Summer Romance with the Italian Tycoon Read online

  Maddie waited until the waiter had taken away her risotto, replacing it with the chicken she had ordered, served with fresh sautéed vegetables and a delicious-looking sauce before she spoke again, glad of the opportunity to turn the conversation to lighter topics. ‘My question, I think. If you could have any superpower, what would it be and why?’

  Dante blinked, his fork, half-filled with his own meal, arrested halfway to his mouth. ‘My what?’

  ‘Superpower. That’s my first question.’

  ‘To read minds. To know what people are really thinking beyond the words and the smiles.’ His own smile was grim and Maddie knew he was thinking of Violetta. So much for lighter conversation.

  ‘I don’t think I would want to know what’s in people’s heads. Too much information in every way. I would want to fly. Then I wouldn’t need to wait for a plane ticket, I could just take off and land anywhere.’

  ‘The flyaway bride, not the runaway bride?’

  The joke was so unexpected that Maddie could only stare in disbelief before breaking into a grin as she imagined the scenario. ‘My veil billowing out behind me? My mother would have been even more furious than she already was—that veil was antique lace! Okay, another one. What animal would you be if you could turn into any animal at all?’

  Dante leaned back, his eyes narrowed in amusement, that smile back on his face. Maddie tried not to let her gaze linger on his mouth, glad that he couldn’t actually read her mind as she followed every curve of his lips, the finely sculpted lines of his austerely handsome face. ‘A falcon, naturalmente. According to family legend, my ancestor could indeed turn into a bird of prey, to spy on his enemies.’

  ‘Handy party trick.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Right now a sloth sounds pretty appealing. I’ve never known how to just stop and relax; maybe it would be good to have some enforced downtime in the sun.’

  ‘Interesting choice. Are sloths on your list of things to see?’

  ‘Pretty much at the top,’ Maddie admitted. ‘I’m planning to go west, not east, head to the US, work my way right through Central America—via the sloths—into South America.’

  ‘Intrepid.’

  ‘I haven’t done it yet.’ There was a world’s difference in planning and doing. Maddie knew that all too well. There were so many things she had never done: slept in a tent or a hostel—although she had survived boarding school—carried her belongings on her back, cooked over a campfire, worked in a bar, travelled by bus. She could plan to her heart’s content, download itineraries and timetables, but taking that first step—that had still to be proven. She still had to summon up the courage to put a lifetime of wanting to be needed, to be occupied, of proving herself through service behind her and just live for the moment.

  Maddie eyed the man opposite. She doubted Dante Falcone ever allowed himself to live for the moment either. Never allowed himself a single impulsive decision since the day he had fallen for a woman he never really knew at all. Not until he lied to his sister and pretended that he was in a relationship with Maddie herself. She had to learn to be free—it was a lesson he could do with as well.

  * * *

  Over the rest of the excellent dinner Dante found out that Maddie’s favourite colour was cobalt-blue and, after some thought, decided his was the exact shade of brown of his daughter’s eyes. He admitted a teenage dream to become an artist, while Maddie explained she had agreed to attend the Swiss finishing school because her parents allowed her to sign up for an online business and marketing course at the same time. ‘Girls like me have two choices,’ she’d said as they waited for their tiramisu to be served. ‘The brainy ones go to Oxford and Cambridge or somewhere with a decent helping of People Like Us: Bristol, Edinburgh, St Andrew’s, of course, and make connections to help them in their high-powered careers, whilst the really forward-thinking ones bag a husband at the same time. The less brainy go to finishing schools and learn to make a decent cordon bleu meal and put on a dinner party; or they take a secretarial course and get a PA job in the City or look superior in a Chelsea art gallery until they bag a husband. It’s all still very 1950s. My parents had no idea what to do with a daughter who just wanted to learn about return on investment and profit margins, so we compromised. Not for the first time.’

  Over the excellent tiramisu they had each chosen their desert island books—the Aeneid for Dante, Pride and Prejudice for Maddie—and their desert island music. His a live recording of La Bohème from La Scala and Maddie, after much agonising, had decided, to his equal agony, on her own personal Taylor Swift playlist.

  ‘So,’ Maddie said when they had established their favourite places and chosen their final meals, ‘I call that a success—I think we know a reasonable amount about each other now. Enough for people who have only known each other for a few weeks anyway.’

  Dante couldn’t help but agree. Disconcerting as Maddie’s game had been at the beginning, it had actually been fun to try and decide whether he would want a classic steak or a really good plate of pasta for a last meal and to listen to why Maddie thought Costa Rica was her perfect place, even though she hadn’t been there yet. In fact he didn’t remember being as relaxed or entertained since...well, since his father had died, his sister had moved away and he had assumed the mantle of the Falcone empire.

  Even when it was just he and Arianna together he found it hard to relax. He had to be father and mother both, confidant and tutor, indulgent parent and strict teacher. Good cop and bad cop. And this was the easy stage—her teen years were getting ever closer, with all the worry they were bound to bring.

  ‘Agreed. I still don’t know how any civilised person could want baked beans for their last meal...’

  ‘On white buttered toast!’

  ‘Nor do I see the attraction of a creature that sleeps the whole time, but I will try and read Pride and Prejudice. Or,’ he amended, ‘I will watch the film.’

  ‘No, the television series. You need to be completely absorbed in it.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said cautiously, not wanting to commit himself to too many hours watching English people drink tea and dance at balls. ‘Shall we take our coffees and go and sit at the prow of the boat? The sun will set soon and the view should be quite spectacular.’

  Maddie nodded assent and got up from the table. Dante took a minute to admire her long, coltish legs, displayed to advantage in the short full skirt of her silver dress, her arms bared by the thin straps, hair loose and flowing down her back. She was, he had to admit, looking magnificent, all tanned limbs and tousled hair. He followed her to the front of the yacht and stood beside her as she leaned on the ship rail, looking out over the water to the mountains and the reddening sun. The deckhands had cleared their plates and melted silently away, the captain out of sight in the cabin above. It was as if they were all alone on the wide lake under the pink-streaked sky and suddenly, despite the freshness of the evening air all around them, Dante’s lungs constricted, his chest tightening. It was a setting made for romance—but he was done with romance. This evening was all about business and all the jokes and dreams they’d shared didn’t change that.

  ‘How long does your sister think we’ve been dating?’

  There, Maddie felt it too. That need to keep the conversation businesslike in such seductive surroundings.

  ‘Less than a month. We are at a very early stage in our relationship. I haven’t been to the castello since last summer, Luciana knows that, but there is no reason we couldn’t have met for meetings in Milan.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She wrinkled her nose as she turned to him, and Dante couldn’t look away from its perfect pertness. ‘I’ve already told you I have never been in love. Before Theo I dated several very nice, very acceptable men but quite frankly would much rather have been planning a new pathway through the wood or organising an event than spend too much time exchanging sweet nothings with them. And the
y felt the same—I was more of a useful trophy, someone to stand at the side of a rugby match and cheer or a decorative escort to social events they couldn’t avoid rather than someone they couldn’t stop thinking about. But I’ve seen people falling in love...’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And they’re nauseating. Always touching, always looking for each other or at each other or deeply into one another’s eyes.’ For all her humour there was a wistfulness in Maddie’s voice that spoke to Dante, a yearning he understood all too well. A yearning to be understood, to be wanted, to be loved.

  A yearning he never intended to fill again. That want was all too seductive—and couldn’t be trusted.

  ‘Not everyone.’

  ‘No, and of course we are trying to be discreet.’ Maddie turned and took a step closer to him. She was a tall woman and the heels she wore added another two inches to her height, but Dante could still look down onto the top of her golden head—until, that was, she looked up at him and he was lost in the grey depths of her eyes. Were those silver flecks he could see?

  ‘Discreet,’ Dante agreed, not capable of doing much more than parroting the word. How could one step make such a difference—one step and a glance? One moment they had been standing side by side in a perfectly calm way, having a perfectly rational conversation—and yes, he had noticed how attractive she was; he was still in the prime of life after all. And yes, he had discovered that he liked Madeleine Fitzroy, admired her sense of humour and obvious intelligence, despite her taste in music and food, and that, considering the week they had ahead of them, was all to the good. But now he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her upturned face, his gaze moving with difficulty from hers, only to stutter to a stop as he reached the pink lushness of her mouth. Now the attraction had cranked up a gear or ten and Dante suddenly found it hard to catch his breath.

  ‘But your sister is going to be looking for those signs that even discreet people can’t help displaying. The looks, the odd touches here and there. The kisses.’ Her mouth parted on the last word and Dante swayed forward, just a little, like a bee scenting nectar.

  Maddie’s scent enveloped him, floral with hints of citrus adding a refreshing bite. He was almost dizzy with the intoxicating scent, with the pink of her mouth, with her nearness.

  ‘That complicates things a little.’ Now it was his turn to take a step closer, so close they were almost—almost—touching. So close he knew another millimetre would bring their bodies into alignment. ‘I think we need to be prepared.’

  ‘Prepared?’ Now she was the one repeating his words to him and when Dante dragged his gaze back to meet hers he couldn’t help but feel a primal satisfaction at the glazed look in her eyes, at the way her tongue darted over her plump lips, the way she swayed ever nearer...

  ‘We should practise. Looking like we’re falling in love. Maybe with a little touching...’ and he ran one finger lightly down her cheek and along the silken line of her mouth. Maddie’s eyes fluttered shut and it took all Dante’s resolve not to pull her to him, crush her against him and taste her.

  But this was a business contract and, for all the pheromones clouding the air, for all his blood was thundering around his body, it had to be a meeting in the middle. One step by him, one step by her, mutually agreeable terms.

  ‘That makes sense,’ Maddie breathed, leaning her cheek against his touch like a cat seeking adulation. ‘Practice makes perfect after all.’ She slipped her arm around his waist, her hand splaying on his back, and Dante could feel the imprint of every finger clearly through the thin cotton of his shirt. Slowly, so slowly it took everything he had not to groan, she raised herself on tiptoe and pressed one light, teasing kiss on his mouth.

  Dante froze at the warm contact, as electricity zapped straight through him. What was he doing? He’d known this girl had fire the second they had connected across the lake and yet here he was, allowing himself to be burned, allowing her heat to melt the ice that encased him and kept him safe.

  He should step back; their point was well and truly made. They needed to remember to act like lovers.

  But was there any real difference between acting like lovers and being lovers? When they both knew the score?

  ‘Maybe we should practise a little more.’ Was that his voice? So ragged? So hoarse? Dante didn’t want to think, to dwell, to analyse a moment longer. Instead he stepped back, away from her touch and slowly, deliberately, walked behind Maddie, sweeping her long length of hair aside. He took his time, kissing his way down the column of her throat, savouring the tang of her skin, exultation running through him as she leaned against him, a sigh escaping her parted lips. His hands moved to her bare shoulders, his fingertips running up and down her upper arms, enjoying the feel of her skin under his. ‘You taste so good,’ he whispered in her ear and felt her shiver at his words.

  ‘Dante, I...’ She captured his hands with hers and turned, eyes luminous in the approaching twilight. ‘I can’t. Not here. Not on the deck. Anyone could walk up at any time.’

  She was right. He should signal to the captain to turn the boat around, to make their way back to shore, drive her back to her apartment, drop her off and then do his best to sleep this intoxication off. He should—and he would. If that was what she wanted. ‘Si. Of course...’ He swallowed, knowing he was too close to making himself vulnerable. ‘There’s a suite. On the boat. We don’t have to return to shore until I say. Until you say. If you want...’

  ‘A suite?’

  ‘Just a few steps away.’

  Maddie smiled then, soft and seductive and yet a little shy. ‘Then what are we waiting for? I believe we have a lot more practising to do yet, signor.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  MADDIE COULD HARDLY believe her own daring as she allowed Dante to take her hand and lead her down the short staircase into the boat’s interior. She, Madeleine Fitzroy, had never, ever engaged in this kind of impulsive, wild behaviour before. There had been nothing urgent or desperate about her past relationships—they hadn’t been unpleasant, but the best word to describe her past experiences was ‘nice’. At twenty-six she was more than ready to graduate from nice to amazing.

  And somehow she sensed tonight was the night.

  Maybe it was the way every touch made her shiver. Maybe it was the gleam of intent in Dante’s cool blue gaze. Maybe it was the curve of his mouth and the promise inherent in his smile. Maybe it was the deep yearning low in her stomach, a sweet ache in her breasts, a need to touch and be touched that was so strong it overpowered any other thought.

  Or maybe it was because Dante was right when he had accused her of hiding. Maddie had left her home, her country, everything she knew in order to reinvent herself. But getting on the flight had been the limit of her impulsiveness. Once she had reached Italy she had hidden behind a laptop for ten months, living vicariously through other people’s dreams and hopes and desires. No more.

  She needed to reach for what she wanted. No more sleeping through her own life like the sloths she was so desperate to see. No more allowing other people to make decisions for her, going along with the status quo because it was safe and easy and she knew her role was to keep things smooth. No more pouring all her desire and passion into ancient buildings that didn’t even belong to her and would still be standing long after she was gone. No. She wanted an adventure, right? Well, she was starting right here. Right now.

  Being adventurous—being an adventuress.

  She barely noticed the short corridor, all her focus on the feel of Dante’s hand in hers, the breadth of his shoulders, the promise in his stride. They reached a polished wood door and Dante opened it, gesturing her inside. ‘I am just going to call the captain and ask him to sail and dock in Desenzano—if that’s all right with you. The staff all live near there. They can return in the morning and sail us back to Riva.’

  Maddie turned at that. ‘They won’t mind if we stay on boa
rd?’

  ‘Why would they?’ Dante raised an eyebrow. ‘The boat belongs to me. Paolo, the captain, and his nephew work for me full-time.’

  He kept a fully staffed boat on Lake Garda even though he stayed in the region for just a couple of months every year? Just how rich was Dante Falcone? Money didn’t impress Maddie—after all, one of her cousins owned a good third of Scotland and another had married an oil tycoon and lived in the kind of lavish luxury last seen in an eighties soap opera. Maddie herself had been brought up in the kind of aristocratic gentility that found an excess of money a little vulgar. But despite herself she couldn’t help being a little impressed by the extravagance.

  Dante strode over to an intercom panel on the wall and after pressing a button began to speak in low, rapid Italian. Maddie took a deep breath, taking advantage of his momentary distraction to look around at her surroundings—and to clear her head a little.

  Maddie hadn’t been on many boats before; those she had been on had certainly been comfortable, bordering on luxurious—but they didn’t compare to this. Dante had brought her into a suite to rival any five-star hotel. She stood in a sumptuously outfitted sitting room, the dark wood of the polished floor echoed by the panelling on the walls. The outside wall was all glass, offering breathtaking views out onto the sunset-lit lake beyond. A vast white sofa curved around, facing a cinema-style screen on the wall, the screen flanked by recessed bookshelves. A glossy desk took up the corner, the laptop already set up, showing this was a place where Dante came to work as well as play.

  The door behind the sofa was half-open and Maddie could see an equally big room, this one dominated by a huge bed. She swallowed at the sight of it. She wasn’t in this room for a tour of the boat’s interior. She was down here because of that bed. Her legs were suddenly a little wobbly, her palms dampening at the realisation. Could she really be about to spend the night with a man she barely knew?