The Tuscan Tycoon's Pregnant Housekeeper. Christina Hollis
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‘This is impressive.’ Alessandro Castiglione looked around the living room, with its stacks of art boxes and storage bins. Wandering into the kitchen, he nodded appreciatively at the big stainless steel sink and double drainers that took up most of the room. ‘It wouldn’t take long to remove this partition wall to make better use of the space,’ he murmured to himself.
Michelle stood silently in a corner while he roamed around, occasionally taking something from the huge collection of equipment and supplies she had to squeeze around. Once he had studied a packet of paper, a box of pencils, an easel or some brushes, he put them back carefully in their place. Michelle was glad to see that. Most employers would have put them anywhere. They pay you to be tidy for them, her mother had always said.
She found it fascinating to watch him when she could. Each time he caught her doing it, he smiled. Michelle found herself blushing madly, and had to look away. Her guest knew exactly the effect he was having.
‘I never knew Terence had so many art books!’ He ran his finger along the spines lining the shelves, but it was a volume open on the coffee table that really caught his eye. ‘Raphael. He’s one of my favourites. Do you mind if I borrow this one and take it back to the villa with me?’
He picked it up and began flicking through the pages, from the back to front of the book. Of all the ones to choose… Michelle felt as though he had reached inside her ribcage and pulled out her heart. She knew exactly what he was thinking, because she had experienced it so often herself. As he revelled in the beautiful pictures and glowing colours, it showed clearly in his face. It was only when he reached the flyleaf that he stopped smiling.
‘“Presented to Michelle Spicer as part of the Lawrence Prize for the year’s outstanding portfolio,”’ he read aloud, and then looked at her directly. His eyes were smiling, ‘So this is yours?’
Michelle nodded, too struck by the sparkle in his eyes to speak.
‘A little light bedtime reading?’
‘It’s a bit too heavy for that, signor.’
‘For one person, maybe…although two might manage, I suppose. One could read while the other looks on?’
A vision of Alessandro Castiglione in bed came to Michelle, and it didn’t involve any art books. She managed not to gasp aloud, but couldn’t help taking a step backwards, away from him.
When he put her presentation book down on the table again Michelle was puzzled.
‘Aren’t you going to take it after all, signor?’
He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t possibly. It’s yours and must mean so much to you.’
‘It does—but if you want it…’
‘Thank you. I’ll let you have it back as soon as possible.’ Taking possession of it again with relish, he patted the cover. ‘This must be an inspiring place to work for you, as an artist. How many pictures have you done while you’ve been here?’
‘None, signor. There’s always too much work to do.’
He laughed politely, and brandished her book. ‘Where’s your portfolio now? You haven’t got it here by any chance?’
Michelle clenched her teeth at the memory. The words had to struggle out.
‘It got burned, signor.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He sounded genuinely touched. ‘I would have liked to have seen it. Never mind. I won’t be a demanding guest. You’ll have plenty of time for your art while I’m in residence here.’
He was right. Over the next few days Michelle found she actually had some spare time. It was unheard of. The Bartlett family were always thinking of bits and pieces that they’d forgotten to get delivered for their stay. Without having to drive into town several times a day, Michelle could open her own art box for the first time since arriving in France.
Her efforts at sketching around the estate weren’t very successful. Each time she caught sight of Alessandro she hid her sketchbook in case he wanted to look at her work. She couldn’t bear showing her pictures to anyone. The only reason she had won the Lawrence Prize was because a tutor had entered Michelle’s portfolio without her knowledge.
She was surprised at how often she bumped into Alessandro around the estate. He always smiled at her, and they often swapped a few words of polite, meaningless conversation. Michelle was intrigued. The Bartlett family and their other guests spent all their time indoors, bent over computer screens or mobile phones. Alessandro seemed to like fresh air as much as she did.
Once the ringing of his mobile phone joined the rustle of grasshoppers and the chirrup of birds echoing through the dusty landscape. Then it fell silent. It was only when Michelle went to fetch some water for the houseplants that she found out why. A state of the art PDA was lying in the bottom of the soft water tank. Pulling it out, she dried it off as best she could and rushed to find him. The red ‘do not disturb’ light was showing on the console beside the door of his suite, so she left the soggy device there without knocking. An hour later, Alessandro sought her out as she arranged flowers for the music room.
‘I have something for the trash.’ Taking her hand, he put the PDA in her palm and carefully closed her fingers around it. ‘They say I need a break. Now I’ve had a few days’ rest, I’m inclined to agree with them.’
All the time he was pressing her hand between both of his. It brought back memories of his touch gliding over her body as he’d searched for her keys. His grip was warm and reassuringly firm. In contrast to the grating tension in his voice when he’d arrived, his speech was now softer and lilting. He was so different from the hard-bitten workaholic she had been expecting that Michelle laughed out loud.
‘You can’t throw this away! It must have cost a fortune!’
‘Michelle, it will not work now it has got wet. It’s been nothing but a curse to me.’
Looking into the turbulence of his eyes, she could believe it. In that moment her heart went out to him. ‘Don’t worry, signor. I’ll take care of it.’ She smiled.
When he smiled back, it illuminated his face in a way that stopped Michelle’s heart. Alessandro Castiglione was gorgeous, and he was smiling at her…
Alessandro wasn’t someone to be tiptoed around, like her usual boss. He was much more approachable, but his reputation still haunted her, so she kept out of his way. All the same, every tiny sound made her glance up in case it was him. She found herself looking out for him all the time. When they passed in a corridor he’d smile at her. That simple gesture made up for the hours of worry she had endured before he arrived.
Michelle kept herself busy around the villa, which helped stop her daydreaming. But after work, when she got back to her silent apartment, her mind always went into overdrive. She’d relive every single moment of his arrival. The touch of his hands on her as he searched for her pocket. His firm grasp when he supported her as he opened the door… And, more than anything else, his beautiful dark eyes with their long, dense lashes. She tried to distract herself by getting out paper and pencils and sketching. But although she sat outside, intending to draw the garden, her pencil kept trying to catch Alessandro’s likeness instead.
One evening, strangely dissatisfied, she decided on an early night. Sleep was impossible. The memory of him filled her off-duty hours as easily as he touched every moment of her working day.
It was long after midnight before she gave up trying to get to sleep. Staggering blearily into the studio house’s kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea. Comfort eating was the only way to distract herself from thoughts of her delicious employer—or at least push him to the back of her mind—so, grabbing a packet of biscuits, she headed back to her bedroom. One look at the tangled bedclothes was enough to put her off. She decided to take her guilty pleasure out onto the veranda.
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