Claimed by the Italian. Christina Hollis
obvious truth of that state of affairs had left her feeling oddly regretful—a feeling that stubbornly persisted. Which was why when, yawning widely, she finally let herself into the cottage and found Paolo Venini sitting with Great-Aunt Edith in front of the parlour fire, her heart felt as if it was exploding within her under-endowed breast.
‘Miss Frome—’ He rose to his feet, spectacular in a beautifully tailored pale grey suit, crisp white shirt and dark grey tie, the image of the highly successful merchant banker detailed on the internet. Handsome, powerful, charismatic. And heartless?
Her knees weakening shamefully, swamped by the effect he always seemed to have on her, she got out thinly, ‘What are you doing here?’ and received her great-aunt’s curt rebuke.
‘Manners, Lily. Manners! Our benefactor has introduced himself to me and has been waiting for you.’ She heaved her solid tweed and twin-setted bulk out of the armchair. ‘Signor Venini has a proposal which, in my firm opinion, is the generous answer to all Life Begin’s future difficulties. Listen to what he has to say. It will mean changes.’ She smiled at the tall Italian. ‘But then nothing stays the same. Onward and forward—or stagnate!’
On which typical rallying cry the old lady excused herself and retired for the night, leaving Lily wondering what the strictly principled lady would say if she knew exactly why their ‘benefactor’ had made that hefty donation.
And his new proposal—whatever it was—would have heavy strings attached. Strings her upright great-aunt would have no knowledge of! If the hard-nosed banker gave he would undoubtedly want something in return.
‘So?’ Suspicion glinted in her eyes, and her slender frame was rigid—until he smiled. It was like a bolt of lightning, setting up a tidal wave of tingling reaction. His impossible sexiness, sinful sexiness, took her breath away, and made her deeply ashamed of reacting like all those other gullible females Penny had talked about.
‘We shall sit,’ he announced, with infuriatingly cool calm, looking incredibly exotic against the old-fashioned background of the shabby parlour with its Victorian clutter.
Sinking into the armchair her elderly relative had recently vacated—not because he’d told her to but because in his vicinity her legs felt disgracefully wobbly—she found her breath hard to catch, because his sheer presence seemed to suck all the air out of the room. His gaze held her mesmerised as he took the chair on the opposite side of the dying fire, leaning back, elbows on the arms, lean hands steepled in front of his handsome mouth, those golden eyes still smiling with speech-stealing warmth at her.
‘Your great-aunt has quite the reputation,’ he stated. ‘A formidable woman with admirable charitable ethics, yes? Tirelessly working for the benefit of others over the years. She now deserves to rest. Yes, again?’
The softly accented flow of words reached a pause. He was obviously waiting for her response, her full agreement. Lily pressed her lips together. She would be a fool to trust a purring tiger!
Paolo lowered his hands, dropped them loosely between his knees and leaned forward. His slow smile was decidedly dangerous.
Lily’s tension level racked up a few more notches. He didn’t have the look of a recently bereaved loving son. Her suspicions hardened.
‘Nothing to say? As I recall, on our previous encounter you were—to put it politely—remarkably chatty.’
Gabby, he had mentally named her. In less fraught circumstances he might even have found her chatter amusing. But now she was as animated as a stone, her small triangular face pale, dark smudges of fatigue beneath wary grey eyes, her slight body, clad in well-worn denims and a tired-looking fleece, tensely held. Her hair, scraped back in an unflattering ponytail, made her look younger than what he now knew to be her twenty-three years.
He gave her an encouraging smile, confident that, as always, he had reached the right decision and that, having done so, his strength of character and dominant will would prevail.
In receipt of another of those nerve-tingling smiles, Lily felt her mouth run dry, but she finally managed, ‘Why are you here?’
‘Of course—the proposal I put to your great-aunt,’ he slid in smoothly. ‘You may not know it, but I, both personally and corporately, donate huge sums to worthwhile charities. Now, Life Begins is worthwhile, but it is seriously underfunded and understaffed. You stagger from one financial crisis to another, and your great-aunt is no longer young enough to do much. You rely on two part-time volunteers. The rest you somehow manage yourself—cleaning, shopping, driving the old and infirm to hospital appointments, organising outings. Need I go on?’
Lily’s chin firmed. Penny must have told him all this stuff. In the short time that the older woman had been at Felton Hall they’d become very friendly, and she’d told her a lot about the charity.
‘You’ve been talking to Penny,’ she stated flatly.
Was he about to offer to make another donation? Her nerves skittered. What would he ask of her in return? Or was her tiredness making her paranoid? Perhaps he genuinely wanted to help and there would be no unpleasant strings—like making her agree to be part of a lie. He’d already said he donated generously to many worthwhile charities …
He agreed. ‘Yes, I talked to Miss Fleming on my return to London a couple of days ago. Briefly. She was highly impressed with what you do. But in the interim I’ve been camping out at the Hall and making enquiries locally of my own.’
She began to relax and feel sorry that she’d misjudged him. Especially when he went on, ‘You need proper funding to pay a reasonable salary to a locally based fundraiser and organiser whose job would include recruiting volunteers. And you need a small local office where this administrative work—which I would fund on an annual basis—would be done. Run properly, the charity could even begin to expand its area of operation. This is the proposal I put to your aunt. She couldn’t have been more grateful.’
‘It would be the answer to her prayers!’ Lily confessed, forgiving him entirely for metaphorically twisting her arm when he’d offered that first donation.
It would be the answer to her own prayers, too. She loved the work, but hated the never-ending anxiety about funding and fitting everything in, the constant fear that they’d have to stop operations and let all those sweet oldies down.
‘You’re very generous,’ Lily said fervently, her huge eyes glittering with emotion-fuelled moisture. Then she reminded herself that she should be generous, too, and make belated enquiries about his sick mother—even gently ask if he had spoken to her about his fake engagement or whether he’d thought better of it.
‘Generosity has its price, unfortunately,’ Paolo drawled levelly, getting to his feet.
Suddenly he wasn’t comfortable about this, but needs must. He had always been protective of his mother—even more so since the death of Antonio and her visibly increasing frailty. And his mother’s needs came before his own.
‘Why am I not surprised?’ Her heart sinking, Lily curled her legs beneath her and shuffled back in the chair as far as she could go, distancing herself from his smothering, dominant presence. ‘I might have known you operate on the maxim that there’s no such thing as a free lunch—so what’s your price?’ she muttered disparagingly.
‘Two weeks of your life,’ he came back, smooth as silk. ‘As I’d hoped, the news of my engagement gave my mother great happiness. Enough, indeed, to give her a new lease on life. She’s made steady progress since the operation that her consultant warned had only a slight chance of success. I firmly believe that the news of my engagement enabled her to pull through. Now, naturally, she is insistent that she meet my fiancée.’
‘And you want me to—’ Appalled by what he was suggesting, Lily planted her feet on the floor and sprang to attention. ‘No way! Look, I’m truly glad your mother’s doing well, but I did warn you what could happen if you lied!’ And then she wished she’d stayed scrunched up in the armchair, because he was suddenly