Undressed by the Billionaire. Susanne James
was a happy balance.
Deep inside, Savannah believed everyone needed light. And as for the palazzo, well, she’d already seen the results of the transformation Ethan’s staff had brought about in her rooms, and their instincts were right. There should be light, love and music in such a beautiful home. There should be life at the palazzo.
Savannah took a long, soapy bath. Now the excitement was over, she realised how hungry she was, and until supper arrived a bath was the perfect distraction from hunger pangs as well as from the likely repercussions of her interference in Ethan’s home.
Twiddling the taps with her toes, she sank a little lower in the fragrant bubbles. This story might not have a happy-ever-after ending, but she had fairy-tale accommodation for the night, and after the staff had gone to so much trouble it would have been churlish for her to refuse the setting they had prepared.
She had rifled through the full-sized luxury products on the glass shelves like a small child in a beauty salon, and now the scent rising from the steam had led her into a dream world of erotic images in which Ethan starred …
Wrapped up cosily in a warm robe some time later, she stared into the mirror. It was so easy to imagine Ethan’s dark face when she saw him in the shadows everywhere she went. It was torture, knowing he was somewhere close by, and almost impossible not to imagine him stripped and naked beneath an ice-cold shower. It would be cold water, because warm was too indulgent for him. And his bedroom would be spartan, she decided, because Ethan denied himself anything soft or superfluous—which didn’t leave her with too much hope, Savannah concluded wistfully.
Rubbing her hair vigorously, she walked back into the bedroom. Kneeling in front of the fire to dry her long hair, she thought about Ethan’s complex character. All he seemed to need was a clean bed and a floor to pace—perhaps with the addition of a giant television-screen in every room to catch up on any rugby matches he might have missed. Perhaps it was the legacy of those dreadful scars that made him so careless of his own comfort.
Thinking about them always made her so angry. Casting the towel aside, she began to pluck distractedly at the rug. Who would do that to him? Who could do that to a fellow human being?
Why don’t you ask him? Savannah’s inner voice prompted.
Because life isn’t that simple?
But it could be, if she went to him, and spoke to him …
Rolling onto her back, Savannah stared up at the ornate plasterwork. All the palazzo could be like this, cared for and fully restored, and always welcoming. Or it could remain cold and full of shadows. How lonely it must be to live in the dark.
Sitting bolt upright, Savannah hugged her knees and, resting her chin, she stared into the fire. It didn’t have to be like this if someone changed it around—if she changed it around. An impossible task, perhaps, but not if she had the help of Ethan’s staff. Even this gleaming fireguard, polished to a flawless sheen, was evidence of their care for him. They had to be as keen as she was to see the palazzo come back to life.
Impatient with inaction, she sprang up. She hardly knew where she was going, but as she crossed the room her spirits lifted. It was such a glorious ultra-feminine space it must have given Ethan a headache just to poke his head round the door. Everything that wasn’t gilded or twinkling glass was covered in silk, satins or velvet, and all in the most exquisite pastel colours. Stretching out her arms, she turned full circle, thinking it the most appealing space she had ever inhabited. She was still smiling broadly when she reached the door and opened it. ‘Ethan!’
‘Savannah.’
She knew immediately from his voice that Ethan was furious. She felt instantly guilty, as well as silly and awkward, standing barefoot in front of him in her towelling robe. Her lips trembled and her smile died instantly.
‘What have you done?’ he snapped.
Her gaze slid away. ‘I was taking a bath.’
‘You know I don’t mean that.’
Savannah drew her robe a little closer, conscious that Ethan’s stare was boring into her, demanding an answer.
‘I mean the lights,’ he explained. ‘I take it you’re responsible?’
‘Yes, I switched them on. Please don’t be angry with your staff, Ethan.’ She touched his arm. ‘It was all my fault. I did it for them, for you.’
‘For me? For them? What is this nonsense?’
Tears were threatening. She had been so looking forward to sharing this moment with him, Savannah realised, and now it had all gone wrong. Far from wanting light, Ethan craved the darkness to hide his scars. She should have known and not been so insensitive. In trying to help him she had arrogantly assumed she was right, only seeing the world from her own perspective. And now he couldn’t wait to turn those lights off, or for her to leave. ‘I’m so sorry—’
‘You’ll have to leave,’ he said, perfectly echoing her thoughts. ‘I can’t have this sort of interference. Please pack your bags.’
‘Ethan—’
‘There’s nothing more to say, Savannah.’
‘But it’s nighttime. Where will I go?’
‘A hotel, the airport, somewhere—I don’t care.’
‘You’re throwing me out?’
‘Save your melodrama for the stage.’
‘Says you, living in the dark!’ She couldn’t believe she’d said that. But it was true. She was fighting for Ethan, and where that was concerned nothing she said was going too far. But as Ethan’s stony stare raked her face, Savannah realised he didn’t see it that way.
‘Will you pack?’ he said coldly, confirming her worst fears. ‘Or must I call the housekeeper to do that for you?’
‘Ethan, please.’ It was no use. He’d closed off to her.
As he shook Savannah’s hand from his arm, he saw her tears and his heart ignored the dictates of his head.
‘Please don’t be angry with your housekeeper,’ she entreated, adding to the conflict boiling inside him. ‘You must know this is all my fault.’
Every bit of it was Savannah’s fault … or her blessing. He turned his back so he wouldn’t have to look into her face, but still he felt her goodness washing over him. She wouldn’t stop until all the bitterness was cleaned away. She touched his arm, begging him. ‘You’ve gone too far,’ he growled, wanting even now to protect her from that black evil inside him.
She didn’t argue, and instead she did something far worse: she confessed.
‘You’re right,’ she said frankly. ‘I interfered where I shouldn’t have. This is your home, Ethan, not mine. I asked your staff to turn on some lights so it was safer for them, and for you. I can see I went too far with that plan when one or two lights would have been sufficient, and if you want me to leave I will. All I ask is your promise that you won’t blame your staff for my thoughtless actions.’
He didn’t need to see any more tears to know that Savannah was at her most vulnerable. Yet she fought on in the defence of others. He couldn’t ignore that. Her appeal had touched him deeply in a way he hadn’t felt, maybe, ever. He was still wondering how best to deal with this unusual situation when the housekeeper Savannah was at such pains to defend came unwittingly to their rescue.
‘Something to eat, signore, signorina?’ she said blithely when Savannah opened the door to her knock.
What perfect timing, Savannah thought, exhaling with relief as she smiled at her new friend. As her shoulders relaxed she quickly adapted her manner so as not to concern the older woman. ‘Let me take that tray from you.’
‘No, please, let me.’ Ethan’s innate good manners meant he had to step forward in front