be ready to leave mid-morning? We’ll travel on my private jet. Give me your address and I’ll send the car for you.’
The man was a steamroller, Darcey thought ruefully. She shook her head. ‘I have a few things to do. I won’t be ready to leave with you. I’ll book a commercial flight and come at the weekend.’
Salvatore was used to his staff following orders without question, and he felt a flare of irritation that Darcey seemed determined to argue about everything. ‘It would suit me better if you come tomorrow.’
It occurred to him that if she had accepted the salary he had offered he would have had more control over her. He still could not quite get over the fact that she had ripped up the cheque, and he was aware that now the balance of power was in her favour. For the first time in his life money had not been the solution to a problem.
‘But it will suit me better to fly out at the weekend,’ Darcey said coolly, refusing to drop her gaze from his hard stare. ‘I’m having lunch with my parents tomorrow.’
‘Fine. I’ll delay our flight time for a few hours and we will leave in the afternoon. You were going to go to France on Friday,’ Salvatore reminded her. ‘What difference will it make if you leave with me two days earlier? Rosa will be happier if you fly out with us—especially now that Sharon has gone.’
Darcey sighed. She suspected that Salvatore understood she had formed an emotional attachment to his deaf daughter and would not want to disappoint the little girl. ‘I’ll be ready to leave at three o’clock,’ she said resignedly. She stood up from the table. ‘But now you will have to excuse me so that I can go home and finish packing.’
‘I’ll escort you to your car.’
He walked across the room and held open the door. Darcey’s stomach muscles clenched as their bodies brushed when she passed him. She breathed in the sensual musk of his cologne and wondered why he used it when the black stubble shading his jaw indicated that he had not shaved today. With his dark, brooding good looks he reminded her of a pirate, and she sensed that he was just as dangerous.
In the hall she slipped on her jacket, thankful that it concealed her treacherous body. Her breasts felt heavy, and she would be mortified if he noticed that her nipples had hardened and were straining against the thin material of her blouse. She followed him out of the house. The night air cooled her hot face, but her fierce awareness of him did not lessen as she walked beside him along the pavement to where her car was parked. She must have been mad to have agreed to go to Sicily with him, she thought despairingly. It’s not too late to pull out, a voice in her head whispered. She hadn’t signed a contract. She unlocked the Mini and slid into the driver’s seat. Her fingers fumbled to insert the key in the ignition.
‘Rosa will be excited when I tell her that you will be staying at the castle with us.’ Salvatore held the car door open and leaned down so that his face was almost level with hers.
Oh, hell! Her gaze was drawn involuntarily to his stern mouth before lifting to his eyes. Something flickered in his dark expression and for a breathless few seconds she thought he was going to lower his head and kiss her. Time slowed and her heartbeat raced. His warm breath whispered across her mouth and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue in an unconscious invitation.
‘Goodnight, Darcey.’ Abruptly he stepped back and closed the car door.
Darcey tried to quash her disappointment. Of course she had not wanted him to kiss her, she assured herself as she turned the key in the ignition. She would go to Sicily for Rosa’s sake, but she intended that her relationship with Salvatore would remain firmly within the boundaries of employer and employee.
* * *
‘Hello, darling! What are you doing here?’
Joshua Hart greeted Darcey with a vague smile when she arrived at her parents’ house in London’s Notting Hill the following day. Her father held open the front door to allow her to step into the hallway.
‘I thought you were on holiday.’
‘I told you the last time I saw you that I going away at the beginning of July.’ Darcey forbore to ask her father why he was wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown at midday. ‘I’ve come to have lunch with you and Mum.’
‘Oh, well—your mother never said. No one tells me anything,’ Joshua grumbled. He pushed open his study door. ‘You won’t mind if I don’t join you? I’m up to my eyes in Othello. The new production opens at the National Theatre next week and I’ll never be ready,’ he stated dramatically. He paused in the doorway and turned his piercing blue eyes on Darcey. ‘Have you been studying the script I sent you? Remember, rehearsals for my play begin at the end of September.’
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