‘I think they may have guessed that,’ Katie ventured.
‘Your luggage and belongings will be packed and brought out to you,’ Rigo announced to those who still refused to believe the gravy train had reached the station. ‘Meanwhile, please feel free to enjoy the beauty of the grounds.’
But not the palazzo, Katie guessed as a groan went up.
‘Come—’ his face was set and hard as he turned to her ‘—we have work to do.’
The power emanating from Rigo was both thrilling and concerning. Even as Katie’s hand strayed to trace the pattern of Rigo’s breath on her cheek she could not shake the feeling that the inside of the palazzo was going to be worse than the outside. Wouldn’t he need time alone to deal with his feelings? ‘Maybe you’d like space?’ she suggested.
‘Space?’ He looked at her as if she were mad.
‘Some time alone? I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding somewhere to stay in town—’
‘I thought you worked for me?’
‘Of course—’
‘Then why would you stay in town? This isn’t a holiday, Signorina Bannister.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘Did you bring a notebook?’
This was another side of Rigo—ruthless and without the playboy mask. He walked straight in while she hesitated on the threshold. Beneath her boxy jacket the tight skin on her back had begun stinging with apprehension, but for the first time in a long time she ignored it and started jotting notes: ‘Replace damaged architrave…sand down and re-polish entrance doors…replace broken tile just inside the door. Replace all floor tiles,’ Katie amended, feeling a chill grow inside her. At her side Rigo had gone quite still.
He swore in Italian. ‘This is bad. And if you’re still worrying about sleeping arrangements, don’t.’
Rigo was in a furious temper, Katie realised, as well he might be, considering the abuse of his ancestral home.
‘Whatever the state of this building,’ he assured her in a snarl, ‘you’ll have a lock on your door and at least a mile of corridor between us.’ And I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole, his expression added viciously.
She held her ground and Rigo’s stare. She had to believe his anger wasn’t directed at her. So her precious chastity would remain intact—that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Yes, but not like this, not with Rigo treating her like the enemy.
Standing in the centre of what must once have been a gracious vaulted hall was heartbreaking, even for Katie. They had moved from the seductive heat of Tuscany, from air drenched in sunlight and laced with the heady scent of honeysuckle and roses, into a dank, dark space that reeked of decay. Spilled wine marked what must have once been an elegant marble floor and there were even cigarette butts trodden carelessly into the tiles.
‘Dio,’ Rigo murmured softly at her side.
If he had been anyone else, she would have reached out and grasped his hand to show her support, but she knew he didn’t want that. His rigid form forbade all human contact. How would she feel if the beautiful home she remembered from her childhood and had longed to see again turned out to be a crumbling ruin that Carlo’s friends had treated like an ashtray?
But a lot of the damage was superficial, Katie concluded as she stared around. She guessed there must have been one heck of a party in anticipation of Rigo’s arrival, which made everything look so much worse. But there was some structural work to do as well…She made a note.
Rigo’s face reflected both his anger and his agony. He looked on the point of walking out. She could sympathise with that. There had been many times when she had wanted to give up after the fire, and here in the palazzo it must seem as if the last remnants of Rigo’s childhood had gone up in flames.
‘Vero…I knew it was too good to be true,’ he murmured. ‘Now you can see my stepbrother’s true nature and his legacy to me.’
As he raked his hair with stiff, angry fingers she could no longer resist the impulse to reach out. ‘Rigo, I’m so sorry—’
‘I don’t need your pity,’ he snapped. ‘We’re going back to Rome. I’m going to put the palazzo on the market—’
‘And turn your back on it?’ She was acutely aware that members of staff were hovering uncertainly in the background.
‘I’ll do what I have to do.’
‘Rigo.’ She chased him to the door. ‘Don’t you think you should—?’
‘What?’ he demanded furiously. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’ He lifted his arm, shunning her concern, but the murmur of a worried staff was still ringing in her ears. ‘No—wait,’ she said, seizing his arm.
Rigo stared coldly at her hand on his arm. She slowly removed it. Here in this derelict palazzo, surrounded by old memories and faded glory with a battalion of servants watching them, she was more out of place than she had ever been, but someone had to try and reach Rigo. ‘So Carlo wins—’
‘He’s already won.’ Slamming his fist against the ruined door, Rigo leaned his face on his arm and fought to control his feelings. A long moment passed before he raised his head again. ‘Call a meeting of the staff.’ He sucked in a steadying breath before adding, ‘Tell them I’ll meet them here in the hall in two hours’ time. And please reassure them,’ he continued in a voice that was devoid of all expression, ‘that before I go back to Rome they will all be taken care of.’
But who would take care of Rigo? Katie wondered. Seeing his childhood home reduced to a ruin had ripped his heart out. She knew how that felt too. ‘Where will you go now?’ she said, unconsciously clutching her throat.
‘To find my driver. To make certain he has some rest and refreshment before we return to Pisa—’
‘To fly to Rome?’
‘Yes.’ Distractedly he wiped a hand across his face.
‘Don’t you have to draw up a flight plan?’ He needed time to get over this shock before he piloted a plane—before he decided what to do. She was looking for something, anyt
hing that would give him time to think.
Rigo shook his head as if to say, don’t concern yourself with such things, and his next words proved to be the final nail in the coffin of her dreams. ‘There’s no job for you here, as I’m sure you’ve worked out. Please accept my apologies for a wasted journey,’ he added stiffly. ‘My driver will, of course, take you to the airport so you can catch the next flight home.’
Home…
The sound of the battered door slamming heavily into place behind him brought more plaster off the walls, but even as Katie turned to look around and saw the group of people waiting for her to reassure them she experienced something she couldn’t put a name to. It was uncanny, almost like a sixth sense, but she felt as if she was already home.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE servants were whispering and casting anxious glances Katie’s way. Tears stung her eyes when she realised many of them were armed with sweeping brushes, buckets and mops. She crossed the hall, intending only to deliver Rigo’s instructions about the meeting, but seeing all those worried faces triggered something inside her. ‘Do you have a spare brush?’ she said instead to the housekeeper. ‘If we all pitch in,’ she explained in Italian, ‘this won’t take so long…’
There was no need for words—no time for conversation from that moment on. There was just concentrated effort from a small team of people including Katie, all of whom were determined to give the grand old palazzo a second chance. The Palazzo Farnese might have been brought to its knees by Carlo Ruggiero’s lack of investment and care and his friends’ rough treatment of it, but everyone sensed this could be a turning point if they worked hard enough.
When the old hall smelled fresh and clean Katie made some discreet enquiries about where Rigo had gone.
‘After speaking to his driver he went to the leisure suite,’ the housekeeper told her. ‘I took the precaution of locking it,’ the older woman added, touching her finger to her nose as Gino had. This brought the first smile of the day to Katie’s face. ‘Very sensible,’ she agreed.