Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

by Susan Stephens

  ‘We have to be a little patient,’ Rigo confided in her, leaning close. ‘Everyone has yet to learn that I am a very different man from my brother.’

  ‘I think they may have guessed that,’ Katie ventured.

  ‘Your luggage and belongings will be packed and brought out to you,’ Rigo announced to those who still refused to believe the gravy train had reached the station. ‘Meanwhile, please feel free to enjoy the beauty of the grounds.’

  But not the palazzo, Katie guessed as a groan went up.

  ‘Come—’ his face was set and hard as he turned to her ‘—we have work to do.’

  The power emanating from Rigo was both thrilling and concerning. Even as Katie’s hand strayed to trace the pattern of Rigo’s breath on her cheek she could not shake the feeling that the inside of the palazzo was going to be worse than the outside. Wouldn’t he need time alone to deal with his feelings? ‘Maybe you’d like space?’ she suggested.

  ‘Space?’ He looked at her as if she were mad.

  ‘Some time alone? I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding somewhere to stay in town—’

  ‘I thought you worked for me?’

  ‘Of course—’

  ‘Then why would you stay in town? This isn’t a holiday, Signorina Bannister.’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘Did you bring a notebook?’

  This was another side of Rigo—ruthless and without the playboy mask. He walked straight in while she hesitated on the threshold. Beneath her boxy jacket the tight skin on her back had begun stinging with apprehension, but for the first time in a long time she ignored it and started jotting notes: ‘Replace damaged architrave...sand down and re-polish entrance doors...replace broken tile just inside the door. Replace all floor tiles,’ Katie amended, feeling a chill grow inside her. At her side Rigo had gone quite still.

  He swore in Italian. ‘This is bad. And if you’re still worrying about sleeping arrangements, don’t.’

  Rigo was in a furious temper, Katie realised, as well he might be, considering the abuse of his ancestral home.

  ‘Whatever the state of this building,’ he assured her in a snarl, ‘you’ll have a lock on your door and at least a mile of corridor between us.’ And I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole, his expression added viciously.

  She held her ground and Rigo’s stare. She had to believe his anger wasn’t directed at her. So her precious chastity would remain intact—that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  Yes, but not like this, not with Rigo treating her like the enemy.

  Standing in the centre of what must once have been a gracious vaulted hall was heartbreaking, even for Katie. They had moved from the seductive heat of Tuscany, from air drenched in sunlight and laced with the heady scent of honeysuckle and roses, into a dank, dark space that reeked of decay. Spilled wine marked what must have once been an elegant marble floor and there were even cigarette butts trodden carelessly into the tiles.

  ‘Dio,’ Rigo murmured softly at her side.

  If he had been anyone else, she would have reached out and grasped his hand to show her support, but she knew he didn’t want that. His rigid form forbade all human contact. How would she feel if the beautiful home she remembered from her childhood and had longed to see again turned out to be a crumbling ruin that Carlo’s friends had treated like an ashtray?

  But a lot of the damage was superficial, Katie concluded as she stared around. She guessed there must have been one heck of a party in anticipation of Rigo’s arrival, which made everything look so much worse. But there was some structural work to do as well... She made a note.

  Rigo’s face reflected both his anger and his agony. He looked on the point of walking out. She could sympathise with that. There had been many times when she had wanted to give up after the fire, and here in the palazzo it must seem as if the last remnants of Rigo’s childhood had gone up in flames.

  ‘Vero...I knew it was too good to be true,’ he murmured. ‘Now you can see my stepbrother’s true nature and his legacy to me.’

  As he raked his hair with stiff, angry fingers she could no longer resist the impulse to reach out. ‘Rigo, I’m so sorry—’

  ‘I don’t need your pity,’ he snapped. ‘We’re going back to Rome. I’m going to put the palazzo on the market—’

  ‘And turn your back on it?’ She was acutely aware that members of staff were hovering uncertainly in the background.

  ‘I’ll do what I have to do.’

  ‘Rigo.’ She chased him to the door. ‘Don’t you think you should—?’

  ‘What?’ he demanded furiously. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’ He lifted his arm, shunning her concern, but the murmur of a worried staff was still ringing in her ears. ‘No—wait,’ she said, seizing his arm.

  Rigo stared coldly at her hand on his arm. She slowly removed it. Here in this derelict palazzo, surrounded by old memories and faded glory with a battalion of servants watching them, she was more out of place than she had ever been, but someone had to try and reach Rigo. ‘So Carlo wins—’

  ‘He’s already won.’ Slamming his fist against the ruined door, Rigo leaned his face on his arm and fought to control his feelings. A long moment passed before he raised his head again. ‘Call a meeting of the staff.’ He sucked in a steadying breath before adding, ‘Tell them I’ll meet them here in the hall in two hours’ time. And please reassure them,’ he continued in a voice that was devoid of all expression, ‘that before I go back to Rome they will all be taken care of.’

  But who would take care of Rigo? Katie wondered. Seeing his childhood home reduced to a ruin had ripped his heart out. She knew how that felt too. ‘Where will you go now?’ she said, unconsciously clutching her throat.

  ‘To find my driver. To make certain he has some rest and refreshment before we return to Pisa—’

  ‘To fly to Rome?’

  ‘Yes.’ Distractedly he wiped a hand across his face.

  ‘Don’t you have to draw up a flight plan?’ He needed time to get over this shock before he piloted a plane—before he decided what to do. She was looking for something, anything that would give him time to think.

  Rigo shook his head as if to say, don’t concern yourself with such things, and his next words proved to be the final nail in the coffin of her dreams. ‘There’s no job for you here, as I’m sure you’ve worked out. Please accept my apologies for a wasted journey,’ he added stiffly. ‘My driver will, of course, take you to the airport so you can catch the next flight home.’

  Home...

  The sound of the battered door slamming heavily into place behind him brought more plaster off the walls, but even as Katie turned to look around and saw the group of people waiting for her to reassure them she experienced something she couldn’t put a name to. It was uncanny, almost like a sixth sense, but she felt as if she was already home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE SERVANTS WERE whispering and casting anxious glances Katie’s way. Tears stung her eyes when she realised many of them were armed with sweeping brushes, buckets and mops. She crossed the hall, intending only to deliver Rigo’s instructions about the meeting, but seeing all those worried faces triggered something inside her. ‘Do you have a spare brush?’ she said instead to the housekeeper. ‘If we all pitch in,’ she explained in Italian, ‘this won’t take so long...’

  There was no need for words—no time for conversation from that moment on. There was just concentrated effort from a small team of people including Katie, all of whom were determined to give the grand old palazzo a second chance. The Palazzo Farnese might have been brought to its knees by Carlo Ruggiero’s lack of investment and care and his friends’ rough treatment of it, but everyone sensed this could be a turning point if they worked hard enough.

  When the old hall smelled fresh and clean
Katie made some discreet enquiries about where Rigo had gone.

  ‘After speaking to his driver he went to the leisure suite,’ the housekeeper told her. ‘I took the precaution of locking it,’ the older woman added, touching her finger to her nose as Gino had. This brought the first smile of the day to Katie’s face. ‘Very sensible,’ she agreed.

  Rigo’s concern for his driver had obviously delayed their departure, so this was her chance.

  ‘I would not allow those people near the swimming pools,’ the housekeeper confided in Katie, ‘and the new master has chosen to swim in the indoor pool today.’

  The new master? Katie thought of the crest on the arch and on the ring. Here, Rigo wasn’t Signor Ruggiero, the infamous international playboy, but someone else entirely. ‘The new master?’ she prompted.

  ‘Sì,’ the housekeeper said with pride. ‘Principe Ruggiero. Principe Arrigo Ruggiero.’

  Arrigo? Prince Arrigo? ‘Ah, yes, of course,’ she said. The housekeeper might think her a little slow on the uptake, but it was better to be sure of her facts. And never mind that he was a prince, it was Rigo’s state of mind Katie was most concerned about.

  Thanking the housekeeper and the rest of the staff for all their help, she left the hall in search of him. She had to know he was all right. She had to let Rigo know he wasn’t alone and that she’d stay by his side until he sorted this mess out.

  * * *

  Katie stood in the shadows, watching Rigo power down the length of the pool. He had dropped his clothes on the side and hadn’t even stopped to turn on the light, though there was lighting in the pool. The luminous ice-blue water was a perfect frame for the dark shape slicing through it and she was fascinated by Rigo’s strength and by his magnificent body. His powerful legs pounded the water into foam, while his sculpted shoulders gleamed bronze as they broke the surface. They were the powerhouse for his punishing freestyle stroke, though every part of him was involved.

  And every part of him was naked.

  She should turn and walk away, but she couldn’t; she didn’t want to. She remained motionless, watching, until Rigo finally cruised to the end of the pool.

  Now she really must go...

  But the moment came and went and she still hadn’t moved.

  Rigo sprang out. Water fell away from his hard-muscled frame. Every inch of him was in gleaming, spectacular focus. She remained riveted, staring, learning more about a man’s body than she could have imagined. Rigo naked was even more perfect than Rigo clothed...so perfect Katie’s scars tingled a reminder that she was not.

  ‘Signorina Bannister?’

  His husky voice surrounded her. She shrank as he padded towards her. She couldn’t move. She was trapped in the beam of his stare.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  She lacked the guile to lie. ‘Watching you.’ She was careful to stare straight into his eyes, but she could feel his sexual energy invading her. She wasn’t afraid. If he had caught her without her clothes she would have been terrified, Katie realised. But shouldn’t Rigo be making some attempt to cover up? Was it possible to lack all inhibition? Her body thrilled to think all things were possible for him. But not for her, the scars on her back gave her a stinging reminder.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he mocked softly as he came to stand in front of her. ‘I would have worn swimming shorts had I expected a visitor.’

  ‘I’m sorry to intrude...’

  She was about as sincere as he was. She would never forget these few minutes at the side of an unlit swimming pool. Every craving nerve she had was on fire. She would try to store that feeling. Before this she hadn’t understood that such levels of arousal were even possible. The pool lights were reflected in Rigo’s eyes, casting forbidding shadows on his rugged face. ‘I was worried about you,’ she confessed awkwardly.

  ‘Worried about me?’

  He sounded amused. Heat grew inside her as he continued to stare at her. Why didn’t he walk away? Why didn’t she?

  Because her bones had turned to honey...

  She was slow to react when he moved and her heart drummed a warning, but all he wanted was the towel he’d left on a chair. Relief coursed through her when he snatched it up, but he only used it to wipe his face and left his naked body on full view.

  Having dried his face, he drew the towel back over his hair and rubbed it with fluid, lazy strokes. Water-heavy hair caught on his stubble and meshed with his eyelashes, and it seemed forever before he looped the towel around his waist.

  ‘You were watching me for quite some time, worried signorina,’ he murmured. ‘Did you learn anything?’

  His eyes were challenging and amused. It came home to her then how much older Rigo was, and how much more experienced and sophisticated. She was little more than a trembling wreck, and had no idea how to behave in these circumstances. ‘You swim well,’ she ventured.

  His short laugh displayed strong white teeth and one inky black brow peaked, but his mouth remained hard and his eyes were watchful. He was fresh from the shock of discovering what had happened to his childhood home, she reminded herself, and had been swimming to exorcise those demons.

  But he still had energy to burn...

  ‘You’re blushing,’ he said.

  ‘How can you see in this light?’

  Reaching out, he traced the line of her cheek. ‘I can feel the heat coming off you...’

  Her swift intake of breath sounded unnaturally loud. ‘It is very warm in here...’ She gazed about in a pathetic attempt to distract him.

  Rigo’s low voice pulsed with intent. ‘I don’t think it’s that sort of heat I can feel. Well, signorina?’ he pressed. ‘There must be something other than my swimming technique that kept you fascinated...’

  Mutely, she shook her head. It was blood heat in the leisure suite and almost dark. Just the pool lights shimmering behind her like dots of moonlight on a lake. She felt cornered by a powerful predator, a predator she had sought out, and now her reward was to be wrapped in a cloak of arousal as she waited to see what would happen next.

  The darkness concealed her flaws, and with Rigo’s powerful body changed to shadowy imprecision in that darkness they could almost be two equals meeting here. It was a compelling fantasy in which she longed to lose herself, and as the pool room shrank around them she swayed towards him.

  ‘Careful,’ he murmured, putting warm palms on her upper arms, but only in a steadying gesture, ‘you’re very close to the edge of the pool...’

  Still the child. Ever the innocent. Would he never see her any other way?

  And shouldn’t she be relieved about that?

  She made light of it. ‘Sorry...I didn’t realise—I can hardly see anything in this light.’

  Lies. All of it. She had seen every part of him, including the tattoo on his hip. ‘I only came because I’m worried about you,’ she said again. ‘I called the meeting.’

  ‘Good,’ Rigo murmured.

  His concentration on her hadn’t wavered and his watchful eyes bathed her in heat. As he eased onto one hip she was consumed by the longing to touch him.

  ‘Why don’t you—?’

  ‘Why don’t I what?’ she blurted guiltily.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me the real reason you came here?’

  She heard the faint amusement in his voice. If only he would stop staring down at her. ‘I already said—you had a shock...the will—’

  ‘My brother and I were practically strangers.’

  Katie’s mouth felt dry as Rigo continued to stare down at her. ‘The palazzo...’ She was grasping at straws, they both knew it. She gasped as Rigo coiled a long hank of her hair around his finger. It must have escaped her bun while she was cleaning.

  ‘The only distress I feel,’ he assured her, ‘is knowing my stepbrother wasted hi
s life—’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be a wasted life.’ She gazed up. ‘You could change that.’

  He laughed and let her go. ‘You will learn that it is pointless looking back and wishing things might have been different. They are as they are.’

  She had not expected him to move so fast, or to slip his hand into her hair again, and to make the next move cupping her head. ‘The knack is in learning to move on, Katie...’

  Their faces were very close and he was staring at her intently. ‘Rigo...’

  ‘What?’ he murmured, drawing her gaze to his lips.

  ‘You could stay here at the palazzo and make things right for everyone...’ She couldn’t forget the faces of the servants waiting hopefully for news.

  ‘Delaying tactics,’ he breathed with his mouth only a whisper from her lips.

  Perhaps, Katie admitted silently, though her concerns for the people who lived here were real enough. And now they had reached the point she had longed for she was frightened—frightened she would disappoint him. How could she not when Rigo was perfection—when he had taken one look at the flawed palazzo and turned his back on it? ‘You don’t strike me as the sort of man who walks away from problems.’

  The mood changed as she spoke. The heavy, erotic beat fell silent and was replaced by humour, at least in Rigo’s eyes.

  ‘I thought I told you, no counselling?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry...’ She eased her neck as he stepped back. Would she ever forget his touch? ‘I wouldn’t dream of advising you—’

  ‘I think you would,’ he argued. ‘I think you do a lot of dreaming, Signorina Bannister. I think you dream and want and need as much as anyone else.’

  Breath shot from her lungs as Rigo seized hold of her.

  He wanted her. Wanted her? He wanted to lose himself in Katie Bannister. He wanted to bask in her goodness and have it heal him. To begin with he’d been amused by the fact that Katie had worried about him enough to come and seek him out, but now he remembered that no one had ever done that for him before. And then he saw the hunger in her eyes matched his own and the time for restraint had passed.