But the invitation had helped Dario make a decision about what to do with Westwick Hall. He would sell off the land and raze the house to the ground. Then at least he would have had payback for his father, if not Trovato, for their attempts to destroy him.
Take that, you old bastard!
He hardened his heart against the genuine look of horror in his estate manager’s translucent blue gaze.
‘There is no need to become hysterical,’ he remarked, because she looked as if she were struggling to draw breath. ‘You and your staff will be paid six months’ severance which you will not have to work for, as I will close the house for good this weekend.’
He wished to find a buyer promptly for the land. Of course, he could have sold the house too. Even in its current state it was probably worth millions. But the resentment that had lived inside him for so long—and had built to a tsunami this morning—meant that demolishing it felt like the perfect revenge for being prevented by his father’s Trustees from owning the palazzo.
‘Please don’t do this!’ The girl stepped forward and pressed her palms on the desk. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing. You have no right. Westwick is a part of history, it’s a…’
‘I assure you I have every right,’ he said, as evenly as he could manage while his resentment was threatening to choke him. ‘This isn’t personal,’ he lied.
‘But it makes no sense. Why would you destroy something so beautiful?’ she asked, the agony in her voice giving him pause.
Apparently, thiswaspersonal, to her. He let his gaze drift over her again. That strange prickle of memory disturbed him, but not as much as the liquid pull of arousal. Her shirt was open, allowing him to see the tops of her breasts.
‘You may think it beautiful.’ He levered himself off the chair and walked back to the window, the ache in his bad leg helping to control the spike of lust. ‘I, on the other hand, do not.’
‘But it’s on the English Heritage Registry, you can’t just demolish it.’
Dario swung round. ‘What does this mean?’
‘The Hall’s historic significance means it’s an important part of the nation’s heritage. They could bring charges against you…’
‘Puttana!’The full force of Dario’s anger and frustration returned in a rush.
Then I will close it up and let it rot…
But as he glared at the girl, who was shaking visibly, her arms wrapped tightly around her midriff, the threat got caught in his throat.
It was what he had felt in his heart ever since inheriting the place seven years ago. A place he hadn’t visited since his teens, when he had been locked up here for months, the pain in his leg nowhere near as agonising as the pitying glances of the staff, and the pain in his heart… At his best friend’s—hisonlyfriend’s—betrayal.
But he was no longer that damaged boy, vulnerable and alone. Yes, his leg would never be fully healed—the pins used to repair the crushed bones had saved it, but only just. But he’d hardened his heart, not just against Sante, but also against anyone else who might betray him—or pity him—again.
‘If you’d just let me outline the plans I have for Westwick,’ the girl began, her voice quivering with emotion, ‘you’ll see it can more than make the money back that needs to be spent on it to restore it to its former glory.’
He frowned at the girl.
Former glory?Was she mad?
Westwick Hall had never been glorious. Not to him. He still remembered the first time he had come here, age thirteen, after his mother’s death. It had been cold and miserable that day, the ground muddy underfoot, the clouds cutting out the weak sunlight which had no warmth, even in May. His sister had clung to his hand and looked as lost as he’d felt, while the father they didn’t remember, his face contorted with disgust, had shouted at Dario to speak in English—a language he barely understood.
Capri and his mother, and the life he and Mia had lived on the island with her throughout his childhood—free to roam as they wished—had seemed a million miles away that day, as well as in the weeks and months and years afterwards, when they had both been parcelled off to different boarding schools, forced to remain in this dreary country.
There had been no more early mornings scrambling down the path to the palazzo’s private lagoon, to go swimming in the sparkling blue waters. No lunchtimes spent begging leftovers from the kitchen staff for him and Mia, while the housemaids cleared up the previous night’s mess. No more lazy afternoons spent sailing or fishing, or in the wintertime messing around on his computer, gaming and teaching himself to code. And no evenings spent feasting and dancing and falling asleep under the stars while their mother and her many flamboyant cosmopolitan friends partied until sunrise.
Gabriella Lorenti hadn’t believed in rules, and hadn’t believed much in schooling either, but she’d loved him and Mia unconditionally.
Their childhood had been precarious at times, scary even, when the men his mother loved to entertain became surly, or possessive. Sometimes, Dario had wished for a little less wildness, a little more sleep, a little more security for Mia—who had quickly become as headstrong and impulsive as her mother. But when he’d come to England, to the cold and the damp, and been forced to live under strict pointless rules, forced to adhere to a punishing school schedule and learn an ugly language, made to spend hours each day reading and writing about old Englishmen when it was the codes and numbers he loved…then he had realised how much more he had lost than just his mother’s flamboyant hugs, her endless chatter, the vivacious personality which made it exciting just to be near her.
England was lifeless and tasteless, sterile and suffocating and dull. Much like his father and this godforsaken pile of stone.
But clearly the girl didn’t feel the same way, because she was staring at him with desperation in those cornflower-blue eyes.
‘Please, Mr Lorenti, if you’ll just give me a year. I’ve itemised everything in my budget. It would mean a small increase in our running costs and some capital investment, to make the necessary repairs and improvements, but we could more than make it back.’
He tuned out the request. But the something he had been trying to ignore ever since she’d stepped into the light spiked in his gut again. And with it came an idea. The same idea he had dismissed seven years ago when he had first heard the terms of his father’s will…
