It was only when Cassian was walking ahead of her up to the house that he realised they hadn’t shook hands. He turned around to remedy this, and she almost ran into him. She stepped back so hurriedly that she almost fell over. He reached out and she flinched back. Suddenly she looked flustered. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
Cassian put out his hand. ‘I’msorry, I’m forgetting my manners.’
She looked at his hand and went pale. He noticed how beautiful her skin was. Peaches and cream complexion.
She looked at him, and then held up her hands. ‘Please, forgive me, I picked up some weeds on the way down, my hands are dirty.’
They looked fine to him but Cassian just shrugged and turned around again. Maybe she was a little eccentric. She certainly dressed like it. As she fell into step almost beside him he said, ‘Weren’t you furnished with a uniform?’
She said a little breathlessly, ‘I was told that trousers and shirts would be favourable as well as practical but I’m afraid I got a little complacent when there was no one in residence for so long.’
It wasn’t remotely a rebuke but it stung Cassian nevertheless.
She said, ‘I could change if you like.’
‘That won’t be necessary, I won’t be here all that long, maybe twenty-four hours.’
‘Do I need to prepare for any…guests?’
Cassian sent her a glance. There had been something about the inflection inguestsbut her hair was falling forward covering her face. He had to curb a strange urge to pull it back so he could see her.
‘Just my solicitor,’ he replied, looking forward again. ‘He’ll be joining me for lunch.’
‘Anything in particular you’d like to eat? I can let chef know.’
‘Antipasta, bread and salad will be fine.’
‘Very well.’
They were at the terrace now and Cassian could see the table with breakfast things laid out and a pot of coffee. He cursed himself for not sending instructions ahead that he did not want to eat outside. His previous housekeeper had known, because she’d been with them since he was a baby and he’d told her expressly never to set a table outside again.
But his previous housekeeper had died suddenly. Cassian hadn’t made it back for her funeral. More guilt.
This terrace was where his parents had always loved to dine once the weather had got warmer. He had memories of long dusk-laden evenings, falling asleep in his father’s arms with the sound of his deep voice and laughter rumbling against his cheek.
He brutally pushed down the memories. He was tempted to tell Miss Spirenze to move the breakfast things indoors but stopped himself. He was being ridiculous, he was only going to be here for twenty-four hours and after his meeting with his solicitor, whatever he decided to do, he wouldn’t have to set foot on this estate ever again if he so wished.
But, Cassian didn’t feel a sense of liberation at that prospect. What he did feel was far more complicated and unwelcome.
* * *
Lili cursed herself. She was still trembling in the kitchen after that near collision with Cassian Corti on the way up to the villa. He’d arrived on that boat looking like the sexy villain in a movie in his creased tuxedo with bow-tie dangling open from around his neck, top buttons open showing a hint of dark chest.
Thick, wavy hair. Dark brown. Luxurious. When he’d stepped onto the pier Lili had had to force herself not to move backwards. He’d been so tall and broad. She hadn’t expected him to be so physically imposing. Powerful. Muscular.
Beautiful face, all sharp, hard lines. Patrician nose. Deep-set eyes. Strong brows. Surprisingly full mouth. Dark hair liberally stubbled across his cheeks and jaw, only adding to his masculinity.
She’d been too intimidated to look at him for too long but she’d noticed that his eyes weren’t dark. They were some shade of grey. Unusual.
She could still see his hand stuck out towards her, waiting for her to do the most natural thing in the world. Take it and shake it. And her immediate reaction had been to recoil from his touch. Like she recoiled from anyone’s touch.
Lili stopped what she was doing and forced herself to take deep breaths to restore her equilibrium.
She had a pathological fear of being touched. Or of anyone getting too close to her. Crowding her. Because she’d been kidnapped when she was a teenager. Sixteen years old. Full of gawky adolescence and self-consciousness. Her father was a well-known millionaire entrepreneur—money made from his real estate company. He’d never been shy about displaying his wealth all while currying favour with the monied classes, trying desperately to attain a social status that he hadn’t been born into, coming from a small town in Southern Italy.
Lili had been on her way home from school one day in Rome when she’d been grabbed near the train station by a group of men who had thrown a cover over her head, and tied her hands before brutally manhandling her into a van and on to some unknown location.
They hadn’t touched her apart from moving her around but the threat of it had hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. The worst thing for Lili had been the not knowing when someone would grab her or pull her up or march her forward or push her down. She’d had no control, or privacy.
