“Be assured that once you enter the doorway of my home, I will not trespass again except by your invitation. But if you indicate by the smallest word or deed that you want something more, it shall be yours. Only be very certain of your desire. Once I have you, I will not let you go until whatever is between us is finished.”
She swallowed before she spoke, a movement in the slim line of her throat that he watched with a painful need to feel it under his mouth. “There is nothing between us.”
“You think not?”
“You are very sure of yourself,” she said with a lift of her chin.
She had courage. Nico saluted it even as he deplored it. He would have preferred that she tremble against him instead of suppressing the small tremors that shook her, that she be unable to meet his eyes instead of watching him like a gazelle eyeing a prowling lion, deciding whether to flee or ignore danger. Either of these would indicate a more certain surrender.
And yet her defiance made his heart swell. She did not fear him entirely. She might yet answer his unsubtle invitation.
“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice soft with promise. “I am unsure of one thing only, and that is what you want.”
~ ~ ~
What was she to make of Nicholas de Frenza’s declaration? Amanda worried at the question as she tugged her suit jacket back into place with spasmodic jerks, swept trembling fingers through her hair to tidy it. She was not used to the sophisticated games or sensual experiments that left her lips tingling with the rush of blood, aching as if something important had been interrupted. Nor could she be sure he meant his warning, though she could not imagine why else he might have given it.
She barely knew the man who turned from her now to take out his phone again, could not count even twenty-four hours since they had first met. Relationships took far longer to develop than he seemed to be suggesting. Besides, the idea that someone used to moving in the rarified circles of continental society would single her out for an affair was ridiculous.
That was just as well as she wasn’t interested.
Even if her thoughts were not all for Jonathan, she would be wary of sexual games. She had no time for them, had never felt the urge to indulge in brief, meaningless affairs, getting naked with men she barely knew. To start now, with someone so far out of her league, could bring only heartache. There was absolutely no future in it.
So she was attracted to him. So he made her blood sing as it tumbled through her veins and danced through the too-tight chambers of her heart? It meant nothing, just as the fact that he was Italian need not automatically mean he would be a skilled and tender lover.
Why — why — was she thinking such things when he probably meant nothing at all beyond what he had said? Well, or else he’d been curious to see how she would react, to discover if she was available. Had perhaps thought they might ease their mutual stress with a fast and meaningless joining of bodies.
It wasn’t happening.
She crossed her arms over her chest, crossed her legs as well to ease the hollow ache between them. The next time the two of them visited the hospital she would slip away and find her own hotel room. He could hardly keep her a prisoner.
Yet glancing at him as he rode beside her, noting the brooding expression in his eyes and forbidding, untamed set of his handsome mouth, she was not entirely certain of it.
Villa de Frenza.
The words, highlighted by golden morning light, were incised into a gracefully sculpted white marker set amidst clipped shrubbery that flanked an enormous set of iron gates. The moss and lichen that straggled over the marble surface made it appear so ancient and incredibly venerable that Amanda wondered if she should recognize it from some history lesson.
Certainly, Nicholas had expected her to know the name. It did seem vaguely familiar, in all truth, though she could not quite grasp the reason.
They turned between the gates, nosing onto a drive that wound between masses of sunflowers backed by evergreens. Moments later, they came to open hills topped by dark green spires of cypress trees. Beyond was an endless grove of silvery olives, gray ghosts of trees that marched away toward the burning blue of the sea. Set among the olives, like a jewel nestled in soft gray velvet, was a house of astounding beauty, a fantastic Palladian villa that stared down at its reflection in the lake.
Villa de Frenza.
Good grief. Of course.
Astonishment gripped Amanda as she recognized the famous structure of stone turned mellow-gold with age, with its perfectly proportioned wings on both sides and dark green shutters arched to match the windows they covered, its elaborate front entrance with columned portico featuring a cartouche embossed with a weathered crest.
She had seen the mansion and its perfect reflection a thousand times on supermarket shelves and in her own kitchen cabinet. It was featured on colorful metallic labels attached to millions upon millions of bottles.
“Villa De Frenza Olive Oil,” she murmured.
The brand was august indeed, even historic, a recognized standard of quality the world over. It was no wonder Nicholas de Frenza had far-flung business contacts, a private jet, personal assistants at his beck and call and shining limousines that slid to a stop in front of him the moment he appeared. Also no mystery why the paparazzi were drawn to any hint of scandal or catastrophe attached to one who without doubt mingled with the rich, famous and titled of Europe.
It wasn’t at all surprising that he had the influence to see to it Jonathan was charged with negligence, if not worse, in the accident that injured his sister.
“Si?” Nicholas lifted a brow, his gaze intent and brooding as he studied her.
“I didn’t realize,” she said, her voice defensive yet bemused. “Not until this moment.”
“Evidently.”
“I suppose the name — but it never occurred to me. I must not have been thinking straight. Besides, you can’t be the only de Frenza in Italy.”
“By no means. Nor am I the only one that matters,” he answered, his voice dry. “I’d thought your brother would have made the connection for you.”
“I told you it’s been weeks since I spoke to him. Apparently he was too caught up in getting to know your sister to have the time.”
“As you say,” he agreed before turning his gaze to the window again.
The car approached the house and pulled up on the graveled court that fronted it. The heavy entrance door swung open before the vehicle came to a complete stop. A large woman wearing a pristine white apron over her simple black dress hurried down the stone steps. She burst into speech before the driver could come around to open the door. Amanda feared for an instant that she was delivering bad new, but her eyes were bright and her voice carried nothing but pleasure at the return of Il Signor.
Nicholas answered with composure as he left the car then turned to give Amanda his hand. She would have liked to refuse his offer of help, but had not quite mastered the art of climbing from a limousine with grace. Besides, she was oddly reluctant to embarrass him in front of what must be his housekeeper.
“This is Erminia,” he said. “I called ahead to tell her you would be joining us. She will show you to the room she has made ready for you.” He turned to the housekeeper, continuing in Italian that had the sound of detailed instruction. The woman nodded her understand. Then her face dimmed with concern as she spoke again.
“Erminia offers her condolences on the injury of your brother,” Nicholas translated. “Jonathan was here often while I was away, and seems to have earned a place in her good graces. He was even allowed to call her Minnie Mouse as a play upon her name. She will bring something to drink and a light snack, if it pleases you.”
Minnie Mouse. That was so Jonathan, Amanda thought, even if the teasing name didn’t quite match the Italian housekeeper’s as Nicholas had given it. Scornful of formality when it seemed most required, effortlessly charming, her brother would have taken great pains to earn the approval of those important to the woman he loved.
Amanda’s throat closed, making it impossible to speak, though she smiled at the housekeeper.
“You will have time to rest before lunch is served on the terrace,” Nicholas continued. “Allora, you will go with her now.”
What else was there to do? Amanda thanked him politely and entered Villa de Frenza in Erminia’s wake.
The house was dim and cool inside, smelling faintly of ancient wood and antique carpets, lemon oil furniture polish and the ghosts of a thousand bouquets. Walls of cream plaster were hung with portraits and tapestries, and colorful Olympian figures drifted about overhead inside an egg-shaped dome. More of the same was revealed through a series of doors on either side, while a double staircase of white marble mounted at the rear.
Grand though it undoubtedly was, the villa had a lived-in feeling, a certain genteel lack of perfection that was oddly comforting. With its obvious immunity to change or modern decorating trends, it reminded Amanda of old Southern plantation houses she’d see on home tours.
She smiled with weary pleasure at the room she was shown into for her stay. It was of a piece with the rest, having only a bit more modern influence in its color scheme of golden beige highlighted with various shades of blue. The space was cavernous, as large as her entire apartment, and included in its furnishings a huge antique wardrobe in place of a closet. The en suite bathroom was modern, however, with a walk-in shower and acres of mirrors.