

‘No, I don’t,’ she lied, still afraid to believe his sudden avowal of love. ‘I don’t really know you and I don’t trust you.’

‘Lucy, you know me better than anyone—but I can’t blame you for not trusting me.’ He leant back a little, resting his forearms either side of her shoulders. ‘I admit I was determined to think the worst of you, and sure I was right about your brother. I didn’t know until the doctor told me tonight what you had done for him—donating a kidney. Have you any idea what that did to me?’ he demanded his face grim. ‘All I could think of was you on an operating table, risking your life for someone else, and it ripped my guts out. I have never been so afraid in my life for another person. I asked the doctor if you were all right. Because in that moment 1 knew I would not want to live in a world without you. I knew I loved you.’ He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers, and she saw the vulnerability in his dark eyes. ‘You have got to believe me—listen to me. Lucy, please give me a chance.’

‘All right,’ she murmured—not that she had a choice, trapped in the cage formed by his broad chest and arms, but the please helped.

‘I think I have loved you from the day you walked into my office wearing that horrible suit with your hair scraped back in a pleat. I kissed you—totally out of character for me. With hindsight I can see it was unfortunate that Manuel was the man I’d lunched with that day. He gave me the photographs I showed you this afternoon, and his opinion on the timescale, and I accepted his conclusion. He is a strong man, and like me has not much time for weakness, but now I don’t know and I no longer care. The past is past. You say you don’t know me, but you do, Lucy. I am the arrogant bastard you called me, and I very rarely change my mind, but I did that day. I was considering voting with you on the deal, but I was so angry I changed my mind. Then, when I kissed you, I was so overwhelmingly attracted to you I nearly lost control and was embarrassed by it. I lashed out at you.’ He laughed—a hollow sound.

‘I actually thought I was having a mid-life crisis … But it wasn’t—it was you. And I have been lashing out at you ever since. I used my perception of your brother as an excuse to believe you were as bad as I thought him to be in a crazy attempt to deny what was staring me in the face. I love you.’

Deep inside, Lucy felt the dead embers of hope burst into flame. She could see the sincerity in his eyes—hear it in every word he spoke.

‘I swore I never wanted to see you again, and yet I came up with reasons to visit you—each one crazier than the last. I was jealous of my dead brother because it was obvious you’d liked him. I was even jealous of Gianni, the butler, when you walked into the dining room with him laughing. I’ve never seen Gianni laugh like that in his life. And tonight I could have knocked young Paolo down when he laid his hands on you. I was so jealous.’ He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘I know it is a lot to ask, but can you ever forgive me for the way I have treated you? At least try and forget? Forget the argument over our brothers and business? Forget everything that has happened these past months and give me a chance to prove I love you?’

Lucy looked at him. Lorenzo was jealous. She had not been mistaken. But he was better than most at hiding his feelings. She thought of how on that first night, when he had remonstrated with her about her security, it had given her hope at the time, and of other instances when he’d been protective of her. He said he didn’t care what her brother might have done. Later she would tell him how her brother had passed out when he returned home, and the rest—but for now she decided to take a chance, a leap of faith, and believe him.

Her green eyes sparkled and a smile curved her lips. ‘I’ll give you a chance, but I don’t want to forget everything, Lorenzo. Some parts were memorable and should be repeated,’ she said, with a wriggle against him and a teasing flicker of her lashes. Lifting her hand, she swept back the hair from his brow.

He caught her wrist, his eyes tender and passionate as they met hers. ‘Oh, I think I can arrange that,’ he said, knowing exactly what she meant. ‘But first there is something else,’ he said in a husky, unsteady tone.

Lucy tensed, wondering what was coming next.

‘I don’t expect you to love me, but I want to take care of you—keep you. I know I can make you happy in bed, and maybe in time you will grow to love me if only you will let me try. Lucy, will you marry me?’

Lucy felt her heart swell to overflowing. She saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he waited for her answer—her proud, arrogant lover was unsure … nervous. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘You won’t have to try—I do love you.’ She saw the confusion, then the growing hope in his eyes. ‘I have from the first time we made love. And, yes—I will marry you.’

‘You do? You will?’ Lorenzo looked shocked, then his dark eyes blazed with emotion and a hint of tears as he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his broad chest, and buried his face in the fragrant silken mass of her hair. ‘You are sure?’ he queried, and then his lips sought hers and he kissed her with achingly sweet tenderness and a love that stole her breath away. He lifted his head. ‘When?’ he asked, and his dark eyes watched warily as he waited for her answer.

She realised her confident, powerful man was still uncertain. ‘Whenever you like.’ She smiled, all the love in her heart shining in her brilliant green eyes. ‘The sooner the better,’ she said, and finally let go of the coverlet and looped her arm around his neck. ‘Do we have to wait for the wedding?’ she teased.

‘Dio, no—I can’t wait,’ Lorenzo groaned, his voice thick with emotion and a hunger that Lucy felt herself.

Taking her arm from his neck, he stripped off his shirt, his pants. Lucy’s eyes followed his every move. This was what she wanted—what she yearned for—and as he gathered her in his arms she met the smouldering darkness of his gaze and arched into the hard warmth of his great body, her small hands caressing, her lips parting.

They melded together—heart to heart, mouth to mouth—in a kiss like no other, full of tenderness and longing, passion and love.

‘Lorenzo … ‘ she breathed, as his hands slid sensuously over her body and her own caressed his satin smooth skin. He filled up her senses, and with murmured words of love and groans of fervent need their bodies joined in the primeval dance of love, finally fusing together in surge after surge of pure ecstasy, two halves of a whole in perfect love.

‘I can’t find the words to tell you how you make me feel,’ Lorenzo husked as they lay satiated in each other’s arms. But he tried, with softly whispered endearments. He eased his weight away, but held her close to his long body, his hands gently stroking her back. ‘I don’t deserve you, Lucy, but I will never let you go—you are the colour in my life. You are beautiful inside and out.’ A long finger found the scar near the base of her spine. ‘I can’t believe you did this for your brother.’

‘Yes, you can,’ Lucy murmured. ‘You would have done the same for yours if he’d needed it,’ she said lazily as she surfaced from the sensual haze that surrounded her.

‘You have more faith in me than I do myself.’

‘Ah, but then I love you.’ She pressed a kiss on his chest and he rolled over on his back, carrying her with him. And as the dawn of the new day crept through the windows the dance of love started all over again.

‘What the hell?’ Lorenzo swore as a loud crashing noise woke him. Keeping Lucy safe in the curve of his arm, he sat up.

The maid was standing three feet into the room, and she had dropped the coffee tray she had been carrying. Her face was scarlet, and Lorenzo could understand why as Lucy opened her eyes and smiled up at him, stroking her small hand across his stomach.

‘I just need to feel you are real, Lorenzo, and know I wasn’t dreaming last night.’

Then to add to the confusion his mother appeared in the doorway, fully dressed.

‘What on earth has happened?’ she demanded of the maid, and then looked across at the bed. ‘Oh, Lorenzo—how could you?’

Lucy heard the voice and snatched her hand away from his stomach, blushing redder than the maid and trying to burrow down beneath the coverlet.

Lorenzo pulled her gently back up. ‘Trust me, Lucy—that will look worse.’ He grinned and tucked the coverlet under her, putting his arm around her shoulders before looking back across the room.

‘Good morning, Mother,’ he said, with all the confidence and panache a thirty-eight-year-old man could muster when for the first time in his life he had been caught in bed with a woman by his mother … ‘I want you to be the first to know Lucy and I are getting married.’

His mother gasped, and then smiled, and was about to rush over.

‘But can you save the congratulations and the cleanup until later? Lucy is a little shy right now.’

‘Yes—yes, of course.’

The two women backed out of the room.

‘As embarrassing moments go, that has to be the worst,’ Lucy said.

‘Not really. I should have expected something like that. From being a highly successful, staid and arrogant banker, in control of billions, who has never had any trouble with women in his life, this summer has seen women running rings around me. But, on the plus side, I have found the love of my life.’ And, laughing out loud, he tipped Lucy back in his arms and kissed her soundly.

EPILOGUE

LORENZO guided the car through the gates and up the drive, a smile on his face. Lucy had married him in the cathedral in Verona on a fine October day—a vision in white and a picture he would carry in his mind for ever. And eight months later their son Antonio had been born—conceived, Lucy was sure, on the night he’d proposed to her. Lorenzo had his doubts, but didn’t argue with his wife. She had filled his life with laughter and love, and she collected friends as other people collected stamps. Last week had been Antonio’s first birthday, and they had thrown a party for their friends, and his little friends and their families, with a funfair set up in the garden.

Today was Lorenzo’s birthday. He had spent the last four days in New York and could not wait to get home and get Lucy alone. He loved his family, but sometimes a man just needed his wife—and he was hard with anticipation. He had it all planned. He was going to surprise Lucy and fly her to Venice, take her to the Hotel Cipriani, where he had booked a suite for the night. They could share an intimate dinner … just the two of them.

* * *

Lucy combed Antonio’s soft black hair. He had woken from his afternoon nap an hour ago, and was now dressed and ready for the party. She kissed his cheek and handed him to the nanny to take downstairs. She had not wanted a nanny but Lorenzo had insisted, saying if she wanted to continue with her art it made sense.

He was right. He had arranged for one of the tower rooms to be converted into a studio for her, but she still had the gallery and visited regularly and showed her work there. Elaine now ran it, with Miss Carr the temp—who, having gone full-time, had ended up marrying the woodcarver in residence, confirmed bachelor Leon. In fact all four of them were here now, and downstairs with Anna.