Page 17 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Instantly she turned to stare at the broken glazing.

Wise woman.

‘There’s a father and son team here on the island who can fix this.’

‘Really? Surely it’s very specialised work.’

‘It is. There’s no one I’d rather trust with this. Their family has been working glass for centuries. It was probably one of their ancestors who made this panel.’ Pride warmed his voice. ‘One thing we’ve managed to do here is support our artisans. Many are in demand internationally because of their specialist skills. My family values excellent craftsmanship, and we’ve done what we can to support it.’

‘I read something about that,’ she said, surprising him. ‘There was an article about specialist goldsmiths here, trained in a scheme run by your company.’

Alessio shrugged. ‘My family has collected rare and precious things for generations. We’ve made that our business, brokering the sale of valuable art and antiquities. As a result, we need access to the best artists and craftspeople when repairs are needed.’

Alessio didn’t add that he would still sponsor that and other schemes even without the auction house. While he appreciated skilled work, it was equally important to ensure employment in the region. They were his people. He took seriously his family obligation to care for those around him. Supporting elite craftsmen was a single strand in the complex web of initiatives designed to keep the area prosperous.

‘How did you notice the broken window?’ The chapel was rarely used.

‘I had a call from the priest in Florence about his visit, and I wanted to check everything was all right first. I’ll bring in fresh flowers and—’

‘Visit?’ He frowned. ‘I know nothing about a visit.’

Her expression grew guarded. ‘He said he rang last week and spoke to the housekeeper. He was following up to check everything was okay for this weekend.’

Alessio was already shaking his head. ‘Anna didn’t mention it to me.’ But maybe she’d had no time, given her sudden departure. ‘No matter. Ring him and tell him it’s impossible.’

‘Why is that?’

Her voice was soft yet there was no mistaking an undercurrent of—was that criticism?

As if his housekeeper had a right to judge his decisions!

‘I don’t receive visitors.’

Assessing eyes met his, and Alessio felt both curiosity and something else in Charlotte Symonds’ stare. Disapproval? Or could that be...pity? He stiffened.

‘You don’t have to receive them.’

‘Them? I thought it was a priest?’

‘He wants to bring a group. Asmallgroup to see the chapel, half a dozen. He spoke in glowing terms about the artwork here and—’

‘No.’

‘You needn’t see them,’ she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘They’d come straight from the pier to the chapel and be gone in an hour. They wouldn’t come into thecastelloitself.’

Alessio shook his head. ‘It’s not possible.’

‘Very well. I’ll...’ But she stopped, brow furrowing. ‘It would help to know why. I mean, clearly a visit ispossible.’ Something flashed in her eyes. Definitely disapproval. ‘I understand select groups used to visit in the past.’

She paused as if waiting for him to explain himself.

Alessio drew himself up to his full height. The Conte Dal Lago didn’t need to explain his motives, especially to a temporary employee.

‘Surely you have so much, so many beautiful things, that you can afford to share a little?’

His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. ‘You think I’m a miser, hoarding this?’

The idea stunned him. His wide gesture encompassed the exquisite chapel with its rare artworks, glowing stained glass and sumptuous furnishings. It was a remarkable place.

---