wide selection of women pictured draped all over him.
‘He’s a hottie!’
Tess chose to ignore Fiona’s comment and folded the last item in her case. She huffed gently as she closed the lid. ‘I hate packing and I never take the right thing,’ she complained.
‘You look good in a bin sack,’ her friend consoled. ‘If I had your figure...well, never mind that. So,’ she said, handing back the phone, ‘what does gorgeous do when he’s not rescuing women?’
‘Makes money.’
‘He’s sounding better all the time.’
‘It seems he buys failing companies and makes them work, or at least he used to. He took over the family firm when his parents died a couple of years ago, and they had pretty much a finger in any pie you care to mention...’ Tess mentioned a few. ‘After their death, though, he dropped off the party circuit—’
‘Got married and had a few kids?’
Tess managed to conceal her reaction to the question and shrugged. She had no idea why the idea of Danilo Raphael enjoying domestic bliss shocked her so much, but her friend’s analysis of the low public profile did work.
‘Maybe?’ The information she had about the accident online was sketchy. The headlines were lurid and, though there was little detail, she felt safe assuming that this was what had brought about the change in this ex-playboy’s lifestyle.
‘You do realise what you described is called asset stripping? And asset strippers are not a breed noted for their warmth and human kindness.’
‘He said he wasn’t kind,’ she remembered. Strangely, despite the trauma and her fever she could remember every word he had said and the exact intonation of his husky voice. She caught Fiona looking at her and carefully wiped away whatever expression had been on her face that had made her friend stare. ‘But I’m hired to be a companion to his sister, not hold hands with him.’ An image floated into her head of his long brown fingers; she pushed it away. ‘I doubt if I’ll even see him.’
* * *
One step through the door and Danilo swung back, the expression on his lean face impatient as he gave a shrug and responded to Franco’s question.
‘She’s petite, maybe even a little mousey, she’s probably looking lost...big eyes in a small face.’ His mouth quirked as the description brought a disappointed look to his cousin’s face. ‘What were you expecting, a supermodel?’
His cousin gave a grin. ‘It wouldn’t have hurt. So what do you want me to do with this mouse?’
‘Drop her off at the house. Nat is expecting her.’
‘You don’t expect me to stay and babysit, then? I’m meant to be meeting the event organiser later this morning.’
‘Your cousin Angelica will look after her and introduce her to Nat.’ The furrow between his dark brows deepened. ‘More problems with the party?’
‘Just a few tweaks. I want it to be perfect.’
‘That is the general idea,’ Danilo agreed, holding eye contact long enough to see his cousin squirm. The lie was obvious but Danilo, already late for a meeting, let it lie.
‘So I can just dump her and run?’
* * *
Tess, who had adjusted her step to accommodate the slower pace of her travelling companion, was about the last person from the London flight to clear the customs checkpoint, and as they entered the arrivals lounge together the elderly Italian lady was immediately surrounded.
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