Page 35 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Charlotte was just full of surprises, Alessio mused, torn between rampant curiosity, admiration and lust. And a piercing sliver of annoyance at having been naive enough to underestimate her. He didn’t enjoy feeling like a fool.

Far from being out of her depth, she’d come alive at the ball, as if born to such grand events. He’d had no reason to feel guilty, berating himself for placing her in an impossible situation.

Somehow she combined overseeing the staff and catering and acting the gracious hostess as if it were easy.

Alessio could attest that dealing with his guests’ curiosity was anything but easy. His champagne turned sour and his flesh prickled whenever he faced the never-ending curiosity about his dead wife and his own solitude. Or felt clutching female hands on his arm as one eager socialite after another made it clear they would happily distract him from his sorrows.

He shuddered, repulsed, and his gaze turned again to the enigma who was his housekeeper, waltzing down the centre of the room in the arms of one of Italy’s most eligible bachelors.

Alessio’s hand tightened around his wineglass, and he shoved his other bunching fist into his pocket.

Charlotte looked serene and carefree. And it didn’t feel like an act. It felt real.

As real as the way she’d chatted easily with billionaire businesspeople, minor royalty and trophy wives. She’d made introductions, guided an eligible dance partner towards a reserved young woman, and fielded queries about her employment here with good humour and poise.

More than once, she’d even deflected the conversation of someone intent on interrogating him about Antonia.

As if he needed protection!

He was the Conte Dal Lago. He fought his own battles.

Yet it was curiously...nice having Charlotte wield that gracious smile like a weapon on his behalf.

Who is this woman?

She couldn’t have learned those skills in housekeeping school. For all the time he’d spent fixated on her, he’d done nothing to uncover her past. It was clear she had almost as many secrets as he.

‘If the wind changes, your face will stay like that.’ Great-Aunt Beatrice’s hoarse chuckle made him turn. ‘Not that you look ugly. In fact, that Scandinavian princess seems quite taken with your scowl.’

‘Beatrice.’ He smoothed out his expression. ‘I hope you’re enjoying yourself.’

‘I’ve never had so much fun.’ The gleam in her black eyes would make a lesser man uneasy. ‘I find her delightful, by the way, your Charlotte.’

Alessio was about to snap that she wasn’t his Charlotte but knew any sign of emotion would be minutely scrutinised. He didn’t need Beatrice, who already interfered too much, to realise he lusted after his housekeeper. Or that he was jealous of the never-ending line of men eager to dance with her.

He’d let it be known he wouldn’t dance tonight. It was tough enough, facing the glare of avid public interest. Keeping some personal distance was vital.

Beatrice didn’t wait for a reply. ‘She and I had a lovely chat earlier. So...informative.’ He tensed, until she added with a sideways look, ‘About embroidery, mainly. Iknewthat gift must have been someone else’s idea. You wouldn’t know embroidery silk from tapestry wool.’

‘I’m pleased you like it.’

The old girl raised her eyebrows at his laconic answer. But he refused to discuss Charlotte. With anyone.

‘I like the way she’s shaken things up around here.’

Shaken things up? Shakenhimup, more like.

‘Such an interesting background she must have too. I was chatting earlier with George Somersby. He was surprised to learn Charlotte’s your housekeeper. He remembers her attending exclusive black-tie events at a stately home in England. But she definitely wasn’t a member of staff.’

Alessio’s eyes widened. It was more thaninteresting. It was more proof that she was an enigma. He shot an assessing look at Charlotte, circling elegantly in her partner’s arms, and felt his jaw clench.

His great-aunt nodded briskly as if confirming something. ‘Good night, Alessio. Giorgia’s ready to leave.’ He’d invited Beatrice to stay overnight, the only person to receive such an invitation, but she preferred to stay with an old friend. ‘It’s been...illuminating.’ Her grin was sly, and Alessio was instantly on guard. ‘I can’t remember a more entertaining evening.’

After escorting Beatrice out, he returned to the doorway, surveying the scene.

The ballroom glittered, every glass and mirror polished. Flowers in decorative jardinières and enormous formal arrangements scented the air. In the supper room, visible through open doors, tables covered in finest linen and antique silver groaned under a spread of gourmet delicacies.

Chatter filled the air, and everywhere he saw smiles. The ball, the opening event of the festival, proved he’d done right, agreeing to it.

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