and a third of the year after, and we managed to fill every spare week this year from April onwards.’ Maddie met his eyes with a cool gaze of her own, but Dante could see a swirl of uncertainty behind the grey depths.
‘Impressive,’ he said softly and watched, fascinated, as the uncertainty dissolved, her eyes lightening to silver, her diffidence disappearing until she was glowing with achievement and pride—deservedly so.
The air stilled, thickened as their gazes locked. Guido and Toni, his accountant, had returned downstairs to look at something that needed replacing, leaving Dante alone with his new event planner. And suddenly that felt like a dangerous place to be.
This was his home, his workplace—and more importantly his daughter was arriving in two days. There was no time for a discreet affair, even if Maddie was interested.
No, better not to think about an interested Maddie, not with the two of them alone, with her eyes still fixed on his, her lips parted. Not with the memory of how she had watched him across the lake still crystal-clear in his mind.
‘I think that’s everything,’ she said a little huskily, colour mounting in her cheeks as she practically marched out of the bedroom and headed towards the stairs. ‘I’m sure Guido has already talked you through the strategy we put together.’
‘Have you also made changes to the master bedroom suite?’ Dante stayed as still a predator as Maddie stopped, one hand on the top of the stair rail.
‘A few.’
‘Show me.’
Her eyes flashed at the order, but she didn’t speak, just nodded her head slightly before descending the narrow staircase. Dante followed, trying not to watch the sway of her hips, the way her hair moved as she walked. If he had any sense he would allow Madeleine Fitzroy to get on with her evening and check out the honeymoon suite by himself. After another dip in the freezing lake.
Not that he had any interest in spending more time with Maddie. This was business, plain and simple. If she had made changes it made sense that she was the one to explain her rationale to him. His decision was completely unconnected to the knowledge that ever since he had seen her across the lake staring at him with such unabashed curiosity something dormant had woken inside him, running insistently through his blood. Not because describing his fake relationship to his sister had made him aware of just how cold his life really was.
Intentionally cold, but when loneliness bit it did so with sharp intent.
It only took a few moments to cross the courtyard to the big, arched wooden door studded with iron which led into the oldest part of the castle. The wing where the staff quarters and offices were sat at a right angle to the ancient hall, with the more modern parts of the castle—a mere five hundred years old—complete with the famed turrets and terraces, faced the lake beyond that.
‘I changed nothing in here,’ Maddie said quietly as she preceded Dante into the vast room. ‘It’s perfect as it is.’
It was, with its arched ceiling criss-crossed with beams, the stone floor and the leaded stained-glass windows shadowing the floor in colour. A dais stood at one end filled with flowers. Chairs were already laid out in neat rows, each one dressed in white linen, more flowers punctuating the end of each row on tall plinths.
‘Tomorrow’s couple are getting married the day after they arrive, so we’re all set up and ready,’ she said.
Dante watched her as she stopped and surveyed the room, her sharp gaze sweeping every corner, making sure nothing was missed, pulling a notebook out of her bag and scribbling a few words. It was like watching a dance, or listening to finely read poetry, she was so in tune with her surroundings, oblivious to her companion as she wrote, paced a few steps, frowned and wrote again. Dante wasn’t used to being forgotten, especially by women. It was a novel sensation—and it brought out a deeply buried, animal wish to make her notice him, the way a bird must feel as he preened to attract a mate.
He pulled out his phone and began to scroll through his messages, ruthlessly clamping down on any animal instincts.
‘Sorry, I just noticed a couple of things.’ Maddie put the notebook back in her bag and gestured towards the spiral staircase at the end of the hall. ‘Shall we?’
‘Of course.’
The staircase led directly into the honeymoon suite. Last time Dante had set foot in it, it had been a dark, richly decorated suite of rooms, little light able to penetrate the stone walls through the window slits. Ancient tapestries had hung on the walls, the flagstones covered with antique rugs, and dark, heavy furniture had dominated the space. It had felt baronial, grand and imposing—more like the lair of a medieval seducer than a romantic getaway.
He stopped as he reached the top of the room and swivelled, unable to believe his eyes. How could this be the same space? ‘Where have the walls gone?’ he managed to say eventually.
‘They weren’t original, don’t worry. In fact they weren’t even Renaissance like the rest of the castle, but a nineteenth-century addition, according to the architect I consulted,’ Maddie said hurriedly, her gaze fixed anxiously on him. ‘What do you think?’
The apartment was now one huge room, much lighter thanks to the clever use of mirrors picking up the faint light and reflecting it back into the room. The same imposing four-poster—a bed that legend had it Dante’s great-grandfather times several greats had used to seduce women away from their husbands, until he had foolishly turned his wandering eye on a Borgia wife—was still in situ, but, placed at one end of the room and heaped with cushions, it looked inviting rather than intimidating. The matching wardrobe and chest of drawers also looked more fitting, now they no longer dominated the space.
The fireplace had been opened out and was, despite the summer’s day, filled with logs ready to be lit. A comfortable chaise, loveseat and sofa were grouped around it. A small dining table, already laid for two, sat on one side of the room, low bookshelves lay opposite it and thick rugs covered the cold stone floor.
Dante stood stock still, taking it all in. How could such a dark, stately space feel so welcoming just because a couple of walls had been removed?
It wasn’t just the walls though. It was the mirrors, it was the choice of painting, the cream rugs with the hint of gold, the dainty china on the table, the...hang on, the what?
‘Why is the bathtub in the middle of the room?’ Dante blinked again, but sure enough it was still there. Mounted on a tiled dais, the antique cast-iron bath that had used to reside in the bathroom now sat slap bang in the middle of the room. A freestanding wooden towel rail stood on one side; a slender console table on the other held candles and bath oils.
‘We turned the bathroom into a wet room.’ Maddie glanced at him, long eyelashes shielding her expression. ‘Guido offered to email you the plans, but you said you trusted us to do the details.’
‘Si.’ Dante was still transfixed by the bathtub. Noting how it was in every possible eye line. How a man could lie in bed and watch his bride bathe, the candlelight casting a warm glow over her skin. ‘And this is the kind of detail you like? The idea of watching someone bathe?’
‘I...’ She stopped.
Dante waited, lounging against the wall, eyes fixed on her as intently as hers had been fixed on him.
‘Many luxury rooms have the bath in the main space.’
