Читать книгу Undressed by the Billionaire - Susanne James - Страница 11

AS THEY approached the end of the journey they sat in silence, and Ethan could sense Savannah’s unease. For all her excitement at the thought of seeing his palazzo, she was wondering what she had got herself into. He had always been intuitive. His mother had told him he was keenly tuned, close to the earth and all its mystery. She’d told him that before the crystal sphere she’d kept next to her bed told her to marry for the fourth time, apparently. At seven years old he had begged her not to do it, believing it would be a disastrous move for his mother and for himself. She had ignored him and the marriage had been a disaster. So much for his mother’s belief in his special powers. The beatings had begun the day his new ‘daddy’ had arrived back from their honeymoon. He’d gone away to school that September, and had been the only boy in his class relieved to be living away from home.

And why was he remembering that now? He moved so that Savannah was no longer in his eyeline in the mirror. Was it because for the first time since his rugby career had been ended he wished he could be unblemished inside and out? Was it because Savannah Ross was too innocent to know the ugliness inside him?

Realising he was only paying attention to half the things his driver was telling him, he made some token comment and started watching Savannah again. She looked so small and vulnerable, sitting all alone on a sea of cream leather. The Bentley was the right scale for a man his size, but she was dwarfed by it. And she was a distraction he couldn’t afford, he warned himself, especially if he was going to remain aloof from her when they reached their destination.

Stately cypress groves provided a lush green counterpoint to the rolling fields of Tuscany, and with the sun burning low in a cobalt sky Savannah wondered if there might be enough beauty here to distract her from her main obsession—but her main obsession turned at that moment to speak to her.

‘We’ll be arriving at the palazzo at the perfect time.’

‘Sunset,’ Savannah guessed. A thrill of excitement overtook her fear that Ethan had not forgotten or forgiven her for the earlier misunderstanding. As the light faded his face was in shadow, so she couldn’t see his expression to gauge his mood, but there was something here that had lifted it—his palazzo, she suspected. Following the direction in which he was looking she searched hungrily for her first sight of the building. The sky was a vibrant palette of tangerine and violet so dramatic, so stunningly beautiful, she had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of what might come next. She could sense Ethan was also buzzing with expectation, and try as he might to be stern all the time, an attractive crease had appeared in his face. He’d softened just a little. Now if he could only soften a little more and smile at her that would be a gift—the only gift she wanted.

‘When we cross the river, you’ll see the palazzo in this direction.’

As Ethan pointed towards the shadowy purple hills, she sat bolt upright, tense with expectation.

‘I don’t want you to miss the approach,’ he said, seeing her interest. ‘It’s quite spectacular.’

‘I won’t,’ she assured him as anticipation fluttered in her stomach. Something told her that this was one of those precious moments that would mean something all her life and must be cherished.

She was only half right, Savannah discovered. When it came into view the palazzo exceeded her expectations so far it took her breath away. Rising like something out of a legend from the mist was a winding road and an old stone bridge, and then the towering walls. A glittering snake of water travelled beneath the bridge, and as they crossed it she thought the restless eddies were like mirrored scales carrying the sun-fire to the sea.

‘Now you understand why the palazzo got its name.’

Even Ethan couldn’t quite keep the excitement from his voice.

‘Understatement,’ she breathed. The turreted spread of the Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati appeared framed in fire, and even her fertile imagination hadn’t come close to doing it justice. This wasn’t the Gothic horror she’d feared Ethan might inhabit, but a palace of light, built from pink stone that might have been sugar-rock. Glowing warm beneath the red-streaked sky, it couldn’t have appeared more welcoming.

‘What do you think?’ Ethan prompted.

Savannah was surprised her opinion mattered to him, and the thought touched her immensely—though she mustn’t read too much into it, she reminded herself. ‘I think it’s stunning,’ she told him honestly. ‘The colour of the stone is extraordinary.’

‘Pink?’

The touch of irony in his voice made her smile. Were they connecting at last? Just a little, maybe? But she wasn’t going to push it. ‘You must admit, it’s unusual,’ she said, trying to sound grown up about it, though the prospect of staying in a pink palace, and one as beautiful as this, would have excited anyone.

‘The stone is pink because millions of years ago this whole valley was a deep marine-gulf,’ Ethan explained. ‘The pink hue is due to the millions of tiny shells and fossils locked in the rocks.’

‘What a magical explanation.’ And romantic, Savannah mused as Ethan settled back to enjoy the last leg of the journey. He might fight as hard as he could to keep his distance from her, but he had brought her to one of the most romantic places on earth. Ethan might shun everything pink or soft or feminine, but he’d let his guard down by showing her his palazzo. ‘The Palace of the Golden Sunset,’ she murmured happily as the limousine made a smooth transition from slick tarmac to the winding cobbled streets.

‘Can you see the fragments of the original walls?’ Ethan said, turning towards her again.

His enthusiasm was framed in a scholarly tone, but he was clearly determined to share this with her, and he didn’t need to tell her how much he loved his palazzo when she could feel his passion like a warm cloak embracing her. ‘Yes, I see them,’ she said, pressing her face to the window. In some places there was little more than raised ground to show where the original walls must have stood, but at others she could see what remained of them. They looked like blackened silhouettes pointing crooked fingers towards the blazing sky.

‘Much of the structure dates from medieval times,’ Ethan continued.

Like the thinking of its master? Savannah wondered. What would it take to have Ethan see her as a grown woman rather than as a singing sensation recently signed to his record label? And was she sure she wanted him to think about her that way? Wasn’t it safer to remain as she was—a ward under his protection?

It was beyond the scope of Savannah’s imagination to conjure up the consequences of attracting the sexual attentions of a man like Ethan, and as the limousine slowed to pass beneath a narrow stone archway she told herself how lucky it was that this was only destined to be a short stay. Any longer and she’d definitely fall in love with him.

The paparazzi would soon find another story and she’d be able to return home. But if she was so confident about that, why was she wracked by shivers of anticipation at the prospect of staying with Ethan?

Because she was tired, Savannah told herself firmly. Who could blame her for feeling uncomfortable with what lay ahead when she was pinned into a dress that felt more like a medieval torture-device than a couture gown?

‘This gateway is called the Porta Monteguzzo.’

She paid attention as Ethan distracted her, and was about to answer him when, embarrassingly, her stomach growled.

‘Hungry?’ he prompted.

‘I’m starving,’ Savannah admitted, wondering when she had last eaten. And did she dare to eat when another crumb of food on her hips meant she would definitely pop out of Madame’s gown and she had no clothes of her own to wear yet? ‘Porta Monteguzzo,’ she repeated, both in an attempt to distract herself from hunger pangs and to try again to master the musical Italian language. ‘Doesn’t “guzzo” mean “food”, in Italian?’

‘You’re thinking of gusto, perhaps?’

She watched his mouth, thinking how well he spoke the language … amongst other things.

‘Which means taste,’ Ethan explained.

Or tasty, perhaps, Savannah mused as she turned to stare innocently out of the window while Ethan resumed his conversation in fluent Italian with their driver. But as they drove deeper into Ethan territory and the world he dominated, and those tall, stone walls of his stole the light, Savannah knew that, though the sight of Ethan’s fairy-tale castle had thrilled her beyond belief, it had singularly failed to reassure her.

Oh.

Savannah’s heart sank as she stood in the hallway of the palazzo. It was a struggle to marry up the exquisite exterior with this dismal space. Wasn’t it wired for electricity? She could hardly make out the faces of Ethan’s staff as he showed her round.

Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but the inside of the palace was like something out of a gothic horror film—’dark and dismal’ didn’t even begin to cover it. It might just as well have been lit by candlelight, it was so shadowy and grim. To say she was disappointed after the stunning run-up to the building was a major understatement. But she was more concerned about the fact that Ethan chose to live like this.

As the housekeeper led the way up the marble staircase, Savannah’s apprehension grew. Apart from the very real risk of missing her footing on the dimly lit staircase, the landing they were heading for appeared equally dingy. To go from fairy-tale palazzo to the haunted house was a huge disappointment. She only had to contrast Ethan’s grand palazzo with her parents’ simple farmhouse to know there was no contest: she’d prefer the sunny chaos of the farmhouse to this grand grimness any day.

Perhaps she should offer a few home-improvement tips, Savannah concluded as the housekeeper indicated they should follow her down a darkened corridor. ‘Don’t you worry about your staff tripping over the rugs?’ She took the chance to whisper discreetly to Ethan.

‘I can’t say it’s ever occurred to me,’ he said with surprise.

‘It would occur to me,’ Savannah said worriedly as the housekeeper stopped outside a carved-oak door. ‘What if someone was carrying a tray with hot drinks on it, or some glasses, and they tripped? They could really hurt themselves, Ethan. This is dangerous. There’s hardly any light here at all.’

‘No one’s ever complained before.’

She knew she should hold her tongue, but it was about time someone did complain, Savannah thought, and Ethan’s staff was hardly likely to.

The more she thought about it, the more Savannah became convinced that she must be one of Ethan’s first guests at the palazzo in a long time. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been expecting from a man known to be reclusive, but this was hardly the big, open house her family would have filled with light and laughter. She smiled as she thought of the cosy farmhouse back home with its rickety furniture and frayed old rugs, but it was a hundred times more welcoming than this.

The housekeeper was smiling at her expectantly, Savannah realised, quickly refocusing and smiling back. Ethan was shifting restlessly, as if he couldn’t understand the delay before the housekeeper got round to opening a door. But Savannah understood perfectly when the housekeeper finally revealed her surprise.

‘Signorina, this is your room.’

Savannah didn’t need to see the older woman’s beaming smile to know that someone was keen to make her feel welcome. ‘My room?’ Savannah stood on the threshold, gazing in wonder. ‘You did this for me?’ The contrast between this well-lit space and the rest of the palazzo was incredible. No wonder the housekeeper had revealed her surprise with such a flourish.

‘You’re too generous.’ But as Savannah looked at Ethan she realised he was as surprised as she was. He’d had nothing to do with it. His staff had done all this for her. They must have thrown open every window to air the room, and they had certainly lit every available light. There was a log fire blazing in the hearth, which illuminated all the beautiful old oil-paintings, and there were fresh flowers everywhere, beaming a rainbow welcome at her. ‘Thank you; thank you so much!’ she exclaimed, turning to grasp the housekeeper’s hands.

‘You bring us music, signorina, but all we can bring you in return is flowers.’

‘What do you mean “all”?’ Savannah exclaimed. ‘This means everything to me.’

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered this was the sort of thing her family did for each other at home. The housekeeper had given her the one thing money couldn’t buy, and that was a genuine welcome. Conscious of Ethan standing at her side, and knowing how difficult he found dealing with displays of emotion, she expressed her feelings more calmly to him. ‘This is wonderful, isn’t it? You have great people working for you. I hope you appreciate them.’

He would think her presumptuous, Savannah realised, though she could read nothing on Ethan’s face. But she had to say something, because his staff had carved an oasis of light and beauty for her from his cold, dark palazzo, and now she was eager to do the same for him.

He was shocked by his staff’s initiative. All he’d done was call ahead to explain the situation to them and ask them to make a room ready for Savannah Ross. He should have known the Italians’ great love of music meant they would already know everything about Savannah, and that it would have put wings on their heels when they learned he was bringing her to stay.

As his gaze embraced the room before him, he began noticing things he hadn’t before, like the pink-veined, marble-topped console table where the telephone rested. He had bought it with the palazzo, and it was a beautiful example of a craftsman’s art. Savannah was right; with the light shining on it, the furniture, like everything else in the room, was fully revealed in all its glory. No wonder she had been so relieved to see the efforts his staff had gone to for her. But the real difference here was Savannah, he thought, watching her shimmering golden hair bounce around her shoulders as she followed the housekeeper around the room. Savannah brought the light with her.

With emotions roused that he had thought were long buried, Ethan was suddenly keen to put some distance between them, so he found an excuse to leave Savannah in the care of his housekeeper. But she stubbornly refused to let him disappear so easily. ‘I’m so excited,’ she told him. ‘I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to stay here.’

‘Then don’t. This is nothing to do with me.’ He dismissed the glowing room with a gesture.

‘You’re so wrong,’ she assured him. ‘This has everything to do with you.’

He shrugged. ‘In this instance, Savannah, it is you who is wrong. This is a beautiful suite of rooms and nothing more. It has been aired and put back into use, and that is all.’

‘And is that all you have to say about it?’ she demanded, frowning.

‘What else is there to say? I rarely come here, but it is beautiful, and I had forgotten.’

‘But you never will forget again,’ she insisted passionately. ‘Not now the lights have been switched on.’

He gave her a look that stopped her in her tracks. It was a look intended to warn her not to go this far again. The contact between them was electric, and he let the moment hang for some reason. Anything might have happened as Savannah looked up at him had not his housekeeper coughed discreetly at that moment. It was only then that the rational side of him clicked into focus, and he took a proper look at Savannah and realised how exhausted she looked. She was still wearing his old shirt over the ill-fitting gown. She must have felt embarrassed, dressed that way when he’d introduced her to his staff, but not for a moment had she let it show. Her attention had been all on them, her only thought to make them feel special. ‘Could you bring Ms Ross a robe, please?’ he asked his housekeeper.

He wanted Savannah covered up. Her pale skin beneath the neck of his shirt was making him restless. She still had her precious sandals dangling from her wrist, like a child with a garish bangle, and she was scarcely taller than a child. She couldn’t have eaten since that morning, he remembered. ‘Take a bath,’ he said briskly, ‘And then use that phone over there to call down for something to eat.’

‘Won’t you eat something too?’ she asked with concern.

‘Maybe.’ He dismissed her with a gesture. He had no intention of prolonging this encounter. It occurred to him then that perhaps he didn’t trust himself to prolong it.

‘Where will you eat?’ she pressed as he prepared to leave.

He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. ‘I’ll take dinner in my room,’ he said, remembering that that was what he usually did.

‘In your room?’ She pulled a face, and then immediately grew contrite. ‘Sorry. It’s none of my business where you eat.’

No, it isn’t, he almost informed her, thinking of her other comments since they’d arrived, but the fact that she looked so pale held him back.

Fortunately his housekeeper returned at that moment with the robe, which put a halt to further conversation.

He took that as his cue. ‘Goodnight, Savannah. Sleep well.’

‘I’ll see you in the morning?’ Her eyes were wide, her expression frank.

‘Perhaps.’ With her innocent enthusiasm she made it hard for him to remain distant.

‘For breakfast?’ she pressed.

‘Ah …’ He paused with his hand on the door, as if to say he was a much older man with many better things to do than to entertain a young woman. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Sleep well, Ethan. And thank you once again for allowing me to stay in your beautiful home.’

Who should be thanking who? he wondered, catching sight of the luminous expression on his housekeeper’s face. ‘Goodnight, Savannah.’ He didn’t need a second dose of Savannah’s radiant face before he walked out and closed the door to know his defences had been breached.