parents?’
‘Both dead.’
‘My condolences.’
‘It was a long time ago.’
Almost eighteen years, Cass realised with shock. She’d been so young she’d hardly known how to grieve for them. She hadn’t really known them. She’d had one carer after another while they’d been on the road with her father’s band. Her emotions had died along with her parents, until her godmother had arrived to sweep Cass up in a hug. She’d taken Cass home to her modest cottage in the Lake District where the only drug was the scenery and her godmother’s beautiful garden. Cass had lived there ever since, confident in her godmother’s love and safe in a well-ordered life.
Maybe part of her had hidden in this security, she reflected now. That would account for a personality as compelling as Marco di Fivizzano giving her such a jolt. After her turbulent childhood, she had welcomed her godmother’s cocoon of love, but increasingly had come to realise that something was missing from her life. Challenge. That was why she was here in Tuscany. This job was out of her comfort zone, and never more so than now.
‘You are lucky to have a godmother to live with,’ Marco di Fivizzano observed as he strode ahead of her.
‘Yes. I am,’ she agreed, chasing after him.
The warmth and strength of her godmother’s love had never wavered, and when the day had come when Cass had been ready to fly the nest, she had helped her to get the job here in Tuscany.
She stood back when they arrived at the front door.
‘Come into the house,’ Fivizzano instructed when she hesitated.
She’d never been beyond the kitchen. She’d never entered the house through the front door. Her room was in an annex across the courtyard. The house was grand. She was not. She was covered in mud and she knew how hard Maria worked to keep the place spotless.
But the real reason for her hesitation was that she didn’t want to be alone in the house with him.
‘It’s Giuseppe and Maria’s day off,’ she explained, still hovering outside the door.
‘And?’ he demanded impatiently.
‘I’m sure if they had expected you—’
‘I don’t pay my staff to expect.’
She flinched when he added, ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
Yes. She had a problem. She had never met a man so rude or so insensitive. Giuseppe and Maria would do anything for him. Did he know that? And she was definitely not going inside the house. ‘I’m sure Maria must have left something in the fridge for you to eat—’
His expression blackened. ‘I beg your pardon?’
She had to remind herself that she loved this job, and that it would help to pay for her godmother’s trip to Australia, and therefore she should say nothing and just get on with it.
‘As Maria isn’t here, you’ll have to do,’ he said, giving her a scathing appraisal. ‘Clean yourself up and fix lunch.’
Her face blazed red beneath the arrogant stare. She had to remind herself that she had dealt with plenty of difficult customers at the supermarket. Sucking in a steadying breath, she told herself that for all his immense wealth Marco di Fivizzano was just another man.
Just another man?
She would have to remind herself of that several times a day, Cass guessed wryly, but she couldn’t deny that if there was one thing she loved it was a challenge.
‘My cooking isn’t up to much,’ she admitted, kicking off her boots.
‘Do what you can.’
Senna pods in his omelette sprang to mind.
Stepping inside the beautiful old house, she was silenced for a moment. Overwhelmed by its beauty, she stared around in awe. This had to be the most beautiful hallway outside a palace. It was square and elegant...beautifully proportioned, with a high, vaulted ceiling. It was decorated with burnished antiques, as well as the most exquisite rugs—rugs Marco di Fivizzano was simply striding over in his outdoor shoes on his way to the foot of an impressive mahogany staircase.
‘You can clean yourself up in the back kitchen,’ he instructed, as if she were a latter-day Cinderella. ‘An omelette shouldn’t be beyond you.’
‘I’ll pick some fresh herbs—’
Her suggestion was wasted. He was already halfway up the stairs.
So much for that challenge she’d been looking forward to!
Her first assessment of Marco di Fivizzano had been correct. He was insufferably rude and incredibly insensitive. She didn’t even register on his radar. He was hungry and he expected to be fed.
Then she remembered with a little pulse of interest that Marco di Fivizzano was always hungry, according to the scandal sheets—and she doubted they were talking about food. He was also a spectacular lover, according to the same magazines...
She definitely needed that wash down in cold water before she saw him again.
Having cleaned herself up, she went back into the garden and, selecting a clump of herbs, she slashed them with her knife.
No supressed emotions to deal with at all, Cass concluded with amusement.
As she walked back to the house she glanced at the upstairs windows. She could just imagine all that brute force naked beneath the shower. She’d always had a down-to-earth attitude when it came to men and sex, though living in the remote beauty of the Lake District with her godmother had hardly provided her with a wide pool of men to choose from. And when she had chosen, she’d got it wrong. She’d had one or two unsuccessful attempts to make a go of a relationship, but the men had disappointed her in a way she couldn’t really explain. There had been nothing wrong with them. They just hadn’t fired her imagination, and she had always dreamed of being swept away.
One thing was sure, nothing could have prepared her poor frustrated body for the arrival of a force of nature like Marco di Fivizzano.
Sheathing her knife, she wiped a hand across the back of her neck. Would he need a cold shower after meeting her? Somehow she doubted it. She guessed she was more of a wasp he’d like to swat than a beautiful butterfly he’d like to do other things with. Sex radiated from him. Even clothed in what had to be the most expensive tailoring known to man, there was something primal about him—something dark and hidden at his core—an animal energy that suggested he would consider any woman fair game.
But not this woman.
Because she had more sense?
It was time to stop daydreaming and get on with making his meal.
* * *
He took an ice-cold shower. His senses had received an unexpected jolt thanks to a most unlikely woman. He smiled grimly as he soaped himself down, imagining the type of chaos she would be creating in Maria’s pristine kitchen round
