The Sicilian Boss's Mistress. PENNY JORDAN
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off more suited to a foolish child than an adult woman, and as such it reinforces my belief that you are not the kind of candidate who is suited to work for me,’ he said coldly.
‘Really? And to think I thought that it was my sex and my hormones that barred me,’ Leonora retaliated sweetly.
‘You’ve just underlined the reason for yourself—your immaturity,’ Alessandro told her crushingly.
Why, why, why had she let that stupid childish desire to show she was not just as good as but better than any male goad her? Leonora asked herself grimly. She turned away from him and spoke directly to Caterina in fluent Italian, earning the reward of a delighted smile from the older woman as she explained that she was Alessandro’s housekeeper.
Five minutes later Leonora was earning herself another approving smile from Caterina as she gazed round the guest suite to which Caterina had taken her with awed delight.
The palazzo had obviously undergone a very sympathetic restoration and refurbishment process in the recent past, Leonora guessed as she admired the strong clean lines of the large, high-ceilinged rooms connected by a magnificent pair of open double doors. Whilst the elegance of its original plasterwork and ceiling cornicing and the beautifully panelled and carved doors had been retained, the walls had obviously been replastered, and were painted in an ivory that seemed to change colour with the light pouring in from the glass doors that led onto an ironwork girded balcony overlooking an internal courtyard garden. Silver-grey floorboards reflected more light, and the room’s mix of an antique bed with pieces of far more modern furniture gave the suite an air of being lived in rather than being a museum set-piece.
At the touch of a remote control Caterina proudly revealed not just a flatscreen TV but a computer, a pullout desk and a sound system discreetly hidden away behind a folding wall.
‘Is good, sì?’ she asked Leonora in English, inviting praise of something of which she was obviously proud.
‘It is wonderful,’ Leonora agreed, telling her in Italian, ‘It is a perfect blend of past and present—a very simpatico restoration.’
Caterina beamed. ‘This building and many others belonged to the family of Signor Alessandro’s mamma, and so came to him and his brothers. Together they have worked to keep the family history but also to make it comfortable to live in now. Don Falcon, he sits on the council that takes care of those buildings that are owned by many of the old Florentine families, and he makes Signor Alessandro pay much money from his airline to help with the restoration work. Signor Alessandro knows that he cannot refuse his elder brother. Don Falcon has the most power because he is the eldest.’
‘How many brothers and sisters are there?’ Leonora asked her curiously.
‘No sister. They are all three boys. Signor Alessandro is the second brother.’
The second brother—the second child, just like her. Leonora frowned. She didn’t want to find any kind of connection between them, but as a second child he must have experienced, as she had, all that it meant to be a middle child, sandwiched between the lordly eldest and the favoured baby of the family, constantly having to fight for his position and for adult attention and love, never quite as good or grown-up as his elder sibling nor allowed to get away with as much as his indulged younger sibling. She wanted instead to continue to dislike and resent him. And besides, her situation had been worse—because she had been a girl sandwiched between two brothers. As same-sex siblings Alessandro and his siblings would have been able to bond together.
Or would he have had to compete even harder than she had done? Not that it mattered. She refused to start feeling sympathetic towards him. Look at the way he was treating her—threatening and blackmailing her…
Caterina had gone, giving her some time to freshen up before going back downstairs to have supper with Alessandro and receive her instructions.
In addition to the sitting room and bedroom, the guest suite also possessed a dressing room and a huge bathroom, with a sunken rectangular bath so large it could have easily accommodated a whole family and a state-of-the-art wet-room-style shower area.
Since it wasn’t going to take her very long to get changed, Leonora allowed herself to be tempted out onto the balcony. Florence… Right now she should have been enjoying the magic of the city, making plans to visit all those treasures she wanted to see, instead of standing here, the captive of a man who was ruthlessly using her for his own ends.
It was dark outside, and all she could see of the courtyard garden beneath her balcony were various small areas illuminated by strategically placed floodlights that revealed a long, narrow canal-style water feature, gravel walkways and various plants. There was a staircase from her balcony down to the garden, and as she stood on the balcony she could smell the scents of the night air and—so she told herself—of Florence itself.
Half an hour later, having showered and changed into her jeans and a top, she had just finished answering Leo’s anxious text asking if all had gone well. She had given an airy and untrue response to the effect that there was nothing for him to worry about and that she was looking forward to her short break in Florence.
Caterina tapped on her sitting room door and then came in, announcing that she had come to escort Leonora back downstairs.
Several doors led off the hallway, and the one through which Caterina took her opened onto a wide corridor hung with a variety of modern paintings mingled with framed pieces of what Leonora thought must be medieval fabric and parchment. The whole somehow worked together in a way that once again made her feel acutely aware of the harmony of their shared composition.
At the end of the corridor a wide doorway opened onto a semi-enclosed loggia-type terrace, overlooking the courtyard garden, where Alessandro was waiting for her.
Like her, he had changed. What was it about him that enabled him to look so effortlessly stylish and yet at the same time so intimidatingly arrogant and sexually male? Leonora wondered on a small shiver. In profile his features reminded her of the profiles of ancient Roman heroes. She could quite easily imagine that close-cropped head wearing a laurel wreath. Her heart jolted into her ribs as though his compelling aura had reached out and somehow claimed her. She must not let him get to her like this. So he possessed both extraordinary male good looks and extraordinary male power? She was impervious to both. She had to be. That pumice-stone-grey gaze could not really penetrate her defences and see into her most private thoughts.
‘Grazie, Caterina.’
He thanked his housekeeper with a smile so warm that it had Leonora’s eyes widening with surprise. This was the first time she had seen him showing any kind of human warmth, but she had no idea why it should have caused her such a sharply acute pang of melancholy. There was no reason why she should feel upset because he didn’t smile like that at her.
‘Since what I wish to say to you is confidential, and needs to be said in privacy, I thought it best that we eat here and serve ourselves,’ he told her, as soon as Caterina had left, moving towards a buffet placed on a table against one wall, in which she could see an assortment of salads and antipasti. ‘There are various hot dishes inside the cabinet. Are you familiar with Florentine dishes? Because if you wish me to explain any of them to you then please say so.’
Going to join him, Leonora marvelled. ‘Has Caterina prepared all this?’
Alessandro shook his head.
‘No. Normally when I am here in Florence I either eat out with friends or cook for myself, but on this occasion I ordered the food in from a nearby restaurant.’
‘You can cook?’ The gauche words were out before she could silence them, causing him to arch an eyebrow and give her a look that made her feel even more self-conscious.
‘My elder brother insisted that we learn when we were growing up.’
Alessandro spoke of his elder brother as though he had parented them, and yet Leonora knew that Alessandro’s father was still alive.
Ten minutes later, with her