“Undoubtedly, you would have to think a long while before knowing which you prefer.”
“You’re deliberately oversimplifying things. It’s not a matter of which I prefer, it’s—”
“As for the rest—I would imagine your living accommodation in Milano must surely outshine the humble comforts of my home.” She looked up sharply, in time to see h
is mouth twitch. “That is right, isn’t it?”
“If you’re trying to make fun of me…” she said angrily.
Her words faded into the silence. He was laughing, but who could blame him? She was being foolish. Ridiculous. She was—
“Caroline.” He came toward her and looked into her eyes. “If you truly regret what you left behind in Milano, if you prefer it to what I offer you here, then I will have you flown back there first thing in the morning.”
She couldn’t help but smile back at him. What he was saying now was tinged with gentle humor, but it was absolutely logical. What woman in her right mind would choose what she’d left in Milan to what he was offering her here, in Rome?
And what was stopping her from accepting that offer? Yes, she’d been worried about Nicolo’s intentions, but he’d gone out of his way to tell her—to show her—that he wasn’t the least bit interested in her as a woman. And heaven knew, she wasn’t interested in him. What had happened hours ago, a lifetime ago, when he’d kissed her, had been nothing but an aberration. He’d caught her by surprise, that was all. It hadn’t meant a thing.
“Caroline?”
She looked up at him. He was still smiling, a charming, guileless smile that made him appear even more handsome than he already was. Her heart gave an unsteady lurch. Somehow, it was easier to deal with him when he was being intolerably arrogant and demanding than—than—
“Have you reached a decision?” His hands tightened on hers. “Will you stay?”
Caroline took a deep breath. “All right,” she said with a hesitant smile. “I—I’ll give it a try.”
His eyes went dark and, for an instant, the soft, boyish smile became something else, something darker and far more dangerous. But then he laughed, raised her hands to his lips, and lightly put his lips to the back of each.
“Grazie, cara,” he said. “Thank you. You will not regret the choice you’ve made.”
She watched as he walked to his desk, reached across it, and pressed a button. Almost immediately, there was a light knock at the door.
“Avanti,” Nicolo called out.
The door opened. A girl wearing a white cap and apron stepped inside, cast a shy glance at Caroline, and bobbed her head in a swift but unmistakable gesture of obeisance.
“Eccellenza?”
Nicolo spoke to her. His tone was polite, but there was something about the scene—the girl with her eyes on the ground, the man with the imperious bearing—that set Caroline’s teeth on edge. It was an all too chilling reminder of who Nicolo Sabatini really was.
“I have told Lucia to show you to the Teresa de Vertù suite.” He smiled. “You will like it, I think. Legend has it that the Queen of—”
“Does Lucia speak any English?”
“She does not. But she is well trained, and—”
“Oh, yes, she is that,” Caroline said, very pleasantly. “I saw the little curtsy she made to you—it must be difficult to get people to do that in the 1990s.”
Nicolo’s smile took on a faint edge. “Did you have something you wished to communicate to the girl, Caroline?”
She nodded. “Please tell her I’ll have dinner in my room.”
“You will dine at my table.”
She looked at Nicolo. He was still smiling, but not enough to obscure the sudden flatness in his eyes.
“I’m tired, Nicolo. I’d much rather have something light in—”
He spoke rapidly to the girl, who bobbed her head again before she turned and left the room. Once she was gone, he looked at Caroline.
“The cook will prepare whatever you wish,” he said quietly. “But you will have it at my table.”
Caroline jammed her hands into the deep pockets of her skirt. “Is this how it’s going to be?” she said. “You’re going to give orders, and I’m expected to jump?”
He looked at her for a long moment, and then he walked slowly toward her. When he was a breath away, he stopped, lifted his hand, and touched it gently to her cheek.
“You don’t have to jump, cara,” he said with a little smile. “It will be sufficient if you simply do as you are told.”
Before she could move back, he bent and gave her a light, lingering kiss on her mouth. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HUMMING SOFTLY, Caroline made her way up the broad stairway to the second floor of the palazzo. Sunlight streamed through the arched windows, dusting her with pale gold as she hurried along the Aubusson carpet that stretched the length of the gallery. When she reached her bedroom, she opened the door, crossed quickly to the vanity table, and snatched up her sunglasses. Then she retraced her steps, pausing, as she so often did, when she reached the landing.
How beautiful this house was! Even after two weeks, she was still entranced by it. She looked from the magnificent Renaissance oil paintings that graced the wall behind her to the perfect symmetry of the mosaic floor in the atrium.
“The experts say it dates to the first century,” Anna Sabatini had said when she’d noticed Caroline admiring it. “It comes from a villa in the hills outside the city. They were going to destroy it, can you imagine? It broke my heart when I heard, and Nicolo—oh, he was so upset! The floor is too beautiful to suffer such a fate, he said.” Anna had dropped her voice to a whisper. “It must have cost a fortune to have it taken apart piece by piece and reconstructed, but my Nico never hesitated. Wasn’t that good of him?”
Caroline had smiled and said yes, it was, but what she’d really wanted to say was that she doubted if Nicolo had ever hesitated about getting what he wanted in his entire life. He had been born to money, power, and good looks; with a combination like that at his command, why would he hesitate about anything? The world was his. Just look at how he’d arranged her life to suit his plans.
But she hadn’t said any of that. She had no wish to hurt Anna and besides, how could she complain when the truth was that she was happier here at the palazzo than she’d been in a long time? Perhaps it had something to do with Anna, whom she’d come to love, or with the serenity and beauty of the palace. Caroline sighed. As for her concerns about Nicolo—they’d proven groundless.
She had seen little of him in the first two days. He never put in an appearance until early evening and, except for that first night, he had not even been home for dinner.
“You will forgive me, Caroline,” he’d said. “I have not had the time to devote to business lately, but now that my grandmother is feeling better…”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Caroline had answered politely, although she’d wanted to laugh in his face because he’d made his little speech at nine in the evening, dressed in a dinner suit on his way out of the door. Did he think she was a fool? What sort of business did a man conduct at that hour, dressed like that?
Not that she gave a damn. Anything that kept her from running into Nicolo Sabatini was absolutely fine, which was why she had been delighted a few mornings later at the breakfast table when he’d told her he would be away for a few days. Finding him there, waiting for her, had been a surprise. No, that wasn’t the right word. It had been—disorienting. There was something about seeing him that way, first thing in the morning, dressed as she’d never seen him before, in a cotton knit shirt and snug, faded jeans, that had made her throat tighten. In fact, if he hadn’t looked up from his coffee and spotted her in the doorway, Caroline might have returned to her room and waited until she was sure he’d gone.
But he did look up; those eyes that were the color of a summer sea had moved slowly over her before returning to her face.
“Good morning, Caroline.”
She nodded and strode briskly to the sideboard, where she busied herself pouring coffee. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Nicolo.”
She swung around and looked at him. “Pardon me?”
His smile was slow, almost lazy. “I have noticed,” he said softly, “that you do not use my name when you speak to me
.”
Caroline’s eyes met his. “Don’t be silly,” she said, but she felt her cheeks flame. He was right; she didn’t use his name, if she could avoid it. If only there were some compromise between calling him Your Excellency and calling him Nicolo…
He laughed softly. “I can hear you thinking again, cara. How much easier it would be if you could refer to me as Signor Sabatini, yes?”
It wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to go on meeting that blue gaze without flinching.
“Yes—if you’d permit it.”
Nicolo shook his head. “I would not.”
“No.” Caroline picked up her cup and saucer. “I didn’t think you would. You much prefer that title of yours to—”
“I much prefer that the woman who lives with me call me by my name.”
“I do not live with you,” she snapped, which was, of course, exactly what he’d wanted her to do, because he began to grin the second the angry disclaimer left her mouth.
Caroline turned her back to him. Stop being a fool, she told herself angrily. This was a game she couldn’t win. He was an experienced womanizer; word games and double entendres were second nature to him. But they weren’t to her. She’d never been comfortable trading sallies with men. The only way to deal with him was to fall back on the technique that had always served her best. Men who were turned on by a pretty face were turned off by an absolute show of disdain—and if double meanings weren’t her strength, turning a cold shoulder was.
“You’re right,” she said, swinging around to face him. Her expression, and tone, were as neutral as she could manage. “I am living under your roof and accepting wages from you. It’s only right I oblige you and address you as you prefer, Nicolo.”
His smile never wavered, but she saw a fractional darkening in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
She smiled politely. “You’re welcome. And now, if that’s all…?”
“It is not.” He put down his coffee cup. When he looked at her again, his expression was serious, almost stern. “My grandmother is much improved. I see the change, and the medico confirms it.”
Caroline nodded. This was safer territory.
“I think so, too. Did she tell you she spent yesterday afternoon in the garden with me?”