moved as she swallowed before speaking. ‘I— You— It would seem that I owe you an apology, Count Scarletti.’ The blush on her cheeks was obviously caused by embarrassment now. ‘I simply had no idea—your chauffeur gave me no explanation—’
‘He was instructed not to do so,’ Dmitri interjected.
Those sky-blue eyes widened as she looked up at him uncertainly. He stood only feet away from her now, and the top of her silver-blond head didn’t even reach up to his wide shoulders.
‘He was?’
‘Yes,’ he confirmed as bent down to pick up her battered suitcase before straightening and walking towards the palazzo. ‘If you would like to follow me, I have some hot refreshment waiting for you inside.’
No doubt this seriously attractive man could crook a finger and she would follow him anywhere, Lily acknowledged disgustedly. Except he hadn’t even attempted to do that; he just expected—no, demanded—that Lily follow him inside.
Having already made something of a fool of herself today, Lily had no intention of continuing to do so. She made no effort to follow him, but instead made a demand of her own. ‘Where’s Felix?’
Those broad shoulders stiffened beneath that perfectly tailored jacket as the Count came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. He slowly turned to look at her, heavy lids narrowed over the eyes Lily had discovered only seconds ago were, in fact, a pale and unfathomable green. A pale and mesmerising green, actually. As mesmerising, in fact, as the rest of him.
Up close—if not personal!—Lily could see that he was younger than she had first thought—probably aged somewhere in his mid to late thirties—with a ruthless cast to those wickedly handsome features that must make him formidable in the business world, and pretty scary in his personal life too. She certainly wouldn’t like to find herself on the wrong side of him...
He looked down the long length of his aristocratic nose at her. ‘That is an interesting question.’
Lily gave a start. ‘It is?’ A frown appeared between her eyes. ‘Has something happened to him?’ She walked quickly across the courtyard to look questioningly into Count Scarletti’s face. ‘Please don’t say he’s been involved in a accident!’ As she had already discovered, driving in Italy could be seriously hazardous to your health!
Dark brows rose over those cold and narrowed eyes. ‘The answer to your questions would appear to be, I have no idea and not yet,’ he rasped, with a chilling softness that sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.
‘But—I don’t understand!’ Lily had to take two steps to one of his much longer strides as he stepped into the cool hallway of the palazzo.
She faltered slightly, totally overwhelmed by her surroundings as she took in the magnificence of the marble floor and cut-glass chandelier hanging down from a cavernous ceiling overhead, the antique furnishings and obviously original paintings on the walls adding to the air of wealth and grandeur.
And it was so quiet—not a sound to be heard except the echo of their footsteps as Lily belatedly followed the Count as he walked down the marble hallway before disappearing into a room at the end of the long corridor.
Admittedly this was a huge house—palace!—and as far as Lily knew only Count Scarletti and his sister, Claudia, lived here, but even so surely there should be a feeling of there being other people in the house? Servants to keep such a huge house clean and dust-free? Others preparing this evening’s dinner for their padrone and his young sister? Instead there was just a hollow, eerie silence...
Lily hurried to follow the Count down the hallway, and into the room—only to come to an abrupt halt just inside the door as she found herself in a room so elegantly beautiful it made her gasp softly in awe. The walls were gleaming white, with gold—real gold leaf?—picking out the intricacies of the cornices and scrollwork, and another beautiful glass chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. A deep blue Aubusson carpet covered most of the marble floor space, and the furniture was obviously from the early nineteenth century—delicate and lovely, with numerous expensive china figurines adorning it. Yet more original paintings were on the walls, and huge, almost floor-length windows looked out onto the magnificence of Rome’s skyline.
And in the midst of all this elegance stood Count Scarletti, very tall and imposing, beside an ornate fireplace in which a fire crackled and flamed, adding a warmth to this beautiful room that Lily felt was singularly lacking in its master.
She huddled into her jacket as she felt another chill run down the length of her spine. ‘You were about to explain why Felix didn’t meet me at the airport as planned.’
He slowly quirked one dark and arrogant brow. ‘Was I?’
Lily looked puzzled. From the little Felix had told her of his employer she’d gained the impression Dmitri Scarletti was a hard taskmaster but a fair one, expecting no more of his employees than he did of himself. In fact, she had got the distinct feeling that her brother’s boss worked as hard as he was reputed to play. Certainly Felix had said nothing about the other man being cold and withdrawn and less than helpful!
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘You—’
‘Perhaps you would care to pour the tea before we continue our conversation?’ He indicated a silver tray on the low, ornate white coffee table on which a teapot and cups had been arranged.
No, Lily would not care to pour the tea; she wanted to know where Felix was, and why he hadn’t met her at the airport—and she wanted to know now! Except good manners—and her brother’s employment by this man—dictated that she not be so obviously rude to him. Especially as the Count had taken the trouble to upgrade her to first class on the flight over here, as well as sending his own chauffeur to meet her at the airport!
Dmitri might almost have smiled at the battle for good manners so obviously going on inside Giselle Barton’s beautiful head. Almost. But until he had ascertained exactly how much she knew about her brother’s present behaviour he intended to treat her with the same suspicion with which he now regarded Felix.
‘I am sure you must be in need of refreshment after your flight, Miss Barton.’
‘Not really. I had more than enough champagne to drink on the plane,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘Indeed?’ Dmitri drawled with obvious distaste.
Colour warmed those pale cheeks as she shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. ‘Courtesy of your kindness in upgrading my seat.’
‘It was the least I could do,’ Dmitri said curtly.
‘Yes. Well. I appreciate the kindness.’
She looked awkward, as if she were unaccustomed to such attentions. Which she probably was; Dmitri knew from his conversations with Felix these past few months that his parents were dead and his only sister lived alone in London.
‘Now, I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time, so if you wouldn’t mind arranging for a taxi to take me to Felix’s apartment?’
‘Later, perhaps.’ Dmitri moved with the intention of sitting in one of the wing-backed armchairs beside the fire, and became instantly aware of the way she took a wary step backwards. Perhaps he deserved that; normally a man of cool and rigid self-control, he realised at the moment he was only barely managing to hold his inner feelings of anger in check.
