by Lynne Graham
Why wasn’t she dealing with the reality that she had developed more feelings for Alissandru than was safe in such a scenario? He only wanted sex. Maybe that volatile temper of his spurred his lust for her but lust didn’t amount to much, did it? It wasn’t feelings, it wasn’t caring...
Was that what she was looking for and had hoped to find with him? When she was at the point of tearing her hair out by the roots with frustration over her distinctly confusing reactions to Alissandru, Constantia arrived at the front door with Puggle.
Isla was as wreathed in blushes as a shamefaced teenager at being confronted by Alissandru’s mother the morning after the night before. She invited the older woman in for coffee, apologised profusely for the messy kitchen and grabbed a tray to carry the cups out to the pretty terrace that overlooked a rather overgrown garden at the back of the house. Once there she concentrated on practicalities and asked if there were any local charities who might welcome a donation of clothes and things. Constantia was very helpful, and she asked Isla about her friendship with Paulu, visibly relaxing over the freedom to talk about her late son.
‘Your sister made my son very, very happy,’ the older woman said quietly. ‘At times she also made him very unhappy but I am grateful for the happiness he did find with her.’
‘Did you get to know Tania well?’ Isla asked curiously.
‘No. I was her mother-in-law and she was wary of me, fearful that I might be the interfering type. I’ve never been in this house before,’ Alissandru’s mother confided, startling Isla. ‘Your sister would never have invited me in. She guarded her privacy fiercely.’
‘I didn’t get to know her well at all because she wasn’t the confiding type and I can hardly blame her for that when I was so much younger,’ Isla conceded ruefully.
‘She was very independent, possibly because she was making her own living from an early age,’ Constantia remarked reflectively. ‘Alissandru and Tania clashed from day one but that was inevitable with them both being such strong-willed individuals.’
‘I clash with Alissandru, too,’ Isla heard herself confess and then was stunned that she had spoken so freely.
‘That won’t do him any harm.’ Constantia’s smile was warm with amusement. ‘Alissandru always thinks he knows best. He was the same in the nursery...bossy and bold.’
‘And quick-tempered?’ Isla prompted helplessly.
‘Oh, yes,’ Constantia agreed. ‘But the flipside of that was that he was also very honest and responsible. Paulu would’ve lied sooner than admit he had done something wrong but Alissandru was always fearless.’
When the bell went, Isla was mulling over that conversation while she guiltily cleaned the kitchen she had ignored the night before, but only because of Alissandru’s unexpected arrival, she reminded herself wryly.
She went to the door and received an exuberant arrangement of white flowers, all ready for display in a sparkling crystal vase. She didn’t need to read the card in the foliage but she opened it with compressed lips, scrutinising Alissandru’s initials with reluctant amusement. He was being very discreet because there was no message or proper signature to reveal the identity of the sender.
When the bell went a second time, she was filling bin bags with Paulu’s and Tania’s clothing while carefully checking pockets or bags for anything that should be retained. This time it was a man in a chauffeur-driven car who formally presented her with a gift-wrapped shallow box, clicked his heels with military precision and climbed back into the car. Once again she found an initialled gift tag and she rolled her eyes, ripping open the package with little ceremony as she stood in the kitchen, which was flooded with sunlight. A disconcerted look on her face, she flipped open the shallow jewellery case and the blinding sparkle of the diamond necklace within knocked her for six. She lifted it out, stunned by the shimmering rainbow glitter of the row of diamonds, and rage engulfed her in a flood.
Alissandru thought he could give her diamonds after spending the night with her? Some sort of payoff—a don’t-ring-me-I’ll-ring-you cop-out on decent behaviour? Well, he could take a flying jump off the edge of the planet!
She leapt into the hire car, Puggle accompanying her, and drove up to the palazzo, powered on the fuel of fury alone. The manservant, Octavio, whom Constantia had confessed ran her son’s household with the efficiency of the former soldier he had been, ushered her in and, when she requested Alissandru, escorted her at a stately pace along a corridor where he knocked on a door for her and then departed.
‘Avanti!’ Alissandru called.
Isla plunged over the threshold with the eagerness of a cavalry charge, stopping dead one foot in the door to press it closed behind her while glowering at Alissandru, who was seated behind a laptop at his desk.
‘Isla!’ he exclaimed as though she were a welcome, if unexpected, visitor.
He lunged upright, black hair untidy above startlingly bright dark golden eyes, a smile curving his sculpted mouth. He wore faded jeans and an open black shirt and was visibly in weekend relaxed mode. ‘To what do I owe the honour?’ he asked, feasting his attention on the vision she made in a rather shapeless grey linen shift, which should in his opinion have looked dowdy but which inexplicably merely set off her wonderfully vibrant hair and eyes and accentuated the grace of her slender limbs.
Unfortunately his dark deep voice, which was utterly seductive in the darkness of the night hours, acted on Isla like a flame thrower. ‘Thank you for the flowers,’ she told him curtly. ‘But no thank you for the jewels!’
As she slapped the jewel case loudly back on his desk, Alissandru stiffened and frowned at her, dark brows pleating, stunning eyes narrowing beneath his curling fringe of black lashes. ‘Cosa c’è che non va? What’s wrong?’ he demanded, taken aback by her mood.
‘If you spend the night with me, you don’t pay for it with diamonds!’ Isla informed him with fierce pride.
‘It wasn’t a payment, it was a gift,’ Alissandru contradicted with emphasis, studying her with frowning intensity, wondering how something so simple could be interpreted as something so wrong.
‘I don’t want gifts that expensive!’ Isla fired back at him. ‘I won’t accept them.’
‘Duly noted,’ Alissandru said drily. ‘But does a poor choice of gift really demand this vehement a refusal?’
Isla bridled, reluctant to go into what had made her so very angry, determined not to betray herself in such a way. ‘You offended me.’
‘Obviously,’ Alissandru conceded, marvelling that he had once believed she was a carbon copy of her infinitely more avaricious sister. ‘But it was a gift, a small sign of my appreciation for the night we shared.’
Isla gritted her teeth. ‘Staying around for breakfast would have been better received.’
‘But that would have been indiscreet and I did promise you discretion,’ he reminded her silkily. ‘If I’m home before dawn, nobody notices, but a later return attracts witnesses and I wasn’t sure that you would be comfortable with a more public unveiling of our intimacy.’
Hot colour washed Isla’s face in a slow, burning and very uncomfortable flush, because she didn’t want anyone on the Rossetti estate knowing about that ‘intimacy’. ‘I want last night to remain a secret,’ she told him without hesitation.
‘Not a problem,’ Alissandru agreed carelessly, stooping down to snatch up the document case that Puggle had dug his teeth into, contriving to lift both document case and dog together into the air.
Moving forward, Isla hurriedly detached Puggle and gave him a sharp word of reproof when he growled at Alissandru. ‘Give him some food and he’ll stop trying to bite you.’
‘What about discipline? Training?’ Alissandru suggested in wonderment. ‘Wouldn’t that be more sensible?’
‘Food is quicker and easier, but if I don’t watch out he’s going to get fat.’ Isla sighed.
Alissandru
broke up a scone lying on the untouched tray to one side of his desk and dropped a chunk of it in front of Puggle. The little dog pounced on it with glee. There was good reason for Alissandru’s generosity. He didn’t fancy having to evade Puggle’s sneak attacks at night in Isla’s house.
‘Coffee?’ he proffered in the awkward little silence that had fallen.
‘No, not right now. I’m busy clearing the house and, since it’s not something I really want to be doing, I’d sooner get it done and finished,’ Isla admitted in a rush, turning away in an uncoordinated circle, wanting to escape, wondering how he had managed to turn the situation on its head so that she felt as though she were the unreasonable one. ‘I wondered what to do about Paulu’s desk and personal effects.’
‘If there’s nothing you want I’ll send someone over to collect them and bring them back here,’ Alissandru said gravely. ‘His desk is probably stuffed with estate paperwork and I should have that passed over to the new manager in case there’s anything of interest.’
‘Of course. Well, that’s something sorted.’ Isla wandered over to the window, which overlooked the wooded hills to the back of the house. ‘I’m planning to stay here for a few weeks.’
‘There’s no pressure on you to make a decision about what you’re doing or how long you’re staying,’ Alissandru hastened to declare, recalling how haunted she had been in the aftermath of the miscarriage and wondering how much of that regret she was still carrying.
‘This is sort of a holiday for me before I get back to the real world,’ Isla admitted.
‘And what does getting back to the real world entail?’ Alissandru asked, watching her as the sunlight gilded her hair into a multicoloured bonfire of curls, the pale perfect profile, the intense wariness of her stance as if she was waiting for him to say or do something she found objectionable and use that as an excuse to escape.
He had never met a woman like Isla before and to some extent it unnerved him because she was an unknown quantity. A woman who threw diamonds back in his face, insulted by them, he thought, marvelling at that lack of materialism. A woman who challenged him, stood up to him, went her own way regardless, unpredictable and in some ways as volatile as he was. An explosive combination. He gritted his teeth as the silence lay, his question unanswered.
‘I’ll probably go back to studying,’ she confided somewhat grudgingly, as if giving such personal information went beyond the bounds of their relationship.
‘Studying what?’ he pressed, genuinely curious.
‘I’d have to pass another course first but afterwards—assuming I’m successful—I think I’d like to go to university to do a paramedics course. I want something interesting, active,’ she admitted, turning finally to look at him, her head tilting back because he was so tall.
‘It would be challenging but I think you’re strong enough to do it.’ Alissandru stood there, his dark head at an arrogant questioning angle, his stunning dark golden eyes welded to her with intensity and a literal flame of heat ran over her entire skin surface, warming her within and without and in places she didn’t like to think about. Her reaction was so instant it was terrifying and, feeling suddenly vulnerable, she turned her head away again and headed for the door.
‘Oh,’ she muttered, pausing on the threshold to glance back at him. ‘A little hint if you’re not too proud to take it. Your mother’s ready for another dog. She adores Puggle and I think she would love a new pet.’
And with that helpful little assurance she was gone like quicksilver. Alissandru frowned even as he got on the phone to organise an employee to pack up and collect the contents of his brother’s study. Isla was thoughtful, kind and intuitive. A new puppy would indeed comfort his mother, whose need for company he had failed to fulfil. Constantia had seen his brother daily and missed him the most while Alissandru had always travelled the world on business. It was true that he was home a great deal more than he used to be, but his conscience twanged that it had taken an outsider to point out a possibility that he felt he should’ve thought of first.
On her return to the house, Isla made a trip to two local charity shops. She was thinking about Alissandru far more than she felt comfortable with and deeply regretting her loss of temper. She had overreacted; she always seemed to overreact to Alissandru. She had overlooked the reality that a diamond necklace might be a huge gift on her terms but that it was a much lesser thing to a man of his wealth. Even so, she thought ruefully, it was better to have returned such an expensive present and to keep the difference in their circumstances out of the equation before it threatened to muddy the water and he started thinking she was a gold-digger again. Or did he still secretly think that anyway? She rolled her eyes at her meandering ruminations. She had no idea what Alissandru thought because to a certain extent she had already taught him to watch what he said around her.
On her return, it was a relief to see the contents of Paulu’s study being packed up and removed. From those personal effects, she chose only a framed photo of the couple together on a beach somewhere, their smiling faces a good memory she wanted to conserve as her own. That and a little gold locket that had once belonged to her mother and that silly stool were the only personal items that Isla wished to keep from the house.
With Paulu’s former assistant helping, Alissandru tackled a job he had long avoided, feeling almost grateful for Isla’s part in virtually forcing him into the task.
‘This is...er, legal,’ his brother’s secretary told him, passing him a folded document, complete with a notary’s seal.
Alissandru frowned down at the local notary’s stamp, wondering why his brother had approached another solicitor instead of Marco, the family lawyer. He opened it up and was disconcerted to discover that the document was another will and, what was more, a will drawn up and duly witnessed more recently than the one the family lawyer had had.
And that later will altered everything, Alissandru realised in sheer consternation. Only weeks before his death his twin had changed his mind about how he would dispose of his worldly goods, clearly having had second thoughts about leaving his home to anyone outside the family. He had left everything, house and money as well, to Alissandru, and Alissandru almost groaned out loud. Why the hell had Paulu changed his mind?
Alissandru suspected that Isla’s advice had helped his brother to win his wife back and, in that first instance of reclaiming Tania, gratitude had persuaded his brother to leave his estate to his sister-in-law, should both he and his wife die first. And then perhaps Paulu, an innate worrier, had begun to think about the risk of leaving such a will in his wake and the effect it could have on Alissandru.
Alissandru gritted his perfect white teeth. It had been wrong to leave the house away from the family estate but to leave that money to Alissandru instead had been an unnecessary gesture. He didn’t need the money, but Isla did.
And how was Alissandru supposed to act to redress a situation that now threatened to become a messy injustice?
He would keep quiet. He would put the new will in the safe rather than lodge it with Marco Morelli, who would kick up a ruckus and, as the family lawyer, inform Isla immediately of the new will’s existence. But was suppressing the new will in such a way illegal? Alissandru breathed in deep and slow. He didn’t wish to break the law and, surely, it was his duty as Paulu’s twin to ensure that his brother’s last wishes were respectfully carried out?
He would lodge the new will with Marco and tell him that he did not wish it acted upon. Assuredly, as the main legatee, he must have the right to make that decision. He wanted Isla to keep the money, he only wanted the house and he was quite happy to buy the house back from her.
But what if Isla decided not to sell? Or chose to sell to someone else? The new will would be his safeguard, Alissandru decided grimly, a weapon only to be utilised if he was left with no other choice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘PLEASE JOIN
US for dinner this evening,’ Constantia argued, reading Isla’s reluctant face with accuracy.
‘It’s a family do,’ Isla pointed out as the older woman regarded her expectantly. ‘And I’m not family.’
‘Your sister was my son’s wife and you will always be family,’ Alissandru’s mother assured her reproachfully.
‘I don’t really have anything suitable to wear. I’m sure you all dress up.’
‘Only Grazia, Alissandru’s friend, really dresses up, but then she is a fashion designer. A plain dress will be sufficient.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t pack anything fancy.’ Isla sighed, every muscle in her body tensing at the reference to Alissandru’s ‘friend’ as she struggled to combat an overpowering urge to demand to know who Grazia was and what her relationship with Alissandru was. Secret relationships were all very well until such complications appeared, she conceded ruefully.
But liking Constantia as she did and reluctant to risk causing offence, Isla laid out her only suitable dress that evening and put it on. It was a typical little black dress that wouldn’t have raised a thrill even in its fleeting glory days when she had bought it to wear at a work dinner. She went a little heavier on her make-up than she usually did, painstakingly using eye liner and more mascara than usual. Grazia? Who was Grazia? Fierce curiosity powering her, she drove up to the palazzo where a whole collection of cars was already parked.
Constantia made a point of introducing her to everyone and, truth to tell, although there was some very flashy jewellery on display, a lot of the women were wearing little black dresses although the majority were fancier than her own. Some of the faces were familiar from that long-ago wedding but mercifully there was no sign of Fantino the Perv, as she thought of Alissandru’s cousin. Of Alissandru and his ‘friend’ there was as yet no sign, but then there was a burst of chatter at the foot of the huge reception room where they were gathered for drinks and Isla glanced towards the door to see their host make an entrance with a tall slender blonde garbed in a tangerine dress with giant raised shoulders and a plunging neckline. He liked blondes, she thought first, and then, he liked blondes who clung because his animated companion was hanging on to him so tightly it was as if she feared that he might make a break for freedom.
