The Billionaire's Bedside Manner / Her Innocence, His Conquest. Robyn Grady
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doubt you will.”
But, dammit, he was having a hard time thinking of her walking off alone down that drive and Mama phoning to ask if he’d looked after her little friend who’d apparently had such a hard time in Casa Buona. Given her stumble, her jet lag, Mama would expect him to at least give Bailey time to recuperate before he truly sent her on her way. And that was the only reason he persisted. Why he asked now.
“So … who’s this fiancé?”
Closing her eyes, she exhaled as if she was too tired to be defensive anymore.
“I was backpacking around Europe,” she began. “By the time I got to Casa Buona, I’d run out of money. That’s where I met Emilio. I picked up work at the taverna his parents own.”
Mateo’s muscles locked. “Emilio Conti is your fiancé?”
“Was.” She quizzed his eyes. “Do you know him?”
“Casa Buona’s a small town.” Emilio’s kind only made it feel smaller. Mateo nodded. “Go on.”
Elbows finding her knees, she cupped her cheeks. “Over the weeks, Emilio and I became close. We spent a lot of time with his family. Time by ourselves. When he said he loved me, I was taken off guard. I didn’t know about loving Emilio, but I’d certainly fallen in love with his parents. His sisters. They made me feel like one of the family.” Her hands lowered and she brought up her legs to hug her knees. “One Saturday, in front of everyone, he proposed at the taverna. Seemed like the whole town was there, all smiling, holding their breath, waiting for my answer. I was stunned. Any words stuck like bricks in my throat. When I bowed my head, trying to figure out something tactful to do or say, someone cried out that I’d accepted. A huge cheer went up. Before I knew what had happened, Emilio slid a ring on my finger and … well … that was that.”
Bailey ended by failing to smother a yawn at the same time the sound of an engine drew their attention. His ride—a yellow cab—was cruising up the drive.
“Wait here,” he said, and when she opened her mouth to argue, he interrupted firmly. “One minute. Please.” He crossed to the forecourt and spoke to the driver, who kept his motor idling while Mateo walked back and took a seat on the step alongside of her.
“Where do you plan to go now? Do you have anywhere to stay?”
“I’d hoped to stay with a friend for a few days but her neighbor said she’s out of town. I’ll get a room.”
“Do you really want to waste Mama’s money on a motel?”
“It’s only temporary.”
He studied the cab, thought of the dwindling group of guys doing their annual bachelor bash in Canada and, as Bailey pushed to her feet, made a decision.
“Come back inside.”
Her look said, you’re crazy. “You’re ready to leave. The meter’s running.”
He eyed the driver. Best fix that.
He strode to the vehicle, left the cabbie smiling at the notes he passed over and heard the engine rev off behind him as he joined Bailey again.
Her jaw was hanging. “What did you do?”
“I’d thought about cancelling the first leg of my trip anyway. Now, inside.” He tilted his head toward his still open front door.
“Flattering invitation.” Her smile was thin. “But I don’t do fetch or roll over, either.”
Mateo’s chin tucked in. She thought he was being bossy? Perhaps he was. He was used to people listening and accepting his advice. And there was a method to his madness. “You say the money Mama gave you is a loan. But you admit you have no income. No place to stay.”
“I’ll find something. I’m not afraid of work.”
Another yawn gripped her, so consuming, she shuddered and her eyes watered.
“First you need a good rest,” he told her. “I’ll show you to a guest room.”
Another you’re crazy look. “I’m not staying.”
“I’m not suggesting a lease, Bailey. Merely that you recharge here before you tackle a plan for tomorrow.”
“No.” But this time she sounded less certain.
“Mama would want you to.” When she hesitated, he persisted. “A few hours rest. I won’t pound on the door and get on your case.”
She glared at him. “Promise?”
“On my life.”
All the energy seemed to fall from her shoulders. He thought she might disarm him with a hint of that ice-melting smile, but she only nodded and grudgingly allowed him to escort her back inside.
After ascending that storybook staircase, Mateo Celeca showed her down the length of a wide paneled hallway to the entrance of a lavish room.
“The suite has an attached bath,” he said as she edged in and looked around. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
Bailey watched the broad ledge of his shoulders roll away down the hall before she closed the heavy door and, feeling more displaced than she had in her life, gravitated toward the center of the vast room. Her own background was well to do. With a tennis court and five bedrooms, her lawyer father’s house in Newport was considered grand to most. Her parents had driven fashionable cars. They’d gone on noteworthy vacations each year.
But, glancing around this lake of snowy carpet with so many matching white and gold draperies, Bailey could admit she’d never known this kind of opulence. Then again, who on earth needed this much? She wasn’t one to covet riches. Surely it was more important to know a sense of belonging … of truly being where and with whom you needed to be. Despite Emilio, irrespective of her father, one day she hoped to know and keep that feeling.
After a long warm shower, she lay down and sleep descended in a swift black cloud.
When she woke some hours later in the dark, her heart was pounding with an impending sense of doom. In her dream, she’d been back in Casa Buona, draped in a modest wedding gown with Emilio beckoning her to join him at the end of a long dark corridor. She shot a glance around the shadowy unfamiliar surrounds and eased out a relieved breath. She was in Sydney. Broke, starting over. In an obstinate near-stranger’s house.
She clapped a palm over her brow and groaned.
Mateo Celeca.
With refined movie-star looks and dark hypnotic eyes, he did all kinds of unnerving things to her equilibrium. One minute she was believing Mama, thinking her grandson was some kind of prince. The next he was being a jerk, accusing her of theft. Then, to really send her reeling, he’d offered her a bed to shake off some of the jet lag. If she’d had anywhere else to go—if she hadn’t felt so suddenly drained—she would never have stayed. She wasn’t about to forgive or forget his comment about her not being a lady.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed at the same time her stomach growled. She cast her thoughts away from the judgmental doctor to a new priority. Food.
After slipping on her jeans, she tiptoed down that stunning staircase and set off to find a kitchen. Inching through someone else’s broad shadow-filled halls in the middle of the night hardly felt right but the alternative was finding a takeout close by or dialing in. Mateo had said to make herself at home. Surely that offer extended to a sandwich.
Soon she’d tracked down a massive room, gleaming with stainless steel and dark granite surfaces. Opening the fridge she found the interior near empty; that made sense given Mateo was meant to be on vacation. But there was a leftover roast, perhaps from his dinner earlier. A slab went between two slices of bread and, after enjoying her first mouthful, Bailey turned and discovered a series of floor-to-ceiling glass panes lining the eastern side of the