Книга - His Poor Little Rich Girl

His Poor Little Rich Girl
MELANIE MILBURNE


‘Sleeping rough not your thing any more, little rich girl?’Alessandro Vallini once made the mistake of proposing to spoiled princess Rachel McCulloch. Her rejection scored his soul. But now the tables have turned: bad-boy-made-good Alessandro now holds Rachel’s future in the palm of his hand! He needs a temporary housekeeper, and she needs money – it’s a perfect opportunity to taunt her with what she turned down…Riches-to-rags Rachel is very different from the glittering socialite Alessandro remembers. He’s laid his trap – with himself as bait! – but who’s catching who in this web of desire?










‘You are under my employ as a fill-in housekeeper,’ he said. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas of filling in other areas of my life.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘You would have to pay me a king’s ransom to become your latest mistress,’ she said.

Alessandro felt his lower spine zap with searing heat. ‘Dangerous words, Rachel,’ he warned silkily. ‘Don’t go throwing challenges down at me like that. I might just take you up on it.’

Rachel glared at him. ‘People like you think you can buy anything you want, don’t you? But I am not selling myself—and certainly not to you.’

‘Sleeping rough not your thing any more, little rich girl?’ he asked, with a mocking slant to his mouth.

She ground her teeth. ‘I am offering to work as your housekeeper. Nothing else.’




About the Author


MELANIE MILBURNE says: ‘I am married to a surgeon, Steve, and have two gorgeous sons, Paul and Phil. I live in Hobart, Tasmania, where I enjoy an active life as a long-distance runner and a nationally ranked top ten Master’s swimmer. I also have a Master’s Degree in Education, but my children totally turned me off the idea of teaching! When not running or swimming I write, and when I’m not doing all of the above I’m reading. And if someone could invent a way for me to read during a four-kilometre swim I’d be even happier!’

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His Poor Little

Rich Girl

Melanie Milburne







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CHAPTER ONE


RACHEL had waited for over an hour to meet with the proposed financial backer of her fashion label. She still hadn’t quite got in front of the jet lag and had to fight to keep her eyes open on the magazine she was leafing through as she waited in the plush reception area.

At last she was led through to the corporate executive’s office by his receptionist on legs that felt woolly with excitement.

This is it, she thought as she walked through the door. I won’t have to lose everything I have worked so hard for.

‘I am sorry, Ms McCulloch,’ the late middle-aged corporate executive said with an apologetic smile even before Rachel could take a seat. ‘We have changed our mind. Our company is undergoing some restructuring. We are not prepared to take a risk on such a relatively unknown designer as you. You will have to go elsewhere for the financial backing you require. We are no longer interested.’

Rachel blinked at the older man in shock. ‘Not interested?’ she choked. ‘But I thought … Your letter said … But I’ve come all this way!’

He held up a hand as if directing the heavy traffic that rumbled over the cobbled streets of Milan outside. ‘We have been advised against it by a highly respected business analysis expert,’ he said. ‘The board has made its final decision. I suggest you consider other options for finance.’

Other options? What other options? Rachel thought in gut-twisting despair. She had to get her evening wear label launched in Europe. Everything she had worked for, all the sacrifices she had made, all the heartache and hard work surely couldn’t end like this. She would look a fool all over again if this failed. If she didn’t get this money the company would go into receivership. She needed money and she needed it quickly.

She could not fail.

Rachel frowned as she addressed the executive. ‘Who exactly advised against backing me?’

‘I am sorry but I am unable to divulge that information,’ he said.

She felt her spine go rigid, suspicion crawling over her skin like a long-legged insect. ‘You said it was a highly respected business analysis expert.’

‘That is correct.’

‘Would that be Alessandro Vallini by any chance?’ she asked with a pointed look.

‘I am sorry, Miss McCulloch,’ he said. ‘I am not at liberty to confirm or deny anything.’

She stood up, hoisting her handbag over her shoulder with grim determination. ‘Thank you for your time,’ she said curtly and left.

Rachel found the address of Alessandro Vallini’s Milan office on the search engine on her phone. It was a gracious-looking building, old but classy and stylish, signifying the success of the man behind the business. It was a stellar rise to the top. As self-made men went, he surely was an outstanding example of how far one could go irrespective of a disadvantageous background. Seeing him face to face was not something she had originally planned to do, but clearly he had engineered this so she would track him down.

‘I would like to see Signor Vallini,’ Rachel said without preamble to the smartly dressed receptionist behind the desk.

‘I am sorry but Signor Vallini is currently taking an extended summer break at his villa in Positano,’ the receptionist said. ‘He is conducting all his business from there.’

‘Then I would like to make an appointment to see him at the earliest opportunity,’ Rachel said.

‘Are you an existing client?’ the receptionist asked.

‘No, but I—’

‘I am sorry but Signor Vallini is not taking on any new clients until after he returns from his break,’ the receptionist said. ‘I could schedule something for you in late September, perhaps?’

Rachel frowned. ‘But that’s more than a month away. I’m only here until the end of the August.’ ‘I am sorry but—’

‘Look, I’m not really a client,’ Rachel said, hoping she could pull off the little white lie. ‘I’m a … an old friend of his from Melbourne. He used to work for my father. I was hoping we could catch up while I am here. My name is Rachel McCulloch.’

There was a slight pause.

‘I will have to speak to him first,’ the receptionist said, and, picking up the receiver, added, ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat over there?’

Rachel sat on one of the butter-soft leather sofas, trying not to think of the last time she had seen Alessandro. If her instincts were right and he had been the one to sabotage her attempt to gain financial backing it proved one thing clearly: he still hadn’t forgiven her.

‘I am sorry but Signor Vallini does not wish to see you,’ the receptionist said.

Rachel shot to her feet. ‘But I must see him,’ she insisted. ‘I absolutely must see him.’

‘I am under strict instructions to inform you that under no circumstances will Signor Vallini agree to see you,’ the receptionist said.

Rachel was outraged. He was obviously playing with her. Did he really think she would take no for an answer after what he had just done? As paybacks went it was certainly an effective one but she wasn’t going to allow him to get away with it. Of course he would see her.

She would make him see her.

Rachel’s stomach dipped and dived all the way down the Amalfi coast road leading towards Positano, but it had little to do with the hair-raising twists and bends the bus wove around. She had planned to hire a car but her credit card had been declined at the booking counter. It had been an embarrassing experience, one she was unlikely to forget in a hurry. The phone call to her bank back in Australia had given her little comfort. It seemed a red flag had come up on her account and it would take at least twenty-four hours to clear it given her financial history after Craig had forged her name on various loans three years ago. She needed money more than ever and she needed it now.

The bus dropped her at the foot of the road that led to the Villa Vallini set high on the cliff. But when the driver opened the luggage compartment to locate her one bag it was nowhere to be seen.

‘It must have been put on one of the other buses,’ the driver said, closing the compartment.

‘How could that have happened?’ Rachel asked, trying not to panic.

He shrugged. ‘It happens now and again. I will contact head office and make sure it is delivered to your hotel. If you give me your details I will see to it.’ He took out a pen and a clipboard.

‘I haven’t actually booked a hotel as yet,’ Rachel said, chewing at her lip as she thought of her current lack of funds.

‘Just give me your mobile phone number then and I will call you when we locate the bag,’ he said.

Rachel stood on the roadside as the bus finally pulled away, and then her eyes went to the villa above her. The magnificent private residence was set slightly apart from its neighbours. It was centuries old, built on four levels, with luxurious terraced gardens and an infinity pool that was set high above the ocean. The sun sparkled off the brilliant blue water invitingly, making each bead of perspiration rolling down between Rachel’s shoulder blades all the more unbearable. The sun pierced her eyeballs like dressmaking pins, and the vague headache she had been fighting all day now started to inflict hammer blows of pain around her temples.

She garnered her determination and trudged on up the long steep steps that led to the imposing front gates of the villa. The double gates were locked and so too was the side gate for foot traffic. There was however an intercom button that was set in the stone wall beside the ornate shiny black and gold gates.

‘Non ci sono visitatori,’ a woman said before Rachel could say a word.

Rachel leaned closer to the speaker. ‘But I—’

The intercom went dead. She looked up at the villa, wincing as the sunlight stabbed again at her eyes. She clutched at the wrought iron of the gates and took a couple of deep breaths before she pressed the buzzer again.

The woman answered again, this time in heavily accented English. ‘No visitors.’

‘I have to see Alessandro Vallini,’ Rachel said. ‘I am not leaving until I do.’

‘Please go away,’ the woman said.

‘But I have nowhere else to go,’ Rachel said, almost to the point of begging. ‘Could you please tell Signor Vallini that? I have nowhere else to go.’

The intercom went dead again and Rachel turned her back against the hot stone and slid down to sit in a patch of shade. She lowered her head to her bent knees, unable to believe this was happening to her. It was as if she had stepped into someone else’s life. She had grown up with money, lots of money, more money than most people saw in a lifetime. For so long she had taken it for granted. She had wanted for nothing and had not for a moment thought it could all be taken away. But it had been, and, although she had worked hard to rebuild her life over the last couple of years, now she was reduced to begging at the gates of the man she had walked away from five years ago. Was this karma? Was this how fate had decided to play things? She closed her eyes and prayed for the pain in her head to ease. Then she would get up and try again and again until Alessandro finally agreed to see her.

‘Is she still there?’ Alessandro asked his housekeeper Lucia.

‘Sì, signor,’ Lucia said, turning from the window. ‘It has been over an hour. It is very hot out there.’

Alessandro rubbed at the tense spot in his jaw as he fought with his conscience. He was locked away in his tower while Rachel was down there in the boiling heat but his gut clenched with the dread of her seeing him like this. He hadn’t expected her to arrive unannounced. He had already had his secretary refuse her an appointment. He had hoped that would be enough to put her off. How long until she gave up and went away? Why wasn’t she getting the message? He didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want to see anyone.

‘Mon Dio, I think she is going to faint!’ Lucia said grabbing at the window sill with both hands.

‘It is probably an act,’ Alessandro said calmly, turning back to the papers on his desk, doing his best to ignore the two flick knives of guilt and anguish inside his stomach.

Lucia frowned as she stepped away from the window. ‘Perhaps I should take her some water to see if she is all right.’

‘Do what you like,’ he said, flipping a page of the document he had lost interest in half an hour ago. ‘Just keep her away from me.’

‘Sì, signor,’

Rachel opened her eyes to see an Italian woman in her mid to late fifties holding a glass of water in one hand and a jug with ice cubes and a slice of lemon in the other.

‘Would you like a drink before you move on?’ she asked, passing the frosted glass through the bars of the gate.

‘Thank you.’ Rachel took the water and drank thirstily. ‘I have the most appalling headache.’

‘It is the heat,’ the woman said refilling the glass Rachel had passed back. ‘August is always like this. You are probably dehydrated.’

Rachel drank another glass and another before she gave the woman a grateful smile as she handed back the glass. ‘Grazie. That literally saved my life.’

‘Where are you staying?’ the woman asked. ‘In Positano or somewhere else?’

Rachel dragged herself to her feet, using the bars of the gate as leverage. ‘I haven’t got a place to stay,’ she said. ‘I’ve got no money to pay for anywhere. And now my luggage has gone missing.’

‘You can’t stay here,’ the woman said. ‘Signor Vallini insists on no—’

‘I just want five minutes with him,’ Rachel said, brushing her damp hair off her face with a weary hand. ‘Please? Can you organise that for me? I promise I won’t keep him long. Just five minutes of his time is all I’m asking of him.’

The woman set her mouth. ‘I could lose my job over this.’

‘Please?’ Rachel couldn’t keep the pleading note out of her voice.

The Italian woman let out a long-winded breath as she put the jug and glass down on the flagstones. ‘Five minutes but that is all,’ she said as she unlocked the gate.

Rachel picked up her handbag and stepped through before the woman changed her mind. The gate was closed and locked behind her with a resounding click that was strangely eerie in the hot still summer air.

The gardens on either side of the entrance to the villa were magnificent. Roses of every colour imaginable bloomed in abundance from behind neatly trimmed ankle-high hedges, their heady sweet fragrance intensified by the sun. There was a huge fountain in the middle of the driveway, the cascading water as Rachel walked past throwing off a fine mist that was deliciously cool and refreshing. She wished she could just stand there and let the soothing spray ease all the tension out of her muscles.

The housekeeper set aside the jug and glass as she opened the front door of the villa. The cooler air of indoors was like a fan as soon as Rachel stepped in. The floor of the foyer was highly polished marble, as was the grand staircase that swept upwards in a two-sided arc that met on the massive landing above. Crystal chandeliers hung above her in glittering elegance, and priceless works of art hung from the walls, the stately windows in between allowing the sunlight to come in via golden shafts that gilded everything it touched.

The villa was breathtaking and so far from the background Alessandro had come from. How had he done it? How had a man who had once been a runaway street kid from the outer suburbs of Melbourne achieved so much in so little time? After working in a variety of jobs after leaving school, at around twenty-four he had started his own one-person landscaping-gardening business while studying part time for a business degree. He had later sold his business as a franchise offering landscaping and gardening services for the top end of the market. Now at thirty-three he owned and operated a business analysis and management empire that had gone global. Had it been her rejection that had fuelled his determination to succeed or had he always been destined to achieve?

‘If you will wait here while I speak to Signor Vallini,’ the woman said, indicating an antique chair next to a table in the foyer.

Rachel ignored the chair in order to look around. The villa was better than any of the five-star hotels she had ever stayed in and she had stayed in plenty over the years. She had thought her family mansion had been magnificent and certainly compared to many it had been. But this was on another level entirely. This place felt like a palace with its priceless art works and sophisticated decor. She went to a French table with an intricate gold inlay on the top where a vase of roses sat. She touched one of the fragrant blood-red petals and it fell to the table’s surface in a velvet silence.

Footsteps sounded behind her and the Italian woman appeared. ‘He has agreed to give you five minutes,’ she said.

Rachel let out the breath she had been holding and followed the woman up the marble staircase. It was only as she passed a mirror on the second landing that she wished she had asked for a moment or two to freshen up. Her hair was sticky about her too-pink face and the end of her nose looked as if it had caught the sun. Her sleeveless top had damp patches in between her breasts and her shoulder blades, and the crisp white linen trousers she had put on this morning now looked as if they had been worn for a week on an archaeological dig. She didn’t look anything like a fashion designer. She looked like a sunburnt, down-on-her-luck vagrant.

The housekeeper knocked on a door on the second level, and, stepping to one side, opened the door for Rachel to go through.

The door closed behind her as Rachel stepped into the room. It was a library—study with three walls of bookshelves and a huge desk set in front of long, heavily curtained windows. Compared to the brightness of the rest of the villa this room seemed dark and brooding, not unlike the man who sat behind the leather-top desk.

Rachel met his eyes across the distance of the room and her heart gave a little involuntary stumble. His eyes were as blue and as deep and as unfathomable as the ocean she had walked past this morning—a startling, incongruous blue given his olive-skinned Italian colouring and jet-black hair.

The silence was like a wall of thick glass dividing the room in two. All Rachel could hear was the sound of her thudding heartbeats. The noiseless air contained a hint of something faintly disturbing. It made her heart beat all the faster and her breathing stalled as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

He had an interesting face. Not handsome in a classical sense but certainly arresting. The Roman nose gave him an aristocratic air, so too did his sharply honed uncompromising jaw.

His mouth was unsmiling.

An errant thought slipped into her head as she wondered when he had last smiled and who had been the recipient of it. A lover perhaps? She had done a little research and found out he had ended a relationship with a cosmetic model a couple of months ago. But there was nothing unusual about that. The same research had turned up that none of his relationships ever lasted more than a month or two. There was nothing else she could find out about his private life other than he was now one of Italy’s richest and most eligible men.

‘It was very good of you to agree to see me,’ she said with forced politeness.

He leaned back in his chair and quietly assessed her with his gaze. It annoyed her that he hadn’t even had the decency to rise when she entered the room. Was he doing it deliberately? Of course he was. He wanted to demonstrate his contempt of her and what she had done. But she was not going to be treated like trailer trash. She might have lost just about everything else, but she still had her pride.

‘Sit.’

One word.

A command.

An order.

An insult.

Rachel remained standing. ‘I won’t take up too much of your time,’ she said, working hard to control the thread of resentment in her voice.

A corner of his mouth went up in undisguised derision. ‘No, indeed you will not,’ he said. He flicked his gaze to his expensive-looking watch. ‘You had better say what you came here to say and say it quickly, for you have just under four minutes left. I have another commitment straight after this and it has a much higher priority.’

Rachel felt a tremor of anger rumble through her. So this was how he wanted to play it, was it? Sitting on his high horse, deigning to meet with her, only to play cat and mouse with her until he was satisfied he had got his revenge. It had to be about revenge. What else could it be? How he must be gloating about how the tables had turned. The once lowly gardener had made good while the little rich girl was now penniless. ‘I want to know if you are the one who sabotaged my attempt to raise finance for my fashion label,’ she said, eyeballing him.

His dark eyes held hers steadily. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ he said.

Rachel was incensed. ‘Don’t play me for a fool. I know you did it. The executive all but gave me your name.’

He continued to look at her as if she were a small out-of-control child in the middle of a temper tantrum. ‘You have your wires crossed, Rachel,’ he said in an annoyingly calm voice. ‘I have not advised anyone in regards to your label.’

Rachel chewed at the inside of her mouth, fighting for patience. ‘I came over to Italy specifically to sign a contract for finance for my label. But as soon as I walked into the office I was told they were no longer going to back me because of the advice they had been given by an expert in business analysis. A highly respected expert.’

He gave a semblance of a smile, a fractional movement of his lips that didn’t reveal his teeth. ‘I appreciate the compliment that you automatically assumed I was the highly regarded expert, but I can assure you I had nothing to do with it.’

Rachel glared at him furiously. ‘I am about to lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. I had everything riding on that backing and I think you damn well knew it. That’s why you did what you did. No one will help me now that they’ve heard your opinion. But that was your plan, wasn’t it? To make me so desperate I would come crawling to you for help.’

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes quietly assessing her flustered features as he idly rolled a gold pen between his index finger and thumb. ‘This little meeting you’ve cleverly orchestrated,’ he said, ‘it’s all been a ruse to get me to agree to give you money, is it not?’

Rachel was almost beyond rage. ‘I’ve orchestrated nothing! And as for you giving me money I wouldn’t dream of …’ Her words trailed off as her thoughts ran ahead. What if he were to give her the money? He was a very rich man. He had contacts and connections all over Europe that could help her like no one else. Her pride would take a beating, of course, which was probably his intention in the first place, but what was a bit of pride when she stood to lose everything if she didn’t secure finance in the next twenty-four hours? ‘Would you agree to give me money?’ she asked in a voice that hardly sounded like her own.

He continued to look at her with those incredible blue eyes, steady, watchful, unreadable. ‘I would have to know more about your business structure before I made that sort of commitment,’ he said. ‘Perhaps that is why your previous backers pulled out. Maybe they did a little digging into your background. Perhaps they were worried your fiancé might redirect their hard-earned money into his underworld drug-dealing operation.’

Rachel felt the slap of his statement. The shame of her past rose in her cheeks like a stain that nothing would wash away. She wondered if there would ever come a time when she could put it behind her: her mistakes, her blindness, her stupidity, her stubbornness. ‘I am no longer involved with Craig Hughson and I haven’t been for over three years.’

Alessandro kept rolling the pen between his finger and thumb. ‘So what about your father?’ he asked. ‘Surely he could spare some of the McCulloch millions to help his daughter?’

Rachel bit her lip, annoyed at herself for not being able to stop the betraying gesture in time. ‘I haven’t asked him.’

The dark brow lifted again and the rolling of the pen ceased. ‘Because he wouldn’t be able to help you even if you did ask him, sì?’ he said.

She gripped the strap of her handbag a little tighter. ‘I suppose you heard he lost everything three years ago,’ she said, hating him for reminding her of it. How he must be relishing in how dramatically the tables had turned. Her father had treated Alessandro appallingly in the time he had worked for him. Why Alessandro had stayed as long as he had had always surprised her. Surely there were other jobs he could have taken without the put-downs and cutting criticisms from her father.

‘He always was a gambling man,’ Alessandro said. ‘What a pity he didn’t always measure the risks.’

‘Yes …’ Rachel mumbled in response. She had found her father’s fall from grace extremely upsetting. Not because she was close to him, for, even though she was his only child, she had never managed to do anything to win his approval, apart from agreeing to marry Craig Hughson. But calling off the wedding so close to the day made her feel responsible for her father’s bankruptcy. All the money Craig had sunk into the business had been immediately withdrawn. The fact that it had been dirty money didn’t ease her conscience one iota. The family business had folded within days and her career as a model had come to one of the most ignominious halts in the history of Melbourne’s modelling world when her name and reputation had been sullied in the very public fallout.

The leather of Alessandro’s chair squeaked as he shifted his position. ‘How much are you after?’ he asked.

Rachel’s heart gave a little stumble of surprise. ‘Y-you’ll do it?’

His eyes remained steady on hers. ‘For a price.’ She tried to read his inscrutable look. ‘Interest, do you mean?’

‘Not interest, no.’

She frowned. ‘I’m not sure I’m following you,’ she said. ‘It’s financial support I’m after at this point to carry me through to a successful launch in Europe. It will have to be drawn up legally, of course. I’m prepared to pay interest but not if it’s unreasonable. I can’t stretch myself too far. I have other commitments and—’

‘I am not talking about a loan,’ he said. ‘Consider it a gift.’

Rachel’s insides gave a flip flop movement. ‘A … a gift?’

His sapphire-blue eyes held hers. ‘With conditions.’

‘I can’t possibly accept a gift of money from you,’ she said. ‘I insist on paying it back as soon as I can. It might take a while depending on how successful the launch is but—’

‘You misunderstand me, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I am not going to back your label.’

She looked at him in confusion. ‘But I thought you said you were going to give me a gift of money?’

‘I am.’

Rachel’s heart began to beat overtime. ‘But I don’t understand why you would want to do that,’ she said. ‘The last time we spoke …’ She cleared her throat, not really wanting to recall that dreadful scene on the night of her twenty-first birthday party.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me what the conditions are?’ he asked.

Rachel chewed at her lip. ‘If you want me to apologise for how things turned out … urn … between us, then I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I wanted to tell you about Craig and the expectation that one day we would marry. I should have told you. But as soon as you and I started dating I just couldn’t seem to do it. I didn’t want anything to spoil what we had …’

He remained silent, his face now set in stone.

She took a breath and continued, ‘I’ve had to work so hard to get this far, to be taken seriously after my modelling fiasco. I have people depending on me to make this work. I have staff with mortgages to pay and children to educate and feed. This isn’t just about me wanting to prove I can do it. It’s not just my money that will be lost if this falls over. My business partner has put everything she has into the company as well. I can’t let her down. She’s been a good friend to me.’

Alessandro slowly drummed his fingers on the desk as he sat watching her shift from foot to foot. He had waited a long time to hear her apologise for choosing another man’s money over his love. But was she apologising out of desperation or real regret?

He studied her features, drinking them in even though he had not for a moment forgotten how she looked. Her grey-green eyes were indelibly imprinted in his brain, so too was her shoulder-length glossy brown hair, the way it caught the sunlight at certain angles bringing out its natural highlights. She had aristocratic cheekbones, and a retroussé nose that gave her heart-shaped face an innocent, childlike air that was at odds with her true personality. She was all innocence on the outside but on the inside she had turned out to be a hard, conniving, conscienceless little opportunist just like every other gold-digger he had known.

Her mouth was something else he had never quite forgotten, but, instead of it being imprinted on his brain, it was for ever imprinted on his lips. He could still feel that pillowy softness beneath his mouth, the way she had opened to him like an exotic flower to the sun. He could still taste the sensual heat of her, the heady temptation she had dangled before him until she had got tired of playing with the hired help and moved on to more affluent pastures.

‘I will give you ten thousand euros,’ he said into the loaded silence.

‘But I need much more than that,’ she said, biting at her lower lip.

‘Ten thousand and that is all,’ he said.

Her grey-green eyes narrowed slightly. ‘But why would you do that? If you don’t want to back my label then why give me anything at all?’

He gave her a sardonic half-smile. ‘Because it will be worth it if you accept my conditions.’

Her eyes flared a little more and the column of her slim elegant throat slid up and down as she swallowed. ‘Wh-what are the conditions?’ she asked in a hoarse-sounding voice.

Alessandro held her trapped-in-the-headlights gaze for a pulsing moment.

How ironic she thought he was after revenge when that was the very last thing on his mind right now. ‘You can have the money in your bank account within the next half-hour,’ he said in a cool and controlled tone, ‘but only if you agree to walk out of here and never come back.’




CHAPTER TWO


HER mouth opened and closed and her throat rose and fell again. Her face paled and then flooded with colour. She glared at him, her eyes like flashes of green-tinged lightning, her slim body tight with tension, every muscle contracted in fury. ‘You’re paying me to … to leave?’ she asked.

Alessandro leaned back in his chair again. ‘Take it or leave it, Rachel. You have one minute to decide before I take the offer off the table. And I won’t be making another.’

Her hands clenched in fists by her sides, the action dislodging the precarious sling of her handbag. She shoved it back over her shoulder but the hand that pushed it back was visibly shaking. ‘That’s outrageous!’ she said.

‘That’s business,’ he returned.

‘Business?’ Her soft lip curled. ‘What sort of businessman are you that you have to pay someone to go away?’

‘You are not welcome here, Rachel,’ he said. ‘You want money and appear to be very determined not to leave until you get it. This is a compromise of sorts. For each minute you overstay your welcome the figure will go down.’

She looked at him in bewilderment. Gone was her cocky I’m-a-rich-girl-better-than-you haughtiness, in its place was a shocked, out-of-her-depth ingénue. ‘So, let me get this straight …’ She ran the tip of her tongue out over her lips before she continued. ‘You want me to walk out of here with ten thousand euros of yours, as long as I promise never to return?’

Alessandro gave a single nod.

‘But I don’t understand,’ she went on. ‘Why would you want to give me that amount of money for … for essentially nothing?’

‘I am a rich man,’ Alessandro said, borrowing a bit of her father’s philosophy. ‘I can do anything I want.’

She pressed her lips together, obviously wondering if she could trust him or not. If he hadn’t been feeling so cornered it would have amused him to watch her. She was oscillating, clearly tempted to take things on face value. It wasn’t a lot of money by her standards but it was still money. But if things were as precarious as she made out it would at least get her a bed and meals for the rest of her time in Italy. Would she take it and go, or would she try and weasel some more out of him?

He glanced at his watch. ‘The figure is now nine thousand euros, Rachel,’ he said. ‘What is your decision?’

Her eyes moved away from his, the colour on her cheeks still high. ‘You have to understand if this was just about me I would have walked out of here five minutes ago,’ she said. ‘In fact I wouldn’t have come here in the first place if it hadn’t been for what you did to sabotage—’

‘You are robbing yourself of another thousand.’

She met his gaze again, her tongue sweeping over the surface of her lips again. ‘Can I have a little more time to think about this?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘But that’s crazy!’ she said. ‘How do I know I can trust you? You might give me the money and then change the rules.’

‘I will not change the rules,’ he said. ‘I simply want you to take the money and leave.’

Her mouth flattened in anger. ‘This is payback, isn’t it? You want to make me pay for how I chose Craig instead of you.’

Alessandro kept his expression bland, uninterested, totally unmoved. ‘If you don’t want the money I am sure I can find someone else who does.’

‘But I need much more than that amount,’ she said. ‘I need to get my—’

‘That is all I am prepared to give you,’ he said. ‘Now please make up your mind before the amount left is not worth taking.’

She shifted her weight agitatedly, her mouth opening and snapping closed as if she was not quite ready to allow the words out. ‘I will accept your offer,’ she finally said.

‘Good,’ Alessandro said. ‘Give me your account details and I will transfer the funds as soon as I see you walk out of that gate.’

She wrote them on a piece of paper and passed them across. ‘So that’s it?’ she asked. ‘You don’t even want to offer me a drink or a meal or anything?’

‘No, you can get that at your hotel.’

‘I haven’t got a hotel,’ she said, ‘or at least not yet.’

‘I am sure you will find one. Positano is full of them suitable for most price brackets.’

‘But I haven’t got any luggage. It’s been misplaced. I don’t know when it’s going to turn up, if ever.’

‘Not my problem,’ he said.

‘You heartless bastard,’ she railed at him. ‘Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?’

He elevated one of his dark brows. ‘I have taken a leaf out of your book, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I no longer do anything to please anyone but myself.’

‘Do you have to pay your lovers to arrive as well as leave?’ she asked with a biting look. ‘You have a quick turnover of women in your life, or so I have heard.’

‘So you have been reading about me in the press, have you, Rachel?’ he asked, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction.

‘The Australian press don’t have access to too many details of your life,’ she said, ‘but now and again one of the UK magazines I occasionally buy mentions you and your latest girlfriend on the society pages.’

‘Does it seem ironic to you that the man you turned down all those years ago is now richer and more powerful than both your father and your ex-fiancé combined?’ Alessandro asked.

‘How did you do it?’ she asked, but then bit down on her lip as if she had regretted the words as soon as she had said them.

‘I was prepared for success and jumped at it when the first opportunity presented itself,’ he said. ‘Leaving Australia and coming over here opened up new avenues for me that would not have occurred otherwise.’

‘It’s a shame you don’t have any family to be proud of you,’ she said.

Alessandro clenched his jaw at her little jibe. He was used to her throwing her blue-blood lines in his face in the past. She was the rich girl with the pedigree; he was the abandoned mongrel who trawled the streets for the scraps thrown to him. He hated her for tricking him into thinking he’d had a chance with her. She had lured him into her sweet honey trap before flicking him away like an annoying insect. He was not going to make that mistake again, not with her or any woman. ‘Yes, but I have many friends who more than make up for the lack of close family,’ he said. ‘Now if you will excuse me I have work to do.’

‘Aren’t you going to accompany me to the door of your fortress to make sure I don’t pinch the silver on the way out?’ she asked.

‘I will leave Lucia to escort you off the property,’ Alessandro said. ‘I have better things to do with my time.’

‘She seems very nice,’ Rachel said, deliberately stalling. ‘Your housekeeper, I mean.’

‘Lucia is a kind soul,’ he said. ‘She has worked for me ever since I came to Italy. She is like a mother to me.’

Rachel thought of her own mother, an increasingly vague, amorphous image that drifted in and out of her consciousness from time to time. She had died when Rachel was three and a half but she still missed her. There was a mother-shaped hole inside her that nothing and no one had filled since in spite of her father’s many and varied partners over the years. She wondered if Alessandro, without either of his parents in his life, felt the same. He had never said. He had never talked of his childhood. All she knew from what little she had heard from others was he had spent a lot of time in foster homes or on the streets while growing up. Maybe his parents were dead. Maybe they were alive. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

Alessandro pressed an intercom button on his desk and summoned Lucia. ‘Miss McCulloch is ready to leave.’

‘Sì, Signor,’ Lucia answered. ‘I will come now.’

Rachel didn’t like being dismissed. It irritated the hell out of her that he just sat there issuing orders. She wanted more time with him so she could irritate him right back. Her anger towards him bubbled up inside her. She wanted to grab him by the front of his immaculate shirt and tell him exactly what she thought of him. ‘You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘Careful, Rachel,’ he said, eyeballing her darkly. ‘Don’t go biting the hand that is about to pay for your next meal.’

Lucia arrived at that moment. ‘Signorina? I will see you to the gate,’ she said, holding the study door open.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, but not before flinging one last cutting glare to Alessandro. ‘Goodbye, Alessandro. I hope I never have to see you again.’

He didn’t answer, which irritated her even more.

Alessandro watched as his housekeeper accompanied Rachel to the front entrance of the villa. He clenched and unclenched his hands on the side of his chair in rising tension. He turned away from the window and stared at his computer screen sightlessly. A couple of months ago he would have paid her to stay. He would have paid her to occupy his bed. He would have enjoyed showing her all she had missed out on in choosing Craig Hughson over him. And then he would have cast her adrift, coldly, callously, just as she had done to him.

But everything was different now.

He couldn’t afford to let her know what had happened to him. So far only his housekeeper and doctor and physical therapist knew. People in business were unpredictable, fickle at the whisper of a personal problem. One word in the press that he had suffered a health setback such as this could jeopardise his negotiations for the biggest coup of his career. A massively wealthy sheikh from Dubai was considering using Alessandro’s business analysis services. It was the sort of contact that would bring in even more wealthy clients, those with the sort of wealth that outshone even his current ones. He didn’t want anything to compromise the already tricky negotiations. The doctor had told him he needed another month of rehabilitation. One more month of privacy and then he could get on with his life.

The intercom sounded on his desk and he leaned forward to answer. ‘Yes, Lucia?’

‘I had to bring Miss McCulloch back into the villa,’ Lucia said.

‘Why?’ he barked the word at her.

‘She’s not well. I think she has a touch of heatstroke.’

Alessandro drummed his fingers on the desk until his fingertips went numb. His conscience jabbed at him again. He could hardly send her away ill. He could probably get away with a couple of days and nights with her in the villa without revealing the extent of his condition. Lucia would be discreet. It might even be amusing to see Rachel leave at the end of her brief stay with no idea of what he was hiding from her and the world at large. ‘All right,’ he said to his housekeeper. ‘Put her in one of the guest suites well away from mine. Does she need to see a doctor?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Lucia said. ‘She just needs to get some fluids on board and rest for a day or two. She is still a little jet-lagged.’

‘You’re too soft, Lucia,’ Alessandro said gruffly.

‘Maybe, but she seems a nice young woman,’ Lucia said.

‘You don’t know her like I do,’ he said. ‘For all you know this could be an act.’

‘It’s not an act,’ Lucia said. ‘She was sick a few minutes ago. I had to half carry her back to the villa. I thought she was going to pass out.’

Alessandro frowned. ‘Are you sure she doesn’t need a doctor?’

‘I will call one if she doesn’t improve after a rest,’ Lucia said. ‘I think she’ll be a lot better by tomorrow.’

Alessandro sat back in his chair once the conversation ended. One or two days was all he was prepared to allow Rachel to stay. It was risky, but then wasn’t everything in life that was enjoyable? A slow smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of entertaining her. It would be quite diverting to see her grovel for more money. He assumed that was what she would do. She hadn’t got what she wanted from him and would surely have another go to achieve her goal. He wondered how far she would take things. What sort of artifice would she employ this time to get him to lower his guard? He would play along with it, reeling her in just as she had done him, and then he would pull the rug from under her feet.

That would be the most entertaining part of it all.

Rachel woke from a deep and refreshing sleep. She looked at the clock by the bed and was shocked to see she had slept the clock around. Her headache had thankfully gone and the grumbling nausea had passed. Her temperature was normal and after a shower she felt almost human again, even though she had no choice but to put the same clothes back on, although the housekeeper had very kindly laundered and pressed them for her. Rachel had yet to hear from the bus company about the whereabouts of her luggage. There were no messages on her phone and no missed calls.

Her mobile rang from beside the bed and she reached across to answer it. ‘Hello?’

‘So how did it go?’ Caitlyn asked. ‘I’ve been waiting for hours and hours for you to tell me. Did you get the backing?’

‘No, not exactly,’ Rachel said and quickly filled in her friend and business partner on what had occurred.

‘Gosh, that’s disappointing,’ Caitlyn said. ‘Do you think you can have another talk to him about it?’

‘I’ll try but I don’t think it’s going to work,’ Rachel said. ‘He’s only allowing me to stay here now because I was ill yesterday. And that was only after the housekeeper put the hard word on him.’

‘He sounds very bitter.’

‘He is,’ Rachel said. ‘He looked at me with such loathing I found it unnerving.’

‘Well, you did turn down his marriage proposal in the past,’ Caitlyn said. ‘Some men find rejection really hard to take.’

‘But I wasn’t sure if I loved him enough to marry him,’ Rachel said in her defence.

‘You didn’t love Craig either,’ Caitlyn reminded her.

‘I know,’ Rachel said, feeling a cringe of shame at how she had handled things. In an effort to please her unpleasable father she had chosen money over a man’s love. Alessandro had told her he loved her. Even her father had never said those three little words. Craig had never said them either.

Rachel hated thinking of the two years of hell she had lived through being engaged to Craig Hughson. Thank God she hadn’t married him. She had come close but had found out just in time about his double life. How could she have been so naive to have allowed him to control her the way he had? It had taken the last couple of years to move on but, even so, now and again something would appear in the press about his underworld connections and it would bring it all back to her. This latest red flag on her account made her worry that she might never be able to put it behind her.

This much-anticipated trip to Italy was the first time she had felt a glimmer of hope that her luck was going to change, that she would find her feet again, be the success she had always dreamed she could be, not because of her looks, not because of her family background, but because of her own hard work. The sudden withdrawal of financial backing had knocked her sideways. But that had surely been Alessandro’s plan. He had deviously engineered things so that he could maximise her humiliation. She hated him for it.

There was a knock on the door and the housekeeper, Lucia, announced that refreshments would be served out by the pool if she felt up to joining Alessandro. Feeling hopelessly unprepared, Rachel made her way down to the pool area. She had no bathing costume. Her bikini was in the luggage somewhere between here and Milan. Not that Alessandro had shown much interest in her as a woman, she thought. She could probably turn up naked and he wouldn’t blink. She had tried to gauge his expression during their brief meeting to see if he gave off any signals of physical interest, but to her chagrin he had not. She was annoyed with herself for feeling piqued. She was not vain; well, certainly not as vain as she had been in her youth. Craig’s constant put-downs had more or less destroyed her self-esteem, and in the years since she had worked hard to build up her confidence again. But she wouldn’t be female if she didn’t appreciate the occasional compliment, either verbal or non-verbal. But while Alessandro hadn’t said or shown any interest, there had been that faintly disturbing undercurrent in the room. She still felt it now, the dusting of goose bumps on her skin when she thought of his dark blue unwavering gaze holding hers.

The terrace where the pool was situated was drenched in warm afternoon sunlight with a light breeze coming in from the ocean so far down below. Rachel felt her heart give a little kick when she saw Alessandro was in the pool, swimming in long easy strokes, his arms slicing through the water effortlessly, his long tanned legs barely needing to kick for the powerful strength in his upper body. She couldn’t stop looking at him, the way the muscles of his back and shoulders bunched beneath his tanned skin with each movement he made. The way the water sluiced off his hard male flesh in shiny droplets that splashed like diamonds as they fell back into the pool. He didn’t tumble turn at the end, but stopped and looked up and met her eyes with his water-spiked dark, thickly lashed blue ones.

‘Do you have swimwear with you?’ he asked, glancing at her white linen trousers and top.

‘No, I didn’t think I would be staying any longer than a few minutes,’ she said, feeling her colour rise in her cheeks. ‘And I’m still waiting to hear from the bus company about my luggage.’

‘Lucia can find something for you,’ he said. ‘I am sure there are bikinis somewhere upstairs from previous guests.’

Rachel put up her chin. ‘I am not wearing one of your ex-lovers’ cast-offs.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Then you will have to swim naked, won’t you?’

Rachel felt the searing heat of his gaze as it ran over her from head to toe. She felt as if every article of clothing she wore were suddenly transparent. Her skin burned and tingled, her breasts tightened and peaked against her bra, and her inner thighs flickered with a sensation she flatly refused to identify as desire. She hated him more every minute she spent in his company. He was an annoying reminder of all the mistakes she had made in the past. She didn’t like the way those critical dark blue eyes made her feel so exposed. She felt he could see right through her poise and sophisticated veneer to the insecure woman she still felt on the inside. He had always made her feel that way. She had never been able to hide behind her social standing with him. He threatened her in a way she could not handle. He still had that powerful effect on her and she didn’t have a clue how to manage it or counteract it. ‘I am perfectly fine sitting out here,’ she said coldly.

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, brushing his wet hair back off his face with one of his hands.

Rachel rolled her lips together, wishing she could tear her gaze away from the broad expanse of his chest, but her eyes were like two iron filings being lured by a powerful magnet. His pectoral muscles were so well defined. He must be lifting bulldozers in the gym, she thought. Unlike a lot of men of his generation he had resisted removing the masculine sprinkling of hair that went from a T shape across his chest to a narrow trail that disappeared beneath the black bathers he was wearing. She was glad the edge of the pool prevented her from looking any further. She had more than once felt the hard ridge of his maleness against her lower body when he had kissed her in the past. Her response to him back then had totally shocked her. It had shamed her that she had been so wanton with him, that in his arms she had turned into a ravenous tigress desperate for his kisses and his searing touch.

He was not the type of man her father had wanted her to associate with. He was beneath her in every way imaginable, he was untouchable, he was forbidden fruit. But still she had been drawn to him time and time again, unable to stop herself from stealing clandestine moments with him. Her behaviour had been unpardonable. She had led Alessandro on shamelessly when all the time she had never had any intention of going against her father’s wishes.

Rachel became aware of Alessandro’s gaze on hers and wondered if he was remembering those few stolen passionate kisses and that final showdown the night of her twenty-first birthday party when her engagement to Craig had been formally announced. It still made her heart jerk painfully when she recalled the look in Alessandro’s eyes that night. She had never seen such loathing, such contempt and anger. It had been red-hot. It had scorched her to the backbone. No wonder he still wanted to punish her.

She swallowed the tense knot in her throat, hating that she was hot and sticky and perspiring while he looked so cool and composed. It was ironic that he was the one in deep water, but, although she was standing on the rock-steady sun-baked flagstones, she felt as if she were in over her head.

‘Lucia has left drinks on the table over there in the shade,’ Alessandro said. ‘Would you mind bringing me a cold beer?’

Rachel glanced at the tray of drinks and then pursed her lips when she faced him again. ‘Why don’t you get it yourself?’ she said.

‘I am enjoying the water too much,’ he said.

She folded her arms in a recalcitrant manner. ‘I am not your slave.’

He gave her a slow smile that sent another shock wave between her thighs. It unsettled her so much she turned on her heel and stomped over to the drinks and poured herself an ice-cold wine. She sat down on the terrace furniture, crossing one leg over the other as she sipped from her glass. She had almost finished the wine and he still hadn’t moved from the side of the pool.

She knew he was watching her. She felt the weight of his gaze. She had always been aware of him watching her in the past. She had developed a sixth sense where he was concerned. She poured herself another wine and began sipping it, slower this time, aware that she was probably still a little low on fluids given how warm it was. The last thing she wanted to do was lose her head while in the presence of Alessandro Vallini.

God, she was so hot. Why hadn’t she packed a bikini in her handbag? It would have taken no space. Why hadn’t she thought? Luggage went missing all the time. It was one of the drags of travelling. She should have been more prepared. She pushed some sticky strands of hair off her face and took another cautious sip of her wine.

‘Have you got sunscreen on?’ Alessandro said.

‘Have you?’ she threw back.

‘I always use protection.’

Rachel felt that disturbing quiver again deep and low in her belly and to distract herself, jumped up and snatched a cold lager off the tray and took it to him. ‘Do you want a glass with that?’

‘No, this is fine. Thank you.’

She watched as he tipped his head back and drank from the bottle, the column of his long strong throat making her wonder what his skin would taste like if she were to trail her tongue along the dark stubble along his jaw …

She shied away from her traitorous thoughts like a cat springing away from a snapping dog. She went back to the chair in the shade and picked up her wine, holding it with both of her hands to control their sudden trembling. She had definitely been too long in the sun or something. She was acting so out of character. She wasn’t the type to be affected by a hot body and a slow sensual curve of a smile. Not any more. She was sensible and sorted out now. Life had taught her to get her priorities in order. No more infatuations, no more silly little dreams of being loved unconditionally. Everyone was out for what they could get and she was no different. She wished she could make him change his mind about backing her, however. If only she had more time with him to convince him of the potential of her label. If she could just get him to sit down with her and look at her spring and summer collection surely he would see how serious she was about this? How could she get him to change his mind?

Alessandro finished his beer and set the bottle well back from the edge of the pool. ‘Are you sure you won’t join me?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you.’

‘You could swim in your bra and knickers,’ he said. He waited a beat and added with another glint in his eyes, ‘You are wearing a bra and knickers, aren’t you?’

Rachel’s face felt like a furnace. How she hated him for taunting her like this. He was reminding her of the times when he had been at her father’s estate in the early years when she had deliberately paraded her scantily clad body before him. She had thought it amusing back then. It had made her feel so powerful. But now he was the one with all the power.

‘Of course I am wearing underwear,’ she said primly.

‘I am sure it is far more modest than some of the bikinis I have seen in this pool,’ he said.

Rachel could just imagine the minuscule scraps of fabric his lovers would prance around in. Not that she could talk. She had worn plenty of racy little numbers herself in the past. And he had seen her in them too. She had made sure of it. These days she went for a more classic look. ‘I might come down later after you’ve gone,’ she said.

‘I’m not planning on leaving any time soon,’ he said. ‘I swim for an hour each day, sometimes twice a day.’

Hence the strong pecs, Rachel thought. ‘That seems rather excessive,’ she said. ‘Are you training for something? The next Olympics maybe?’ She didn’t care that she sounded sarcastic. She didn’t see why she should pull any punches with him. He had insulted her from the moment she had stepped into his presence. It wasn’t helping her cause, she knew, but it sure felt good to give as good as she got from him.

His expression became shuttered, closed off, shadowed. ‘I like the exercise,’ he said. ‘It’s good for the mind as well as the body.’

He resumed swimming, length after length, the same rhythmic action having an almost hypnotic effect on her as she watched from the shade.

She sat for a bit longer finishing her wine, and in spite of the overhanging branches of the tree beside the table and chairs the heat became a torment. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps it was the streak of wilfulness in her personality that refused to let Alessandro think he could win any tussles with her.

She stood up and slipped out of her sandals and linen trousers and top, leaving them folded over the back of the chair she had just vacated. The bra and knickers ensemble she was wearing was thankfully a decent set Caitlyn had bought her for her last birthday. It was white with tiny pink rosebuds sewn in between the cups of the bra and on the front of the knickers. It covered her far more than some of the bikinis she had worn in the past, but even so as she walked towards the pool she felt as naked as the day she had been born.

Alessandro was at the other end of the pool when she slipped into the water but he turned to look at her as if some internal radar had signalled to him she had joined him. ‘Changed your mind?’ he said.

‘I was practically melting out there,’ she said, disguising a sigh of pure bliss as the cool water embraced her.

‘You should be used to the heat coming from Melbourne.’

‘It’s winter there now and it’s been a cold one,’ she said.

He leaned against the end of the pool in an indolent pose. ‘Come over here,’ he said. ‘It’s deeper.’

‘I’m fine here,’ Rachel said. ‘I like to be able to touch the bottom.’

‘You can still swim, can’t you?’

‘Of course, but I’m clearly not in quite the same league as you,’ she said.

‘I’ve been putting in a little extra practice just lately,’ he said in a tone touched with wryness as he effortlessly hauled himself out of the pool to sit on the edge, his legs still dangling in the water.

Rachel’s eyes went to his flat abdomen seemingly of their own volition. There was not a spare gram of flesh on him. Every abdominal muscle was clearly defined as if drawn by an anatomy artist. Her fingers itched to explore those hard ridges, to feel the texture of his skin, to tiptoe through the hair that marked him as a healthy potent male. Her heart began to beat heavily and she hadn’t even swum a stroke. Her breathing too was uneven, stopping and starting in her chest as if her lungs were being squeezed on and off by a large hand.

‘Are you going to do a length or two?’ Alessandro asked.

‘Are you going to criticise me if I don’t do it like a professional athlete?’ she tossed back archly.

He gave a slow, lopsided smile. ‘You need to learn to take constructive criticism, Rachel,’ he said. ‘How else can one learn to improve oneself if one is not open to feedback?’

Rather than answer him she slipped into the water and began swimming. She had never been more conscious of her body, and yet she had strutted on catwalks in several major cities before her career had been blown apart by her ex-fiancé’s double life in dealing drugs being exposed.

She got to the other end of the pool and had to draw breath. Obviously her fitness was something she needed to work on.

‘You need to stop fighting the water,’ Alessandro said from where he was sitting on the poolside. ‘You’re making it harder for yourself. You’re expending twice as much energy as you need to.’

She pushed the hair back off her face. ‘Yes, well, it’s not easy when I can’t see where the heck I am going.’

‘You need to tie your hair back or wear a swimming cap, goggles too, if you don’t like the water in your eyes.’

‘If I had known I was booking in for boot camp I would have packed accordingly,’ she said tartly.

His mouth was tilted in that half-smile again. ‘Try another lap without thrashing the water,’ he said. ‘Let the water support you as you move through it.’

Rachel went back and it did seem a little easier this time. She wasn’t quite so breathless, although that soon changed when she saw the way Alessandro glanced at her breasts. Heat flowed through her at the intimate contact. It felt as if he had touched her, cupping her with those broad strong hands of his. Her skin tingled in response, her nipples peaking as if he had just brushed the pads of his thumbs over them. There was no way of hiding her reaction to him. Could he tell? Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he remembering how he had once brushed his hot mouth against her tightly budded nipple in a stolen moment in the summer house?

His eyes came back to hers and held firm. ‘How about trying some breaststroke?’ he suggested.

Rachel gave him a look. ‘I just bet you’re an expert at that.’

His eyes glinted. ‘You could say I’m very experienced.’

Her belly flickered and fluttered at his double entendre. She slipped back into the water and did her version of the stroke, which she had always felt was more of a combination of a dog trying not to drown and a frog with a wonky leg. That Alessandro thought so too was more than apparent when she saw the grimace on his face when she stopped at his end. ‘Needs some work?’ she asked.

‘What a pity you aren’t staying longer than forty-eight hours,’ he said. ‘I could have given you some free tuition.’

‘I could always stay a little longer,’ she said, blinking the droplets of water out of her eyes. ‘My return ticket isn’t until the first of September.’

He held her look for a pulsing moment. ‘Two days, Rachel. That’s all. I want you out of here by tomorrow morning.’

Rachel felt her resentment building all over again. He was practically throwing her out on the street. What had happened to good old-fashioned hospitality? Did he really hate her that much? ‘But what if my luggage doesn’t turn up by then?’ she asked.

‘You’ll have to buy some clothes with the money I gave you.’

‘But practically all the money you gave me is going to be used up to pay off debts back home,’ she said.

‘Then you will have to find a job to tide you over.’

Lucia came out at that point and Alessandro frowned when he saw the harried look on her face.

‘Lucia? Is something wrong?’ he asked in Italian.

‘Sì, Signor,’ Lucia said, wringing her hands agitatedly. ‘I am afraid I have a family emergency to attend to. My daughter-in-law has been admitted to hospital. There is a problem with her pregnancy. My son needs me to babysit my grandsons. I am so sorry. I must go. I will hopefully only be away for a night, two at the most. I called Carlotta to fill in for me but she is visiting her mother in Sicily.’

Rachel had no real idea of what was being said since they spoke in such rapid Italian but it was clear Alessandro was not happy about something. A heavy frown pulled at his brows and his jaw tightened like a clamp.

Lucia glanced at Rachel before turning back to her employer, this time speaking in English. ‘What about Miss McCulloch?’

‘No. Non è assolutemente,’ he said firmly.

‘But she is already here with nowhere else to go until her luggage arrives,’ Lucia continued. ‘She could fill in until I get back or until we find a replacement.’

‘Is there something I can do to help?’ Rachel offered.

Alessandro frowned heavily. ‘No. I do not need your help.’

Lucia wrung her hands some more. ‘Signor, please, I beg you. I must leave as soon as I possibly can. My son is waiting for me so he can be with his wife. I need to pack a few things before I go.’

‘All right,’ Alessandro said. ‘Do what you have to do. I will see what can be arranged.’

Lucia bustled off, her flat sensible shoes almost flying across the flagstones in her haste.

‘I take it there’s been some sort of an emergency,’ Rachel said.

‘Yes,’ Alessandro said. ‘It seems I am without a housekeeper for the next day or two unless I can find a replacement.’

‘I could always fill in for Lucia,’ she said. ‘I can cook and I can clean.’

Alessandro looked down at her upturned face. Could he risk it? Could he employ her for the next couple of days and wear the consequences? It would solve one problem even if it threw up some others. He knew the press was already wondering why he was here without a mistress. Since his breakup with Lissette there had been speculation over who would take her place. Who better than the young woman who had turned him down in the past? It would be different this time of course. He would employ her. It would be a business deal. They would both get what they wanted. No emotional involvement, just cold hard cash. He would have to protect himself legally, of course. He would get his legal people to draw up an agreement immediately. One indiscreet word to the press from her and his business deal could be jeopardised. But he was prepared to risk it if it meant he could have Rachel at his beck and call even for a day or two. She had no idea what she was taking on. That was part of the appeal for him. She would leave as soon as she found out, he was sure of it. It would prove to him all over again that she was without compassion, without a care for anyone but herself. And right now he needed reminding of it. Having her here had already awakened urges he had soused with cynicism years ago. Her sassiness and spirited and wilful nature excited him much more than any of the compliant partners he’d had over the years.

‘You really want to work for me?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘If working for you for a few days will convince you to consider backing my label, then yes, I will do whatever you want me to do.’

Alessandro hooked one brow upwards. ‘Anything?’

A flicker of uncertainty came and went in her gaze. ‘Anything within reason,’ she said.

‘Just how far are you prepared to go for the financial backing you require?’ he asked.

Her teeth snagged at her full bottom lip. ‘Pretty far …’ ‘I am known to be a hard taskmaster, Rachel,’ Alessandro said. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to satisfy my exacting standards?’

Her cheeks flushed with delicate colour as she valiantly held his gaze. ‘I will do my best to give the best service possible,’ she said.

‘Do you realise that by sharing the villa with me even for a couple of days that people will jump to conclusions about what exactly is the nature of our relationship?’ he said.

The colour on her cheeks deepened. ‘It’s been my experience that people will think what they like no matter what the truth is,’ she said.

‘As long as you understand you are under my employ as a fill-in housekeeper,’ he said. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas of filling in other areas of my life.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘You would have to pay me a king’s ransom to become your latest mistress,’ she said.

Alessandro felt his lower spine zap with searing heat at her defiant words. His groin burned with the sudden flash fire of longing, a burgeoning heat that threatened to overthrow every bit of his resolve to have nothing to do with her. He had always wanted to tame her shrewish streak and now was a perfect opportunity to do it. ‘Dangerous words, Rachel,’ he warned silkily. ‘Don’t go throwing challenges down at me like that. I might just take you up on it.’




CHAPTER THREE


RACHEL glared at him. ‘People like you think you can buy anything you want, don’t you? But I am not selling myself, and certainly not to you.’

‘Sleeping rough not your thing any more, little rich girl?’ Alessandro asked with a mocking slant to his mouth.





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