don’t make a habit of exchanging confidences with the household staff at any of my residences,’ he said. ‘They will assume it’s a normal marriage, just like everyone else.’
A little frown appeared over her grey-blue eyes. ‘Even though we won’t be sharing a room?’
Andreas felt that punch to his gut again. He could think of nothing more tempting than rolling around his bed with her legs wrapped around his waist, his body buried to the hilt in hers. His blood thickened and pulsed as he thought of how it would feel to finally satiate this need he had harboured so long. He would have his fill of her once and for all. In six months he would walk away. He would finally be immune. Free. In control.
‘It’s very common for people with villas the size of mine to occupy different suites,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t make sense to cram into one room when there are thirty others to choose from.’
Her eyes went wide. ‘That big, huh?’
‘It’s bigger than my father’s.’
A little smile played about the corners of her mouth. ‘I just bet it is,’ she said.
Andreas took out his wallet and handed her a credit card. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘Go shopping. Get your hair and nails done. Have coffee. Have a meal. I won’t be back till late. Don’t wait up.’
She took the card from him without touching his fingers and popped it in her bag. She moved past him in the doorway, not touching but close enough for every hair on his body to stand to attention and for every blood vessel to expand and throb. He was about to let out the breath he was holding when she suddenly stopped and turned back to look at him. ‘Do you have any idea why your father did this?’ she asked.
‘No idea at all.’
She chewed at her lower lip for a moment, a shadow passing like a cloud over her face. ‘He must have really hated me …’
‘What makes you think that?’ he asked, frowning at her. ‘This is about me, not you. My father hated me as much as I hated him.’
A little beat of silence passed.
‘I’d better get going,’ she said with an overly bright smile. ‘So many things to buy, so little time. Ciao.’
Andreas closed the door once she had left and leant back against it heavily, a frown tugging at his forehead. Half an hour with Sienna was like being in the middle of a hurricane with nothing but a paper parasol for protection.
How was he going to get through six months?
CHAPTER THREE
SIENNA took a taxi to Andreas’s Tuscan estate once she had finished shopping. The Renaissance-style villa was a few kilometres outside Florence, set amongst acres of olive groves and vineyards in the Chianti region of Tuscany, made famous for its wine. The fading afternoon sunshine cast a spectacular light over the fresh growth on the vines. Flowers in an array of bright colours tumbled from baskets hanging near the entrance to the villa. It was breathtakingly beautiful and a jolting reminder of the wealth Andreas had been born into and had never questioned. Sure, he had forged his own way with his furniture designs, but he had never had to worry about bills not being paid or where the next meal was coming from. It was hard not to feel a teensy bit jealous. Why did he even want his mother’s wretched chateau in Provence when he had all of this?
The thought of owning a property like the chateau made Sienna wonder if she should set about making him default on the will by making it impossible to live with her. It was a tempting thought: a chateau of her own, her own patch of paradise. It wasn’t as if Andreas would be left homeless or anything. He had homes everywhere. The one in Florence was his base, but she knew for a fact he had a villa in Barbados as well as one somewhere in Spain.
The door of the villa opened and a motherly-looking woman who introduced herself as Elena smiled as she ushered Sienna in. ‘Signor Ferrante told me you would be arriving this evening,’ she said. ‘I have made up the Rose Suite for you.’ She winked knowingly. ‘It is right next to his.’
Sienna forced a smile. ‘That was very thoughtful of you.’
‘It is no trouble,’ Elena said. ‘I was young and madly in love once. I met my husband and within a month we were married. I knew Signor Ferrante would change his mind about that one.’
Sienna frowned slightly. ‘Erm … “That one”?’
Elena made a noise that sounded something like a snort. ‘Princess Portia. She was never happy. I had to fetch and carry. She did not like red meat. She did not like cheese. She only ate this. She only ate that. I nearly went crazy.’
‘Maybe she was thinking of her figure,’ Sienna offered generously.
The housekeeper gave another snort of disapproval. ‘She is not the right one for Signor Ferrante,’ she said. ‘He needs a woman who is as passionate as he is.’
Sienna couldn’t help wondering exactly what Andreas had told his housekeeper about their relationship or whether Elena had assumed their whirlwind courtship had come about because they had suddenly fallen deeply in love. Or, even more worryingly, could the housekeeper see something in Sienna that she desperately wanted to keep hidden? It wasn’t as if she still had a crush on Andreas or anything. She didn’t love him. She hated him. But that didn’t mean his physical presence didn’t disturb her. It did, and way too much. ‘You seem to know him very well,’ she said.
Elena smiled. ‘He’s a good man. He’s very generous and hard-working, too. He helps in the vineyard whenever he can, and the orchards. You knew him before? I read about it in the paper. Your mamma used to work for his family, sì?’
‘Sì,’ Sienna said. ‘My mother took up the position as head housekeeper when I was fourteen. Andreas wasn’t living at home then, of course, but we ran into each other from time to time.’
‘Friends to lovers, sì?’ Elena said, smiling broadly.
‘Erm … something like that.’
‘I can see the fire in your eyes,’ Elena said. ‘He will be happy with you. I can tell these things. You will make good babies with him, sì?’
Sienna felt her face grow hot. ‘We haven’t talked about kids. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind affair, actually.’
‘The best ones are,’ Elena said with matronly authority. ‘Come, I’ll show you your new home. You’ll want to settle in before Signor Ferrante gets back.’
Sienna followed the cheery housekeeper on a tour of the villa. It was even bigger than she had expected. Room after room, suite after suite, all beautifully and tastefully decorated. It occurred to her that in a villa this size she could pass six months without even running into Andreas, or anyone else for that matter.
‘I’ll leave you to shower and change,’ Elena said. ‘I will set up the dinner before I leave.’
‘You don’t live here?’ Sienna asked.
‘I live in the farmhouse next to the olive grove,’ Elena said. ‘My husband, Franco, works for Signor Ferrante too. If you want anything we are only a phone call away. I will
