The Real Rio D'Aquila. Sandra Marton
a hesitant smile.
“No,” she said, “I didn’t think you were.”
Okay. It was time. He had the feeling she was going to be furious at his subterfuge but it wouldn’t matter.
He’d identify himself as the man she’d come to see, she’d tell him why she was here—something to do with town records, he’d bet, because it suddenly occurred to him that there’d been some sort of paper his lawyer had said he had to sign.
Whatever, they’d introduce themselves, he’d scribble his signature on the document she produced, and that would be the end of it.
“So,” Rio said, “let’s start from scratch.”
He extended his hand again. She looked at it, at him, and then she put her hand in his. It was a small, feminine hand; his all but swallowed it and yet, he could feel calluses on her fingers, which surprised him.
The coolness of her skin surprised him, too. It was a warm day. Was she still nervous about him? It was definitely time to identify himself and set her concerns at ease.
“Hello,” he said, and smiled. “I’m—”
“The handyman.”
He almost laughed. “Well, no. Not exact—”
“The caretaker. Sorry.” She swiped the tip of her tongue over her lips, leaving them pink and delicately moist. “Nice to meet you”
“Yes.” He dragged his gaze from her mouth. “And you are …?”
“Oh. Sorry. I’m the landscaper.”
Maybe he hadn’t heard her right. “Excuse me?”
“Well, not the landscaper. I’m an applicant.” She looked around, then lowered her voice. “I’m late. Terribly late, but—”
“But?” he said carefully.
“But still, where’s your boss? He was expecting me. You know, Isabella Orsini. From Growing Wild?”
“You?” Rio heard his voice rise. Hell, why not? He could feel his eyebrows shooting for his hairline. “You’re Izzy Orsini?”
“That’s me.” She gave a nervous laugh. “And I hope this Rio D’Aquila isn’t, you know, what I heard he was.”
“What you heard he was?” he said, and wondered when in hell he’d turned into a parrot.
“Cold. Ruthless. Bad-tempered.”
Rio cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose some people might say he was simply a—”
“An arrogant tyrant. But you don’t have to like someone to work for them, right? I mean, here you are, Mister—Mister—”
Rio didn’t even hesitate.
“My name is Matteo,” he said. “Matteo Rossi. And you have it right. I’m D’Aquila’s caretaker.”
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