Page 47 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Charlotte pivoted to see Alessio’s formidable great-aunt beside her. She wore couture fashion, a scarlet pantsuit and matching suede shoes, with the panache of a woman decades younger. The light caught stunning ruby earrings that made Charlotte think instantly of Alessio.

Again.

‘I’m afraid I wasn’t really paying attention.’

‘No doubt you have a lot on your mind.’ Gleaming black eyes met hers, and Charlotte had the unnerving conviction that the other woman saw right into her head. ‘With the festival and such. Last night was a triumph but a lot of work. I know my great-nephew better than to expect he exerted himself over a ball.’

It was true. Alessio had left everything to Charlotte as a punishment for daring to challenge him. Yet indignation rose at hearing his relative say so.

‘Actually, Alessio has been behind the success of today’s festival. He’s worked incredibly hard and took the lead in planning the events.’

The old woman lifted her eyebrows. ‘Alessio, eh, not theConte? And so quick to jump to his defence.’

‘I—’

‘No, no, don’t explain. There’s no need. It’s a relief to see him out in the world again, not just masterminding more business success from his tower but actuallyengagingwith people.’

The softening in her expression stopped the words forming on Charlotte’s tongue. For it revealed a depth of feeling that surprised her. Suddenly the other woman looked her age, lines of concern obvious in her features where before Charlotte had noticed only pride and determination.

‘Would you like to sit?’ she said. ‘There are a couple of seats free in the shade over there.’

There was a crack of husky laughter. ‘Worried about the old lady standing too long, are you?’ But there was warmth in her gaze as she nodded. ‘Sensible of you. These legs aren’t as young as they used to be, and you could probably do with the rest too. I’ve seen you running around all day making sure everything goes well. You’ll need your strength for the dancing later.’

Charlotte was about to respond that she wouldn’t be dancing, but her companion wouldn’t be interested in her plans to spend the evening cleaning the ballroom. That was something she felt guilty about deferring, though she’d had no choice in it.

Because you were too busy making love to Alessio.

Having sex, she corrected herself. Love didn’t enter into it.

‘Just as well you found seats in the shade,’ the old woman’s voice interrupted. ‘You look quite flushed.’

Guiltily, Charlotte met the other woman’s eyes and was almost sure she read amusement there. But she couldn’t know...

‘Ah, here they come. The last and most important race of the day. And there’s my great-nephew.’

There was no mistaking the pride in her tone, and Charlotte felt any annoyance at the other woman’s perspicacity fade. Dutifully she turned to see several long rowing boats emerging from around the point. At this distance, they looked a little like Venetian gondolas with sleek lines and raised prows, but with space for several rowers.

As they drew closer, she realised the bows were different. Each had a figurehead. Charlotte saw a lion, a mermaid, a bear and even a unicorn with a rainbow-coloured mane. There was also a rather severe saint with a halo and, streaking up past the other boats, one whose figurehead was a green dragon, breathing fire.

It was the dragon she saw everywhere in thecastelloand which always made her think of Alessio. Not just the green of his eyes but the way his initial gruffness hid such fire.

That was his boat, of course. He was easily recognisable with his broad shoulders and athletic physique, pulling at the oars with enviable strength. The boat picked up speed, scudding past first one then another of the competitors and a huge cheer rose. Her companion leaned forward, as eager as the locals.

Another boat put on a burst of speed, almost matching Alessio’s, and another group cheered rowdily.

All around people jumped to their feet, barracking for their favourite boat. Charlotte’s heart was in her mouth as she urged Alessio’s boat on, which was crazy because it was just a boat race. But something deeper than logic made her hope he’d win.

Because she wanted to see him smile?

Because he deserved something to celebrate after what she guessed were years of grief? Yet Charlotte thought Alessio would hate being the object of her sympathy.

When his boat sped across the winning line first, she was on her feet like the woman beside her.

A gnarled hand grasped hers. ‘There. He always was a superb rower.’ Then, as if suddenly aware that she’d grabbed Charlotte’s hand, she moved back, and when she spoke again her voice was cool. ‘I’m glad it was a team of islanders who won. No doubt he had the whole crew practising hard each morning.’

‘He did. Morning and evening.’

‘He always did take things seriously. When he commits to something there’s no turning back.’

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