the capacious boot.
‘Joe Bardini,’ Stefano told them as Carly and Ann-Marie slid from the car. ‘Joe and his wife Sylvana look after the house and grounds.’
The man’s smile was warm, and his voice when he spoke held the barest trace of an Italian accent. ‘Sylvana is in the kitchen preparing lunch. I will tell her you have arrived.’
Some of Carly’s tension transmitted itself to her daughter, for Ann-Marie’s fingers tightened measurably within her own as Stefano led the way indoors.
The foyer was spacious, with cream-streaked marble tiles and delicate archways either side of a magnificent double staircase leading to the upper floor. The focal point was a beautiful crystal chandelier, spectacular in design by day. Carly could only wonder at its luminescence by night.
‘Would you prefer to explore the house before or after lunch?’
‘Can we now?’ Ann-Marie begged before Carly had a chance to utter so much as a word, and Stefano cast his daughter a musing glance.
‘Why not? Shall we begin upstairs?’
‘Yes, please.’
They ascended one side of the curving staircase, and on reaching the upper floor he directed them left to two guest rooms and a delightful bedroom suite with a connecting bathroom.
‘Is this where I’m going to sleep?’ Ann-Marie asked as she looked at the softly toned bedcovers.
‘Do you like it?’ Stefano asked gently, and she nodded.
‘It’s very pretty. Can Sarah come visit sometimes?’
‘Of course,’ he answered solemnly.
‘Sarah lives in the apartment next door,’ Ann-Marie explained carefully. ‘She is our very best friend.’
To the right of the central staircase Stefano opened a door leading into the main suite, and Carly’s eyes flew to two queensize beds separated by a double pedestal. A spacious en suite was visible, and there was an adjoining sitting-room complete with soft leather chairs, a television console, and escritoire.
‘We’ll use this suite,’ Stefano indicated, and Carly refrained from comment, choosing instead to shoot him a telling glance as she preceded him to the head of the stairs.
If he thought she’d share the same bedroom with him, he had another think coming!
Once downstairs he led them into a formal lounge containing items of delicate antique furniture, deep-seated sofas and single chairs, employing a visually pleasing mix of cream, beige and soft sage-green. Oil-paintings graced the walls, a sparkling crystal chandelier hung suspended from a beautiful filigree-plastered ceiling, and wide floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors opened out on to a covered terrace.
Even at a glance it was possible to see the blue-tiled swimming-pool beyond the terrace, and catch a glimpse of the magnificent view out over the harbour.
The formal dining-room was equally impressive, and his study held an awesome arsenal of high-tech equipment as well as a large mahogany desk, and wall-to-wall bookshelves.
The southern wing comprised an informal family room, dining-room and an enormous kitchen any chef would kill for.
A pleasantly plump middle-aged woman turned as they entered, and her kindly face creased into a warm welcoming smile as Stefano effected introductions.
‘Lunch will be ready in ten minutes,’ Sylvana declared.
‘Is Prince outside? Can I see him?’ Ann-Marie asked, and she made no objection when Stefano reached forward and caught hold of her hand.
‘Come and be properly introduced.’
The dog was huge, and looked incredibly fearsome, yet beneath Stefano’s guidance he became a docile lamb, his eyes large and soulful, his whimpering enthusiasm as close to canine communication as it was possible to get.
‘After lunch we’ll take him for a walk round the grounds, and you can watch him go through his paces.’
Lunch was served in the informal dining-room, and Ann-Marie did justice to the tender roast chicken with accompanying vegetables, as well as the delicious crème caramel dessert.
The excellent glass of white wine Carly sipped through lunch helped soothe her fractured nerves, and afterwards she walked quietly with Ann-Marie as Stefano led the Dobermann through a series of commands.
It was very warm outdoors, and Carly glimpsed a few tell-tale signs of her daughter’s tiredness. The symptoms of her condition could descend with little warning, and it was essential that her reserves of strength were not overtaxed.
‘Shall we go upstairs?’ Carly suggested, catching hold of Ann-Marie’s hand. ‘You can lie down while I unpack your clothes.’
Stefano shot her a quick glance, his expression pensive as Ann-Marie stumbled slightly.
‘Can I see Prince again before dinner?’
‘Of course. You can watch Joe feed him.’
Carly lifted her into her arms, and Ann-Marie nestled her head into the curve of her mother’s shoulder, her small hands lifting to link together around Carly’s neck.
‘Let me take her,’ Stefano bade quietly, and Carly made to demure, barely able to control her surprise as Ann-Marie allowed Stefano to transfer her into his arms without protest.
Ann-Marie fought against encroaching lassitude as they made their way indoors, and by the time Stefano deposited her gently down on to the bed she was asleep.
His eyes were dark and slightly hooded as he watched Carly deftly remove the little girl’s shoes then draw up a light cover before crossing to the window to close the curtains.
‘She just needs to rest,’ she said quietly. ‘She’ll be all right in an hour or two.’
Carly turned and walked from the room, supremely conscious of a distinct prickling sensation feathering her spine as he followed close behind.
It was damnable to be so aware of him, and in the hallway she quickened her step towards the main suite. ‘I’ll begin unpacking.’ Her voice sounded incredibly stilted and polite, almost dismissing, for he had the power to ruffle her composure more than she was prepared to admit.
Their combined luggage was stacked neatly on the floor, and her eyes swept the room, hating the invidious position in which she’d been placed and the man who deliberately sought to put her there.
‘Afraid, Carly?’ a deep voice drawled from behind, and she turned slowly to face him, her eyes steady.
‘You intend me to be,’ she said with hesitation, aware of an inner resentment. ‘This is part of a diabolical game, isn’t it?’ she flared, on a verbal rollercoaster. ‘Separate beds, but having to share the same room. An en suite with no lock, ensuring you can invade my privacy any time you choose.’ A degree of bitterness made itself apparent. ‘And you will choose, won’t you, Stefano? Just for the hell of it.’ Her eyes darkened measurably, the gold flecks appearing like
