The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty(24)

                But she wouldn’t tell Pepe that. She didn’t want him to think she liked anything about him, not even his beautiful home.

                It was talking about her father that had done it.

                Her father, the arch charmer, the man who could make a woman forgive him over and over, make a woman believe his faults were in fact her faults.

                Pepe’s charm had always felt different from her father’s. He had none of her father’s seediness. Or sleaze.

                But one thing he did have was the ability to make her want to believe in him. She’d wanted to believe Pepe saw her as more than a one-night stand. On his jet she’d felt herself thawing towards him, his gorgeous, easy-going smile slowly melting the edge of her defences. More than that, though, had been the unexpected depths she’d seen in his eyes. For a few moments she could have sworn she’d seen pain in them, something dark, something that hinted there was more to him than what he wore on the surface.

                She’d thought she’d seen more to him that weekend in Dublin when he had seduced her so thoroughly. And it had all been a lie. Just as everything that came out of her father’s mouth was a lie.

                Pepe was of the same mould. Something she would do well to remember.

                She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

                Another knock at the door.

                ‘Mademoiselle Delaney?’ came a muffled female voice.

                ‘I’m awake,’ she called back, slipping out of the bed. Much as she hated to admit it, that had to qualify as the most comfortable bed she had ever slept on.

                The handle turned and a middle-aged woman carrying a tray of coffee and croissants walked in.

                Cara remembered her from their arrival, was certain Pepe had introduced her as Monique, his housekeeper.

                ‘Good morning,’ said Monique, heading straight for a small round table in the corner of the room and placing the tray on it. ‘Did you sleep well?’

                ‘Yes, thank you,’ she answered in a small voice, forcing a smile. She always felt so...noodley when with strangers, as if her tongue had loosened, then tied itself into knots.

                ‘Your deliveries have arrived,’ Monique told her, drawing back the heavy full-length curtains to reveal a small balcony.

                Morning sunshine filled the room.

                Cara cleared her throat. ‘What deliveries?’

                ‘From the boutiques. I will bring them to you now. Monsieur Mastrangelo has requested that you be ready to leave in an hour.’

                Her heart sinking, Cara remembered a trip to the Loire Valley was on the day’s agenda.

                Her spirits lifted a fraction when Monique, assisted by a young woman, brought the boxes of clothes in to her, and a hand-case of toiletries.

                ‘If there is anything else you require, please let me know,’ Monique said before leaving the room.

                Putting her half-eaten croissant to one side, Cara began going through the boxes, her spirits sinking all over again as she fingered the beautiful fabrics and accessories.

                Why couldn’t Pepe have ensured the clothing he’d ordered for her was inappropriate and gross? Here was an entire wardrobe for her and there was not a single item she wouldn’t have selected herself if money had not been an object. Simple, elegant, casual clothing with an innate vibrancy. Even the nightdresses he’d ordered were beautiful.