Pride And The Italian's Proposal (Mills & Boon Modern) Read online

  She began to gather some of the fallen pieces as well, and just a few seconds later the light flicked on and Kerry was standing in the doorway, her hands fisted on her hips.

  ‘Well.’ She let out a high, false laugh. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d think something had been going on here.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Fausto said shortly, and Liza did her utmost to school her expression into something bland. Don’t be ridiculous?

  Of course it was ridiculous, for something to have been going on between them. Ridiculous to him. She didn’t have the space or time to be hurt by Fausto’s instantaneous denial, and so she focused on gathering up the pieces while he grabbed the chessboard. No one spoke, but the air felt thick with tension.

  Liza’s body still tingled everywhere. Her lips both trembled and stung. She’d never been kissed like that in her life. She felt as if she’d been changed for ever, branded somehow, and the intensity of her reaction scared her.

  I don’t even like him, she reminded herself rather frantically, but the words seemed hollow even in the privacy of her own mind.

  ‘So, a tournament,’ Fausto said without any enthusiasm, and Kerry gave him a narrow look while Liza looked away. She wanted this evening to be over.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t; the three of them trooped back to the media room where everyone was swilling cocktails. Chaz had put on a film that no one seemed to be watching, and the prospect of a chess tournament was dismissed without a word. Fausto stood in the back of the room, his hands in his pockets, while Liza went over to Jenna.

  ‘I think I’ll go upstairs,’ she whispered. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Oh, but...’ Jenna glanced at Chaz, and Liza patted her arm.

  ‘You stay. I don’t mind an early night.’ It wasn’t even that early by her standards, already nearly eleven, and she felt more than ready for bed.

  She said her goodnights to everyone, ignoring Fausto, who was scowling by the door; she had no choice but to walk by him on her way out. She tensed as she passed him and for a second she thought he’d speak, but he didn’t, and neither did she.

  Liza walked out of the room and upstairs on unsteady legs. Her whole body felt like a bowlful of jelly, wobbly and weak. As she closed her door and then collapsed onto the king-sized bed, she had an urge both to laugh wildly and burst into tears. What had just happened?

  Well, she knew what had happened, of course. Fausto Danti had kissed her senseless. And while it would be a wonderful memory to hold onto, she was sensible enough to realise—at least she hoped she was—that it hadn’t meant anything. Fausto disdained her as much as he ever did, and she disliked him. Mostly. Flirting a little over chess of all things certainly didn’t change that.

  And yet...and yet...the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her...the wild passion and yet the surprising tenderness...

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Liza muttered to herself as she punched her pillow. ‘Don’t be like this again. Get a grip.’

  She wasn’t going to fall for the first pair of pretty eyes that made her feel special. Not like she had with Andrew, when she’d believed his flattery and made a fool of herself. She had promised herself she wouldn’t fall for that again, and so she hadn’t.

  She knew very well that Fausto wasn’t interested in her, not really, and in any case there hadn’t been any simpering compliments involved, not like there had been with Andrew.

  Just overwhelming mutual physical attraction...

  With a groan, determined to put it all out of her head, Liza got ready for bed. She folded up Kerry’s dress and took a T-shirt of Jenna’s to sleep in, the excitement of the kiss draining out of her like flat champagne as she realised all the awkwardness that would likely ensue as a result. Fausto’s ‘Forgive me’ most certainly meant he’d regretted his actions almost immediately; tomorrow he would apologise again, if he didn’t just ignore her completely. Both prospects made Liza feel miserable, and she wished, quite desperately, to go home.

  Eventually she fell asleep, barely stirring when Jenna came in several hours later, and then waking up a little after dawn, a feeling like lead in her stomach. She did not want to see Fausto Danti again. She had an awful feeling when she did he would be colder than ever, as disdainful and dismissive as he’d been that first night at Rico’s, only this time, instead of annoying her a little, it would actually hurt.

  She knew she wasn’t particularly desirable or interesting; she’d already felt a bit lost in the shuffle even before Andrew had dealt her self-confidence its seeming death blow. To think, even for a moment, that she could hold the interest of a man like Fausto Danti...

  Of course she couldn’t. And she wouldn’t let herself want to.

  In any case, none of it turned out as Liza had expected. Jenna was brimming with shy excitement about her evening with Chaz, and his promise to take her out to dinner when they were back in London, and no mention was made of Fausto at all.

  By the time Liza headed downstairs, dressed in an outfit of Jenna’s that swam on her smaller frame, her stomach was seething with nerves and she only picked at the generous buffet that had been laid out for breakfast. She jumped every time someone spoke or came to the door; Kerry strolled in, yawning and bored, and Chelsea and Oliver were both clearly hung over, although Chaz was in as good spirits as ever.

  Liza wasn’t brave enough to ask where Fausto was, and it was only as they were planning their activities for the day that she learned the truth.

  ‘It’s too bad that Danti had to leave this morning,’ Chaz said with unaccustomed gloominess. ‘He promised me he’d stay until tonight.’

  ‘Why did he leave in such a rush?’ Kerry asked with a pout, and Liza stared down at her plate. Chaz mentioned something about him needing to work but she was afraid she knew the truth. Fausto Danti had left because he couldn’t bear to see her again.

  Fausto shrugged off his coat as he strode through the office of Danti Investments, located in a beautiful Georgian building overlooking Mayfair. It was empty on a Sunday morning, which suited him perfectly because he wanted to work. He wanted to work and forget a beguiling sprite named Liza Benton even existed.

  It had been, Fausto had ample time to reflect on the journey back to London, utterly foolish to have kissed her, and kissed her so thoroughly at that. In the moment he’d been inflamed by his desire and he’d completely lost any power of rational thought. It was only afterwards, when Kerry had come in looking so suspicious, and Liza had looked so dazed and overwhelmed, that he’d realised what a mistake he’d made.

  The last thing he needed was gossip—or any kind of attachment, physical or otherwise. He didn’t want to act dishonourably, and neither did he wish to hurt Liza, and he feared he had by sending out an entirely wrong signal. He wasn’t interested in her, didn’t care about her, and had no desire to make it seem as if he did.

  And yet... Fausto sat back in his desk chair, his unseeing gaze on the gracious view of Mayfair out of the window; his mind’s eye was occupied entirely by one woman.

  Perhaps he was attributing too much tender feeling on Liza’s part. Heaven knew he’d made that mistake before, with Amy.

  Amy... For a second he pictured her laughing eyes, her long golden hair, the way she’d smiled and teased and made him feel so light-hearted, as if anything was possible, as if for once the weight of his world and all the responsibility he bore didn’t rest so heavily on his shoulders.

  Then he thought of her look of regret when she’d said goodbye to him, with his father’s cheque in her hand. Yes, he knew about gold-diggers, and how guileless they could seem. Look at Jenna, with that overblown cold she’d dreamed up to take Chaz’s attention. It had, to his mind, been glaringly obvious. Was Liza’s response to him some of the same? Were both sisters hoping to snag rich husbands, or perhaps just rich benefactors?

  Maybe all these tender feelings he feared she had
for him were nothing more than a blatant ruse to keep him dangling on the hook so she could reel him in. Maybe he didn’t need to worry about Liza Benton’s feelings at all.

  The prospect brought both a necessary relief and an unsettling irritation. He didn’t like the thought that Liza was mercenary, and deep down he didn’t truly believe she was. Yet the alternative was to think she might care about him, and that was just as unwelcome a thought. He never should have kissed her, even as he was thinking about doing it again.

  What he should do, Fausto acknowledged irritably, was forget the whole episode completely, and yet somehow that seemed impossible. With a grimace of disgusted impatience, he pulled his laptop towards him and started to work.

  Fausto managed to convince himself that he hadn’t thought of Liza for an entire fortnight—almost. The energy and thought he expended in not bringing her to mind might have told another story, if he cared to listen to it. He did not.

  He worked long hours that precluded thought about anything other than the business at hand, and he returned home to the townhouse that had been in the Danti family for over a hundred years with nothing in mind except food and sleep. And so two weeks passed well enough.

  In fact, Fausto kept Liza Benton so well out of mind that when he stopped by his godfather’s business one Friday afternoon in mid-November to fulfil a promise of saying hello, he stared in complete and utter incomprehension as Liza herself looked up from her desk and stared back at him in the same way.

  ‘What...?’ Her voice was a faint thread of sound. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  She looked so achingly beautiful, and he thought he saw a spark of hope in her eyes, but the feeling of being completely wrong-footed in the moment had him retreating into chilly reserve.

  ‘I’m here to see my godfather, Henry Burgh. I had no idea you worked here.’

  Something flashed across Liza’s face—Fausto thought it was hurt—and then she drew herself up. ‘And I had no idea you were his godson,’ she answered. ‘How did that come to be?’

  ‘Henry was my father’s tutor in university,’ Fausto said, his voice decidedly cool. ‘They were very close. I’ve known him all my life.’

  ‘I see.’ She rose from behind her desk, slim and elegant in a navy pencil skirt and ivory blouse, her usually wild hair pulled up into a neat chignon, although a few wayward curls escaped to frame her lovely face. ‘I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.’

  Fausto watched in frustrated silence as she crossed the room, the only sound the click of her heels on the parquet floor, and knocked on the door of Henry’s office. As she opened the door he turned away, determined to act uninterested. He was uninterested. He hadn’t thought of her once these last few weeks, after all, and it was far better that they resorted to being nothing more than acquaintances, which was in fact all they were.

  He was studying the volumes on the floor-to-ceiling shelves when Liza returned. ‘He’s on a telephone call, but he’ll see you shortly. He said to make yourself comfortable.’ She gestured to one of the two leather settees facing each other, her face blank and composed.

  Fausto resumed his deliberation of the shelves for a few more moments before he took a seat. ‘How long have you been working here?’ he asked as he sat down.

  Liza had retreated behind her desk and made a great show of getting on with her work, pulling a pile of papers towards her and studying them intently. ‘About two months.’

  ‘That’s not very long.’

  ‘It’s when I moved to London.’

  ‘From Herefordshire, as I recall?’

  ‘Yes, a small village in the middle of nowhere.’ She lifted her head to look at him, her chin raised a little, a spark in her eyes that was definitely not hope. Was she angry with him? He supposed leaving so abruptly from the house party might have been construed as rude. He hadn’t meant it as some sort of snub, not exactly. He’d just needed to get away. Not, of course, that he had any intention of explaining his reasons to her, or how much of a temptation she had been.

  ‘Have you been very busy with work?’ Liza asked after a moment, all frosty politeness, and Fausto gave a terse nod.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Chaz and Jenna have seen quite a bit of each other in the last few weeks. I suppose you know?’

  He shrugged indifferently. ‘I don’t keep tabs on all my friends, and in any case I’ve been too busy to go out these last few weeks, but he did mention that he’d seen her.’ And rhapsodised about how much he liked her, while Fausto had made no response.

  ‘I think it might be serious,’ Liza flung at him like a challenge.

  He glanced at her, noting the steely glint in her eyes. ‘I’m sure Chaz is well on his way to falling in love with her,’ he agreed coolly. ‘It’s his habit, after all.’

  Liza pursed her lips. ‘Does he fall in love very often?’

  ‘More than I do.’

  ‘Ah.’ She sat back, her arms folded, eyes still flashing. ‘Is that a warning?’

  Startled, he spared her a wary glance. He didn’t trust her in this mood. ‘It wasn’t meant to be,’ he said, although he realised as he answered that it wasn’t exactly true. It had been, at least in part.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Liza assured him. ‘I’m not in any danger of falling in love with you.’

  Fausto stiffened in both surprise and affront. ‘I was under no illusion that you were.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Liza drawled. ‘Here I was, worried you’d raced away from Netherhall because you were heartbroken.’

  He didn’t know whether to feel amused or outraged by her absurd statement. ‘Trust me, that was not the case.’

  ‘No,’ Liza said softly, and for a moment the mask dropped, her face fell, and she looked unbearably sad, which was even worse than her anger. ‘I didn’t think it was.’

  The door to Henry’s office opened and the older man emerged, his wrinkled face wreathed in smiles. ‘Fausto! What a delight to see you after so long.’

  Fausto rose and they shook hands while Liza watched, narrow-eyed, although she managed a smile when Henry turned towards her.

  ‘Liza, I insist you take the rest of the afternoon off. I’ve made a reservation for afternoon tea for the three of us at The Dorchester.’

  ‘What...?’ There was no disguising Liza’s shocked alarm. ‘Oh, Henry, I don’t think...’

  ‘Nonsense,’ her employer answered with a smile. ‘You’re on the clock for another hour anyway. I really do insist.’ Henry’s smile was both genial and steely and, managing a lukewarm smile, Liza murmured her assent.

  Fausto knew better than to object to any of it, and in any case he could certainly suffer through an hour’s conversation with Liza. Perhaps it would go some way to smoothing things over between them. If the opportunity arose, he decided, he would apologise for the kiss. That was the honourable thing to do, and then they could both put it firmly behind them—not that it was entirely necessary, since he didn’t think they would ever see each other again. Still, it was the right decision, and one he felt satisfied with.

  Yet as Henry locked up the office and they headed outside into the chilly dusk of a late autumn afternoon, Fausto was honest enough to acknowledge he was deceiving himself if he thought that was the only reason he’d agreed to this afternoon. The truth was, he was simply enjoying being with Liza again...far too much.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LIZA WALKED WITH Henry and Fausto towards The Dorchester in a daze. This was the last thing she’d expected. The very last thing! For Fausto to walk into her office...and now to be taking tea with him... She didn’t know whether it was the stuff of dreams or nightmares.

  Certainly he’d featured in her thoughts, both waking and sleeping, far too much these last few weeks. She’d tried not to think about him at all, but it was hopeless. A girl couldn’t be kissed like that and then just forget a
bout it. At least, Liza couldn’t.

  Still, she’d managed to give herself a very brisk and practical talking-to about the nature of that kiss, and how it had, of course, been only physical attraction, nothing more. Base and animalistic and easily dismissed on both sides. Or so she’d kept telling herself and she was almost convinced, until Fausto had walked through the door.

  Now, sliding sideways glances at him walking down the street, she remembered how powerful his shoulders had felt under her questing hands, how hard and strong his chest was, how soft and warm his lips...

  Everything about him made her buzz and come alive. Still. Just thinking about that kiss had her tautening like a bow as yearning arrowed through her. Two weeks of disciplined thought flew right out of the window, and she feared she was setting herself up for disappointment and hurt—again.

  Henry was chatting with Fausto, which made it easy for Liza to lag behind and say nothing. She’d stay for an hour, no more, and then make her excuses. After that she’d never have to see Fausto Danti again.

  Why did that thought make her feel so depressed? She couldn’t deny that seeing him again had lit her up inside like a firework, even though she hadn’t wanted it to. She glanced at his profile—the hard, smoothly shaven jaw, the straight nose, those sculpted lips. He was like a Roman bust come to life, all aristocratic angles and sharp lines. And just as cold.

  They arrived at the hotel and a tuxedoed waiter ushered them to a private parlour off the main dining room, already set with silver, crystal and linen for a high tea.

  Liza took her seat, trying to quell the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She had a feeling the next hour was going to be unbearable.

  ‘Fausto runs Danti Investments, out of Milan,’ Henry explained to her as they all placed their napkins in their laps and the waiter brought a fresh pot of tea.

  Liza glanced at Fausto, unsure how to handle the conversation. Was he going to pretend he’d never met her before? Why did that thought hurt her so much?