Christina Hollis - Her Ruthless Italian Boss

Hesitation was not usually part of his nature. Beth glanced at him. She had never seen wonder in his face before, but his expression came close to it now as he looked around his great vaulted hall, lavish with the art of Renaissance masters. Then he realised she was looking at him. In a flash he was back to his normal, decisive self.

‘This must be the ancient version of holiday keepsakes. A reminder of all the trading missions my ancestors made to far-flung places like Asia, Egypt and Greece. I am lucky to have the job of protecting it all for future generations.’

‘It sounds as though you really love this palazzo.’ Beth smiled at the pride in his voice. Luca shrugged his shoulders, but the action seemed more like someone who was adjusting to a heavy burden.

‘I am growing to like it. This building and all the people who have lived here in the past must not be forgotten. Tradition is important. To me it is vital, as I grew up without any sense of close family. This place is a treasure, so, even if I would rather spend my time out in the fresh air, I owe it to my ancestors to put the needs of their palazzo first.’

‘And the generations that will follow you?’ Beth suggested, but he did not seem to hear. Instead he sauntered on, through to an inner courtyard. Here, herringbone brickwork and cool colonnades surrounded a high stone font, richly carved with shields and heraldic lions. Everywhere showed the chips and scratches of centuries, giving it the beauty of experience.

‘When this house was built, the architects thought of everything. I even have my own well.’ Luca indicated the central stone structure.

Beth stepped up onto its plinth and planted her hands on the gritty surface of the well’s wide stone lip. Leaning forward, she looked over the edge.

‘I can’t see the bottom. How deep is it?’

Luca shrugged. ‘It was intended as a private water supply in times of siege, so it has to be deep enough to make it secure.’

Inspired, Beth glanced at him again. This time she risked a smile.

‘Does it grant wishes?’

Luca narrowed his eyes and gave her a look that was enough to melt any woman, and Beth was lost. Her heart hesitated, and then almost stopped as he raised one dark eyebrow.

‘Try it, and see,’ he murmured.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Rapidly churning through the contents of her bag, she managed to find a single Euro and tossed it into the blackness. Luca watched with amusement as she craned over the edge, listening, and then smiled at her childlike excitement at the resulting ‘plop’.

She caught him watching her, and sparkled.

‘I really hope it works, Luca.’

A warm glow began to stroke over her body. It shimmered with tension, and she blushed. If he can read my mind I’m in trouble now, she thought breathlessly. Although not the sort of trouble I would want to avoid…

‘Oh, it does, Beth. In fact, that well works a lot harder than many people I know,’ he said, already starting off up a narrow stone stairway leading to the next floor. ‘No visitor can resist testing its powers by throwing in money, so we dredge it regularly. The coins we pull out help to pay the bills.’

‘Luca!’ Beth laughed, running to catch him up. ‘And you used to be so romantic!’

His laughter echoed off the ancient walls. ‘Experience has taken its toll on me, cara .’

Beth’s heart bounced again at the casual endearment. Then she caught sight of his expression. It was full of pride in ownership, nothing more. She should have known better. Luca never put his real feelings into words until it was far, far too late. Of all people, I should know that, she thought. Lost in memories, she hardly took in anything as Luca escorted her around a series of ever more stately apartments. She was so distracted when he merely waved a hand in the direction of his own rooms, she did not ask to see them. It was only when they reached a separate wing of the building she managed to rouse herself.

‘This is where the official tour ends,’ he said with some relief. ‘These final rooms have always been called Tiepolo’s bridal suite, as he is supposed to have been the last decorator.’

Beth guessed Luca was trying to make a point by running down the work of such a grand artist, so she said nothing. Stepping past him, she went straight into the suite. It was dark in the reception area. The still air was heavy with the fragrance of lavender. She stopped, afraid of blundering into anything in the gloom. Luca strode straight past her and, one by one, opened all the pairs of tall shutters at the far side of the room. Watery evening sunshine streamed in and, despite all the other wonders she had seen, Beth gasped. She was stunned.

For a few seconds, all she could do was walk around in a small circle, gazing at the high, graceful beauty of the apartment.

‘I thought the rest of your home was lovely, but this place is truly magical,’ she breathed, lost in wonder. The entire ceiling was decorated with exquisitely painted gods and goddesses billowing across pink and silver clouds. Every surface was transformed into heaven. Wandering on into the suite, Beth was glad the click of her stilettos was silenced here. It would have been an intrusion. Thick antique rugs softened the cold acreage of marble, and muffled the echoes that made the rest of the palazzo feel so formal and unwelcoming. All the carpeting here was in shades of rose and old gold. The softly upholstered chairs picked up these colours and everything was reflected in the highly polished sheen of ancient oak furniture.

Beth walked from the reception area into the private apartments in a daze. At the heart of the suite stood an enormous bridal bed, canopied with gauze and lace hangings. These fell in sumptuous folds from somewhere near the ceiling, and she looked up to see how it was done. Then she began to have second thoughts about her dream apartment.

‘It’s awfully dark up there. Are you sure there aren’t any bats?’

‘Anyone would think you were afraid, Beth.’

‘No,’ she retorted nervously. ‘It’s just that…’

He laughed. ‘Let me put your mind at rest. Though…I think electric light is too harsh for such a setting, don’t you?’

Beth heard a rasping sound and light flared in the dusky gloom. It danced over a golden crown, suspended high among the ancient, smoke-blackened beams of the ceiling. She turned to see what Luca was doing. He had lit a candle. Setting it into a sconce on the wall, he took several more candles from a drawer and touched their wicks alight from the first flame. Shadows leapt up all around, moving softly through the evening light.

‘Your apartments are on the other side of the building where it’s so formal and cold, Luca. Why don’t you use these rooms instead? They feel much more friendly and welcoming,’ she asked as he went around the room fixing lights into more of the specially designed holders on the walls.

‘I don’t need places to be “friendly”. And, besides, why would I need a bridal suite?’ He paused and turned to look at her. ‘I am not cut out for marriage.’

She had used that jibe on him in their distant past. Now her own words were being bounced back at her. Tears stung her eyes as she looked around the room. She soon spotted another good reason why Luca wouldn’t sleep here. It was decorated with dozens of cupids.

‘It was a silly question, I suppose. You aren’t one for all these baby dimples, that’s for sure.’

‘These are merely an artistic ideal, not a literal representation of what this room was expected to produce.’

Beth swung around and gaped at him. That remark and its language were totally at odds with the Luca she had always known. What she saw now was equally amazing. He was looking over the wall paintings with the air of a true connoisseur, pointing out the quality to her with one expressive hand.

Once she had got over the shock, Beth could not resist a sly dig at him.

‘Careful, Luca—you’re beginning to sound like my father!’

He dropped his arm, and hooked a thumb into one of the belt loops of his jeans. Her sarcasm did not bother him at all. He put his head on one side, and looked at her with an expression close to pity.

‘I always take my responsibilities seriously, Beth. When I arrived here, my great-uncle’s art business was failing. I was not about to sit back and watch it die. Neither was I going to let my disappointment at having to leave the army blight the rest of my life. With plenty of spare time on my hands, I began to read. You saw the library here earlier.’

Beth nodded. The palazzo’s reading rooms held more books than she had ever seen in one place at any one time.

‘With my great-uncle always on hand, I untangled the mysteries of art appreciation for myself. That meant I could combine new knowledge with my organisational skills, and propel Francesco Fine Arts into the twenty-first century. From there it was an easy move into international markets. I never waste my time, Beth. If I see something I want, I go for it. In this case, the project was to make a success of my family’s business.’

‘And there’s no doubt at all you’ve succeeded.’

Beth thought back to the efficiency of his head office, the copy of Time magazine, and the priceless luxury in which he lived. She wandered over to a small side table, made of glistening yew wood. A pretty little porcelain dish sat on it. She picked it up, turning over the delicate, shell-like piece in her hands. Its base was marked with cobalt-blue crossed swords.

‘You put Meissen on display in a room you never use?’

‘I may not use it, but I have plenty of guests.’

Luca gave a wolfish smile. Beth guessed he meant most of them were women.

‘That makes it worse,’ she muttered. Bewitched by the room’s beauty, she had hardly taken in the fine details at first. Now she began to look at its contents more closely. Some of her father’s enthusiasm for his work had rubbed off on her, and Beth could recognise the styles of Chippendale and Wedgwood. There were many other exquisite pieces of furniture, glassware and porcelain that she could not identify, but they all murmured of quality and taste. She had no doubt every item was as genuine as Luca. The things in this bedroom alone must be worth hundreds of thousands. She gave a silent whistle of amazement.

‘But you’re such a perfectionist, Luca. Aren’t you afraid your lovely things will get broken or stolen?’

‘What sort of a host would I be, if I worried about little things like that?’ he said airily, strolling over to the window.

Beth watched him walk away from her. In the past, she had done it dozens of times, but always when feeling the normal fear of any soldier’s partner—that he might not return to her arms. Back then, the pain had been all in her mind. Now, Luca’s new coldness had stamped it all over her heart as well. She gazed at his broad back and wide shoulders. The fine designer cut of his blue silk shirt could not disguise the power of his body. Gradually, her pangs dissolved into need. This time, she was feeling the agony of a separation from him that could never be repaired.

Her anguish was so real it trembled through her body, willing her to rush up and throw herself on his mercy all over again. As she watched he put up a hand to push aside the gauzy curtains with his slender bronze fingers. She saw the contrast of his olive skin against the white net. She remembered his touch so vividly that it hurt. Thoughts of what they had shared tugged at her like stitches in a wound that would not heal. Unable to fight her desire any more, Beth felt herself drawn across the few metres separating them. Although the thick Amritsar rug muffled all sound, Luca still sensed her movements. Turning his head, he looked at her with limpid dark eyes. They told her nothing. She was so close now she could breathe in the warm, familiar fragrance of his cologne, although the faint shadow along his jaw line showed it was hours since he had last shaved. Her whole body ached with the desperate urge to reach out and touch him—to feel his raw masculinity.