Page 1 of Awakened in Her Enemy's Palazzo

CHAPTER ONE

THEOSTOODBYthe glass wall, hands thrust deep into his pockets, presenting a perfect patrician profile to the four other men in the boardroom. Theo thought very little, if at all, about his profile. He had his faults, as he would be the first to acknowledge—though not apologise for—but vanity was not one of them, despite the fact that even his most severe critics agreed he had plenty to be vain about.

Being six feet four, and blessed with an impressively athletic physique that impeccable tailoring did nothing to disguise, ensured that Theo was an attention-grabbing figure in any setting. Combined with his physical presence he possessed razor-sharp instincts and a reputation for forensic attention to detail that meant no one came into any meeting where he was present unprepared.

Today, his normal ability to focus on detail was not functioning at full capacity. He wasn’t absorbing more than one word in three—a circumstance which was obvious to those around him. But although a few subtly raised eyebrows and loaded glances were exchanged between the nervous-looking suited figures delivering expensive advice to him, none of them mentioned the fact that their target audience appeared to be supremely uninterested in it.

The current speaker paused, losing his thread as he found himself no longer speaking to a pair of broad shoulders but instead to a pair of jet-black eyes, obsidian-dark and inscrutable. He straightened up in his seat, exhaling slightly as the tall Italian, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his tailored suit trousers, turned back to his appraisal of the panoramic view, his expression set in a scowl of irritation.

The irritation was aimed at himself. Theo hated the fact that his thoughts were all over the place. Although that was not strictly true. He knew exactly where they were—in Tuscany.

An image of the palazzo where he had grown up floated into his head and he pushed it away—but not before he had seen himself as a child, laying flowers on his mother’s grave, his tears falling onto the dry, dusty ground as he swore to hate his father for ever.

He pressed his fingertips to his temple, where a blue vein beat, as he stared out, seeing for the first time the rain that had been falling for the last half-hour.

Was it raining in Tuscany as Salvatore was being laid to rest in the family crypt beside his late wife? Or was the sun shining as the great and the good of Italian society, and also the not so good, dressed in designer black listened to the priest lie about what a good man his father had been?

He’d thought that once too. He had worshipped the man. And then he had discovered the truth. He’d been thirteen years old at the time, still in his black funeral suit, hiding in a cupboard to cry the tears he had held in during his mother’s funeral because his mother had not liked him to cry. It had made her unhappy.

‘Why are you not going to your father’s funeral?’ Cleo had asked as he’d left her apartment that morning.

The scantily clad luscious redhead had been lazily curious, and not judgemental or particularly surprised when he had not responded to her question while she carefully reapplied her red lipstick.

That was what made Cleo a perfect companion for him. Along with her voracious sexual appetite, she was fine with his silences and didn’t make any demands.

Hadn’tmade demands, he silently corrected in his head.

He had reached the door when that situation had changed—when she had voiced the fatal words that had brought him back into the room.

‘So, where do we go from here, darling?’

His response had beenshort and to the point.Other people equated honesty with cruelty, but not Theo. He believed the truth was just the truth; it was not emotive, just fact.

‘Nowhere,’he’d told her.

It hadended neatly, the way he liked things—neat, simple and uncomplicated by messy emotions. It was a pity... Cleo was beautiful, desirable, and untilthatquestion had been exactly the sort of female he was attracted to. A talented, successful woman, as single-minded and as ambitious as he was, with a life that was separate from his. It had been a positive that they did not share friends or opinions. She was not interested in going anywhere with him outside the bedroom or the occasional photo opportunity public event.

There had been a time when he had been concerned that some sort of chemistry with a woman might at some point cause him to overrule his decision that marriage was not for him.

His concern had been misplaced.

If it had been going to happen, he reasoned, it would have done so by now. He had had plenty ofchemistrywith women, but none of it had made him lose his mind enough to forget that nothing lasted for ever—certainly not sexual attraction. And what else kept two people together? Except perhaps laziness and a lack of options.

To Theo’s way of thinking there were two sorts of marriage: those that ended in messy divorce and those that continued in lies.

The former was, to his mind—while messy and expensive—infinitely preferable. But then he had had a front row seat for the latter. To the world, his parents’ marriage had been perfect—but it had been an act they had perpetuated to disguise their mutual misery.

A shaft of sunlight had appeared through the clouds when he finally turned back to the room full of lawyers. He scanned them, the seemingly relaxed stance of his tall, rangy frame in contrast to the expectant tension emanating from the group.

‘I want to sell.’

His simple words were greeted by a stunned silence and collective dropped jaws.

‘Sell...?’ one of the lawyers queried tentatively.

‘Some land, you mean?’ another interrupted, with a smile that suggested he was more in tune with the way the mind of a financial genius who had made his fortune in IT worked than his colleagues. ‘That would be a financially sound move. The forest area—now, that is a piece of prime land with development opportunity written all over it. Obviously the eco lobby would have a fit, but I’ve never encountered a protection order that wasn’t breakable, and the land on the southern boundary...’

His enthusiasm became genuine as he warmed to his theme.

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