Failure wasn’t part of his repertoire. Time to fix what others had clearly broken.
‘You are beautiful. That’s a fact and not open for discussion. As for your hair?’ What he wouldn’t give to plunge his hands into the thickness of it. Find out whether it was as silky as it appeared. ‘Anyone who’d consider cutting it would be contemplating acrime.’
Her mouth opened a fraction, with a breathy inhale. ‘They thought I was your lover. Said you had...expectations.’
His brain snagged on one word.Lover.The heat that had flared in his gut rushed low. How she’d felt in his arms when he carried her from Easton Hall. The soft weight of her against his naked torso. What if they had been lovers? He’d carry her to this bed like that. Her head thrown back in ecstasy as her green eyes glazed in passion. Hair spilled like blood across his pillow. He could count every freckle on her body. Kiss each one...
No. He almost shook his head to rid his mind of the intoxicating fog of those imaginings. Innocents weren’t for him. He’d been focussed on business for too long, that was all. What with investigating the Bainbridge family’s charities’ interests for fraud and then planning his quest for revenge, he hadn’t been with a woman for some time. No wonder he was reacting like an eighteen-year-old with no control over his own body.
He took a step back. Turned round. Clenched his fists and willed his inconvenient arousal away.
‘Theonlyexpectation I had was that you’d find clothes that you liked. My error was the choice of stylist, which I’ll rectify immediately.’
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Not those women again, they didn’t like me much.’
They weren’t paid to like her. They were paid to do their job. To ensure she felt beautiful and cherished, and to make the whole process fun. The failure of his mission quelled his remaining desire like being doused in chilled water. He turned back round to face her. Noticing how...worn she seemed.
‘She needs to be looked after...’
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I kind of lost my appetite after being told something needed to bedonewith me.’
Howdaredthey.
‘If you had an appetite, what would you like?’
‘A cheese toastie.’
He picked up his phone, ordered one for each of them. Whilst it wasn’t something traditionally on the room service menu here, he had no doubt the hotel chef would make the best damned cheese toastie Louisa had ever eaten.
‘Food first, shopping next.’
One of her hands gripped the fabric of her dress, twisting it in her fingers. ‘I’m not keen to relive the experience.’
‘You’ll enjoy this, I promise you.’
Matteo was intent on recovering the day. A few phone calls later and he’d spoken to another woman. One he’d been assured could help him. She seemed more than amenable to dropping everything to search out suitable clothes and deliver them to his hotel. She asked about Louisa’s style, and for a photograph of her, which he promised to send. ‘Country look, cottage core,’ she’d suggested. He didn’t understand what that meant but it didn’t matter. This time, he’d stay to supervise the process.
Failure wasnotan option.
Louisa didn’t want to go back to more clothes shopping, but she was powerless to resist. How had she not recognised what a force of nature Matteo was? He’d simply stormed into the room and taken over. Whilst she couldn’t understand the Italian he’d been speaking on the phone; his voice had been terse. Command and authority. All for her. Something about it had been...electrifying. To watch him work, take charge. She could imagine mere mortals simply rolling over and doing his bidding with no fight at all.
Was that what he’d expected of her, when he’d said he wanted her out of Easton Hall?
She couldn’t think of that right now. As much as she’d stood up for herself earlier in the day, the cold words of three impeccably styled women had still taken their toll. She’d felt old-fashioned. Unattractive. Past insecurities calling to her in their nasty but seductive voices. Yet when she’d told Matteo...
He thought she was beautiful.
What did he say? That it was a fact‘not open for discussion’. And she realised he was the first man other than her father to say that about her. With his words it was as if she basked in the warm, golden glow of spring sunshine. Though she shouldn’t, Louisa found his approval hard to resist even though his aims and hers weren’t aligned.
‘How was your toastie?’ he asked.
A perfect concoction of crisp buttery bread, melting cheese and the bite of mustard. ‘I’ve never tasted better.’
The corner of Matteo’s lips quirked. ‘I’m sure the chef would like to hear that.’
‘Do you always stay in your hotels, or do you have a home base anywhere?’
