“Not your money.” She was decisive. “I don’t even think that much about it. When it does enter my head, I just dismiss it because you can’t help what you have and I’m not in that category and never will be. It doesn’t matter.” Her world would never be about money. “I might get lost in the house, but it’s beautiful.”
“And intimidating. You used that word. So, it’s me. You find me intimidating.”
She nodded. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He gave her a small smile. “Is it so bad to be a little intimidated by me?”
“I feel off-balance.”
“It could be just the hardware in your shoulder.”
She blinked. It took a minute to register what he’d said, and she couldn’t help laughing. Real laughter. One minute she’d been afraid to go inside, and now the strange tension was gone and she was looking forward to seeing the interior, even though it honestly felt as if she was giving herself to him.
“How do you do that? You make everything okay so easily . . .” She stumbled over saying his name.
“Vittorio,” he said firmly.
She made a face at him. “You’re always ‘Mr. Ferraro’ on the guest list.” It took effort not to wince when her shoulder was throbbing.
He brushed his mouth against her temple. “You’re my guest this time and I refuse to call you Ms. Murphy.”
The touch of his lips set her heart stuttering. “I would hope not. I much prefer Grace.” Or whatever he called her in Italian. That rolled off his tongue all sexy. Like a caress.
He stood, except it was more like he flowed to his feet, not a single jarring move and with her in his arms. Lifting her with him was effortless. “Let’s go in. You need to rest.”
The inside of the house was every bit as breathtaking as the outside. She looked up at the cathedral ceilings and gleaming floors.
“There’s a very large master bedroom suite,” he informed her. “And seven bedrooms, so plenty of space for a family and guests. I’m putting you in the guest room downstairs so there won’t be the necessity of climbing up and down stairs, although there is a lift.”
“Of course there is,” she said faintly, looking around. Wide-open spaces, a stone fireplace that was enormous but fit with the size of the house. She wanted to see the house, but she wanted to lie down and rest. The pain in her shoulder was difficult to ignore.
“Nine thousand square feet of house, plus a temperature-controlled garage. The pool is heated, of course, and the views of the lake are outstanding. I purchased the properties on either side of this one, so we have complete privacy, and the staff have homes they can live in as well.”
She might have to take it back that his money didn’t intimidate her. He said it all so casually, as if everyone could afford to buy multimillion-dollar properties. The problem was, she was at her limit. If he didn’t get her somewhere she could lie down and take more pain meds, she was going to start vomiting all over his beautiful house.
“Vittorio.” That was all she could get out before she had to clamp her lips together.
He took one look at her pale face, the sweat breaking out—so attractive—and picked up the pace, using long strides to take her down a very wide hall to a room at the end. She managed to look around as he placed her on the side of the bed.
Her bedroom was huge, glass on one wall, giving her an incredible view of the lake. She caught a glimpse of the dazzling blue as the sun danced off the surface when Vittorio lowered her to the bed. All she wanted to do was lie down, but she realized immediately she was in trouble. She looked up at him a little helplessly, her tongue touching her upper lip.
“I really need to go to the bathroom.” She had no idea why it was so embarrassing to admit it. Everyone had to use a bathroom, but it wasn’t a glamourous function. Admitting it to the sexiest man she’d ever met just added to her growing misery.
“I should have thought of that,” he said immediately and lifted her again.
Grace slid her arm around his neck, her mind racing frantically. She was dressed in a skirt, and a top with the sleeve cut out of it. There had been nothing easy about getting into the top or skirt and she didn’t want to ever have to take them off. Still, going to the bathroom wasn’t going to be easy, either, and she hadn’t done it yet on her own.
Vittorio set her down right in front of the toilet and she found she couldn’t look at him, her face turning a particularly unattractive shade of red. He bunched her skirt in one hand and pushed it into her fist. “Stand still and wait for me to help. I don’t want you to jar your shoulder. You’re about done in.”