Karen Van Der Zee - The Italian's Summer Seduction

And so he’d stayed home, his decision validated when he’d been left to pick up the pieces after the thieving little tramp had disappeared.

A problem to be solved at the Far East refinery followed by his unavoidable presence at the opening of the opulent retail outlet for the breathtakingly expensive Saracino gems had necessitated a stop-over in Hong Kong. Once a regular part of his focused—some said driven—working life, jetting between the various arms of his empire, making sure everything was working smoothly.

But instead of feeling free, enjoying doing what he did best, he had been itching to get back home.

Facing facts as he prided himself on doing, he wandered to the tall window that overlooked the courtyard, shedding his suit jacket on the way, ignoring the clatter of the fax machine.

Concern for his grandmother wasn’t the reason—daily reports from Rosa had assured him that she was doing splendidly, that the companion, Signorina Jilly, was amazing all the staff by showing her gentler side, so much good humour and patience.

So even his staff had noted the startling change in character!

Put simply, he hadn’t been able to get the bewitching little imposter out of his head. Remembering how her practically naked, perfectly lovely body had felt in his arms, her passionate, generous response, had been responsible for more sleepless nights than he wanted to think about.

And the way she had avoided him since they’d returned to the villa had had him wanting to punch holes in walls. He had to discover why she was pretending to be her much harder twin sister. Every time he’d decided to make her come clean something had happened to stop him. It was as if fate was conspiring against him. And the need to know was assuming monumental proportions.

Thrusting his hands into the side pockets of his narrow fitting suit trousers, he rocked back on his heels and told himself that her deliberate avoidance had forced a necessary and sensible patience on his behalf.

Have the whole thing out with her he would, but not until Nonna was fit again and back on her feet. There was always the danger that, when confronted with what he knew, had known for weeks, the imposter would run.

Short of locking her in her room and chaining her to the bedpost, there was little he could do to ensure that she didn’t simply disappear. And he was honest enough to acknowledge that he had more reasons than one for not wanting that to happen.

He froze, the breath locking in his lungs as a savage stab of lustful sensation arrowed through him. The object of his serial thoughts had just entered the courtyard, heading for the garden room, judging by the flowers that were cradled in the crook of one arm.

She looked hot, uncomfortable. Pausing, she thrust out her lush lower lip and puffed out a breath to shift the now overlong silvery blonde fringe out of her eyes, then plucked crossly at the unsuitable tacky leather miniskirt that showed far too much of her delectable legs than was wise in company.

Just the sort of tasteless garment her twin would choose, he decided as she walked on, tottering on ridiculously high heels over the cobbles.

Cesare expelled a harsh breath and, lust ignored for the moment, decided on a pang of soft sympathy to do something for her. Retrieving his mobile from his jacket pocket, he flipped it open and began to dial.

‘They are beautiful, my dear,’ Filomena enthused as Milly fed the last rose into place in the crystal bowl. ‘How I miss my garden! It is so thoughtful of you to bring it to me.’

‘It won’t be long now,’ Milly promised with a warm smile. Next week Filomena was due to have another X-ray and if the collar bone was healed she could be rid of the sling and could venture out of doors. Already she was able to walk around her room without discomfort, which showed her ribs were healing well, and she sat for several hours in the armchair by one of the tall windows. ‘Now, would you like me to read to you?’

There was a shelf full of new books which, she learned, Jilly and Filomena had chosen in Florence—thankfully all English language editions because of the old lady’s wish to thoroughly familiarise herself with the tongue she had learned as a young woman. They were currently halfway through Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, Milly’s choice because she’d been given a copy on her tenth birthday and had read it annually ever since, gradually acquiring all the great author’s works.

‘Later.’ Dark eyes twinkled. ‘We will talk now and you will tell me more about yourself. Especially about young men. I’m sure you must have someone special waiting for you back home.’ She smiled with pure mischief. ‘Most anxious to see you again—just as I’m sure your little sister must be!’

A bubble of hysteria burst in Milly’s stomach. So far nothing more had been said of the horrible suggestion that she invite her ‘little sister’ over for a holiday! What if her putative boyfriend were to be included in the invitation?’

Trying not to squawk in horror at the prospect, she tugged at the horrid leather top, which made her feel overheated and tacky, and denied, ‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’ Which was the absolute truth.

The moment Cesare had left the premises for his headquarters in Florence a few days after they’d returned to the villa she’d phoned Bruce to stop him worrying about where she had got to and had received a far from interested or sympathetic reaction to her news that she was working in Tuscany for the time being as paid companion to a lovely Italian lady.

Words like Inconsiderate…Flighty behaviour…Mother and I always thought you were steady and sensible…Disappointed in you…

In the end she had put the phone down on him, thanking her lucky stars that she had never regarded him as anything more than a friend, only being thrown in a loop when his mother had talked about formalising their so-called relationship.

‘Now why do I find that so hard to believe?’ Filomena questioned with a mischievous smile and Milly shifted uneasily in the chair she’d chosen to use, hating the way the leather skirt stuck to her thighs and made a discomfiting sucking noise when she moved and wishing she could kick off her silly shoes because her feet were killing her and wondering how Jilly could actually choose to wear such stuff.

Thankfully, when Cesare entered the room, she was spared more personal delving. She hadn’t known he was back and, to her horror, a hot spiralling ache invaded her pelvis as she stared at his broad and gorgeous back and narrowly clad long legs as he immediately strode over to where his grandmother sat and lifted her hands to his lips, sparing Milly not a single glance.

Gratefully seizing the opportunity to make herself scarce, she got to her feet and, as if Cesare had second sight, he drawled, ‘Stay where you are. I need to talk to you both.’

Turning, he caught her in the act of sneaking out of the room. Her face flushed a furious scarlet then paled to ash grey beneath the light tan she’d picked up since arriving in Tuscany when he announced, his fantastically handsome face the picture of innocence, ‘Nonna, if you can spare Jilly, I need to be in Florence. I’d like to take her with me—I’m sure there are things she needs to buy and I’d like to give her dinner afterwards.’

As a bombshell it couldn’t have been more unwelcome. She had no idea what he was up to. In her role as Jilly she should jump at the opportunity to spend time with her one-time lover, hoping against hope he could be persuaded to change his mind about marriage.

But as she wasn’t her twin, merely her pale shadow—a shadow who craved his company as well as seeing the personal danger in that weak self indulgence—she would have to get out of it somehow.