Читать книгу Enemies at the Altar - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 9

SIENNA took a taxi to Andreas’s Tuscan estate once she had finished shopping. The Renaissance-style villa was a few kilometres outside Florence, set amongst acres of olive groves and vineyards in the Chianti region of Tuscany, made famous for its wine. The fading afternoon sunshine cast a spectacular light over the fresh growth on the vines. Flowers in an array of bright colours tumbled from baskets hanging near the entrance to the villa. It was breathtakingly beautiful and a jolting reminder of the wealth Andreas had been born into and had never questioned. Sure, he had forged his own way with his furniture designs, but he had never had to worry about bills not being paid or where the next meal was coming from. It was hard not to feel a teensy bit jealous. Why did he even want his mother’s wretched chateau in Provence when he had all of this?

The thought of owning a property like the chateau made Sienna wonder if she should set about making him default on the will by making it impossible to live with her. It was a tempting thought: a chateau of her own, her own patch of paradise. It wasn’t as if Andreas would be left homeless or anything. He had homes everywhere. The one in Florence was his base, but she knew for a fact he had a villa in Barbados as well as one somewhere in Spain.

The door of the villa opened and a motherly-looking woman who introduced herself as Elena smiled as she ushered Sienna in. ‘Signor Ferrante told me you would be arriving this evening,’ she said. ‘I have made up the Rose Suite for you.’ She winked knowingly. ‘It is right next to his.’

Sienna forced a smile. ‘That was very thoughtful of you.’

‘It is no trouble,’ Elena said. ‘I was young and madly in love once. I met my husband and within a month we were married. I knew Signor Ferrante would change his mind about that one.’

Sienna frowned slightly. ‘Erm … “That one”?’

Elena made a noise that sounded something like a snort. ‘Princess Portia. She was never happy. I had to fetch and carry. She did not like red meat. She did not like cheese. She only ate this. She only ate that. I nearly went crazy.’

‘Maybe she was thinking of her figure,’ Sienna offered generously.

The housekeeper gave another snort of disapproval. ‘She is not the right one for Signor Ferrante,’ she said. ‘He needs a woman who is as passionate as he is.’

Sienna couldn’t help wondering exactly what Andreas had told his housekeeper about their relationship or whether Elena had assumed their whirlwind courtship had come about because they had suddenly fallen deeply in love. Or, even more worryingly, could the housekeeper see something in Sienna that she desperately wanted to keep hidden? It wasn’t as if she still had a crush on Andreas or anything. She didn’t love him. She hated him. But that didn’t mean his physical presence didn’t disturb her. It did, and way too much. ‘You seem to know him very well,’ she said.

Elena smiled. ‘He’s a good man. He’s very generous and hard-working, too. He helps in the vineyard whenever he can, and the orchards. You knew him before? I read about it in the paper. Your mamma used to work for his family, sì?’

‘Sì,’ Sienna said. ‘My mother took up the position as head housekeeper when I was fourteen. Andreas wasn’t living at home then, of course, but we ran into each other from time to time.’

‘Friends to lovers, sì?’ Elena said, smiling broadly.

‘Erm … something like that.’

‘I can see the fire in your eyes,’ Elena said. ‘He will be happy with you. I can tell these things. You will make good babies with him, sì?’

Sienna felt her face grow hot. ‘We haven’t talked about kids. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind affair, actually.’

‘The best ones are,’ Elena said with matronly authority. ‘Come, I’ll show you your new home. You’ll want to settle in before Signor Ferrante gets back.’

Sienna followed the cheery housekeeper on a tour of the villa. It was even bigger than she had expected. Room after room, suite after suite, all beautifully and tastefully decorated. It occurred to her that in a villa this size she could pass six months without even running into Andreas, or anyone else for that matter.

‘I’ll leave you to shower and change,’ Elena said. ‘I will set up the dinner before I leave.’

‘You don’t live here?’ Sienna asked.

‘I live in the farmhouse next to the olive grove,’ Elena said. ‘My husband, Franco, works for Signor Ferrante too. If you want anything we are only a phone call away. I will be back in the morning around ten. Signor Ferrante likes a bit of privacy. He has lived with servants all his life. I understand he wants his space.’

Sienna hadn’t factored in actually being alone with Andreas. Alone with servants was a whole lot different than alone. It put a completely different spin on things. Could she trust him to keep his distance? The chemistry between them was volatile, to say the least. She knew it wouldn’t take much to set things off. If that tense little moment in his boardroom was anything to go by, things could get pretty intense in a flash and what would she be able to do about it? It wasn’t as if she had any immunity, not really. She put on a good front but how long was that going to last? He had only to look at her a certain way and her insides coiled with lust.

It was ironic because sex was something she had never really taken to with any great enthusiasm. Although she had partied, and partied hard after Andreas’s rejection, it had been months and months before she had even thought about dating, and even when she had finally gone out with a couple of young men her age, the intimate encounters had left her cold. She had felt nothing for either of her partners and they clearly had felt nothing for her. And then, after the shameful night that had found her in a stranger’s bed, she had locked herself away in a sex-less and safe marriage of convenience. Before that night, whenever the press had portrayed her as a sleep-around-slut, she had laughed it off, pleased that she was getting some attention, even if it wasn’t positive. She had known the truth about herself and that had been all that mattered. But now the label had a ring of truth to it she dearly wished she could remove.

After she had unpacked and showered and changed, Sienna came downstairs. The villa seemed rather empty without the warm and friendly chatter of the housekeeper. She picked at some food and poured herself a glass of wine, feeling restless and irritable.

Maybe she should have thought about this a little more before she went any further. It wasn’t the first time her impulsive nature had got her into trouble. Was it too late to back out?

The money stopped her thoughts of escape in their tracks. What was she thinking? It was like any other unpleasant job that had to be done. A six-month contract that would be over before she knew it. She would receive a handsome pay-out for her trouble.

There was that T word again. Trouble.

She had a habit of attracting it, no matter what she did. Was she forever destined to be at the mercy of circumstances she couldn’t control? Was it her fault her mother had kept her and given away her sister?

Jealousy was something Sienna didn’t want to feel around her twin, but she couldn’t help feeling a little cheated by how things had panned out. Gisele had grown up well provided for. She’d had a private education and gone on fabulous exotic holidays. She had lived in the same gorgeous house all of her childhood. She hadn’t had to pack up her things every few months or so when someone got tired of her mother’s laziness or cheek. She’d had a father to watch out for her, to provide for her and protect her from those who preyed upon the vulnerable.

Sienna, on the other hand, had grown up a whole lot faster than her peers. She’d learnt early on that there were few people you could trust. Everyone was out for his or her own gain.

And now she was no different.

She would get what she could out of this and move on. She would milk Andreas for every penny she could before she walked out of his life.

For good.

Sienna was on to her second glass of wine when she heard Andreas’s car. The deep throaty roar of the engine made her stomach clench unexpectedly. His fast car, fast-living lifestyle was something that had always attracted her even as it annoyed her. He had probably never had to push start a car in his life. He had never had to make his own bed or butter his own toast. He hadn’t been born with just a silver spoon in his mouth, but an entire dinner service. He ate from fine bone china and drank from crystal glasses. He had everything that money could buy and then some.

How she hated him for it.

Andreas came in to find Sienna lying on her stomach on his leather sofa with a half drunk glass of wine in her hand and the remote control to his big screen television in the other. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and she was wearing close-fitting black yoga pants and a loose hot-pink top that had slipped off one of her sun-kissed shoulders. Her feet were bare as she swung her lower legs back and forth in a slow motion kicking action. She looked young and nubile and so damned sexy he felt a tight ache deep in his groin.

‘Hard day at the office?’ she asked without even looking his way as she flicked through the channels.

He tugged at his tie to loosen it. ‘You could say that.’ He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the end of the other sofa. ‘Making ourselves at home, are we?’

She took a sip of her wine before she answered. ‘Having a blast,’ she said. ‘You make great wine, by the way. I like your housekeeper too. We’re already best friends.’

‘You’re not supposed to make friends with the servants,’ he said, frowning.

She muted the television and swung her legs down to sit up. ‘Why’s that?’ she asked. ‘Because they might forget their place and get too close to you?’

Andreas let out a carefully controlled breath. ‘They’re employees, not friends,’ he said. ‘They do the work and they get paid. There’s nothing else that’s required of them.’

She got off the sofa and padded over to where he was standing with her loose-limbed sensual gait. She looked up at him with those big sparkling-with-mischief grey-blue eyes of hers and he felt his groin tighten another excruciating notch. It was all he could do to stand there without hauling her against him to show her how much he lusted after her. But he had decided he would have her when he said so, not because she thought she could manipulate him at will.

‘Have you eaten?’ she asked.

‘What is this?’ he asked with a mocking look. ‘Wifely duties 101?’

She lifted that deliciously bare shoulder of hers in a little shrug, her mouth going to a resentful pout. ‘Just trying to be helpful,’ she said. ‘I thought you looked tired.’

‘Maybe that’s because I haven’t slept a wink since I heard about my father’s will,’ Andreas said, rubbing a hand over his face, which was in need of a shave.

He walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of the wine Sienna had opened. He took a couple of sips before swinging his gaze back to her. ‘I’ve got the licence. I pulled a few strings. We can get married next Friday.’

Her eyes widened a fraction but her voice when she spoke was all sass. ‘You move fast when you want something, don’t you, Rich Boy?’

‘No point in dragging things out,’ he said. ‘The sooner we marry, the sooner we can get a divorce.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

Andreas narrowed his gaze in sharp focus. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Her slim brows lifted archly. ‘Exactly what I said,’ she said. ‘You seem to have it all figured out.’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘We marry and then at the end of six months we end it. Simple.’

‘What did you tell Elena about us?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, other than we’re getting married as soon as possible.’

‘You must have said more than that,’ she said, toying with the end of her ponytail.

‘Why do you think that?’ he asked.

She lifted her golden shoulder up and down again. ‘She seems to think we’re madly in love,’ she said.

‘Most people are when they marry,’ Andreas said, taking another mouthful of wine.

A beat of silence ticked past.

‘Were you in love with Portia Briscoe?’ Sienna asked.

Andreas’s brows shot together. ‘What sort of question is that?’ he asked.

She tilted her head on one side, her finger tapping against her lips. ‘No, I don’t think you loved her,’ she said. ‘I think you liked her well enough. She ticked all the boxes for you. She comes from money, she knows what cutlery to use and she dresses well and never has a hair out of place. She never says the wrong thing or rubs people up the wrong way. But grab-you-in-the-guts love? Nope. I don’t think so.’

‘You’re a fine one to harp on about true love,’ he said. ‘You weren’t in love with Brian Littlemore. You barely knew him when you waltzed him down the aisle before his wife was even cold in her grave.’

‘Actually, I did know him,’ she said with an imperious air. ‘I’d met him well before his wife died.’

Andreas gave her a disgusted look. ‘And no doubt you opened your legs for him then too. Did he pay you? Or did you give him one for free to get him so hot and hungry the poor old fool couldn’t help himself?’

Sienna’s eyes flashed at him with undiluted venom. ‘You have a mind like a sewer,’ she said. ‘You sit up there in your diamond-encrusted, gold-inlaid ivory tower of yours, passing judgement on people you don’t even know from a bar of soap. Brian was a decent man with a big heart. You haven’t even got a heart. All you’ve got inside your chest is a lump of cold, hard stone.’

Andreas took a measured sip of his wine. ‘Your loyalty to your late husband is touching, ma chérie,’ he said. ‘But I wonder if you would be so loyal if you knew he had another lover the whole time he was with you.’

Her eyes flickered before moving away from his. He watched as she moved back to where she had left her glass of wine. She picked it up and cradled it in her hands without drinking any of it. ‘We had an open marriage,’ she said, still not looking at him. ‘It gave us both the freedom to do what we wanted as long as we were both discreet about it.’

Andreas wondered if he should have been quite so blunt with her. There had been nothing in the press about her late husband’s affair. He had heard it secondhand and not from a particularly reliable source. But if she was hurt or upset by the news she was doing a good job of concealing it. Admittedly, she was standing stiffly, almost guardedly, but neither her expression nor her tone showed any sign of emotional carnage.

‘You knew about his mistress?’ he asked.

She turned to look at him, a little puzzled frown pulling at her brow. ‘His … mistress?’

‘The woman he was seeing,’ he said. ‘His lover.’

She gave a little laugh that seemed totally out of place. It sounded almost … relieved. ‘Oh, her …’ she said. ‘Yes, I knew about her right from the start.’