Mistress to a Millionaire

by Helen Brooks

  ‘So you thought you would bring him here today with the idea of exposing Daisy as what?’ Slade asked Claudia grimly. ‘A runaway wife, an adulteress? That’s what you thought, isn’t it? If you weren’t my son’s grandmother I would make sure I never set eyes on you again. And you—’ his narrowed stare was frightening as he took a step towards Ronald ‘—you’ve had your sixty seconds.’

  ‘Slade, think of Francesco!’ Daisy’s voice was urgent and she was holding on to his sleeve for dear life again, but Ronald had read what was in the other man’s face and he was off across the lawn like a greyhound.

  He was gone for good. As Daisy watched Ronald’s ignominious retreat she wondered how she could ever have been so misguided as to have fallen in love with a man like him. But she had been young, young and naive, when Ronald had blazed into her life, and painfully trusting. His smooth tongue, his ability to act a part, what almost amounted to a split personality—they had all played their part in concealing Ronald’s true character, and he was ruthlessly clever and eloquent in proving black was white.

  ‘Do you wish me to leave, Slade?’ Claudia’s face was white now but her back was as straight as a rod and her gaze unflinching. Formidable wasn’t the word for it, Daisy thought with a tinge of reluctant admiration for the other woman’s strength of mind.

  ‘That is up to Daisy.’ Slade was clearly still livid—it was there in the thin line of his mouth and the glittering black eyes—but as he moved his arm so his hand slid round Daisy’s waist and pulled her into him the message to his mother-in-law was unmistakable.

  She was glad of his physical support—she had the horrible feeling if he let go of her she would fall in a little heap on the floor and it wasn’t at all the message she wanted to convey to Claudia Morosini—but Claudia was Francesco’s grandmother and Daisy didn’t want to be the cause of a family feud. She took a deep breath and said quietly, ‘I don’t want you to go, Mrs Morosini. Francesco needs all his family around him.’

  It wasn’t in Claudia Morosini to apologise to anyone, but she came the nearest to it she ever had as her face relaxed a little and she nodded slowly, lowering her eyes as she turned away. She was a beaten woman. She might not have acknowledged it verbally but they all knew it, and Slade put it into words as he said softly, ‘It should make the future easier if nothing else.’

  For him—and Francesco—which was good, very good, Daisy thought as she used Slade’s terminology. But her future wasn’t tied up with Slade’s, however much she wished differently. If ever she had needed confirmation that love was a minefield—which caused the victim who suffered from the disease to walk blindfold—she had just had it. She had got it wrong with Ronald McTavish—horribly, tragically for Jenny—and she would bear the scars for ever. But to commit emotional suicide knowingly…

  ‘The magician has finished.’ Daisy moved herself very carefully out of Slade’s embrace as she spoke. The magician had finished, the magic had ended and instead of colour and warmth and light the world had suddenly become a place of grey shadows.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE next few weeks were hard, very hard. Life at Festina Lente was easier in some respects without Slade being around full-time—he had come home three weekends running but then due to a crisis somewhere or other they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him for the last two weeks—but the ache in Daisy’s heart was growing, not diminishing, with his absence.

  It was the fact that he was all about her—in the photographs scattered about the villa, in the way everything in his home had his own unique stamp on it—even in Francesco, who was a miniature version of his handsome father. It made everything so difficult. There didn’t seem to be a minute of any day that she wasn’t thinking about him in some way or other, and the more time went on, the more she realised that her appointment as Francesco’s nanny just wasn’t going to work.

  But how could she leave the little boy she had grown to love so dearly? Every time the thought hit her Daisy felt her stomach turn over. It was the one cardinal sin they had been warned about time and time again at college—getting too attached to one individual child—but she just hadn’t been able to help it with Francesco. Apart from the fact that he was Slade’s son Francesco was adorable in himself, and although he could be naughty on occasion, and grumpy, and everything else children could be, he had a sweet disposition and he had stolen her heart. It was as simple as that.

  Daisy watched him now, rolling over on the grass as he played with Queenie, and his chuckles of delight as the kitten chased the little ball Daisy had bought brought a smile to her lips despite her heartache.

  They were sitting on the perimeter of the lawn facing the house, in the shade of a line of orange trees, and next to Mario’s pride and joy—the rose garden. The rich scent of the flowers was perfuming the heavy summer air with an intoxicating fragrance and fat honeybees were droning their pleasure of Mario’s blooms. All was peace and lazy tranquillity, but Daisy didn’t think she would ever feel peaceful or tranquil again.

  She had told herself, over and over, that by acting as she was she was allowing Ronald to win. He had been cruel and treacherous, everything about him had been false, but if she allowed his betrayal and the hurt he had caused to perpetuate that was the real tragedy, wasn’t it? Yes, she knew it was—in her head. Her heart just wouldn’t respond to the logic though. Slade was different from Ronald—as different as chalk from cheese—but this fear—and it was fear, she had at last admitted to herself—wouldn’t be reasoned with. In fact the more she had admitted how much she loved Slade, the worse it had got.

  Daisy sighed, leaning back in the big cushioned lounger and shutting her eyes. She wasn’t sleeping properly, she wasn’t eating properly—she was a mess! And she hated being like this.

  She thought of the envelope lying on her dressing table at this very minute and sighed again. She had written out her notice the night before and she would give it to Slade as soon as she saw him again. She would stay until he had found a suitable replacement for her and made sure Francesco was happy, but then—then it was goodbye. Aloysia had said Slade needed a woman who would make him happy, and Daisy knew she couldn’t do that. She would tear him apart with her suspicions and mistrust; she would fight giving anything of herself for fear of history repeating itself. No, it couldn’t work. And she had to give him the envelope and stop torturing herself.

  She was half dozing as she listened with one ear to Francesco playing with the kitten, but her eyes snapped open immediately as she heard the child say, his voice hesitant, ‘Daisy? There’s someone coming.’

  ‘Someone…?’ She was looking straight into the sun and for a moment, as she squinted into the distance towards the house, she couldn’t make out who the figure walking towards her was. And then she sat totally stunned, her mouth falling wide open, before she scared Francesco half to death and sent a host of birds quietly minding their own business in the trees above scattering into the air, as she shouted, ‘Mum? Mum?’

  ‘Hello, darling.’ Her mother’s cheerful voice suggested it was perfectly normal for her to appear from halfway across the globe without so much as a telephone call. ‘Violet and Rose are just coming; they’re in the house talking to Slade.’

  ‘Slade?’ This was Alice in Wonderland Italian style.

  But then they had reached each other and her mother was hugging her close and they were laughing and crying and talking all at the same time, until a serious little voice at their side brought them apart as it said, ‘How do you do? I am Francesco and I am very pleased to meet you.’

  Whoops! It was a polite reminder for her to remember her manners, Daisy thought guiltily as she glanced down at Francesco’s enquiring little face. And from a seven-year-old!

  By the time the introductions had been completed her sisters were already running to join them, Slade following more sedately as he walked lazily across the lawn, and the next few minutes were spent in incoherent babble and more hugging.

  When at last Daisy surfa
ced, her face flushed and her eyes bright, it was to see Slade looking at her—Francesco cradled in his father’s arms and Queenie cuddled close to the small boy’s chest—with that same inscrutable, strange expression in his eyes that she had seen more than once.

  ‘How…? When…?’ She couldn’t seem to formulate a coherent sentence, but he seemed to understand anyway.

  ‘I thought you would like to see your family and a break for your mother seemed a good idea,’ Slade said easily, his rich, husky voice with its slight accent making her heart turn over. ‘We thought a surprise would be best.’

  ‘But…but all the way from America?’ Daisy said weakly.

  ‘It was Slade’s idea and he insisted on paying for us all,’ her mother chimed in happily as she beamed at Daisy. ‘He just wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

  No, well, that sounded like Slade.

  ‘And Vi and I aren’t back at uni for ages yet,’ Rose added contentedly, ‘so it’s just great, isn’t it?’

  It was, it was great, but…

  ‘And now we can see everything instead of just picturing it from your letters,’ her mother continued with an ecstatic sigh. ‘And it’s beautiful; it’s really beautiful,’ she said, turning to Slade and throwing her arms wide to encompass the house and grounds. ‘It’s the most beautiful house I have ever seen.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He was smiling at her mother, a nice smile, and Daisy felt her legs go weak with what it did to her. She could also see that Rose and Violet were heavily smitten—her sisters were positively ogling Slade; it only needed their mouths to drool and the picture would be complete!

  ‘We all came over from the States together.’ Her mother had turned back to Daisy and she tried to concentrate but it was hard when she hadn’t seen Slade for two whole weeks. ‘Slade was in Washington on business so it meant we could get to know each other.’

  ‘That was fortunate.’

  Daisy looked straight into the black glittering eyes and they smiled at her as Slade said, his voice dry, ‘Wasn’t it?’ with a cryptic rise of his dark eyebrows.

  ‘Thank you.’ She should have said it before, straight away. ‘This is very good of you.’ And it was; she knew that.

  He shrugged easily. ‘There are plenty of spare bedrooms and Isabella loves cooking in large quantities; it is the Italian way. I try and please her now and again.’

  It hadn’t been Isabella he had thought to please and they all knew it. Her mother beamed at him again and Daisy groaned inwardly. Her mother was sold on him—it was as plain as the nose on her face—and she would have to try and have a quiet word with both her mother and her sisters to make sure they didn’t jump to any wrong conclusions—as the rest of the world seemed determined to do!

  ‘So you are saying you haven’t got a thing going with him, then?’ Rose asked brightly. ‘He’s available?’

  ‘That’s quite enough, Rose.’ Lily Summers’ voice was sharp as she glanced at her second youngest daughter with a deep frown.

  ‘What? What have I said? I was only asking—’

  ‘I’m quite aware of what you were asking and you ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ her mother returned crisply. ‘What about Dean? You can’t have forgotten about him already!’

  Dean was Rose’s boyfriend of eighteen months and the last time Daisy had heard they were talking about a Christmas engagement. Rose had even chosen the ring already, according to Violet.

  ‘I haven’t got a Dean.’ Violet winked at Daisy behind her mother’s back, and then all three girls laughed when Lily swung round, looking askance at them as she said, ‘Violet, you are starting your university in the fall. Now I don’t want you distracted—’

  ‘All right, Mum, all right. I’m pulling your leg.’

  Oh, it was wonderful to have them all here, Daisy thought warmly as she stood up to leave her mother’s bedroom where all three girls had congregated, Slade having taken charge of Francesco. And she did appreciate Slade having taken the time to organise it all, but… And there was a ‘but’—a great big massive but!

  She didn’t know if she had fooled her sisters with her explanation that she and Slade were just friends and that what he had done for them he would do for anyone, but she’d definitely failed to pull the wool over her mother’s sharp and fiercely maternal eyes. And her mother was for Slade—there was no doubt about that at all; he had made sure that all three Summers women were well and truly under his spell. Which was exactly what he had set out to accomplish, Daisy reflected frowningly as she made her way downstairs again, leaving the three guests to unpack and freshen up before pre-dinner drinks in the drawing room. And she didn’t like that at all.

  ‘Why the frown?’

  She had half expected Slade to be waiting for her but she still jumped as his deep voice brought her swinging round at the bottom of the stairs, to see him sitting in the hall apparently reading the paper.

  He looked gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, Daisy admitted silently as her hungry eyes took in the big lean body encased in a beautifully cut lightweight grey suit, the pale jade shirt beneath open at the neck, displaying his hard, tanned throat. He made her legs weak. But she couldn’t let her heart weaken.

  She stared into the brilliant black eyes and they crinkled as he smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. ‘Where’s Francesco?’ she asked carefully. ‘I thought he was with you?’

  ‘Having his tea with Isabella and Mario.’ His smile had died, and now he said again, his voice cooler, ‘I asked you why the frown, Daisy?’

  ‘You know why.’ It wasn’t at all how she had planned to challenge him regarding his motives, she thought despairingly as she heard her voice go on. ‘You shouldn’t have brought them here, Slade. It…it was too much. It’s very kind of you, of course—’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was smooth and sarcastic.

  ‘But you shouldn’t have,’ she finished more firmly.

  ‘I disagree.’

  Slade’s tone of voice indicated the conversation was at an end, but as he rose to his feet Daisy realised—with a jolt—that he was simply going to walk away from her. Ronald had done that, she thought bitterly. Whenever she had tried to put into words her doubts and fears about the way their marriage was going, her cries for help, he had walked away from her. And then he would walk back, with a box of chocolates or a bunch of flowers, and sweet-talk her into believing she was imagining things, that she was nervy, neurotic.

  Her voice was shrill when she said, ‘Slade, I can’t stay here any more. I mean…I mean I want you to understand I’m giving you my notice,’ she added as he swung to face her with sheer amazement in his eyes. ‘I’ll stay until you get someone else, someone Francesco is happy with, but…but that’s all.’

  ‘You are leaving me because I brought your mother and sisters to see you?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Is that what you’re saying?

  ‘No!’ Put like that it sounded all wrong. ‘No,’ she said again more quietly. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Well, that’s what it sounds like,’ he grated tightly.

  ‘I’m sorry what it sounds like.’ Daisy stared at him. He had been away two weeks and what she wanted to do right now, more than anything in the world, was to fling herself into his arms and feel him against her. She wanted the smell and feel of him all about her, inside her; she wanted to touch him and taste him; she wanted… She wanted the impossible. ‘But I am employed by you as Francesco’s nanny, that’s all,’ she said clearly and steadily, ‘and I am at liberty to terminate that employment, with due notice, any time I like. And…and I had already written out my resignation before you came back today,’ she added painfully. ‘I intended to give it to you as soon as you came home.’

  ‘And I have no say in this?’ he asked grimly.

  ‘No.’ She didn’t know where the strength was coming from to talk like this when her heart had been ripped out by the roots and her life blood was draining away. ‘No, you don’t.’

  She meant it. Slade stared at her, his min
d searching for a hundred and one arguments and discarding them. And then he said the only thing that mattered. ‘Do you love me, Daisy?’

  ‘What?’ She had heard him but she needed time to find the courage to lie and make it sound as though she meant it.

  ‘I said, do you love me?’ he repeated with a determination that told her she would have to answer.

  But how could she? Daisy thought sickly. How could she do it?

  ‘No.’ Just one little word, and softly spoken, but it had the power of a nuclear bomb as it exploded between them.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ But he had gone white.

  If he asked her to say it again she wouldn’t be able to, not with him looking at her like this and with that terrible expression on his face that had aged him ten years in as many seconds, Daisy acknowledged faintly. She tore her eyes away from his, lowering her head as she said slowly, ‘I’m sorry, Slade.’

  There was a long, long pause, and then he said coldly, ‘Don’t be. It’s of no importance.’ There was an even longer pause when neither of them moved or spoke, and then Slade said, ‘But Francesco is important. You agree with this?’

  ‘Of course.’ She looked at him then, at the grey tinge to his handsome face and the white line of his mouth, and she felt like the worst human being who had drawn breath.

  ‘I will start advertising for your replacement immediately, but it will take time and I do not want Francesco upset more than necessary,’ Slade bit out grimly. ‘You are willing to stay until we can bring this unfortunate matter to a satisfactory conclusion?’

  She said again, ‘Of course,’ and he inclined his head slowly.