Sandra Marton - Roman Spring

Nicolo’s eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“It’s really quite simple. I don’t want to be paid for going with you to see your grandmother. It’s a visit, not a business deal. Do you understand?”

He stared at her while the seconds flew past, and then he shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly, “I do not.”

Caroline smiled slightly. “I didn’t think you would. But that’s the deal, Your Highness. Take it or leave it.”

He frowned, and his gaze moved slowly over her face. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Very well. If that is how you wish it—”

“It’s the only way.”

Nicolo nodded and pulled the door open. Silvio, crouched just outside, all but tumbled into the room.

“Oh,” she said sweetly, “be careful, signore . I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Silvio nodded nervously, his eyes darting like black ants from her to Nicolo.

“ Grazie, signorina . I appreciate your concern.”

“The lady is quite right, Silvio.” Nicolo smiled tightly. “If you’re going to get your neck broken, I want the pleasure of doing it.”

“ Signore , please—”

“Come on, man, get moving! Where’s the contract? And where do I sign it?”

The agency chief almost groaned with happiness. “Right there, sir,” he said, whipping a document from the desk. He beamed at Nicolo. “The signorina is going with you, then?”

Nicolo’s eyes met Caroline’s. “Yes,” he said shortly, “she is.”

Scowling, he scanned the page, then scrawled his name at the bottom.

“Signorina?” Silvio said, pushing the paper toward her. Nicolo’s scowl deepened.

“She is not signing it,” he said.

“Not...? But—”

Nicolo brushed past Silvio and clasped Caroline’s arm. “Let’s get going,” he said brusquely.

She nodded. “Absolutely. The sooner I’ve seen your grandmother, the sooner I can say goodbye to you for the last time. And what a relief that will be!”

She had meant to put him in his place. He looked down at her, at her outthrust chin and flashing eyes, and, to her surprise, he laughed, really laughed, in a way he had not done before.

“Do you always speak your mind, signorina ?”

“Yes,” she said. “Always.”

His eyes darkened just a little. “It is an interesting quality in a woman,” he said, “one I have not encountered before.”

“Well then,” she said as she swept past him out the door, “you’re in for a bumpy ride.”

“Yes,” he said, and he laughed again in that same, easy way.

For the very first time, Caroline wondered if she had let her instincts mislead her. But by then Nicolo was hurrying her down the steps, out of the building, and into a black Mercedes limousine.

It was too late to wonder about anything.

A MERCEDES. Of course, Caroline thought as she settled inside the car. It would have to be something like this, an expensive limousine with a uniformed chauf-feur and darkly tinted glass that guaranteed privacy. What other sort of automobile would a man like Nicolo Sabatini have?

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