Billionaire's Secret

by Chantelle Shaw

  She glanced down at her naked breasts with their reddened, swollen nipples, and a wave of shame rolled over her as she recalled her wanton response to Nicolo. With trembling fingers she dragged her bikini top into place and tied the halter strings into a tight knot. How could she have almost had sex with a man she hardly knew? she wondered, disgusted with herself. But when Nicolo had kissed her and held her so close against his chest that she had felt the powerful beat of his heart, she’d had a strange feeling that she had known him in another life and he was her destiny.

  She bit her lip. Obviously he had not shared that feeling. She could not bear to face him again. She would have to return to London and tell Christos that she had failed to persuade Nicolo to attend the shareholders’ meeting. It would hurt her pride, but not as much as if she had to remain at Chatsfield House for another day, another hour.

  The idea of returning to the house briefly to collect her belongings made her feel sick, but to her relief she did not see Nicolo when she slipped in through the kitchen door. Only Beth was there and she smiled when she saw Sophie.

  ‘This has turned out to be an even shorter visit than I’d planned,’ she said ruefully, indicating her suitcase standing by the door. ‘One of my sons has come down with chickenpox and my husband has just phoned to tell me that Connor, our eldest, has a few suspicious-looking spots.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sophie said sympathetically.

  Beth laughed. ‘The joys of parenthood! I must go, or I’ll miss my flight. If you’re wondering where Nicolo is—he’s taken Dorcha for a walk.’ She hesitated and gave Sophie an intent look. ‘Nicolo said you’ll be staying at Chatsfield House for a few more days. I’m glad you’re here,’ Beth continued before Sophie could explain that she intended to return to London immediately. ‘It’s the anniversary of the fire soon. Nicolo insists he’ll be fine, but I know he has terrible memories of what happened. I’m relieved that he won’t be here alone.’

  ‘I …’ Sophie did not know what to say. She was under no obligation to stay at the house, she assured herself as she watched Beth get into her car. It was unlikely Nicolo would welcome her being here at what must be a very painful time for him. Her common sense told her to leave before he came back from his walk, but her heart said something else.

  She remembered the haunted expression in his eyes when he had described being trapped in the fire at the hotel. Such a horrific experience would be impossible to forget, especially when the scars on his body were a constant reminder of what he had been through.

  But how could she face him after he had rejected her earlier? Thinking about how she had clung to him and offered him her body made her cringe with embarrassment.

  As Nicolo walked up the garden path he smelled a tantalising aroma coming from the kitchen. Roast lamb, he guessed, cooked with herbs. He frowned. Beth had been about to leave when he’d set off for a walk over an hour ago and he did not understand why she was still here. She would not get to the airport in time for her flight.

  Dorcha bounded ahead, drawn by the delicious smells. The dog whined at the kitchen door, and a few moments later it was opened—by Sophie.

  Nicolo struggled to hide his shock. He had assumed she would be halfway back to London by now. She was still wearing the tiny shorts that revealed her long, tanned legs but he noted that she had replaced the sexy bikini top with a T-shirt. The shirt was loose-fitting but he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it, and the memory of caressing her naked breasts sent a jolt of desire through him.

  There were not many occasions when he was lost for words but he did not know what to say to her. He realised he did not want to say anything. Talking tended to complicate things. He wished fiercely that things were different, that he was different. He wished he could pull her into his arms and kiss her soft mouth. Then she would put her arms around his neck and he would carry her upstairs to his bedroom and make love to her until the shadows of dusk lengthened into the velvet darkness of night.

  In reality, of course, he could do no such thing. But the fantasy lingered in his mind as he followed her into the kitchen.

  When Sophie saw Nicolo her composure wobbled dangerously, especially when she walked back into the kitchen and turned to find him close behind her. She silently cursed her intense awareness of him but could not prevent her eyes from lifting to search his lean face. Why did the faintly cynical curve of his lips cause her stomach to swoop as if she was riding a big dipper at a funfair? she wondered wearily.

  To her surprise he avoided meeting her gaze and dull colour flared on his high cheekbones. She sensed he felt as uncomfortable as she did. Too bad, she thought. She had decided to stay until after the anniversary of the fire—although she had no intention of telling him that she was concerned about him being alone with his dark memories.

  ‘I’ve prepared roast lamb, new potatoes and green beans for dinner,’ she said crisply, slipping into her familiar role of superefficient personal assistant to mask her agonising awareness of him. ‘I thought we’d eat in the kitchen.’

  As she served the food she sought for something—anything—to say to break the tense silence.

  ‘Beth seemed nice. She said you’ve been friends for many years.’

  Nicolo hesitated. He had a deep-rooted dislike of talking about his past but strangely he found he wanted to tell Sophie about Michael.

  ‘We met when she used to visit her brother in the burns unit of the hospital where I was treated,’ he explained gruffly. ‘Michael was badly injured in a fire that started when he left a candle burning one night. Beth and her mother had been staying with a relative and returned to find their home destroyed and Michael in intensive care. He and I became friends in hospital, but tragically Michael died of his injuries.’

  ‘How terrible,’ Sophie murmured. The story explained why Nicolo had reacted so strongly when she had put candles on the dining table. She thought of Beth’s bright smile that hid such a deep personal tragedy and wondered if the close bond she had sensed between Nicolo and the young woman was because they had both experienced the utter devastation a fire could cause. Nicolo’s face was shuttered and she had no idea what he was thinking, but she sensed his mood was grim and wished she had not unwittingly reminded him again of the tragedy in his own past.

  She sat down opposite him at the kitchen table to begin her meal. ‘I’ve just remembered I bought a bottle of wine while I was in the village. Would you like some with your dinner?’

  ‘I never drink alcohol.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Not even wine? I would have thought that being half-Italian you would enjoy drinking wine. Don’t you like it?’

  ‘I used to like it too much.’ Nicolo’s jaw tightened as he thought of his youth, which he had mainly spent drinking himself into oblivion. No party had been complete without his presence, and beautiful women had literally queued up for him to take them to bed. He had been out of control, on a fast track to damnation, until one night he had met the hotel chambermaid whose life he had saved—and his life had come crashing down.

  He blocked out the memories—something he had grown adept at doing—and looked across the table at Sophie, wondering why he was tempted to tell her the truth about his past. She would not understand why he still felt tormented so many years after the fire, he reminded himself. He bet Miss Bright-as-a-Button had never had to cope with a traumatic event in her life.

  ‘You ask a lot of questions,’ he said curtly. ‘Let me ask you some questions for a change.’

  She shrugged. ‘What do you want to know?’ She did not have any secrets. Well, apart from one, Sophie acknowledged. But her infertility was not a subject Nicolo was likely to be interested in.

  He finished eating and leaned back in his chair. ‘Why did you learn tae kwon do?’

  ‘There was a martial arts club at university. Actually, my friends and I only went along because the sports coach was good-looking and we all fancied him. Richard thought I had a natural flair for tae kwon d
o and offered to give me private coaching sessions.’

  ‘Did the handsome coach remain as just your martial arts instructor?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘We obviously spent a lot of time together, training and going to competitions, and our relationship developed into a personal one.’

  Why the hell did he feel an irrational dislike for a man he had never met? Nicolo asked himself irritably. So what if Sophie had the hots for her sports coach? ‘Are you still in a relationship with him?’ he asked in an offhand tone.

  ‘No,’ she replied flatly.

  Nicolo shot her a sharp glance. ‘Your choice or his?’

  ‘His, if you must know.’ She scraped back her chair and collected the used plates. ‘If you want dessert there’s ice cream in the freezer.’

  ‘Were you in love with Mr Tae Kwon Do Coach?’

  She dumped the plates in the sink, her back ramrod-straight. ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘Ah, so you were.’ Nicolo knew he was needling her. What he did not understand was why he was so interested in her love life. ‘Why did he break up with you?’

  She swung round and glared at him. ‘Because …’ She took a deep breath, and said in a quieter voice, ‘Because we had issues that we couldn’t resolve. We wanted different things, which made it impossible for us to plan a future together.’

  Her mind flashed back to the night that Richard had ended their relationship. Previously he had dropped a few hints that he saw them having a future together, and Sophie had decided she must tell him that her cancer treatment had made it unlikely she would be able to have a baby.

  His reaction had been devastating.

  I want children. I can’t contemplate a future that doesn’t include having a family. I’m sorry, Sophie, but it’s how I feel. I wish you had told me sooner that you can’t conceive.

  They hadn’t even stayed to finish their meal in the restaurant, Sophie remembered. Richard had driven her straight home. She had felt too numb with shock to cry. She had believed that Richard loved her, but he hadn’t loved her enough to be able to accept her for who she was. Her inability to have children was not her fault, but she had been punished for it and rejected by the man she loved. By the second man she had loved, she amended. The first had been her father.

  Swallowing hard, she concentrated on rinsing the plates under the tap before stacking them in the dishwasher.

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Nicolo’s deep voice sounded close and she glanced up to find him standing next to her. His physical presence was overwhelming. Her fierce awareness of him made her hot and flustered, especially when he murmured, ‘Dinner was superb. Your boyfriend was a fool to give you up.’

  ‘Unfortunately my ability to cook well wasn’t enough to sustain our relationship,’ she said drily.

  Nicolo wasn’t fooled. He sensed that the ex-boyfriend had broken her heart and he felt an irrational surge of anger for the unknown Richard. He’d only known Sophie for a short while but he had been struck by her compassion and genuine kindness, and he was certain she had not deserved to be hurt.

  He lifted his hand and brushed her hair back from her face. Her skin felt as soft as a peach as he rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone. She flinched and stepped away from him, and Nicolo grimaced, aware that after he had walked away from her in the walled garden he deserved her coolness.

  It was torture being here with Nicolo, Sophie thought despairingly. The scene of comfortable domesticity as they cleared up after dinner was beguiling and a painful reminder that she was unlikely to share her life with anyone. It was possible that she would one day meet a man who did not want children, but she had come to terms with the likelihood that she would never marry and have a family. Most of the time it did not bother her but tonight for some reason it hurt—a lot.

  ‘I’ll leave you to finish here,’ she said abruptly. ‘It’s late, and I’m going to bed.’

  ‘It’s eight-thirty,’ Nicolo pointed out.

  ‘I didn’t sleep well last night.’

  ‘Not surprising perhaps, after you had nearly drowned me in my swimming pool.’

  Sophie flushed. ‘I’ve told you how much I regret that.’ The gentle amusement in his eyes was more unsettling than his anger had been. ‘If you must know, I regret coming to Chatsfield House at all,’ she said huskily. She suddenly felt drained and emotional and feared that if she did not get away from Nicolo she might do something stupid like burst into tears. She hurried over to the door.

  ‘Sophie …’ His voice was low and rough, as if her name had been torn from his throat. She desperately wanted to turn round, but for once her common sense won over her heart and she forced her feet to keep moving out of the kitchen.

  She would not miss this room when she left Chatsfield House, Sophie thought as she glanced around Gene Chatsfield’s office. For the past ten days she had become a virtual prisoner in the office so that she could avoid Nicolo. At least she had finally unearthed the documents relating to the property in Italy. Surprised that it wasn’t for one of the hotels, but of a private property in Italy, Sophie mused that it wasn’t really any of her business anyway. After tonight—the anniversary of the fire—there would be no reason for her to prolong her visit.

  After what had taken place in the walled garden she had been unable to bring herself to try and persuade him to attend the shareholders’ meeting. She felt as if she was living in limbo. It would be good to go back to her flat in Covent Garden and the daily routine of working for Christos. Her life would return to normal and no doubt she would quickly forget about Nicolo Chatsfield.

  Who was she kidding? Sophie thought bleakly. He dominated her thoughts day and night. Fortunately he seemed keen to avoid her too, and spent hours working in his study. The only time they met was at dinner every evening. She found cooking complicated recipes was a welcome distraction from thinking about Nicolo, but as soon as he joined her in the kitchen her tension returned as she desperately tried to hide her intense awareness of him.

  She sensed that he found their stilted conversations during dinner as much of an ordeal as she did. Sometimes she would glance at him and find him watching her with an expression in his eyes that she dared not define. But she was conscious of the simmering sexual chemistry between them, and immediately after dinner she left him to clear away the dishes and made an excuse to go up to her room.

  This evening she would have to ignore the awkward atmosphere and remain downstairs with Nicolo, Sophie told herself. She did not expect that he would confide in her, but she was determined not to leave him alone with his memories of the horrific fire.

  An hour later she put the pot of chilli con carne she had made into the oven and turned the heat setting to low. Unable to face spending any more time in Gene’s office, Sophie stepped outside. It was a beautiful summer’s evening and the golden rays of the sun reflected on the red bricks made the house look less like a grim Victorian institution.

  She was surprised when she walked through the grounds of the estate and found that the swimming pool had been drained and cleaned and was being refilled. What a shame it would not be ready to swim in until after she had left, Sophie mused as she strolled back to the house. She wondered if Nicolo intended to use the pool. Imagining him wearing just a pair of swim shorts sent a rush of heat through her and she told herself it was lucky she was leaving tomorrow, before her stupid fixation with him got out of hand.

  As she crossed the garden she heard music coming from one of the rooms. The French doors of the sitting room were open and someone was playing the grand piano with an expertise and depth of emotion that made Sophie catch her breath. Listening to the sweet, pure notes made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Chopin was her father’s favourite composer and she recognised the piece as one that she had often heard James Ashdown play when she had been a child.

  She crossed the terrace and peeped into the room. It could only have been Nicolo who was playing, but she still felt a jolt of shock as she wat
ched him move his fingers across the keys. His eyes were half-closed and she sensed he was lost in the music, as if the notes flowed through his body.

  Tears filled Sophie’s eyes. It seemed incredible that Nicolo, who had experienced terrible pain when he had been burned, could play with such sensitivity and produce music so beautiful that it stirred her soul.

  ‘Come in if you want to. You don’t have to hide out there.’

  His voice made her jump and she flushed guiltily. As she stepped through the French doors Nicolo’s fingers did not falter on the keys, and he did not glance at her as he continued playing, slipping from classical pieces to modern tunes and finally Chopin’s Nocturne.

  ‘Does music always make you cry?’ He played the last notes of the piece and looked across the room at her, his eyes intent on her face. ‘Or was my playing so bad it made you weep?’ he said wryly.

  ‘Of course not. I had no idea you could play the piano so amazingly.’ Sophie quickly wiped her eyes. ‘Hearing you play reminded me of my father. He is a wonderful pianist. When I was a child he used to play to me when he came home from work. I used to sit next to him and listen. He tried to teach me to play, but I’m afraid I didn’t inherit his talent or his patience,’ she said regretfully.

  ‘Did he teach you to play this?’ Nicolo played a tune that Sophie instantly recognised as one she had played as a duet with her father. ‘It’s one of the first pieces my piano teacher taught me,’ Nicolo said when she nodded. ‘Come and play it with me.’

  He made room for Sophie on the piano stool, and after a moment’s hesitation she sat down next to him. ‘I don’t remember how to play the tune.’

  ‘It’s not difficult. You play these notes on the higher octave—’ he showed her the correct notes ‘—and I’ll play the accompanying tune on the lower octave. Ready?’

  After a couple of false starts Sophie managed her part of the duet. Memories came flooding back of sitting with her father just as she now was with Nicolo. ‘Dad and I used to pretend that we were playing in a famous opera house, and when we finished the piece he would take my hand and we would bow to the audience.’ She flushed. ‘It sounds silly, but it was such fun.’