It was beyond the scope of Savannah’s imagination to conjure up the consequences of attracting the sexual attentions of a man like Ethan, and as the limousine slowed to pass beneath a narrow stone archway she told herself how lucky it was that this was only destined to be a short stay. Any longer and she’d definitely fall in love with him.
The paparazzi would soon find another story and she’d be able to return home. But if she was so confident about that, why was she wracked by shivers of anticipation at the prospect of staying with Ethan?
Because she was tired, Savannah told herself firmly. Who could blame her for feeling uncomfortable with what lay ahead when she was pinned into a dress that felt more like a medieval torture-device than a couture gown?
‘This gateway is called the Porta Monteguzzo.’
She paid attention as Ethan distracted her, and was about to answer him when, embarrassingly, her stomach growled.
‘Hungry?’ he prompted.
‘I’m starving,’ Savannah admitted, wondering when she had last eaten. And did she dare to eat when another crumb of food on her hips meant she would definitely pop out of Madame’s gown and she had no clothes of her own to wear yet? ‘Porta Monteguzzo,’ she repeated, both in an attempt to distract herself from hunger pangs and to try again to master the musical Italian language. ‘Doesn’t “guzzo” mean “food”, in Italian?’
‘You’re thinking of gusto, perhaps?’
She watched his mouth, thinking how well he spoke the language…amongst other things.
‘Which means taste,’ Ethan explained.
Or tasty, perhaps, Savannah mused as she turned to stare innocently out of the window while Ethan resumed his conversation in fluent Italian with their driver. But as they drove deeper into Ethan territory and the world he dominated, and those tall, stone walls of his stole the light, Savannah knew that, though the sight of Ethan’s fairy-tale castle had thrilled her beyond belief, it had singularly failed to reassure her.
Oh.
Savannah’s heart sank as she stood in the hallway of the palazzo. It was a struggle to marry up the exquisite exterior with this dismal space. Wasn’t it wired for electricity? She could hardly make out the faces of Ethan’s staff as he showed her round.
Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but the inside of the palace was like something out of a gothic horror film—‘dark and dismal’ didn’t even begin to cover it. It might just as well have been lit by candlelight, it was so shadowy and grim. To say she was disappointed after the stunning run-up to the building was a major understatement. But she was more concerned about the fact that Ethan chose to live like this.
As the housekeeper led the way up the marble staircase, Savannah’s apprehension grew. Apart from the very real risk of missing her footing on the dimly lit staircase, the landing they were heading for appeared equally dingy. To go from fairy-tale palazzo to the haunted house was a huge disappointment. She only had to contrast Ethan’s grand palazzo with her parents’ simple farmhouse to know there was no contest: she’d prefer the sunny chaos of the farmhouse to this grand grimness any day.
Perhaps she should offer a few home-improvement tips, Savannah concluded as the housekeeper indicated they should follow her down a darkened corridor. ‘Don’t you worry about your staff tripping over the rugs?’ She took the chance to whisper discreetly to Ethan.
‘I can’t say it’s ever occurred to me,’ he said with surprise.
‘It would occur to me,’ Savannah said worriedly as the housekeeper stopped outside a carved-oak door. ‘What if someone was carrying a tray with hot drinks on it, or some glasses, and they tripped? They could really hurt themselves, Ethan. This is dangerous. There’s hardly any light here at all.’
‘No one’s ever complained before.’
She knew she should hold her tongue, but it was about time someone did complain, Savannah thought, and Ethan’s staff was hardly likely to.
The more she thought about it, the more Savannah became convinced that she must be one of Ethan’s first guests at the palazzo in a long time. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been expecting from a man known to be reclusive, but this was hardly the big, open house her family would have filled with light and laughter. She smiled as she thought of the cosy farmhouse back home with its rickety furniture and frayed old rugs, but it was a hundred times more welcoming than this.
The housekeeper was smiling at her expectantly, Savannah realised, quickly refocusing and smiling back. Ethan was shifting restlessly, as if he couldn’t understand the delay before the housekeeper got round to opening a door. But Savannah understood perfectly when the housekeeper finally revealed her surprise.
‘Signorina, this is your room.’
Savannah didn’t need to see the older woman’s beaming smile to know that someone was keen to make her feel welcome. ‘My room?’ Savannah stood on the threshold, gazing in wonder. ‘You did this for me?’ The contrast between this well-lit space and the rest of the palazzo was incredible. No wonder the housekeeper had revealed her surprise with such a flourish.
‘You’re too generous.’ But as Savannah looked at Ethan she realised he was as surprised as she was. He’d had nothing to do with it. His staff had done all this for her. They must have thrown open every window to air the room, and they had certainly lit every available light. There was a log fire blazing in the hearth, which illuminated all the beautiful old oil-paintings, and there were fresh flowers everywhere, beaming a rainbow welcome at her. ‘Thank you; thank you so much!’ she exclaimed, turning to grasp the housekeeper’s hands.
‘You bring us music, signorina, but all we can bring you in return is flowers.’
‘What do you mean “all”?’ Savannah exclaimed. ‘This means everything to me.’
Tears stung her eyes as she remembered this was the sort of thing her family did for each other at home. The housekeeper had given her the one thing money couldn’t buy, and that was a genuine welcome. Conscious of Ethan standing at her side, and knowing how difficult he found dealing with displays of emotion, she expressed her feelings more calmly to him. ‘This is wonderful, isn’t it? You have great people working for you. I hope you appreciate them.’
He would think her presumptuous, Savannah realised, though she could read nothing on Ethan’s face. But she had to say something, because his staff had carved an oasis of light and beauty for her from his cold, dark palazzo, and now she was eager to do the same for him.
He was shocked by his staff’s initiative. All he’d done was call ahead to explain the situation to them and ask them to make a room ready for Savannah Ross. He should have known the Italians’ great love of music meant they would already know everything about Savannah, and that it would have put wings on their heels when they learned he was bringing her to stay.
As his gaze embraced the room before him, he began noticing things he hadn’t before, like the pink-veined, marble-topped console table where the telephone rested. He had bought it with the palazzo, and it was a beautiful example of a craftsman’s art. Savannah was right; with the light shining on it, the furniture, like everything else in the room, was fully revealed in all its glory. No wonder she had been so relieved to see the efforts his staff had gone to for her. But the real difference here was Savannah, he thought, watching her shimmering golden hair bounce around her shoulders as she followed the housekeeper around the room. Savannah brought the light with her.
With emotions roused that he had thought were long buried, Ethan was suddenly keen to put some distance between them, so he found an excuse to leave Savannah in the care of his housekeeper. But she stubbornly refused to let him disappear so easily. ‘I’m so excited,’ she told him. ‘I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to stay here.’
‘Then don’t. This is nothing to do with me.’ He dismissed the glowing room with a gesture.
‘You’re so wrong,’ she assured him. ‘This has everything to do with you.’
He shrugged. ‘In this instance, Savannah
, it is you who is wrong. This is a beautiful suite of rooms and nothing more. It has been aired and put back into use, and that is all.’
‘And is that all you have to say about it?’ she demanded, frowning.
‘What else is there to say? I rarely come here, but it is beautiful, and I had forgotten.’
‘But you never will forget again,’ she insisted passionately. ‘Not now the lights have been switched on.’
He gave her a look that stopped her in her tracks. It was a look intended to warn her not to go this far again. The contact between them was electric, and he let the moment hang for some reason. Anything might have happened as Savannah looked up at him had not his housekeeper coughed discreetly at that moment. It was only then that the rational side of him clicked into focus, and he took a proper look at Savannah and realised how exhausted she looked. She was still wearing his old shirt over the ill-fitting gown. She must have felt embarrassed, dressed that way when he’d introduced her to his staff, but not for a moment had she let it show. Her attention had been all on them, her only thought to make them feel special. ‘Could you bring Ms Ross a robe, please?’ he asked his housekeeper.
He wanted Savannah covered up. Her pale skin beneath the neck of his shirt was making him restless. She still had her precious sandals dangling from her wrist, like a child with a garish bangle, and she was scarcely taller than a child. She couldn’t have eaten since that morning, he remembered. ‘Take a bath,’ he said briskly, ‘And then use that phone over there to call down for something to eat.’
‘Won’t you eat something too?’ she asked with concern.
‘Maybe.’ He dismissed her with a gesture. He had no intention of prolonging this encounter. It occurred to him then that perhaps he didn’t trust himself to prolong it.
‘Where will you eat?’ she pressed as he prepared to leave.
He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. ‘I’ll take dinner in my room,’ he said, remembering that that was what he usually did.
‘In your room?’ She pulled a face, and then immediately grew contrite. ‘Sorry. It’s none of my business where you eat.’
No, it isn’t, he almost informed her, thinking of her other comments since they’d arrived, but the fact that she looked so pale held him back.
Fortunately his housekeeper returned at that moment with the robe, which put a halt to further conversation.
He took that as his cue. ‘Goodnight, Savannah. Sleep well.’
‘I’ll see you in the morning?’ Her eyes were wide, her expression frank.
‘Perhaps.’ With her innocent enthusiasm she made it hard for him to remain distant.
‘For breakfast?’ she pressed.
‘Ah…’ He paused with his hand on the door, as if to say he was a much older man with many better things to do than to entertain a young woman. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Sleep well, Ethan. And thank you once again for allowing me to stay in your beautiful home.’
Who should be thanking who? he wondered, catching sight of the luminous expression on his housekeeper’s face. ‘Goodnight, Savannah.’ He didn’t need a second dose of Savannah’s radiant face before he walked out and closed the door to know his defences had been breached.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAVANNAH waited for Ethan’s footsteps to fade before asking the housekeeper shyly, ‘Do you think it would be possible to put on some more lights?’ The housekeeper had been so kind to her that Savannah felt her request might have some chance of success.
‘More lights, signorina?’
‘In the palazzo? I mean, it’s very dark outside my room, and I just thought it might be safer for you—for all of us.’
The housekeeper studied Savannah’s face before deciding. ‘Come with me, signorina.’
As they left the room together the housekeeper called to a passing footman, who looked at Savannah with surprise when he heard her request via the housekeeper. As he hurried away, the housekeeper exchanged a look with Savannah. ‘You are starting a revolution,’ she confided.
‘Oh dear.’
‘No, it’s good.’
‘Is it?’ If only she could feel confident that Ethan would agree.
Savannah approached the first light-switch.
It took all of her resolve just to switch it on. But when she did…
‘Bellissima!’ The housekeeper exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her. ‘This is what the palazzo has been waiting for.’
Her endorsement encouraged Savannah to ask if they could put a few more lights on.
The housekeeper drew in a breath and then, exhaling slowly, she turned to look at Savannah. Her eyes were sparkling. ‘A very few,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s do it!’
They hurried off in different directions, snapping on light switches like naughty children, and they didn’t stop until the whole of the upper floor was flooded with light.
Down in the hallway Savannah could see more lights being turned on. It was like the curtain going up at the theatre, she concluded, feeling that same sense of wonder—but the only difference here was a glorious home was being revealed rather than a stage set.
The housekeeper rendezvoused with Savannah back at her room. ‘It’s amazing!’ Savannah exclaimed softly, gazing at the transformation they’d created.
‘Si, signorina. You have worked a miracle.’
‘A very tiny miracle,’ Savannah argued with a smile. ‘I only turned on the lights.’
‘Sometimes that’s all it takes,’ the older woman observed shrewdly.
They shared a smile before the housekeeper left Savannah, after asking her to promise she would call downstairs if she needed anything more.
Well, she would need all the friends she could find on the staff, if she stood a chance of leaving Ethan’s home happier than she had found it, Savannah reflected. But with all his beautiful treasures bathed in light she had to believe he would share her enthusiasm for ancient frescoes stepping out of the shadows, and carvings revealed in all their intricate detail after years of neglect.
But…would he be pleased, or would he be angry at her continued interference? She was only a guest, after all, and one that wasn’t here for very long. She suspected she knew why Ethan avoided light, but her concern was for the main thoroughfares where safety was an issue. The more intimate areas like Ethan’s rooms could remain discreetly lit. She could only hope he would agree it was a happy balance.
Deep inside, Savannah believed everyone needed light. And as for the palazzo, well, she’d already seen the results of the transformation Ethan’s staff had brought about in her rooms, and their instincts were right. There should be light, love and music in such a beautiful home. There should be life at the palazzo.
Savannah took a long, soapy bath. Now the excitement was over, she realised how hungry she was, and until supper arrived a bath was the perfect distraction from hunger pangs as well as from the likely repercussions of her interference in Ethan’s home.
Twiddling the taps with her toes, she sank a little lower in the fragrant bubbles. This story might not have a happy-ever-after ending, but she had fairy-tale accommodation for the night, and after the staff had gone to so much trouble it would have been churlish for her to refuse the setting they had prepared.
She had rifled through the full-sized luxury products on the glass shelves like a small child in a beauty salon, and now the scent rising from the steam had led her into a dream world of erotic images in which Ethan starred…
Wrapped up cosily in a warm robe some time later, she stared into the mirror. It was so easy to imagine Ethan’s dark face when she saw him in the shadows everywhere she went. It was torture, knowing he was somewhere close by, and almost impossible not to imagine him stripped and naked beneath an ice-cold shower. It would be cold water, because warm was too indulgent for him. And his bedroom would be spartan, she decided, because Ethan denied himself anything soft or superfluous—which didn’t leave her with too much hope, Savannah concluded wistfully.
&
nbsp; Rubbing her hair vigorously, she walked back into the bedroom. Kneeling in front of the fire to dry her long hair, she thought about Ethan’s complex character. All he seemed to need was a clean bed and a floor to pace—perhaps with the addition of a giant television-screen in every room to catch up on any rugby matches he might have missed. Perhaps it was the legacy of those dreadful scars that made him so careless of his own comfort.
Thinking about them always made her so angry. Casting the towel aside, she began to pluck distractedly at the rug. Who would do that to him? Who could do that to a fellow human being?
Why don’t you ask him? Savannah’s inner voice prompted.
Because life isn’t that simple?
But it could be, if she went to him, and spoke to him…
Rolling onto her back, Savannah stared up at the ornate plasterwork. All the palazzo could be like this, cared for and fully restored, and always welcoming. Or it could remain cold and full of shadows. How lonely it must be to live in the dark.
Sitting bolt upright, Savannah hugged her knees and, resting her chin, she stared into the fire. It didn’t have to be like this if someone changed it around—if she changed it around. An impossible task, perhaps, but not if she had the help of Ethan’s staff. Even this gleaming fireguard, polished to a flawless sheen, was evidence of their care for him. They had to be as keen as she was to see the palazzo come back to life.
Impatient with inaction, she sprang up. She hardly knew where she was going, but as she crossed the room her spirits lifted. It was such a glorious ultra-feminine space it must have given Ethan a headache just to poke his head round the door. Everything that wasn’t gilded or twinkling glass was covered in silk, satins or velvet, and all in the most exquisite pastel colours. Stretching out her arms, she turned full circle, thinking it the most appealing space she had ever inhabited. She was still smiling broadly when she reached the door and opened it. ‘Ethan!’
The Ruthless Billionaire’s Virgin Page 6
