live in the main house?’
‘I’m only temporary staff, signor. Given my position, I don’t really fit in anywhere up at the house.’
‘But Terence Bartlett told me his house was deserted—there must be plenty of spare rooms. All his staff are with him on the yacht. That’s the only reason I got him to drop me off here, rather than heading for home. I employ even more people than he does,’ he said, with a voice full of feeling.
Michelle wondered if this was before or after the redundancies, and shivered.
‘To be honest, I prefer living away from the main house, signor. I like my own company, so the studio is ideal for me.’
‘Do you mean the artist’s studio?’ he said slowly.
She nodded. ‘There’s a lot of equipment and things stored in there, signor, but none of it has been used or even opened.’
‘Terence had it built so he could dabble, but he’s never had the time to use it. Or the talent,’ he added regretfully. ‘Is it a good building?’
‘It’s wonderful, signor.’ Michelle smiled.
Living in a place where works of art might one day be made was another reason why she loved Jolie Fleur. The place was so beautiful it cried out to be drawn or painted. She wished she had one percent of the equipment that was lying abandoned in the apartment she was using. Then she reminded herself none of it was any use to her, as she lacked the nerve to try.
‘May I take a look inside this studio of yours?’
How could she refuse? Alessandro was the boss, after all. She nodded. The idea of a man intruding into her personal space would normally set her teeth on edge. And yet something about this man made agreeing to his request the most natural thing in the world. She didn’t want to cross him, but that wasn’t the only reason. In the few minutes since he’d landed Michelle had realised something. He might be used to the company of stars and billionaires, but Alessandro Castiglione was the most natural, unaffected person she had ever met. He didn’t waste words, either. That was something else in his favour. She much preferred an employer who kept quiet and let her get on with things, although the magnetic Signor Castiglione was bound to be quite a challenge. But Michelle knew her place. It was his holiday: her job was to keep him happy while keeping out of his way.
She found herself wondering whether he would be spending much time at the villa, or whether he would be travelling farther afield. And, whatever he did, would he have company? She began to think that keeping an invisible watch on this gorgeous man might be a lot more fun than hiding away from him completely…
CHAPTER TWO
MICHELLE’S heart leapt each time she saw her temporary home. It nestled in a sheltered part of the garden, and was designed so that the banks of flowers billowing on every side could be enjoyed whatever the weather. Glass made up most of the front of the building, while deep eaves shaded a swing-seat. Michelle unlocked the sliding French doors and stood aside for him to go in.
‘This is impressive.’ Alessandro Castiglione looked around the living room, with its stacks of art boxes and storage bins. Wandering into the kitchen, he nodded appreciatively at the big stainless steel sink and double drainers that took up most of the room. ‘It wouldn’t take long to remove this partition wall to make better use of the space,’ he murmured to himself.
Michelle stood silently in a corner while he roamed around, occasionally taking something from the huge collection of equipment and supplies she had to squeeze around. Once he had studied a packet of paper, a box of pencils, an easel or some brushes, he put them back carefully in their place. Michelle was glad to see that. Most employers would have put them anywhere. They pay you to be tidy for them, her mother had always said.
She found it fascinating to watch him when she could. Each time he caught her doing it, he smiled. Michelle found herself blushing madly, and had to look away. Her guest knew exactly the effect he was having.
‘I never knew Terence had so many art books!’ He ran his finger along the spines lining the shelves, but it was a volume open on the coffee table that really caught his eye. ‘Raphael. He’s one of my favourites. Do you mind if I borrow this one and take it back to the villa with me?’
He picked it up and began flicking through the pages, from the back to front of the book. Of all the ones to choose… Michelle felt as though he had reached inside her ribcage and pulled out her heart. She knew exactly what he was thinking, because she had experienced it so often herself. As he revelled in the beautiful pictures and glowing colours, it showed clearly in his face. It was only when he reached the flyleaf that he stopped smiling.
‘“Presented to Michelle Spicer as part of the Lawrence Prize for the year’s outstanding portfolio,”’ he read aloud, and then looked at her directly. His eyes were smiling, ‘So this is yours?’
Michelle nodded, too struck by the sparkle in his eyes to speak.
‘A little light bedtime reading?’
‘It’s a bit too heavy for that, signor.’
‘For one person, maybe…although two might manage, I suppose. One could read while the other looks on?’
A vision of Alessandro Castiglione in bed came to Michelle, and it didn’t involve any art books. She managed not to gasp aloud, but couldn’t help taking a step backwards, away from him.
When he put her presentation book down on the table again Michelle was puzzled.
‘Aren’t you going to take it after all, signor?’
He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t possibly. It’s yours and must mean so much to you.’
‘It does—but if you want it…’
‘Thank you. I’ll let you have it back as soon as possible.’ Taking possession of it again with relish, he patted the cover. ‘This must be an inspiring place to work for you, as an artist. How many pictures have you done while you’ve been here?’
‘None, signor. There’s always too much work to do.’
He laughed politely, and brandished her book. ‘Where’s your portfolio now? You haven’t got it here by any chance?’
Michelle clenched her teeth at the memory. The words had to struggle out.
‘It got burned, signor.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He sounded genuinely touched. ‘I would have liked to have seen it. Never mind. I won’t be a demanding guest. You’ll have plenty of time for your art while I’m in residence here.’
He was right. Over the next few days Michelle found she actually had some spare time. It was unheard of. The Bartlett family were always thinking of bits and pieces that they’d forgotten to get delivered for their stay. Without having to drive into town several times a day, Michelle could open her own art box for the first time since arriving in France.
Her efforts at sketching around the estate weren’t very successful. Each time she caught sight of Alessandro she hid her sketchbook in case he wanted to look at her work. She couldn’t bear
