But clearly getting another chance to bomb wasn’t going to be easy.
Pride held her smile in place as she pulled open the door. ‘I’m obviously as much use to you as a swimming pool without water so I’ll let you get on with your day.’
‘Wait!’ His voice thundered through the open doorway and she saw Serena’s eyes widen in surprise as she glanced up from her desk in the reception area.
So clearly he didn’t usually speak to people like that, Izzy thought blankly.
Just her.
She was about to walk through the door when it slammed shut in front of her nose. Six foot four of muscular angry male stood between her and the exit.
‘You don’t just walk out when I’m talking to you.’
‘I do when I don’t like what I’m hearing.’ Anger mingled with a much more dangerous emotion. This close she could feel the power pulsing from him, almost taste the lethal flash of his temper. Resisting the terrifying explosion of excitement that came from being this close to him, she tried to walk past him. ‘Excuse me.’
‘Where are you going? You don’t know your way around.’
‘I’ll find my own way.’ She hated the fact that there was a lump in her throat. Hated the fact that she’d let him get to her.
‘I cleared an hour this afternoon to give you a tour of the grounds. I’ll do it now.’
Not an apology. No ‘I’m sorry if I was rude.’ No ‘Let’s hear you sing then’ or ‘Prove me wrong, Izzy.’
A tour of the grounds.
‘Save it for the coach parties.’
‘You need to know what’s off limits.’
She gave a humourless laugh, horrified to discover that the sound was almost a sob.
She needed to get out of here.
‘I think I know what’s off limits, Your Highness.’ She risked a glance and then wished she hadn’t because even a brief glimpse of those moody, sensual features was enough to throw her off balance. ‘I can find my own way around and I’d hate you to waste another minute of your working day having to nursemaid someone like me.’
Someone like me.
If that song hadn’t already been written, she would have written it.
Except that no one would have wanted to listen.
Pushing past him, she stalked out of his office and slammed the door behind her.
She’d targeted him because of his role in the music industry.
Not because she’d seen herself as a future princess.
Adapting speedily to that shift in his perceptions of her, Matteo strode after her and eventually caught up with her as she stalked across the courtyard and into the English rose garden.
It didn’t need a glance at those stiff shoulders to know that he’d hurt her feelings badly and he cursed himself for his lack of tact, because the last thing he needed was an upset woman on his hands. Along with everything else, he didn’t have time to handle female tantrums. Even on such short acquaintance he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t hesitate to walk out and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t allow anything to detract from his brother’s engagement.
He needed Izzy to stay here.
Which presented him with a dilemma. In order to keep her happy was he supposed to lie? Tell her that she had a great voice and that she was going to be the ‘next big thing’?
Apart from the obvious fact that there was no useful role someone like her could play in planning the final details of the concert, he knew just how many popstar wannabes had wasted their lives hoping they’d make it big, only to remain in obscurity forever.
Exasperation shot through him. He could never understand why the millions of talentless hopefuls couldn’t hear the difference between their own voices and those of true singers. Even if their mothers heaped on false praise, surely they’d listened to themselves? Were they deaf?