The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. He glanced at the heavy gold watch on his wrist then back at her. “Listen, I have to go. Keep the card and call me. You have until tomorrow. I’m heading back to Springfield and I need an answer before I go.”
Celine nodded and slid the card into her pocket. “Of course,” she said, hurrying to retrieve the vacuum cleaner. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Good.” He nodded and before she was even out the door he was heading back to the bedroom.
Celine closed the door behind her, leaned her back against it and closed her eyes. Talk about an interesting start to the day. She’d just met the most seductively handsome man and her heart still raced at the memory of Pierce D’Amato with his broad shoulders, narrow waist and the silky strands of black hair that nestled around his…
Mon Dieu. She had to get a hold of herself. But the image of Pierce was burned into her mind and she knew that, like it or not, it would haunt her for a very long time.
She pushed her trolley on to the next suite. She had no intention of still being in sight when Pierce exited his room. The next time she saw him, if there ever was a next time, it would be on very different terms.
CHAPTER TWO
Heart thumping, Celine drove up the long and winding driveway that led to Pierce D’Amato’s house. Actually, house was an understatement. What she was looking at was a mansion. The place looked big enough to house five families and still have room to spare. She pulled her Toyota Corolla into the space between a sleek black Jaguar and a candy-red Porsche. She couldn’t help but grimace. Beside the other vehicles her ten-year old car looked so out of place. Oh, well. The other cars would just have to get used to working-class company.
She slid her damp palms down the sides of her jeans, shaking her head in annoyance. She hated how they perspired when she was nervous. There was no need to be, she knew, but her body was saying otherwise.
After almost an entire day of vacillation Celine had decided to call Pierce D’Amato. After all, how could she throw away the chance to possibly double her salary? With such an increase in fortune she would be able to afford two, maybe even three trips back to Europe each year to visit her family. Her eyes grew misty at the thought of Christmas at home in France.
She’d confided in Bridgette, a friend she’d made on her first day of work, and received a glowing report from the older woman. Bridgette had met Pierce many times and she described him as a true gentleman known for giving generous tips to hotel staff who served him. Still, there was a sparkle in the woman’s eyes that told Celine she was smitten by him. And who wouldn’t be? With his sleek, dark looks and intense green eyes, Pierce D’Amato looked like he had the power to charm any woman he desired.
That evening Celine called Pierce and he invited her to meet with him in his home office so she could be introduced to his little charge. They’d talk further, he’d said, and then she could make her final decision.
And so it was that she found herself walking toward the magnificent steps of Pierce D’Amato’s residence. She clutched the strap of her bag tighter, gave her palms one last swipe on the seat of her jeans and climbed the steps to the expansive marble-tiled entrance.
She rang the bell then stood there plucking at the buckle on her bag, trying to steel her nerves for her next meeting with Pierce. Try as she might she could not wipe from her mind the memory of his strong toned body and she wondered how she’d react when he opened the door. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. It would not do to let this man see her sweat.
The door opened and a plump gray haired woman smiled up at her. “Miss Santini. Welcome. I was expecting you. I am Elizabeth Simpson. Come in.”
Celine released her breath, thankful that it was the housekeeper who opened the door. That would buy her some time to get her wits together. She gave the woman a smile and a whispered “thank you” then entered the house.
Celine was in awe. The foyer was huge with a high cathedral ceiling graced with a sparkling chandelier that looked like a host of tiny stars floating in mid-air. The white columns reached gracefully up to the ceiling and multicolored tiles of marble glistened beneath her feet. She was almost afraid to step on them. This wasn’t the entrance to a private home. It was more like the lobby to a grand hotel.
“I’ll take you to the office and let Mr. D’Amato know you’ve arrived,” Mrs. Simpson said as she led the way down a hallway that seemed to run along the length of the house. “You’re a bit early so he’s not quite ready but he won’t keep you waiting.”