‘Mia bella.’
Andrea’s sudden smile touched her like a kiss, and Maddie had to overcome the urge to take a step backwards. Because that would be a damaging act of self-betrayal that she could not afford.
But she could not control the faint breathlessness in her voice. ‘Don’t—call me that.’
‘You think it is more deception?’ he asked softly. ‘I promise it is not.’
The amber gaze studied her, lingering on her breasts and then travelling slowly down the rest of her body, as if he was imagining what he would see if the robe were gone.
‘You were lovely before, Maddalena. Tonight you are breathtaking.’
‘And stop talking like that.’
Her words were falling over each other. Stop looking at me. Stop standing only a few feet away. And, dear God, stop smiling as if you already knew everything there is to know about me. Because that scares me far more than any number of hours in a locked room.
She rallied. ‘You have no right—no right at all.’
‘I have any rights I choose to impose,’ he drawled.
Abour the Author
SARA CRAVEN was born in South Devon and grew up in a house full of books. She worked as a local journalist, covering everything from flower shows to murders, and started writing for Mills and Boon in 1975. When not writing, she enjoys films, music, theatre, cooking, and eating in good restaurants. She now lives near her family in Warwickshire. Sara has appeared as a contestant on the former Channel Four game show Fifteen to One, and in 1997 was the UK television Mastermind champion. In 2005 she was a member of the Romantic Novelists’ team on University Challenge—the Professionals.
Recent titles by the same author:
THE PRICE OF RETRIBUTION
THE END OF HER INNOCENCE
WIFE IN THE SHADOWS
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Count Valieri’s Prisoner
Sara Craven
MILLS & BOON
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CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS QUIET in the lamplit room, the only sound the occasional rustle of paper as the man seated on one side of the vast antique desk went through the contents of the file in front of him. He was unhurried, his black brows drawn together in a faint frown as he closely scanned each printed sheet in turn, then laid it aside.
The grey-haired man sitting opposite watched him, under the guise of studying his fingernails. It was over two years since they’d had cause to meet face to face, and there was no longer even a trace of the boy he had once known in the dark, incisive face bent over the documents he had brought for him only a few hours ago.
He had been welcomed with the usual courtesy, conducted by the maggiodomo to the room where he would spend the night, after which he had dined alone with his host. The food had been delicious, and on the surface, it was all charm and relaxation, but he was under no illusions.
The real business of his visit was being conducted right here and now.
Eventually, his reading concluded, the younger man looked up and gave a brief nod of approbation.
‘You have been more than thorough, Signor Massimo. I commend you. An entire life laid out for my inspection in every detail. Invaluable.’
His swift smile momentarily softened the hard lines of his mouth and brought an added glint to eyes that were almost the colour of amber, flecked with gold.
It was a proud face with a high-bridged nose, classically moulded cheekbones and an uncompromising chin.
But now too austere to be truly handsome, thought Guido Massimo as he inclined his head in polite acknowledgement. And too coldly purposeful. The face of a stranger.
He waited as the other took the photograph which was the last object remaining in the file and studied it. The girl looking back at him was blonde, her pale hair hanging in a sleek silken curtain almost to her shoulders. Her face was oval with creamy skin, her eyes a clear grey. Her nose was short and straight, her chin firm and the delicately curved lips were parted in a slight but confident smile.
‘When was this taken?’
‘A few months ago on the occasion of her engagement,’ Signor Massimo returned. ‘It appeared in a magazine published in the county where she was brought up.’ He allowed himself a discreet twinkle. ‘Che bella ragazza.’
His comment received only an indifferent shrug.
‘This cool Anglo-Saxon type has no appeal for me.’ The other’s mouth twisted. ‘Which, under the circumstances, must be deemed fortunate.’ He paused. ‘But no doubt her fidanzato will have a very different view and will pay the required price for her safe return. Or we must hope so.’
Signor Massimo murmured politely, keeping his expression impassive. He was well aware that his host’s tastes in women favoured the elegantly voluptuous, but it would have been unwise even to hint that he possessed such knowledge.
The younger man returned the photograph to the file with an air of finality and leaned back in his chair, frowning again. ‘The wedding is scheduled to take place in two months, which means there is no time to be lost. However it will make the resolution of the matter increasingly urgent, which is all to the good.’
Almost absently he began to play with the heavy gold signet ring he wore on his right hand. ‘Tell me more about this television company she works for. You say it makes programmes for various arts channels?’
‘And with some success. She is currently a researcher with a desire to move into production,
