Surrendering To The Italian's Command

‘Natalia is almost nineteen.’ His dark eyes moved in an assessing sweep over her face. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-six.’

‘There was an accident and my sister is temporarily in a wheelchair. Her life has been on hold, most of her school friends have moved on...away... I think she feels isolated sometimes.’ His focus had been so much on pushing forwards with Nat’s recovery that it could be argued he had virtually pushed her into the arms of that no-hoper Marco.

It could happen again, and he couldn’t be there for her all the time, but if she had someone there her own age, another woman to confide in... ‘I think it might help her.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The picture he painted touched her deeply. ‘Your parents...?’

‘Were killed in the same accident.’

A powerful wave of empathy swept through Tess, almost painful in its intensity. She squeezed her eyes tighter closed over the hot sting of unshed tears and cleared her throat before responding huskily.

‘I’m so sorry.’ It seemed lame but what else could she say?

He cut a sideways look at her before tipping his head in acknowledgement.

‘But I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

Indignation gave her the strength to lift her heavy eyelids. ‘Are you serious? I can’t just up and leave—’ She stopped and thought, or could she?

It would solve the immediate problem, give her a breathing space to decide what to do about Ben and she was missing out on her holiday. She’d always wanted to see Italy.

‘The decision is yours,’ he said, giving the impression that he’d lost interest in the subject. ‘When you have decided...’ He pulled a card from his breast pocket and looked around for an empty surface to put it on before handing it directly to Tess.

‘This is the number of my assistant in London. She will coordinate things on this end, flights and so forth. She will take up your references. I was thinking that you could travel at the end of the week, either Thursday or Friday, unless your cold doesn’t clear up.’

‘I have flu,’ she countered automatically. ‘You want references?’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘No, it is not a problem.’

‘When I leave you will lock the door.’ Slinging the edict over his shoulder, he walked through the door.

* * *

It was around two in the morning when Tess woke up on the sofa, the business card clutched in her hand. She glanced over to the unlocked door and shivered. Well, she’d slept a little at least, no doubt the result of combining the brandy with the cold and flu meds she’d been liberally popping in an attempt to feel better. She looked at the card again, reading out the name printed on it in bold italics.

Danilo Raphael.

She would consider his offer but only after she had locked the door.

CHAPTER THREE (#ueada85fe-9a2b-5e0a-8144-4d63f0f9d6ec)

WHEN SHE TOLD Fiona of her plan the next day her friend was horrified.

‘You’re mad, crazy. You have no idea who this man is!’ She looked at the business card he had handed her. ‘Anyone can get one of these printed. For all you know he could be a pervert—’

‘Give me some credit, Fi, I’m not an idiot. I looked him up online. He’s legitimate.’ He was actually a bit of a legend in his own lifetime, but, afraid of being accused of exaggeration, Tess didn’t share these details. Instead she picked up her phone, scrolled down on the screen and handed it to Fiona—it was simpler.

Her friend took it without looking and snorted. ‘Online I’m legitimately a size ten. People make stuff up all the time—’ She glanced down and took a deep breath, the expression of awe that spread across her face almost comical. ‘Wow! He rescued you?’

‘I like to think of it more that he happened along at the right moment.’ And what would have happened if he hadn’t? Tess pushed the question away. Some things it was better not to know and she already had enough problems sleeping.

Fiona couldn’t take her eyes off the phone screen. ‘He really looks like that? This photo’s not airbrushed or anything?’

‘Well, he looks a bit older.’ Harder, would have been more accurate. In the flesh Danilo Raphael possessed a streamlined lean toughness that didn’t come across in the photos online, and there had been a lot to compare and contrast, but most were of him looking younger though still dramatically good-looking. The camera really did love those cheekbones, and so, it seemed, did the wide selection of women pictured draped all over him.

‘He’s a hottie!’

Tess chose to ignore Fiona’s comment and folded the last item in her case. She huffed gently as she closed the lid. ‘I hate packing and I never take the right thing,’ she complained.

‘You look good in a bin sack,’ her friend consoled. ‘If I had your figure...well, never mind that. So,’ she said, handing back the phone, ‘what does gorgeous do when he’s not rescuing women?’

‘Makes money.’

‘He’s sounding better all the time.’

‘It seems he buys failing companies and makes them work, or at least he used to. He took over the family firm when his parents died a couple of years ago, and they had pretty much a finger in any pie you care to mention...’ Tess mentioned a few. ‘After their death, though, he dropped off the party circuit—’

‘Got married and had a few kids?’

Tess managed to conceal her reaction to the question and shrugged. She had no idea why the idea of Danilo Raphael enjoying domestic bliss shocked her so much, but her friend’s analysis of the low public profile did work.

‘Maybe?’ The information she had about the accident online was sketchy. The headlines were lurid and, though there was little detail, she felt safe assuming that this was what had brought about the change in this ex-playboy’s lifestyle.

‘You do realise what you described is called asset stripping? And asset strippers are not a breed noted for their warmth and human kindness.’

‘He said he wasn’t kind,’ she remembered. Strangely, despite the trauma and her fever she could remember every word he had said and the exact intonation of his husky voice. She caught Fiona looking at her and carefully wiped away whatever expression had been on her face that had made her friend stare. ‘But I’m hired to be a companion to his sister, not hold hands with him.’ An image floated into her head of his long brown fingers; she pushed it away. ‘I doubt if I’ll even see him.’

* * *

One step through the door and Danilo swung back, the expression on his lean face impatient as he gave a shrug and responded to Franco’s question.

‘She’s petite, maybe even a little mousey, she’s probably looking lost...big eyes in a small face.’ His mouth quirked as the description brought a disappointed look to his cousin’s face. ‘What were you expecting, a supermodel?’

His cousin gave a grin. ‘It wouldn’t have hurt. So what do you want me to do with this mouse?’

‘Drop her off at the house. Nat is expecting her.’

‘You don’t expect me to stay and babysit, then? I’m meant to be meeting the event organiser later this morning.’

‘Your cousin Angelica will look after her and introduce her to Nat.’ The furrow between his dark brows deepened. ‘More problems with the party?’

‘Just a few tweaks. I want it to be perfect.’