Page 24 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

‘So an opportunity to showcase their work to the right people is welcome,’ he finished for her. It made sense. So much sense he should have thought of it himself.

He’d been too wrapped up in his own misery to do more than what was absolutely necessary. Why hadn’t Anna or someone else raised this with him?

The answer was obvious. He’d given orders not to be disturbed, and his people had respected that. But instead of respecting them by paying attention to their needs, he’d wallowed in his private darkness. Sourness filled his mouth, and he grimaced.

‘Truly, it won’t disturb you. We can—’

‘It’s fine. It’s a good idea.’ It should have been his idea, if he’d been thinking straight. Guilt gnawed at his belly. What else had he missed?

‘You agree?’

‘No need to look so astonished,’ he said gruffly. ‘If it helps the island, it’s good.’ In fact, it might be worth considering a more organised event on a regular basis, something the locals could rely on.

Charlotte beamed, and Alessio realised he’d do a lot to win her approval. If he couldn’t have the woman, he could at least have her smiles.

‘I’m glad you think so. It would be a good opportunity for Mario too. He wants to try some new products to keep his great-nephew interested, but he wasn’t sure the locals would take to them.’

‘Great-nephew?’ Alessio frowned.

‘Mario mentioned him this morning. He got into trouble with some other teenagers in his hometown, and his parents sent him here for a break. Mario is trying to convince him to become an apprentice baker.’

Alessio sat back, fighting a scowl. Not at Charlotte’s news but because it was she, an incomer, telling him. Time was when he’d have known about it straightaway, especially if Mario was looking to organise an apprenticeship.

Alessio hadn’t stopped by the bakery for a few weeks. For that matter, he hadn’t been in personal contact with a lot of the locals recently, relying increasingly on Anna to pass on important news.

His stomach hollowed. What sort of Conte was he? What sort of custodian or, for that matter, friend? He didn’t just have a duty to these people. He liked them, was tied to them, cared about them. They’d been there for him through those lonely growing up years. And more recently, guarding his privacy.

What had he given in return?

Not enough. Not recently at any rate.

Alessio’s chair screeched on the tiled floor as he shoved back from the table. ‘That all sounds good. Meanwhile I need to—’

‘Can you spare me a couple more minutes, please? It’s about your aunt’s gift.’

The perplexed look on Alessio’s face was priceless. Charlotte had to stifle a smile.

‘But it’s blank.’ He examined the package of fabric and coloured threads through its clear cover.

‘That’s the idea. Your great-aunt will sew it herself.’

She found herself staring at his handsome face as he studied the cross-stitch kit, a knot of concentration turning his features from imposing to breathtakingly attractive.

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t explain her feelings for this man. Even when he’d made her anything but welcome, he’d fascinated rather than repelled her, attracted her when he should have been no more than a difficult client. Today he’d shown another side of his personality. He’d been genuinely concerned about his community. Far from blustering about protecting his privacy, he’d readily agreed to her plan.

Now his concentration on the gift and his puzzlement made him look endearing.

Abruptly he raised his head, and Charlotte’s breath caught as their eyes met and fire raced through her veins.

Endearing? The man should come with a health warning. He looked away almost instantly, but that moment of connection reinforced the fact that she was out of her depth with him.

‘If I could show you?’

She took the package, careful not to touch his hand.

‘A friend designs these to order. As a special favour she created this in record time. Fortunately the express delivery was even quicker than I expected.’

Charlotte was babbling, her fingers all thumbs as she wrestled to open the plastic. That moment of searing intensity, when she’d met Alessio’s green eyes, had rattled her. Even though she knew she’d imagined something more than curiosity in his stare.

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