To repay an old debt...

Deliciously handsome Count Vittorio Martelli’s promise to repay his late father’s debt leads him to penniless and unemployed Jackie Benton. So to start with, he offers her a prestigious job in Rome working for him!

He’ll take her as his fiancée!

Jackie cannot believe her luck when an Italian stranger hands her a lifeline out of the blue. But when she gets there she discovers Vittorio also needs a convenient fiancée...and feisty, hardworking Jackie is the perfect candidate!

‘Shall we dance?’ Vittorio asked. ‘And couldn’t you smile at me as though I was your heaven on earth?’

‘But what would that prove?’ Jackie asked. ‘Only that I’m one of the crowd chasing you. Now, if you smiled at me that would be better. But don’t worry. I do understand why you don’t want to.’

‘Don’t I?’

‘Your heaven on earth? Me? More like purgatory, driving you mad.’

‘Which is just how you like it.’

‘I can’t deny that.’

They laughed together. Those dancing near them observed that they were in perfect accord and exchanged significant glances.

‘Now we’ve really given them something,’ she teased.

‘And if they heard me tell you that you look wonderful tonight they’d enjoy that even more.’

‘No, don’t say that.’

‘But I want to say it.’ He raised his voice. ‘You’re lovelier than ever tonight.’

Dear Reader,

I have always loved traveling. Fascinating places all over the world have lured me in and provided the settings for my books. Nowhere is that more true than Italy, where I met the love of my life. It’s not a coincidence that so many of my books have Italian heroes and Italian settings.

It was a pleasure to write about Vittorio, an Italian count, whose glamorous estate is close to Rome. He was stunned by meeting Jackie, an English girl whose ideas about life were a revelation.

At first everything seems to be against them. His father did hers a terrible wrong, and Vittorio’s attempts to repay Jackie are met with rejection, something he’s never known before. From then on all he cares about is winning her over, and he discovers emotional aspects of himself that he’d never dreamed of.

We think of true love as a meeting of hearts, but love gains extra strength if it’s also a meeting of minds. For me, one of the crucial moments between Vittorio and Jackie comes when he says to her, “You understand things that nobody else could.”

He means that she understands him, and it draws him ever closer to her. His knowledge of her isn’t quite so deep, but his growing love leads him along the path to true unity. Their great moment comes when he finally manages to look into her mind and understand what he sees. After that their future is secured.

Best wishes,

Lucy Gordon

A Proposal from the Italian Count

Lucy Gordon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men. She’s had many unusual experiences, which have often provided the background for her books. Once, while staying in Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed in two days. They were married for forty-five happy years, until his sad death. Naturally this has affected her writing, in which romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly. Two of her books have won a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award. You can visit her website at www.lucy-gordon.com.

I dedicate this book to my Italian husband, Roberto, who taught me so much about Italy, and whose love inspired me to set so many books there.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

‘I DID WRONG. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. All in a moment I found that I could be wicked.’

The old man lying on his deathbed spoke weakly, for his strength was fading fast. Vittorio, the young man sitting beside him, grasped his hand and spoke urgently. ‘Don’t say such things, Papà. You’re not wicked. You never could be.’

‘Try saying that to George Benton. He was the man I robbed of a million, whose life I ruined, although he never knew it.’

Vittorio rubbed a frantic hand over his eyes and said fiercely, ‘But that’s impossible. How could he not have known?’

His father’s eyes closed and he turned his head, as though too full of despair to say any more. Vittorio rose and went to the window, looking out onto the grounds. They were lavish, extensive, perfectly suited to the Counts of Martelli, their owners for five hundred years.

Franco, the present Count, lay still as his life slipped away. Vittorio knew that his father’s mind had often been confused recently. And surely this was merely another example. Yet there was a desperation in the dying man’s manner that warned him of something different; something fearful.

‘Don’t worry about it. Papà,’ Vittorio urged, sitting by the bed again. ‘It’s all in the past.’

‘It will never be in the past until it’s put right,’ the Count murmured. ‘We were friends. We’d met here, in Italy, when he came on holiday. We became friends, and when I went to England a few weeks later I visited him. He was younger than me, and that made him fun to be with. We enjoyed a good time, going out for the evening, having a drink, charming women. And we placed a bet. It was just innocent fun—until his gamble paid off! He didn’t know. He was too woozy with drink by then. So I cashed in his winnings, then supported him home and put him to bed.’

‘What did you do then?’ Vittorio asked quietly.

‘I’d had the bank draft made out in my name. I did intend to cash it, and pass the money over to George once he was sober, but I fled before he could wake up.’

‘And he never suspected?’

‘How could he? I never told him about winning. The next day I cashed the draft and returned home to Italy. I never meant to do wrong. I’d just succeeded to the title, but my pleasure was tempered by the discovery of the debt hanging on the estate. Now suddenly I could clear the debt. The world was bright again. It was wonderful to have people showing me respect, calling me Count Martelli.’ He managed a wry smile. ‘Vittorio—my son—you’ll soon know that feeling.’

‘Don’t, Papà,’ Vittorio said with soft violence. ‘I don’t want you to die.’

The elderly Count squeezed his hand. ‘You’re a good son. But my time has come.’

‘No,’ Vittorio said fervently. ‘You must stay with me a little longer.’

The thought of losing the father he loved was intolerable. His mother had died giving birth years ago. His father had raised him since then, and together they had been a team, each meaning more to the other than anyone else ever could. Now the man who was the centre of his life was to be snatched from him, and the pain was agonising.

‘Fight it, Papà,’ he pleaded. ‘Another day, another month, another year. I’m not ready to do without you.’

‘You won’t have to. I’ll always be there with you—in your mind, your heart, wherever you choose.’

‘I choose to keep you with me in every way,’ Vittorio whispered.

‘My son—my son—there’s just one thing I would ask of you.’

‘Whatever it is, I’ll do it.’

‘All these years I’ve got away with what I did, and now that the end is near—’ he shuddered ‘—I must seize my last chance to make amends—with your help. Promise me—swear.’

‘I’ll do anything I can. My word.’

‘Find Benton. Ask his forgiveness. If he needs money—’

‘I’ll give him whatever he needs. He’ll forgive you and you can rest in peace.’

‘Peace? I can no longer remember how that feels.’

‘But you will have it, Papà. Wherever you are. I promise.’

‘Thank you—thank you.’ Franco whispered the words over and over.

Vittorio rose quickly to pull the curtains across the window.

‘Don’t do that,’ his father begged. ‘You’ll shut out the light.’

‘I was afraid the sun was too dazzling for you.’

‘It won’t be for long.’ He gave a sigh. ‘Sunlight never lasts. You think it will. You think the light has come into your life for ever. But suddenly it’s gone and there’s only darkness.’

Vittorio sat down again, taking his father’s hands in his. ‘Darkness can be fought,’ he said. ‘I’m going to fight this for you.’

‘One day you’ll have your own darkness to fight. You can never tell when it will come, or what will cause it. You must always be ready for what you’ve never expected. Take care of yourself, my son. Take care—when I’m no longer with you...’

His voice faded.

‘But you will always be with me. You must be. Can you hear me? Can you hear me Papà? Papà!’

But there was no response. Franco’s eyes had finally closed and he lay still.

Vittorio dropped his head against his. ‘I promise,’ he whispered. ‘I gave my word and I’ll keep it. Wherever you are—hear me, believe me, and rest in peace.’

CHAPTER ONE

THE WORLD WAS full of light and glamour. Excitedly Jackie danced this way and that, rejoicing in the vision of her beautiful self that appeared in the mirror. Music played in the distance, inviting her into a universe in which she was the heroine.

But abruptly the dream ended. As she opened her eyes the real world fell back into place. The mirror’s reflection showed not the luscious beauty of her fantasy but Jackie Benton, a slender young woman with a face that was intelligent, but not beautiful.

She sighed, easing herself out of bed.

Surrounding her was the austere bedroom where she spent every night. By now she had hoped to leave it behind, move to a new home and a more exciting life. But fate had arranged things differently, confining her to Benton’s Market—the little shop where she lived and worked.

She’d spent most of her life in the tiny apartment over the shop that her father, George Benton, had started twenty years earlier. He had fought to make it a success, always struggling with money worries, and raising his daughter alone when his wife had left him.

In his last years Jackie had been forced to run the shop alone—something that had given her an unexpected satisfaction.

She was clever and hardworking, able to retain information about all the stock, and produce it at a moment’s notice. Something which had at first impressed her father.

‘You really remembered all that?’ he would exclaim. ‘Well done! You’re in the right business.’

‘I get it from you,’ she had reminded him. ‘I remember when I was a child there were lots of times you made people gulp at what you could remember without having to look it up.’

It had been a happy moment, uniting father and daughter. He had been proud—not only of her memory but her ability to choose the best stock. Knowing this, she had felt her confidence grow, and she had begun to see herself as a serious businesswoman.

Just occasionally her father had given her a little warning advice. Once, when a temporary employee had flounced out in a temper, he’d said, ‘Did you have to be so hard on him?’

‘I wasn’t hard on him,’ she’d protested. ‘I just pointed out that he’d got something wrong. And he had.’

‘You might have been a bit more tactful.’

‘Oh, come on, Daddy,’ she had said, in a teasing voice. ‘What you mean is that a woman mustn’t tell a man that he’s wrong in case he’s offended. But we’re not living in the nineteenth century.’

He’d patted her hand. ‘You may not be, darling, but a lot of men are. You’re a bit too fond of giving orders.’

‘Too fond for a woman, you mean? You think I should just go along with him? Even when I know he’s an idiot?’

They had laughed fondly together, but she’d come to understand that he had been making a fair point. She had learned to speak with more care, but it was still exasperating to have to do so when she knew she was an expert.

She had gradually come to enjoy the feeling of being in command—not merely of their employees but of the whole running of the place. She had chosen stock and it sold well. She’d had the instincts of a talented businesswoman, and they had given her hope for the future.

But her hard work had come too late. Matters had started getting worse, owing to the mountain of her father’s debts that had piled so high that even her commercial success could not completely deal with it. Finally her father had been forced to sell the shop.

By then his life had been drawing to a close. Rik, the new owner, had reluctantly allowed them to stay in the little apartment upstairs, and Jackie had continued to work in the shop—but only part-time, so that she could always hurry upstairs to check that her father was all right. She nursed him gladly, giving him everything in her power in return for the loving care he had always shown her.

‘It’s so hard for you...to be caring for me and working downstairs as well,’ he had said once. ‘Such a burden.’

‘Stop it, Dad. You could never be a burden to me. Never.’

‘Bless you, darling. I wanted to leave the shop to you. I’d have been proud to give you a legacy. I hoped once—But there. It just didn’t work out.’

She would have loved to own the shop. So much of its success was due to her work, and it still held the atmosphere created by her beloved father. But she had known she must abandon that dream.

Her father had died a few days later. And then Rik had offered her a lifeline.

‘You’re welcome to stay if you become full-time. You can go on living here.’

She’d thought carefully before agreeing. She disliked Rik—an ill-tempered man in his forties—But she had accepted the job because it would give her a little time to work out her plan to escape into a new life—one in which she would have her own business, organising everything, using the talents she’d so gladly discovered.

Her dislike of Rik was well-founded. He had a high opinion of his own knowledge and skills, but Jackie felt that he actually knew very little. He made silly mistakes for which he blamed her.

She had tried to save money, hoping that soon she would be able to afford to leave and explore new possibilities. But it had been a hopeless task. Following George’s death had come the discovery of more debts that he hadn’t managed to pay, even with the money he’d made from selling the shop. Her savings had soon been swallowed up by them. And she had no hope of saving much more, given the meanly low pay Rik allowed her.

‘I give you a fair wage,’ he would say. ‘You live here for nothing. If you worked somewhere else you’d have to pay for accommodation.’

It was true. Frantically she had hunted for another job, but hadn’t been able to find one that paid enough to solve the problem. Now she felt trapped, and with no obvious way out she just had to hope for a miracle!

She showered and dressed carefully. She presented a picture of efficiency—ideal for the work that consumed her life—but her looks didn’t please her. She considered herself far too plain.

She opened her laptop and logged on to her bank to check the state of her account. The result made her groan with despair. She had very little money, despite her attempts to live frugally.

Dispirited, she opened an astrology website, and read her prediction.

The fates are planning a startling new beginning for you. The sun in Jupiter will bring things you never anticipated, and decisions that will change your life.

In her dreams, she thought wryly. Last week it had said she was going to be a millionaire. And look how that had turned out.

She read the prediction again, trying to see it as the approach of the miracle she longed for, and then hurried downstairs and opened up the shop. She served a couple of customers, then spent some time looking around.

The shop had a variety of stock, including home wares and groceries. She often wished she could persuade Rik to show a little more imagination about the stock. But he had no sympathy for her ideas.

‘This is a practical place, full of practical items,’ he’d once told her sternly. ‘You’re too fanciful, Jackie. That’s your trouble. You want life to be fun, and it isn’t designed that way.’

‘Not always fun,’ she’d protested. ‘Just a little bit of excitement now and then. I remember Daddy felt the same.’

‘You father spent too much time looking for fun. It was his ruin.’

‘Something ruined him...’ She’d sighed. ‘But I don’t think it was that.’

‘Get on with your work and stop wasting time.’

* * *

On the flight from Rome to London, Vittorio sat sunk in thought, wondering where the search for George Benton would finally lead him. Common sense told him he need not search at all. If he simply refused, who would ever know?

But his conscience would know. His promise had brought his father peace in his final moments. If he broke his word the knowledge would be with him for ever. And somewhere in his heart he sensed that his father’s reproaches would always haunt him.

Everything had changed with Franco’s death. He’d spoken of the pleasures of being Count Martelli, and Vittorio had soon discovered that it was true. The first time someone addressed him as ‘Signor Conte’ he had hardly been able to believe he’d heard correctly. His employees now treated him with deference, almost awe.

But his father had also spoken of other things—of the hidden problems behind the glamour, that the rest of the world knew nothing about. And here, too, he had been right.

Vittorio had gone through Franco’s things, seeking clues about his father’s past life and George Benton. He’d found a photograph of the two men together, which must have been taken during their meeting in England many years before.

How old would Benton be now? Middle-aged? At the height of his powers? Ready to take revenge on the family that had cheated him out of a fortune? He wasn’t looking forward to their meeting, but there was no choice.

Franco’s papers had also included a newspaper cutting, mentioning a shop called Benton’s Market. There was a picture of a small, shabby-looking shop, and one of George Benton, looking older than in the other picture.

That was Vittorio’s clue. He had a lead.

At the airport he hired a taxi and spent the journey studying a map of London. The area he sought was just north of the River Thames in the east of the city. As they approached the area Vittorio asked the driver, ‘Is there a hotel near here?’

‘There’s one just around the corner. Mind you, it costs a lot.’

‘Fine. Take me there.’

The hotel was pleasantly luxurious. He booked a room for the night, then went out to explore.

Almost at once he saw a corner shop with its sign proclaiming ‘Benton’s Market’. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists, vowing not to lose his nerve now.

Nearby was a small café, with tables outside. He found a seat, ordered some coffee and took out the photograph of Benton. From this angle he could see through the shop windows clearly enough to know if the man was there.

But time passed and there was no sign of him—only a young woman arranging stock in the main window. Much of it was already in place, but she was intent on reorganising it, giving it all her concentration.

He admired the woman’s dedication and artistic flair. He would value such an employee himself, to work in the department store he owned and managed in Rome.

Suddenly he tensed as a man appeared from the rear of the shop. Could this be Benton? But he looked nothing like the picture. His face was thin and severe. His manner to the woman suggested ill temper. When he spoke Vittorio could just make out the words through the open door.

‘Must you waste time faffing about over this? There’s a pile of stuff at the back needs unpacking.’

‘But I thought we agreed—’ she began to say.

‘Don’t argue. Just do as I tell you. Get going.’

Looking exasperated, she retreated to the back of the shop.

Vittorio approached the shop, entering with the air of an eager customer.

‘I’d like to buy some apples,’ he said.

‘We’ve got some here,’ the man said. ‘No—wait. They were over there. What has that stupid woman done with them?’

‘I’d also like to talk to Mr Benton, please.’

The man glanced up, scowling. ‘What do you want with him?’ His tone became suspicious. ‘You’re not another debt collector, are you?’

‘No, it’s a personal matter.’

‘Well, you can’t see him. He’s dead.’

‘Dead?’ Vittorio froze, feeling as though he’d heard a thunderclap. ‘When?’

‘A year ago. But his daughter still works here.’

‘Was that her I saw? Can I talk to her?’

‘You can, but not just yet. She’s got work to do. You’ll have to wait until she’s finished for the day.’

Feeling depressed, Vittorio departed. Returning to the café he settled again to watch the shop, trying to get his thoughts in order. Everything he’d planned was in a shambles. He must talk to Benton’s daughter and just hope that she was a sensible woman who would accept financial compensation and let the matter end.

Throughout the afternoon he saw many customers go into the shop. The young woman dealt with them efficiently, always smiling and friendly. Every one of them bought something from her.

Benton’s daughter was a natural saleswoman, it seemed.

He stayed there for four hours. He read the paper and then busied himself sending and receiving emails from his smartphone. The frustration of waiting was hard to endure but he forced himself. So much depended on this.

* * *

Inside the shop Jackie was working hard. Often she glanced out of the window, puzzled to see that the strange man was still there, sitting outside the café. She concluded that he must be a tourist, albeit a very well dressed one!

At last it was closing time. As she was preparing to leave, Rik arrived.

‘Don’t go yet,’ he said, scowling. ‘We need to have a talk about making new orders.’

‘But I can’t stay,’ she protested. She gave him a wry smile, saying, ‘And, let’s face it, you don’t pay me enough to make me want to do overtime.’

‘Don’t be impertinent. I pay you a fair wage. If you did better I might pay you more.’

‘It’s not my fault profits are low,’ she said indignantly. ‘I don’t think you’re buying enough of the right stock.’

‘And I don’t think you’re making a big enough effort,’ he said coldly.

In his anger he spoke with a raised voice.

Vittorio, a few feet away, heard him through the open door. He rose and headed for the shop, from where Rik’s grouchy voice could still be heard.

‘I’m not asking. I’m telling you to stay where you are so we can discuss these orders.’

‘No!’ Jackie said furiously.

Once before she’d agreed to this demand and it had stretched to two hours, without so much as a penny being added to her wages.

‘Now, look, Jackie—’

‘We can talk tomorrow,’ she said desperately.

Unable to bear any more, she fled blindly—and collided with a man entering through the front door. She began to fall, nearly taking him down with her.

‘I’m sorry—’ she gasped.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ Vittorio said, holding her firmly.

‘Come back here,’ Rik snapped, reaching out to take her arm in a fierce grip.

‘Let me go!’ she cried.

‘I’ll let you go when you do what you’re paid to do.’

The last word ended on a yelp that burst from him at the feel of Vittorio’s hand gripping his wrist.

‘Let her go,’ ordered Vittorio.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ Rik wailed.

‘I said let her go, and you’d better do so if you know what’s good for you.’ Vittorio’s voice was harsh and unrelenting.

Jackie felt Rik’s painful grip on her arm loosen, until she was able to free herself.

A glance back at Rik showed he was scowling. She hurried away, following Vittorio, who put his arm protectively around her.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss.’

‘Don’t blame yourself.’ She sighed. ‘He’s always like that.’

‘I’m afraid I tripped you.’

‘No, I tripped you. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘But you stumbled. Are you sure you aren’t hurt? I thought you might have twisted your ankle.’

‘Just a little.’

‘You should sit down. Let’s go into the café.’

Once inside, he took her to a table in the corner, summoned the waiter and ordered coffee. When it was served he took a deep breath.

‘Signorina—’

‘My name’s Jacqueline Benton. People call me Jackie.’

‘Thank you—Jackie.’

‘You called me signorina. Are you Italian?’ She sounded hopeful.

‘Yes, my name is Vittorio.’

She seemed pleased at the discovery. Smiling, she offered her hand. ‘Buon giorno, Vittorio.’

‘Buon giorno, Jackie.’

‘I really thank you for what you did—rescuing me from Rik.’

‘He must be a nightmare to work for. But I guess you’re out of a job now.’

‘Probably not. You’re right—he is a nightmare. But things like that have happened before. He always apologises afterwards.’

‘He what? I find that hard to believe.’

‘So do I, in a way. But if I left it would be hard for him to find someone who’d put up with his horrible behaviour while knowing the place as well as I do.’

‘So he knows how to act for his own benefit?’ Vittorio said wryly.

‘Oh, yes. Mind you, I suppose you could say that of everyone. We all do what suits us, and we don’t really think about anyone else’s feelings.’

He knew an uneasy moment. Was it possible that she suspected the truth about his arrival?

But she was smiling pleasantly, and he told himself not to panic.

‘I find it hard to believe that of you,’ he said gently.

‘Oh, I can be selfish when it suits me.’ She gave him a cheeky smile. ‘You wouldn’t believe the lengths I go to just to get my own way.’

He smiled back, charmed by her impish humour.

‘I’ll believe whatever you care to tell me,’ he said. ‘But you don’t need to go to any great lengths. Just say what you want and I’ll take care of it.’

That could be quite a temptation, she thought, remembering what she had read on the astrology site.

The fates are planning a startling new beginning for you. The sun in Jupiter will bring things you never anticipated...

Certainly she hadn’t anticipated a charming, handsome man declaring himself at her service.

Watching her face, Vittorio managed to read her expression fairly well. He guessed she was trying decide how much fun they might have teasing each other.

And it might be really good fun, he thought. As well as humour there was a warmth in her eyes that tempted him to move closer.

‘Rik said a man was asking after my father,’ she said. ‘Was that you?’

‘Yes. I was sorry to hear that he was dead.’

‘Why are you looking for him?’

Vittorio hesitated, sensing the approach of danger. Suddenly he was reluctant to disturb the delightful atmosphere between them.

‘My own father knew him several years ago,’ he said carefully.

‘How did they meet? Did your father try to sell him some Italian goods for the shop?’

‘No, he wasn’t a salesman. He was Count Martelli.’

He waited for her to react with delight to hearing his status, as he was used to, but she only said ironically, ‘A count? You’re the son of a count? Are you kidding?’

‘No, I’m not. And, since my father has died, I am the Count.’

She burst into a delicious chuckle. ‘You must think I’m so gullible.’

‘Why don’t you believe me?’

‘Because my father never once mentioned knowing a count—or even admitted meeting one. I just can’t imagine that my father was ever friends with an aristocrat, not when we were so poor.’

‘Was he really poor? He managed to start his own business.’

‘He borrowed a lot of money to buy the shop. And it was a big mistake. He never really made the profit he needed, and we always lived on the edge of poverty.’

‘That must have been a very sad life for you,’ Vittorio said uneasily.

‘Not for me as much as for him. It destroyed his marriage to my mother. She left him for another man. For years Daddy and I had only each other. I adored him. He was a lovely man...sweet-natured, generous. I went to work in the shop, to help him. It wasn’t the life I’d planned—I’d dreamed of going to university. But I couldn’t abandon him. And in the end he was forced to sell. Rik beat him down on the price, but he offered me a job and let us go on living there. I did all I could for Daddy, but it wasn’t enough. A couple of years ago he had a heart attack.’

Vittorio dropped his head, staring at the floor. In his worst nightmares he’d never imagined anything as bad as this. If George Benton had received the money that should have been his everything would have been different for him. He might even be alive now.

What would she say when he told her?

He clenched his fists, trying to find the courage to do the right thing.

But his courage failed him, and to his relief the waiter appeared.

‘We’re about to close, sir.’

‘Then I guess we have to go,’ he said hurriedly, trying not to sound too relieved.

It was dark outside. He walked Jackie to the shop door and waited, wondering if she would invite him in. But she only said, ‘I’m glad we met. It was nice to have coffee.’

‘Yes, it was. Jackie...’ He hesitated, uncertain how to go on.

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. Perhaps we can—see each other again. I’d like to talk.’

‘So would I. Tomorrow?’

‘I’ll look in.’

She went inside, locking the door behind her. For some moments Vittorio stood in silence, trying to come to a troubling decision.

He should have told her everything, but he knew the truth would hurt her greatly. He felt that in his heart, and flinched from striking that blow.

He’d planned every step of the way how he would confront George Benton, explain, apologise, and draw a line under it. Instead he found himself confronted with a woman whose sweetness and vulnerability touched his heart. And the truth was he didn’t know how to respond.

After standing there hopelessly for several minutes he turned and hurried away into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

NEXT MORNING VITTORIO awoke early. The clock said half past five and suddenly there seemed no point in staying in bed. Showering and dressing quickly, he headed straight out.

It felt good to enjoy the fresh air and the fast-growing light. But then he saw something that alarmed him. A young woman walking away in the distance. It was hard to be certain of details, but she looked strangely like...

Jackie.

Wanting to be sure, he hurried after her, but she turned a corner out of sight.

Cursing, he ran desperately through the streets. He didn’t know London at all. It was hopeless, he thought frantically when he found himself by the River Thames. She must be walking along the embankment—but in which direction?

Then luck was with him. After a hundred yards he could see her, sitting on a bench, staring out over the water. He moved closer, struck by the way she seemed sunk in another world. It reminded him of himself the night before.

He stayed silent, unsure whether it was right for him to disturb her, but after a moment she glanced up.

‘Vittorio? What are you doing up this early?’ she asked.

‘I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d stretch my legs. How are you this morning, Jackie? Are you worried about facing Rik today?’

‘I’m fine—honestly.’

‘Forgive me, but I don’t think you are.’ He lifted her chin with his fingers, looking at her face. ‘You’ve been crying.’

‘Just a little.’

He put his arms round her, overtaken by a desire to care for her. Protectiveness was a feeling he’d seldom, if ever, known before, and now it was almost alarming. He had to tell her something that would break her heart, and suddenly he wasn’t sure that he could do it.

‘Hold on to me,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll be all right.’

‘Sometimes I think things will never be all right,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to dump all this on you, but I can’t talk about Daddy without—’

‘Without remembering all the bad things that happened to him?’

‘I don’t know why, Vittorio, but I feel I could tell you anything.’

She looked up again and the sight of her vulnerable face swept him with a desire to kiss her. He yielded—but only to lay his lips on her forehead.

‘Do you want to tell me any more?’ he murmured.

‘You can’t want to hear such a terrible story,’ she said.

She was more right than she could imagine, he thought wretchedly. But he owed it to her to listen.

‘You can tell me anything, Jackie.’

She brushed the tears aside from her face. ‘I don’t really know what to say... It isn’t my tragedy.’

‘In a way it is. You lost too. You wanted to go to university. What did you want to study?’

‘I wanted to study languages. They just seem to come easily to me.’

He regarded her wryly.

‘Buon per te, signorina. La maggior parte delle persone non possono far fronte con le lingue.’

He spoke in Italian. His words meant, ‘Good for you signorina. Most people can’t cope with languages.’

‘Italian is the language I manage best,’ she said. ‘I took a few classes at night school, because we were planning to take a holiday there together. My father longed to travel to Italy. He’d been there once as a young man.’

‘Did he tell you a lot about his visit?’

‘Yes, he said it was such fun.’

‘Did he never mention meeting my father?’ he asked.

‘He mentioned an Italian friend, but said nothing at all about him being a count! They met in Italy and then again in England a few weeks later. From what Daddy said I gather they got on really well and enjoyed each other’s company.’

Vittorio nodded. ‘Yes I remember Papà saying something like that—I gather they had quite a few adventures together whilst he was there.’

‘Daddy said things like that too. He had such a lovely time with his Italian friend. Only then—’ She checked herself.

‘Then?’ Vittorio said tensely. He had an uneasy feeling that he knew what was coming.

‘Then suddenly it was all over. One day they were close buddies—the next day his friend disappeared. He left a note but it didn’t say much. Just Goodbye my friend. Franco’. No address, nothing. Daddy couldn’t contact him and he never heard from him again. It left him very unhappy after what they’d been to each other.’

‘He told you that? Didn’t he tell you any more about who the man was?’

‘No, just that his name was Franco. If he’d known more he’d have told me, I’m sure. Maybe your father never let him know that he was a count?’

‘Maybe...’ he murmured.

Their eyes met, and what Jackie saw took her breath away. There was an intensity in his gaze as though nothing but herself existed in the world. It was something she’d never seen in any man’s eyes before, and she became suddenly conscious of the soft thump of her own heartbeat.

‘Jackie—’ Vittorio checked himself, unsure how to continue. This was taking more courage than he had anticipated.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine—but there’s something I must—’

She felt a sudden sense of brilliant illumination—as though the clouds had parted on a rainy day. She’d hardly dared to hope that the vibrant attraction that possessed her possessed him too, but now she let herself wonder if perhaps it did.

A memory returned to her. That astrology prediction had said, The fates are planning a startling new beginning for you. The sun in Jupiter will bring things you never anticipated, and decisions that will change your life.

It was happening. This was the great moment that fate had planned for her. Now surely he would tell her how their meeting had affected his heart, and that was something her own heart longed to know.

She clasped his hand between hers.

‘Whatever you have to say, I know I’ll like it,’ she breathed. ‘We’ve understood each other from the first moment, and—’

‘Yes...’ he murmured. ‘Yes—yes—’

He knew the next few minutes would be tense, but something in her seemed to reach out to him, drawing him into a circle of warmth such as he’d never known before. It was what he needed most in all the world, and he knew a moment of fear lest his revelation ruin things between them.

He raised her hands and brushed his lips against them. ‘I hope so much that you’re right,’ he said. ‘But you can’t imagine—’

‘I think I can. Daddy always said you had to be ready for the unexpected.’ She met his eyes, her own full of happiness and hope. ‘And I’m ready for anything. Say it, Vittorio, and you might like my answer.’

He drew a sharp breath. Now the moment had come when he must find the courage to tell her everything.

But the sight of her eyes shining up at him caused his courage to fail. Suddenly he could see how that light would fade when she knew the terrible truth behind her father’s suffering. The thought of her pain made him shudder, and he knew he could not force himself to speak.

‘I have to go,’ he said uneasily.

‘What? But—’

‘I’m expecting an important phone call. I have to get back to the hotel.’

He rose to his feet and she followed him reluctantly. Suddenly a moment filled with magic had dissolved into nothing, leaving her desolate.

As they walked back beside the river it began to drizzle.

‘Better get back quickly, before it really starts to rain,’ he said.

They hurried the rest of the way, until they reached the shop.

‘I’ll see you again soon,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk then. Take care of yourself.’

Then he fled, devoured by thoughts whose bitterness was aimed accusingly at himself. He was no better than a coward!

His own words came back to him.

You can never tell what fate has in store for you.

It was more true than he could have dreamed. His plan for this meeting had never included the desire to hold her, comfort her, protect her—do anything rather than hurt her. It had overtaken him without warning, reducing him to helplessness. And there was no turning back.

Inside the shop, Jackie hurried up the stairs and looked out of the window in time to see Vittorio vanish around the corner.

She sighed sadly. It was obvious what had happened. He’d been about to kiss her but had changed his mind at the last moment.

Did he want her or not? He had seemed to be trying to tell her something without words. Had she misunderstood him? But he had seemed on the verge of telling her something.

What could it possibly be?

She busied herself opening up the shop. Saturdays were always busy. But somehow she couldn’t get stop thinking about him. He was there in her mind, his eyes glowing with a look that made her heart beat faster.

* * *

Next day was Sunday, which meant the shop was closed. Fearful of missing her, Vittorio hurried there early. He’d lost his nerve the day before, but he couldn’t risk losing it again.

A window opened above him and a voice said coolly, ‘Good morning, Vittorio.’

Jackie was looking down at him.

‘Morning!’ he cried, smiling brightly. ‘Can you come down?’

‘I’m not sure—’

‘Please, Jackie, it’s important. We really have to talk.’

‘We could have talked yesterday.’

‘Please.’

‘All right. I’ll just be a moment.’

She hurried down, full of hope that her tense wait would be over. He seemed to have come close and then retreated, and now she couldn’t bear any more. It must be the dream she’d longed for. They had known each other such a little time, but what did time matter when their hearts reached out to each other?

Perhaps his feelings were stronger than he’d known before, which was why he feared expressing them. But she would open her arms and her heart to him and they would both know happiness.

As soon as she appeared downstairs he put his arm about her shoulders.

‘Let’s have some breakfast in the café. It’s nice and comfortable in there.’

‘And we can talk,’ she said eagerly.

When they were settled she waited for him to speak, but again he felt silent, as though attacked by doubt at the last moment. Her heart sank. Her hopes had risen so high. She couldn’t bear to lose them again.

‘Vittorio, please tell me,’ she said. ‘Whatever is on your mind I can tell it’s important.’

‘Yes, it is...’ he said hesitantly.

‘Then please be brave and say it. Are you afraid of what I’ll say?’

‘I might be,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you can imagine—’

She touched his face. ‘Tell me, Vittorio. Let’s get it out between us and then tell each other how we feel.’

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘You’re right. Do you remember—?’

‘Remember?’

‘How we talked about our fathers yesterday.’

‘Yes, I remember, but—’

‘I should have told you then. It’s a terrible story, Jackie, but I have to tell you. Your father once placed a bet that won a million pounds.’

‘But that can’t be true! He’d have told me—we’d never have been in the situation we found ourselves in if that had been the case.’

‘He didn’t know. My father and yours were out together one night. Your father got tipsy, and he was dozing when the results were announced. When he awoke my papà had taken the winnings and kept them.’

Jackie had a terrible feeling of having crash-landed. The words reeled in her head. Only one thing was clear.

This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

‘What on earth are you saying?’ she demanded. ‘You can’t mean that he didn’t tell Daddy he’d won? That would be dishonest, and surely—’

‘It was the only dishonest thing he ever did, and it tormented him. He told me about it just before he died.’

‘Is this—this what you’ve been trying to say?’ she stammered.

‘Yes, it took me this long to pluck up the courage to tell you that my family has damaged yours. I’m sure you’ll find it hard to forgive. Right at this minute you probably hate me.’

That was closer to the truth than he could possibly know. As her dreams collapsed, leaving her in the middle of a desert, she felt a terrifying rage begin to take her over.

‘There’s something else I have to tell you,’ Vittorio said. ‘I’m not sure how it will make you feel.’

‘Try me,’ she whispered, with a faint flicker of renewed hope.

‘Papà made me promise to find your father and sort things out.’

‘Sort things out? What do you mean by that?’

‘I planned to give him the money Papà took from him. A million pounds. I hoped it would make everything all right.’

She stared at him, barely able to believe what she was hearing.

‘You hoped what?’ she said furiously. ‘You really hoped things could be made “all right” after so many years? After Daddy suffered so much from poverty and it made his wife abandon him? After the way he died in despair? You can’t give him your money now.’

‘But I can give it to you.’

‘You think that will make his suffering all right?’

‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Vittorio said tensely.

‘Oh, yes, you did. You think money can solve everything—but when a man’s dead it can’t solve anything at all. You don’t understand that, do you? Hand over a cheque and everything’s settled! Maybe that’s true in business, but not in real life. But you don’t know anything about real life.’

‘Jackie, please—let me explain. I only want to—’

‘You only want to make yourself feel good.’

‘I don’t think money solves everything, but I’d like to pay the debt my family owes.

‘This is a con. Do you really expect me to believe that you can hand over a million pounds, just like that?’

‘You think I don’t have that much? You’re wrong. My father didn’t waste the million he gained.’

‘You mean the million he stole,’ she raged.

‘Very well—he stole it. But he wanted to pay it back. He invested it successfully, so that it made several more millions. I can give you back every penny—plus a few thousand for interest.’

‘Oh, you think it’s so easy, don’t you? I wouldn’t take money from you if I was starving. This conversation is at an end.’ She stood up. ‘And don’t you dare follow me.’

He’d reached out a hand to stop her, but something fierce in her manner made him draw back.

‘Please—’ he began.

‘No. Don’t you understand? No!’

She fled, fearful lest her true feelings become too plain. Instead of the loving emotion she’d hoped for he’d offered her money. If she’d stayed a moment longer she was afraid she might have done something violent.

Her departure left Vittorio in a state of total confusion and misery. Nothing had worked out as he’d intended. He’d failed to fulfil his father’s dying wish. Guilt tore at him.

He paid his bill and went out into the street, walking back in the direction of the shop. There was no sign of her.

There was nothing to do but return to the hotel and do some serious thinking about what he was going to do next.

But he found that serious thinking was very little help in a situation he didn’t understand.

* * *

The rest of Jackie’s day and night was tormented. The incredible events of the morning whirled through her brain, and at the end of the day—even though she was exhausted and wrung out when she finally got to bed—she couldn’t sleep. Instead she sat up in bed and opened the laptop she always kept with her.

She did a search on ‘Count Martelli’. She was half ready to learn that he didn’t exist, that the whole thing had been a con, and for a moment it seemed that her suspicions were correct. The picture that appeared on the screen was of a man in his sixties.

He’s lying, she thought furiously. That’s the real Count.

But then she saw the text.

Count Franco Martelli, taken just before his death four weeks ago. His heir is his son, Vittorio Martelli, latest in a line stretching back five hundred years.

She clicked the link marked ‘Count Vittorio Martelli’ and and at once saw a photograph of the man she recognised. There was no doubt.

Her temper surged once more at the memory of Vittorio trying to pay her off to assuage his family’s guilt. But had she been too hasty? Had she let her temper get the better of her once again?

Vivid in her mind was the memory of her father’s suffering. He’d tried to put on a brave face for her sake, but he hadn’t always been able to manage it. Often she had found him in tears. He’d smiled and reassured her, but over time she had come to understand the problems. Her heart had broken for him. She had become his comforter, intent on giving him some kind of happiness.

But the last year of her father’s life had been the saddest she had ever known. She still wept when she remembered his suffering.

Vittorio thought money was the answer to everything!

And yet she knew there was another reason for her rage. When she remembered how her hopes of winning Vittorio’s feelings had risen, and then been smashed to the ground, she felt capable of murder.

He had just been playing a game until he had what suited him. He hadn’t spared a thought as to what it was doing to her.

So accept the money, said a voice in her head. He offered you a million—more than a million with interest.

Because he thought it would put right what his father had done. If he wasn’t such a heartless monster he’d know that nothing could ever make it right.

What would her father have done? If he were still alive it would be so different. Then of course they would have accepted the money. It would have been his due. But now he was gone would it be right for her to accept it on his behalf?

She closed the laptop and went back to bed. At last she managed to nod off, sinking into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Vittorio’s night had also been troubled. He’d fallen asleep easily, but found his dreams haunted by Jackie’s contempt until they were practically nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat.

He rose out of bed. He had no desire to go back to sleep lest the alarming female return to torment him. Day was breaking and he felt the need of a fresh air. Dressing hastily, he went downstairs and out into the street.

His thoughts were full of the promise he’d made to his beloved father. Come what might he had to make this right—for everyone’s sake.

Almost at once the shop came in sight. It was time for it to be open, so he went closer and looked through the glass door, but he could see no sign of anyone. Moving quietly, he opened the door and slipped inside. At once he heard the sound of voices coming from deep within. One was Jackie’s, and the other he recognised as the weasely boss who had appeared during his first visit. His voice was raised in annoyance.

‘Jackie, you’re mad. You should have got all you could out of the Count and then invested in this place. I could do with some money to cover the debts. You could have helped me out and you just turned it down? How could you be so stupid?’

She replied in a voice filled with rage that reminded Vittorio of the way she’d spoken to him with equal fury during last night.

‘You think I should have taken his money and used it for your convenience?’ she raged at Rik. ‘I’m not that stupid.’

Vittorio stepped a little closer, careful to keep out of sight but wanting to hear everything.

‘You just can’t recognise reality when it’s under your nose,’ came Rik’s reply. ‘You had the chance of a fortune. You could have taken it. But perhaps your fantasies are fixed on something else.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It’s him, isn’t it? You refused his money because you’re hoping for a better offer! You think you can lure him into marriage, but you’re wasting your time. A man like that wouldn’t marry you in a million years.’

‘And I wouldn’t marry him in a million years. He’s cold—and arrogant enough to think that money can solve anything.’

Vittorio made a wry face. A wise man would have slipped away at this moment, but he didn’t feel wise. He felt as though Jackie had seized him and was holding him at her mercy in whirls of confusion.

‘It can solve a great deal,’ he heard Rik say. ‘It could pay a lot of my debts—many of which are your fault.’

‘How can you say that?’

‘If you did a better job this shop would be doing well, instead of sinking into debt.’

‘The shop was in a bad way when my father sold it to you. That’s how you got it so cheap. I heard you—beating him down on the price when he was too weak to fight you.’

‘Don’t try to blame me for your father’s failings. Luckily it’s not too late. You’ve still got time to find this Italian Count and tell him you’ll take the money.’

‘You think I’d—? You’re mad.’

‘I’m telling you to do it.’

‘And I’m telling you to go to hell.’

‘I warn you, Jackie, you’re walking a very fine line. Perhaps I’d better see him myself—’

‘Perhaps you should,’ Vittorio said, stepping out so that they could see him.

Rik noticed him first, and the shock on his face alerted Jackie, so that she looked behind her, also appalled at the discovery.

Rik assumed a severe manner. ‘We have business to discuss,’ he said.

‘The only business we have is for you to listen to what I have to say,’ Vittorio said bluntly. ‘For you—not a penny.’

‘But you have a debt to pay,’ Rik squealed.

‘Not to you.’

‘Jackie, tell him,’ Rik whined. ‘Tell him he’s got to pay you what he owes you.’

Jackie looked intently at Vittorio, but did not speak.

‘Do it now,’ Rik snapped. ‘Let me hear you say it.’

‘I have nothing to say,’ she replied coldly. ‘The Count’s debt is impossible to repay.’ She met Vittorio’s gaze and said emphatically, ‘Ever!’

Rik looked from one to the other, scowling.

‘So that’s it,’ he raged. ‘You two are in this together. As soon as I’m out of earshot you’ll take the money and cut me out.’

‘You can’t be cut out because you were never in,’ Jackie said fiercely. ‘You bought this business fair and square, and any debts are now your responsibility. Besides, I will never take a penny of his money.’

‘You’re insane!’ Rik seethed. ‘What kind of fool turns down that sort of money? Well, if money’s of no importance to you then you won’t be needing this job. Or the accommodation I’ve provided for you. You’re fired. I’ll give you one hour to clear out your stuff from upstairs.’

Rik stormed out, pausing at the front door.

‘One hour!’ he yelled. ‘I mean it.’

Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

Vittorio turned swiftly to Jackie. ‘Good riddance.’ he said. ‘Forget him. He isn’t worth bothering with.’

Jackie was shaken, but determined to maintain her dignity. ‘How long were you there, listening?’

‘I came to see you and arrived just as you were telling him what had happened.’

‘I never meant to tell him, but he made me so angry that I said it to knock the smile off his face. I could have strangled him.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’d have enjoyed that.’

‘Don’t worry. He’s bound to give you another excuse. He’s a pig, Jackie, and you’re better off without him.’

‘But this isn’t just my job. I’ve lived here all my life and now I’ve lost my home, too.’

‘Then we must find you another one. Get packing and we’ll be out of here—fast.’

‘I’ve nowhere to go.’

‘Trust me to arrange that.’

She knew an instinct to rebel against him. This catastrophe had happened only because he’d come to England and caused trouble. Now she’d lost her job and her home, and he was to blame.

But was he really? If she hadn’t been silly enough to tell Rik about the money this wouldn’t have happened. When was she going to learn to control her temper?

Never, she thought fiercely.

‘Let’s get you out of here,’ Vittorio said. He took her arm and ran up the stairs with her and began opening drawers and cupboards, working hard to help her.

‘Is that your only suitcase?’ he asked, regarding the one she had produced.

‘Yes, but I’ve got some plastic bags.’

Luckily the bags proved enough to take her few possessions.

‘Anything else?’ he asked at last.

‘No, that’s all.’

‘You have nothing else?’ he asked, looking astonished.

‘This is all I need,’ she said defiantly.

He gave her an odd look, as though wondering what madness had made her refuse his money when she seemed to own so little, but all he said was, ‘Then let’s go.’

She looked around nervously as they went downstairs, but there was no sign of Rik.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as they went out into the street.

‘I’m staying in the Davien Hotel, a couple of streets away. We’ll get you a room there for tonight, then make our plans.’

She knew the hotel. It had a reputation as being costly.

‘I don’t think it’s quite the right place for me,’ she said uneasily.

‘If you’re worried about the money, don’t be. I’m paying. I landed you in this mess and it’s my responsibility to get you out.’

Suddenly she recalled Rik’s warning to her. He’d suggested that Vittorio was hoping to lure Jackie into bed with the empty promise of a great fortune.

Suddenly she was uneasy. Was that why Vittorio was taking her to his hotel at his own expense? Did he mean her to share his bed?

Only recently that thought would have excited her. Vittorio attracted her powerfully. The thought of lying with him in bed would have been a pleasure. But now everything was different. Was he trustworthy? Could she be sure?

A short walk brought them to the hotel. Vittorio went to Reception and chatted with the woman there as she typed something onto the keyboard. Nodding to her, he headed back to Jackie.

‘I’ve managed to secure you a room on the second floor.’

He escorted her upstairs, leading her to a door for which he had the key. She held her breath.

But when the door opened she knew she’d done him an injustice. There was only one single bed.

‘Th-thank you,’ she stammered.

‘If you need me I’m three doors along the corridor.’

He departed at once, leaving her standing alone, trying to take in everything that had happened. Only yesterday she had quarrelled with this man, and today he had come to her rescue and she had accepted his help gladly.

It doesn’t make any sense, she mused.

But nothing had made sense since she’d met him. Perhaps nothing ever would again.

He returned just as she finished putting her things away.

‘They do a good lunch here,’ he said. ‘I’ll have some sent up.’

‘Couldn’t we eat downstairs in the restaurant?’

‘Do I make you feel nervous, Jackie? Are you afraid to be alone with me?’

‘Of course not,’ she said uneasily. ‘I have no feelings about you one way or the other, actually,’ she lied bravely.

‘So you didn’t mean it when you said you wouldn’t marry me in a million years? Or the bit about me being cold and arrogant and a person who thinks money can solve anything?’

For a moment it was as though her worst nightmares were coming true. But then she saw he was grinning, and that his eyes were full of friendly humour.

‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘People say things in the heat of the moment. And it’s not far different from what you said to me yesterday. But it’s time we drew a line under that. We have to work matters out between us and be friends—if that’s possible.’

It was still embarrassing to know that he’d heard her, but his unexpected humour made it bearable.

‘So—can I have some food sent up?’ he asked.

‘Are you asking my permission?’

Again he gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Isn’t that what you prefer a man to do?’

‘Stop trying to make me sound like a bully.’

‘Not a bully. Just a woman who knows her own mind—as Rik would tell us after the way you stood up to him. He’s a nasty bully, but you really dealt with him.’

‘Yes—and that was so successful that now I’ve got to start looking for another job and a home.’

‘But where? You’ll never get another job around here. He’ll make sure of that.’

She groaned, recognising that Vittorio was right. Rik would spread the word that she was unreliable, destroying her prospects.

‘I still feel that I owe you any help I can persuade you to accept,’ Vittorio said.

‘You have a job to offer me?’

‘Not here, but in Italy. I could find many opportunities for you there. Why not come back with me?’

CHAPTER THREE

JACKIE STARED AT him in disbelief. ‘Italy? Did I hear right?’

‘Dead right. I want you to work for me in my family’s department store in Rome. Your talents will be valuable.’

‘But I’ve only ever worked in a little shop. I’d be useless in a department store.’

‘Not in our glass and china section. It’s a new department, and it isn’t doing brilliantly because nobody really understands it. But you could bring it to life and make it profitable.’

‘According to Rik, I was lousy at making profits.’

‘Were you? Or did he make a lot of stupid decisions?’

‘Yes, he buys all the wrong stuff.’

‘So I can rely on you to buy all the right stuff?’

‘Mightn’t the language be a problem? I never got to finish my Italian course at night school. I had to stop when Daddy became ill.’

‘A lot of people there speak English. Some of our customers are tourists, and your English would be a blessing to them. Your Italian seems already pretty good, and you can work to improve it.’

‘It’s very kind of you—’ she began uneasily.

‘No, it isn’t. I’m not being kind. I’m a businessman and I’m doing what any sensible businessman does—turning the situation to my own advantage. I could make a lot of money out of you, and I’m not passing up the chance to do that.’

‘But how—?’

‘You won’t just have that one department. I want you to cast your expert eye over the whole store and tell me how it looks to you—because that will tell me how it looks to our customers. Tourists are profitable, and you can help me attract plenty of them. And it could open some new doors for you, Jackie. I’ll pay you a decent wage—far more than Rik paid you—and you’ll have a position of authority.’

Authority. The word seemed to sing in her ears. This would truly be a new, more satisfying life—exactly what she had longed for. Again she had the mysterious feeling that Vittorio could read her mind.

‘Authority?’ she echoed. ‘Do you really mean that?’

‘You’d be in charge of your department. You’d have a team that would take your orders. Or don’t you feel up to giving orders?’

‘Oh, yes, I do. That was always my problem with Rik. And with my father too sometimes. He complained that I argued with him too much.’ She gave a brief laugh.

‘Don’t worry. When you’re working for me you can give all the orders you want. I’ll make it clear to the team that you’re the boss. You need never fear another bully like Rik.’

It sounded too good to be true, she thought, trying to suppress a flicker of confusion. Knowing the terrible truth about how her father had been treated had made hostility flare between them, but there were other feelings too—some warmer, some interested, all confusing.

But what else could she do? Where else was there for her to go? What other life was possible for her? It was as if all other doors had slammed shut and fate was driving her irresistibly into this man’s power.

Surely she could take advantage of the situation, just as he planned to do?

Here was a chance to learn new skills and gain new experiences that might open up a world of fresh opportunities for her.

‘All right,’ she said in a daze. ‘I’ll go to Italy with you.’

‘Good thinking. I knew I could rely on you.’

She ventured to say, ‘You mean because I’ve agreed with you?’

‘What else? That’s my definition of good thinking. So, now there’s nothing to hold you back we can go tomorrow. I’ll book two tickets.’

After booking the tickets Vittorio ordered a meal and a bottle of wine from room service.

‘After this I must attend to some business matters. I suggest you relax for the rest of the afternoon, and then I think we should both get an early night,’ he said, adding in a teasing voice, ‘In our separate rooms, I promise.’

‘Stop teasing,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

‘Good. Then we can both relax.’

‘Of course. We agree to be friends. That’s all.’

‘Friends...’ he mused. ‘What kind of friends? Best friends?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

She was right. Friendship was their only hope. Had she really feared lest he come to her door? After their argument the day before he could well believe that she didn’t want him. His own feelings for her were less clear.

Officially they were enemies, and his instinct to protect her was troublesome.

She was becoming important to him in ways that confused him. Perhaps soon he would understand them. For the moment he preferred to wait and see what fate had in store.

He lifted his glass of wine in her direction.

‘Here’s to you,’ he said. ‘You don’t know how much I’m going to rely on you.’

And it was true, he thought. She didn’t.

It was a quiet meal, with very little talk. Instinctively they both knew that for the moment enough had been said. Perhaps too much.

At the earliest moment they finished eating.

‘And now I really must get on with some work. I’ll head back to my room, but if you think of anything else you need today please call through.’

He bade her a polite good day, and left.

Returning to his room, he recalled something he’d meant to say to her, and hurried back to see her.

A surprise awaited him. He looked out into the corridor just in time to see her getting into the elevator and the doors closing.

Where on earth could she be going? he thought frantically. Surely not to talk to Rik?

There was no hope of catching up with the elevator. He went to his window and looked down. There she was, walking away along the road, and then turning through a large gate that he knew led to a church.

Every cautious instinct told him to stay where he was—not to follow her. But something about Jackie always overcame caution.

In a moment he was out of the door, hurrying until he reached the church gate.

Inside was a cemetery. As he watched she approached a tombstone and knelt before it. He was too far away to make out the name, but he could hear Jackie saying urgently, ‘I’m sorry, Daddy. I really am.’

So this was Benton’s grave, and she had come here to talk to him. Vittorio backed away, unwilling to invade her privacy, but he couldn’t help hearing her next words.

‘I don’t really trust him. I’d like to, but he doesn’t understand what a terrible thing was done to you, and that makes him almost as much of an enemy as his father. But I must go to Italy. I’ll come back, I promise. Only forgive me. Please, please forgive me.’

As watched she pressed her lips to the stone, then leaned against it, sobbing.

Torn by the instinct to comfort her, he took a step closer—but stopped just in time. Whatever happened, she mustn’t know he was there. He had an unnerving feeling...as though he’d been suddenly stranded on a desert island. He hadn’t expected this, and the sensation of being caught unprepared was alarming.

He backed off and hurried away, haunted by her words—

I don’t trust him... Almost as much of an enemy as his father...

If that was how she thought of him he supposed he couldn’t blame her. But it hurt more than he would have expected.

Back at the hotel, he returned to his room and went to the window, hoping to see her return. But hours passed with no sign of her and his heart sank. Where had she vanished to now? What trouble might she have fallen into? Had she changed her mind about accompanying him to Italy?

Then a noise from the corridor made him hurry outside. She was there, turning the key in her lock.

‘There you are,’ he said with relief.

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