Ezio's face. His security chief was positioned about twenty feet away,
watching him in frank astonishment. Rio's high cheekbones fired with a
slight rise of colour.
'You must be sensible about this...' Rio stated as the baby in his arms
went all stiff and loosed an anxious little moan of fright at the sound
of his mother's distress. Timmie was just about to blow. Indeed, any
moment now, mass hysteria was going to break out and spread like a disease,
30
Rio recognised with a very male sense of discomfiture. Dio mio, they
were in a public place and he didn't know what had got into him. He
could only recall the savage jolt of pure rage he had felt at the sight
of Holly trying to sneak away from the safety of the hospital.
'Please...give him back!' Holly cried.
An older man unlocking his car just yards away had now halted the
activity to openly stare, his expression already that of someone
thinking that perhaps he ought to intervene. Rio threw his proud head
back and murmured in a tone calculated to soothe, 'My car's just over
there. We'll discuss this calmly in private.'
Holly was totally disconcerted when Rio just strode away from her. But
she raced after him in a panic. As the chauffeur yanked open the door of
the gleaming silver limousine Rio broke the habit of a lifetime and,
instead of standing back politely to allow Holly first access, climbed
in ahead of her, thereby forestalling any possibility of further debate
in public.
Holly shot in after him like a mouse in stricken pursuit of a cat. The
passenger door closed on her. Rio Lombardi had her son clasped under one
arm while he spoke to someone in his own language on the car phone.
In a daze of confusion, Holly absorbed the startling sight of Timmie
smiling up at Rio. Timmie, who never smiled at anyone but her! Her head
ached even more. She felt clammy and sick and scared. 'Please give him
back to me...'
'Look, I haven't got time for this right now. I have a very important
meeting to get to,' Rio imparted, leaning forward to make some curious
adjustment to the rear of the leather seat facing them. Before her
bemused eyes, a child's travelling seat complete with safety restraint
folded down out of the once flat surface.
'Mr Lombardi-er-'
'You can stay at my home for a few days until you feel stronger,' Rio
cut in flatly. 'You're in no fit state to make decisions right now.
It'll give you a breathing space.'
'Your...home?' Holly was so taken aback by that offer coming at her out
of the blue that she could only stare at his bold bronzed profile with
wide shaken eyes.
Rio settled Timmie into the baby seat. After tightening everything up,
he snapped the harness into place with a definite air of satisfaction at
his own efficiency.
'Your home?' Holly watched his manoeuvres in bewildered stillness, quite
unable to react with any greater volubility. Her head was pounding fit
to burst and her brain felt like mush, for she had had little sleep
during what had remained of the night hours while she fretted and waited
for an opportunity to steal out of the hospital without being noticed.
'Why not?' Suppressing the faint suspicion that once again he was
reacting in an impulsive manner that was quite unlike him, Rio told
himself that rescuing Holly would be his good deed for the year and he
warmed to the concept at similar speed. He would soon get them sorted
out. He might have given millions to humanitarian causes but when had he
ever become personally involved in someone else's problems? But
intervention was definitely required. Without a helping hand, there was
an all too real possibility that Holly Sansom would end up selling her
body for the price of her next meal. A pervert would spot her from a
distance of a hundred yards, Rio reflected with distaste. She had victim
written all over her. As for Timmie...well, Timmie was already measuring
'Why...not?' Holly echoed, pressing a weak hand to the bruising that
still throbbed at the back of her skull. 'Because
32
people don't do stuff like that for people they don't know.'
Rio settled brilliant, dark, deep-set eyes on her. 'Make your mind up.'
Holly tensed at that demand. He was offering them a lifeline. A roof, a
bed, no worries about food or the future for a few days. He was an
incredible guy. He was just so kind. She could not believe how kind he
was being when he had been so furious with her only minutes earlier. 'OK.'
'I'll make the arrangements.' Rio swept up the phone and watched Ezio
answer from the front seat. At one point during that conversation, Ezio
twisted round to frown in amazement through the glass panel separating
him from his employer. Rio ignored that pointed reaction.
That deep, dark, sexy drawl of his just seemed to shimmy down her spine,
Holly thought absently. She loved his voice even though she hadn't a
clue what he was saying. Catching herself up on that mortifying train of
thought, Holly reddened fierily.
'As soon as I've been dropped off for my meeting, my security chief will
take you to my town house. Any problems, speak to Ezio. He speaks
English but most of my household staff don't,' Rio warned her.
Holly nodded uncertainly, momentarily attempting to picture the kind of
world where a person had household staff, and then watching the gold in
Rio's eyes reflect the light, her mouth running dry and her breath
catching in her throat.
Rio sprang out of the limo outside Lombardi Industries.
Ezio cleared his throat. 'Miss Kent won't like another woman in the
house, boss.'
Rio froze. 'The wedding's off, Ezio.'
Leaving the older man gazing after him in consternation, Rio strode on
into the building, inclining his proud dark
head in acknowledgement of the doorman's respectful greeting and
concentrating his mind on the challenging business meeting ahead with
considerable relief.
The limo nosed its way with all the arrogant assurance of its owner back
into the flow of traffic. Holly breathed in slowly and deeply and then
pinched the back of her hand. The stinging sensation of that small hurt
convinced her that she was not dreaming. She was really and truly
sitting in Rio Lombardi's fabulous limousine. For potentially the next
forty-eight hours she could stop worrying. He had taken pity on her.
Inwardly, Holly squirmed, the self-esteem that had been battered to
ground-level in recent months burning at the wretched awareness that she
was just a charity case to a male like Rio Lombardi. Well, she had never
let anyone do her favours for free. She would make herself useful round
his house, repaying his generosity the only way she could. But at that
moment the simple knowledge that she needed to worry neither about food
nor shelter in the immediate future was like a giant weight rolling off
her shoulders.
Just how had she contrived to sink so low that she was prepared to
accept such charit
y? It had happened by degrees, she conceded. But
undoubtedly her biggest and worst mistake had been getting involved with
Jeff Danby...
Holly had grown up on a hill farm on Exmoor where her father was the
tenant farmer. Her parents had married late in life and her mother had
been forty when Holly was born. That her mother never conceived again
had been a source of deep disappointment to her parents, for it had
meant that there would be no son to help out when her father became too
old to cope alone with the harsh winters and the lambing season and that
eventually he would have to give up the tenancy.
34
She had had a happy childhood and she had enjoyed school. But possibly,
as an only and much loved child, she had been a little spoilt, she
conceded with pained hindsight. For, while her parents had urged her to
aim at a college education, Holly had been more eager to find a job so
that she could have her own money and spend more time with her friends
who lived in the nearest town.
Working in a dead-end job that hadn't struck her as a dead-end job had
been fine the first couple of years when all that had been in her head
was buying the latest cheap fashions and finding a boyfriend. But,
although boys had made her plenty of offers, they had all come with the
price tag of casual sex attached. And, for all that she had liked to
pretend to be as cool in her outlook as her peers, Holly had been raised
in a home where that kind of behaviour was just not acceptable and had
shrunk from doing anything likely to distress her parents.
And then Jeff had come along in her eighteenth year, Jeff, with his
ancient sports car and cheeky grin and impressive aura of
sophistication. He had been a pool attendant at the local leisure
centre, much admired by all her friends and seven years older. So she
had been thrilled when he had asked her out and infatuated by the end of
the first week, but not so foolish as to jump into bed with him. In any
case, if she was honest, the sex side of things had never appealed to
her much, even with Jeff. She had liked the romantic stuff better,
holding hands, just listening to him talk about his plans to become an
instructor at some trendy fitness club in London and admiring the fact
that he had a goal and ambition.
'He's too flash,' her mother had said when she'd finally met Jeff.
'He's a big-head,' her father had sighed. 'He's a lot older
than you are too. You'd be better off with a boy your own age.'
Jeff had ditched her a couple of times and gone off with other girls.
Each time he'd come back to her, and she had been so grateful she'd
repressed her hurt and forgiven him. Then he had got the job he had
always wanted in London and, struggling to conceal her breaking heart,
she had gone out with him and his friends for a last-night celebration.
The drinks had been lined up in front of her and Jeff had kept on urging
her not to be a killjoy and drink up. He had talked about how she was
'his' girl and how he would send for her once he got a place of his own.
Hearing him talk like that, including her in his lofty plans, she had
almost cried with relief.
'I really do care about you, Holly,' he had said fondly. 'You're the
girl I want to marry, so surely you can come home with me tonight.'
And she had, and she had gritted her teeth in the darkness, tears
running down her face at the roughness, embarrassment and pain of the
experience. She had wanted to please him, had so wanted to prove that
she was not the silly little girl still tied to parental dictums he had
often accused her of being but a real adult woman capable of loving her
man and being loved.
True to his word, Jeff had phoned her while city life was still strange
to him. She had written great, long, adoring screeds to him and had been
four months pregnant before she'd even realised that she had conceived.
During his final phone call, she had begged him to visit for a weekend.
She had needed to see him face-to-face to share her news. But he had
complained that it would cost too much and he had not phoned again.
Weeks afterwards, when she had been climbing the walls with panic over
his silence and trying to conceal her changing shape from her parents,
one of her
36
many letters had been returned to her with 'Not known at this address'
written across it. She had not seen Jeff again until she'd finally
tracked him down in London many months later.
Emerging from those unwelcome memories, Holly felt cool air on her face
and only then realised that the passenger door was open. The chauffeur
was waiting for her to vacate the limo.
The most enormous house lay before her. It had a gravel turning circle
in front and tall shaped evergreen trees in fancy metal troughs.
'Miss Sansom...I'm Ezio Farretti.'
Holly focused shyly on the heavily built older man with his steady dark
eyes. 'Nice to meet you.'
Ezio engaged the employee positioned at the front door in a flood of
foreign speech, and motioned Holly into the house. Feeling like a third
wheel, Holly followed him inside and skimmed an intimidated glance round
the huge hall, the fantastic staircase and the big pictures adorning the
walls.
'Come this way, Miss Sansom,' Ezio urged.
'What's that language you speak?' she asked to fill the silence.
'Italian.'
He showed her into what appeared to be a drawing room. Well, she
adjusted, what she would call a drawing room, because the opulent sofas
and marble fireplace were way too grand to belong in a humble sitting
room. A fire glowed in the iron grate. Holly had not seen a real fire
since leaving home, and without warning her eyes smarted as she pictured
the cosy farmhouse kitchen where her parents sat by the fire on cold nights.
Ezio extended a notepad and pen. 'Will you make a list of supplies for
you and your son?'
'Supplies?'
'Anything you require.'
She reddened to the roots of her hair. 'I don't have any money.'
'That's not a problem.'
The waiting silence that followed embarrassed her into making up a list.
Nappies, a feeding cup and baby juice were really all she had to have.
She was down on her luck but she was not a freeloader, and she was sure
to get the chance to wash their clothes.
'You should put down a few more things.' Ezio's voice was gruff.
Holly shook her head. Having to put down even the necessities had hurt.
Rio Lombardi was putting them up and he would be feeding them as well.
The very last thing she wanted to do was cost him money into the bargain.
Ezio led her up the imposing staircase. The magnificent landing was
adorned with gilded furniture that looked as if it belonged in a palace.
But then, Rio Lombardi's home was just like a palace, Holly conceded in
a daze. She was shown into a fabulous guest room, complete with an
adjoining bathroom, and then into the smaller room next door which
contained a cot. The cot, which contained several very new-looking toys,
surprised her.
Belatedly it occurred to her that perhaps Rio Lombardi
was or had been married and had children. Tensing, tummy suddenly
feeling hollow, she asked Ezio right out.
'The boss is...single,' the older man stated after a slight hesitation.
'But he often has relatives with kiddies to stay. The Lombardis are a
big family and very close.'
As Ezio departed Holly glimpsed her reflection in a mirror and a
mortified gasp left her lips. The backside of her jeans was filthy,
probably from the road the night before. Fetching a couple of the toys
from the cot, she took Timmie
38
into the bathroom, set him down with them on a bathtowel and then
stripped down to her skin. Everything she wore went into the bath to
steep in hot water. She stepped into the separate shower cubicle but
could only run the water in bursts because she couldn't close the door
properly while she watched over Timmie. Her son could not yet crawl but
he could cover a surprising amount of distance by rolling.
It was such bliss, such utter bliss to feel truly scrubbed clean again.
Making use of the luxury toiletries in the corner shower compartment,
she shampooed her hair and then conditioned it for the first time in
many months. Having pounded her clothes back to cleanliness with soap,
she then realised in dismay that there were no radiators in which to dry
them. At that point, a knock sounded on the bedroom door.