Читать книгу The Italian's Price - Diana Hamilton - Страница 6

MILLY KEPT HER aching, sleep-deprived eyes anxiously on the main double doors of the exclusive country hotel where the Italian had obviously spent the night. At least she now knew his name, which was a relief of sorts. When the driver had arrived at the flat, promptly at six, he’d asked, ‘Miss Lee to meet Signor Saracino?’

And now the driver had entered the hotel and would emerge at any moment with Saracino and they would be driven to the airport. Her stomach rolled with dread and if it hadn’t been for her need to find her sister and protect her from the intimidating Italian’s misguided wrath she would have been out of this car like a shot and legging it down the long meandering shrub-bordered drive as if the devil himself was after her.

Which he would be, she sickeningly reminded herself. He hadn’t impressed her as being a man who would give up easily. Give up full stop.

And then she saw him. And turned her head away abruptly, her heart pounding with the fleeting impression of immaculate strength, hard purpose and no mercy whatsoever. Her palms, knotted together on her lap, grew slick and she tried to pull a calming breath into her lungs but it stuck in her throat and almost choked her.

Could she hope to carry this off?

She had to. For Jilly’s sake. She had no other option because if he saw through the deception he would be off after the real Jilly Lee faster than a hot knife through butter.

While the driver stowed Saracino’s small amount of luggage in the boot alongside her bulky and battered suitcase and holdall the Italian merely gave her a cursory glance through the side window before wordlessly settling himself in the front passenger seat.

Relief that she’d been spared the ordeal of having him sit beside her in the rear of the car was sweet and she allowed herself the fleeting luxury of savouring it as the car purred back along the drive towards the main road. He probably couldn’t bring himself to get close to her, or even look at her properly, for fear of contamination, which was a good omen for the future. Couldn’t be better!

The more he kept his distance the safer she would be from discovery and she’d handle being a companion to someone who would naturally expect her to be au fait with the routine of their days somehow. Getting through check in without anyone noticing the slight difference in the name on the ticket and the one on her passport seemed another good omen.

But once they were at the airport, through security, he did look at her. Properly.

Dark eyes took on a cynical glint as they swept her from head to toe and Milly’s stomach rolled over then tightened into a sickening knot. Forcing herself to lift her chin and meet those coldly disparaging eyes, she assured herself firmly that there was no way he could tell he was looking at the wrong twin.

Jilly’s cream-coloured linen suit with its lapel-less fitted jacket and narrow knee-length skirt was classily eye-catching enough to fool him, especially since last night when she’d been wearing her usual boring everyday clothes he’d taken her for her twin—the short no-nonsense hairstyle, lack of make-up—all the things that had always marked her as being different from her sister.

Nevertheless she quaked in Jilly’s bronze kitten heels when he delivered cuttingly, ‘I’m glad to see you’ve toned down your act. Contrition? Somehow I don’t think so. More likely to be sheer pig-headed annoyance at having been traced and hauled back to make reparation for your sins.’

She didn’t know what he meant by that ‘toning down’ bit and watched with sickening fascination as broad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug which denoted that he couldn’t care less either way. And then his strongly sculpted features hardened as he added, ‘You will stick to the fiction that you were called away because of a family crisis, apologise for not calling my grandmother during your absence and continue to please her with your company for as long as you are needed. The money you stole can be taken as future wages; you will receive no further payments from me. Is that understood?’

Dry mouthed, Milly nodded speechlessly, her flagging spirits taking a further nose-dive. She would work for him but would receive no pay!

She couldn’t use her debit card because, after forking out for that advance rent payment her account was as good as bare. And relying on her seldom used credit card was out of the question. She couldn’t afford to get into debt. Penniless apart from a couple of five pound notes and the loose change in her purse, her plan for travelling around on her days off—provided she was allowed such a luxury—to try and trace her twin bit the dust.

Trying not to let her agitation show, to sound as wryly confident as Jilly would have done in similar circumstances, she asked, ‘Will I still have time off? Or will I be locked in my room when your grandmother doesn’t need me, Signor Saracino?’

One strongly arched dark brow lifted in marked contempt as he countered, ‘So formal. I recall a much more intimate mode of address when you came to my bed.’

He swung away as their flight was called, leaving Milly to stagger in his wake, too shell shocked to notice that he hadn’t answered her question.

Cocooned in the luxury of first class, Milly’s mind was racing. A sideways glance showed her his impressive profile bent over a file he’d taken from his briefcase, the pen held in long finely made tanned fingers stabbing notes into the margins of the closely typed pages.

She looked quickly away, her heart fluttering as a strange sensation gathered in the pit of her stomach. Jilly and the Italian had been lovers.

So why had that announcement really shocked her? Her sister had had affairs before.

‘Things’ she’d called them. ‘I’m having this thing with—whoever.’ None of them had lasted longer than a month or two. Jilly had always been restless, easily bored.

Had it been different this time? Had Jilly fallen in love with the savagely handsome Italian? Milly, her cheeks growing greatly overheated, could easily understand that. He was drop-dead-gorgeous, magnetic. Even she, on the receiving end of his icy menace, could recognise that. In the role of sexy seducer he would be dynamite! Totally irresistible!

Had her sister believed Saracino loved her in return? Had she expected marriage? Been sublimely confident of it? That would explain the wild promise that if she played her cards right she would be able to pay Ma back with interest. Everything about him spoke of wealth and standing and it would explain why the lively, flamboyant Jilly had uncharacteristically taken the post of humble companion to an old lady. Just to be near the man she loved and hoped to marry, to be available.

And had she left secretly, nursing a broken heart, when she’d discovered that marrying her was the last thing on his mind?

She wouldn’t know for sure until she found her twin. But the scenario seemed likely given the information on that final postcard from Florence and what she knew of the callous yet handsome man at her side.

Hating to think of her sister in trouble—hounded by this cold-hearted devil because of some mistake—and hurting because he’d broken her heart she gritted her teeth and vowed to find Jilly and clear her name. Her twin had always looked out for her, had taken her part when they’d been growing up.

She was more determined than ever to repay that debt.

Milly woke when he prodded her. ‘Fasten your seat belt; we’re about to land.’

Hating his tone, contempt tinged with searing impatience, she groggily complied. She hadn’t thought she’d ever sleep again, at least not in his spiky company, but last night’s deprivation had caught up with her. Smothering yawns, she felt at a total disadvantage while she followed where he led and it wasn’t until they were well away from Pisa airport and driving along the labyrinthine white Tuscan lanes that he spoke to her, although she had much to her discomfit, been on the receiving end of quite a few penetrating sideways glances she’d felt rather than actually met.

‘For some reason Nonna thinks the sun shines out of you,’ he imparted drily. ‘Since your disappearance she has been fretting. You will do and say nothing to upset her. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly.’

Again that swift censorious sideways glance. ‘Don’t slouch! You look as though you’re being driven to the gallows! You should be thanking the patron saint of sinners that you’ve got off so lightly.’ His voice tightened. ‘If it weren’t for Nonna’s fondness for you then, believe me, you’d be in handcuffs right now!’

Milly dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. How she stopped herself from reaching over and strangling the hateful man she would never know! A scarlet flush of rage flooded her delicate features. If Jilly were in her place, the object of his withering contempt, she would fall out of love with him faster than she could draw breath.

She couldn’t trust herself to answer his scathing comments without giving the game away but, mindful of his scornful criticism, she sat up straighter.

In any other circumstances she would be enjoying riding in this open-topped racy sports car through the sun-soaked Tuscan scenery, through the patchwork landscape of vineyards and stately avenues of cypresses, orchards of lemon trees and distant craggy outcrops of rock.

As it was she was getting more wound up and edgy with every mile that passed and when a bend in the narrow road revealed a paved driveway flanked by elegant wrought iron gates and the imposing stone villa beyond she felt as if she were about to splinter with tension.

Would she make it through the acid test, her meeting with Saracino’s grandmother, without giving herself away? Back in England she had told herself that her identical physical appearance, the wearing of her twin’s clothes, was all she needed to stop the Italian searching for the real Jilly and having her charged with fraud and goodness only knew what else. But here the possible pitfalls loomed very large indeed.

Telling herself to watch her step at all times, she exited the car as the grim faced Italian pulled to a halt in front of the massive iron-studded open double doors and watched as he handed the car keys to a wiry little man who had appeared out of nowhere then turned to her.

‘Stefano will take your cases to your room. Wait in the hall while I go to prepare Nonna for your return.’

No way!

Outwardly compliant, Milly preceded him into the coolness of the marble paved reception hall, then watched as Saracino, handsome as all-get-out in the superbly styled light grey suit that drew attention to his broad back, narrow hips and long, elegantly strong legs, walked purposefully towards one of the gleaming, intricately carved doors that led off this huge space.

Then she dragged in a deep breath and scampered after Stefano as he mounted the sweeping staircase, congratulating herself on disregarding the boss’s orders and discovering where Jilly’s room was and avoiding the ignominy of pretending a short-term memory loss and having to confess to forgetting which room was hers!

Concentrating hard, she followed Stefano as he turned left where the magnificent staircase branched, down a panelled corridor hung with portraits and landscapes in heavy gilded frames, counting doors to left and right.

First hurdle over! It was the only positive thought she’d had since leaving England when Stefano opened the third door on the right. Smartly suppressing the instinctive cry of delight, she entered the room that had been supposedly hers for the last few months, the most beautiful room she had ever seen with its soft ivory-coloured carpet, panelled walls colour-washed in the same shade, gleaming antique furniture and the most opulent tester bed she had ever laid eyes on, layers of white lace topped by a satin quilt in a lovely shade of dusky rose, the whole enclosed with gauzy drapes. Not to mention the magnificent vaulted wooden ceiling, painted with swags of flowers, cherubs and exotic birds.

Placing her luggage on the low chest at the foot of the bed, Stefano said in passable English, ‘Not to use the smart valigia the Signora buy for you?’

As his glance rested on the old hold-all and shamefully battered suitcase into which she had stuffed Jilly’s lovely clothes she understood his meaning, found a smile and invented rapidly, ‘I didn’t want it to get scuffed; I wanted it to stay smart.’

Which earned her a beam of approval and the self-congratulatory thought that so far she was doing just fine. Which lasted precisely five seconds, the time it took for Stefano to exit and for her to realise that she was facing her reflection in a full length pier glass.

Staring at herself, she simply couldn’t believe Saracino hadn’t seen through the deception! True, feature for feature, she and Jilly were identical, but where her twin walked and held herself with sublime confidence, she drooped!

Hastily hauling her shoulders back, she pushed her fringe out of her eyes. Eyes innocent of any artifice. Unfortunately Jilly hadn’t left any of her cosmetics behind, just the clothes she’d worn a couple of times and grown tired of. So Milly had had to do the best she could with her usual moisturiser and rarely used rose-pink lipstick. Totally different from the trade mark scarlet pout, heavily darkened lashes and expertly applied foundation, eye shadow and blusher.

No wonder Saracino had made that scathing remark about toning down her act!

She was going to have to try harder! Make herself act, walk and talk like her sister, because if she didn’t then sooner or later—probably sooner—she would be rumbled. The thought terrified her so much that she felt nauseous as she made her way back to the huge hall.

Where Saracino was waiting, pacing, and clearly not pleased.

His nostrils flared, dark eyes shooting a dire warning at her, he bit out, ‘I told you to wait here.’

Inwardly quailing, Milly straightened her spine. Never mind how Jilly would have reacted to this ogre in the guise of an Adonis, she, Milly, wasn’t going to be spoken to as if she were a dim-witted form of low-life. ‘So you did.’ Proud of her dulcet tone, achieved with great self-control, she added serenely, ‘But I needed the bathroom. Now I will make my apologies to Nonna.’

‘She is not your grandmother. I won’t have a creature like you presuming family connections!’ The sensual mouth compressed with distaste as he took her arm in ungentle fingers. ‘You will address her as Filomena, as you always have done, and as Signora Saracino when speaking to the staff on her behalf.’

Little did he know it but because of her slip of the tongue he was being a great help. This thought buoyed her a little as he practically frog-marched her through an intricately carved door that led into a sitting room of beautiful proportions.

Tall windows lay open to an arcaded stone veranda admitting the soft spring light that gleamed back from gilded looking glasses and exquisite inlaid furniture. But Milly’s attention wasn’t for the obvious grandeur of the surroundings, it was all for the beaming elderly mauve-clad lady seated in a throne-like chair that dwarfed her frail body, both hands held out in welcome.

‘Jilly—naughty girl! Running away without a word!’ The warmth of the tone and the smile that went with it robbed her words of any sting. ‘Come, let me look at you.’

Unnervingly conscious of a pair of hard black eyes boring into the back of her head, Milly went forward on legs that felt like wet cotton wool, uncomfortably aware that if she put a foot wrong Filomena Saracino would see right through her and out her as the imposter she was.

Frail fingers clasped her own and the warmth of affection flooded through Milly and made her want to weep because the warmth wasn’t for her but for her charismatic sister. Jilly, the golden girl, only had to turn on that effortless charm of hers to have the recipient eating out of her beautifully manicured hands.

‘You’ve cut off all your hair; why did you do that, child?’

Disconcertingly—her sister was a total stranger to blushes—Milly felt her face flood with colour. She hated having to lie to this patently nice old lady. She pulled a breath into her suddenly oxygen-starved lungs and managed, ‘With the hot weather coming I thought it would be cooler,’ and heard behind her a cynical huff of breath. Saracino. He believed she’d done it to try to alter her appearance; he’d said as much at their first meeting.

‘Very practical.’ The silvery head was tipped assessingly, the faded eyes lively, ‘It suits you. You look younger; don’t you think so, Cesare?’

Which elicited no response, but Milly knew his first name now and that was one more brick in the edifice of deception she was building up—a necessary deception, she hastily reassured herself, as distaste for the part she was playing flooded her conscience.

The old lady released her hands and prompted gently, ‘Now pull up a chair and tell me about the family crisis that took you away from me.’

Silently Cesare placed a delicate upright chair a little to the side and a little in front of where his grandmother was sitting, then took himself across the room to lean against the huge marble fire surround, one arm draped over the top, feet crossed at the ankles.

He might appear relaxed but he wasn’t. Those dark hostile eyes didn’t leave her for a single moment, Milly noted sinkingly as she sat on the chair he had provided and tugged the hem of her narrow skirt more demurely over her knees. He was watching her like a hawk to make sure she didn’t do or say anything to upset his grandmother or leap up and snatch the rope of pearls from around the old lady’s throat and make a run for it, she thought with rising hysteria.

‘It must have been important,’ Filomena probed. ‘For you to leave without saying goodbye, or phone me later to tell me what was happening.’ Her voice trembled slightly. ‘I really missed you. The days seemed so long and dull without you to brighten them for me.’ The eyes that had seemed so lively on her arrival now dulled. ‘Would you have come back if Cesare hadn’t gone to England to find you?’

A lump the size of a small planet formed at the base of her throat and from the opposite side of the room Cesare put in, as smooth and deadly as black ice, ‘Don’t upset yourself, Nonna. I know Jilly can put your mind at rest.’ Dark eyes narrowed on her troubled face and she heard the threat behind his seemingly bland tone.

‘Can’t you, Jilly?