The Italian's Christmas Housekeeper

‘Salvio?’

He stared at her reflected image in the glass. ‘Mmm...?’

She hesitated. ‘You remember our wedding day?’

‘I’m hardly likely to forget it, am I?’ he questioned drily. ‘And even if I had, it wouldn’t be a diplomatic thing to admit after a mere three months of marriage. What about it?’

‘Well.’ His response didn’t sound very promising but Molly forced herself to continue. ‘I was wondering whether your charitable organisation ought to include some kind of football sponsorship, which I notice it doesn’t do at the moment.’

‘Some kind of football sponsorship?’ he repeated slowly.

‘Yes. You know—you could offer a financial scheme for a promising young player from a poor background.’ Again, she hesitated. ‘To help the type of boy you once were,’ she finished, on a rush.

There was a pause while he finished knotting his tie and when he spoke, his voice was cool. ‘But I don’t have anything to do with football any more, Molly. You know that. I walked

away from that life many years ago.’

‘Yes, I know you did. But things have moved on now. You saw all those people wearing your old club’s colours who came to wish you luck on your wedding day. They...they love you, Salvio. You’re a legend to them and I just thought it would be...nice...’ Her words faded away. ‘To give something back.’

‘Oh, did you?’ Moving away from the mirror, Salvio swept his gaze over his wife, who looked all pink-cheeked and tousled as she lay amid the rumpled mess they’d just made of the bed. A muscle began to work in his cheek. He’d thought that, given her previous occupation, she would have been a rather more compliant partner than she was turning out to be. He’d thought it a generous gesture to give her a seat on the board of his charity and had expected her to be grateful to him for that. But he’d imagined her turning up regularly at meetings and sitting there quietly—not to suddenly start dishing out advice. Surely she, more than anyone, must have realised it was inappropriate as well as unwanted? ‘I really don’t think it’s your place to start advising me on how I spend my money, Molly,’ he drawled.

She went very still. ‘Not my place?’ she echoed, the colour leeching from her face and her dark lashes blinking in disbelief. ‘Why not? Do you think the one-time servant should remain mute and just go along with what she’s been told, rather than ever showing any initiative of her own? Are you making out like there’s still all those inequalities between us, despite the fact that I now wear your ring?’

‘There’s no need to overreact,’ he said coolly, even though that was exactly what he did think. ‘And I really don’t want an argument when I’m just about to fly to the States. We’ll talk about it when I get back.’ He dipped his head towards her with a smile she always found irresistible. ‘Now kiss me.’

Knowing it would be childish to turn her face away, Molly attempted a close approximation of a fond kiss, but inside she was seething as the door of the apartment slammed shut behind her departing husband. She felt as if the pink cloud she’d been floating on since the day they’d wed had suddenly turned black. Was it because, behind all the outward appearances of a relatively blissful new marriage, nothing much had changed? Despite him giving her a seat on the board of his charity, it seemed she wasn’t allowed to have any ideas of her own. She might be wearing his shiny gold wedding band but at that precise moment she felt exactly like the servant she’d always been. And there was another pressure, too. One she hadn’t dared to acknowledge—not even to herself, let alone to Salvio.

Gloomily, she got out of bed and went to stare out of the window, where there was no sign of new life. They were already into April but spring seemed to have been put on hold by the harsh weather. Even the daffodils in the planters on Salvio’s roof terrace had been squashed by the unseasonable dump of snow which had ground the city to a halt for the last few days.

No sign of life in her either.

Her hands floating down to her belly, she prayed that this month she might get the news she was longing for, even though the low ache inside her hinted at an alternative scenario. She linked her manicured fingers together, dreading another month of unspoken disappointment. Of cheerfully convincing herself it would happen eventually. Of wondering how long she could continue walking this precarious tightrope of a marriage which had only taken place because her wealthy husband wanted an heir. Because what if she couldn’t conceive? She’d been pregnant once, yes, but there was no guarantee it would happen again. Life didn’t provide guarantees like that, did it?

Forcing herself to get on with the day, she showered and dressed—slithering into a dress she wouldn’t have dared to wear a few months ago, even if she could have afforded to. But her body shape had changed since living with Salvio—and not just because she’d checked out the basement gym in this luxury apartment block and discovered she liked it. She ate proper regular meals now because her Neapolitan husband’s love of good food meant that he wasn’t a great fan of snacks, and as a consequence she was in the best shape of her adult life.

She took a cab to her charity lunch, which was being held in the ballroom of one of the capital’s smartest hotels and was today awarding acts of bravery involving animals as well as humans. She particularly enjoyed hearing about the kitten who had been rescued from the top of a chimney pot by a nineteen-year-old university drop-out who had previously been terrified of heights. She chatted to him afterwards and he told her that he’d decided he was going to train as a vet, and Molly felt a warm glow of pleasure as she listened to his story.

She was just chopping vegetables for a stir-fry when Salvio rang from Los Angeles, telling her he missed her and, although she wanted to believe him, she found herself wondering if he was just reading from a script. It was easy to say those sorts of things when he was thousands of miles away, when the reality was that he’d made her feel she’d stepped out of line this morning just because she’d dared express an opinion of her own.

Well, maybe it was time to stop drifting around in a half-world of pretence and longing. She would sit him down when he returned from his trip and they would talk honestly because, even though the truth could hurt, it was better to know where you stood. And even though her stupid heart was screaming out its objections she couldn’t keep putting it off. She would ask him if he really wanted to continue with the marriage and maybe it was better to confront that now, before there was a baby.

But then something happened. Something which changed everything.

It started with an email from her brother which arrived on the day Salvio was due to return from America. Robbie was notoriously unreliable at keeping in touch and she hadn’t heard from him since the wedding, even though she’d sent several lovely photos of him dancing with one of Salvio’s distant cousins at the reception. She hadn’t even mentioned the loan he’d asked her husband for—deciding it was an issue best settled between him and Salvio.

So her smile was one of pleasure when she saw new mail from Robbie Miller, which had pinged into her inbox overnight, with the subject line: Have you seen this?

‘This’ turned out to be an attachment of an article taken from a newspaper website. An American newspaper, as it happened. And there, in sharp Technicolor detail, was a photograph of her husband, sitting outside some flower-decked restaurant with a beautiful blonde, the sapphire glitter of a sunlit sea in the background.

Her fingers clawed at the mouse as she scrolled down the page but somehow Molly knew who Salvio’s companion was before she’d read a single word. Was it the woman’s poise which forewarned her, or simply the way she leaned towards Salvio’s handsome profile with the kind of intimacy which was hard-won? Her heart clenched with pain as she scanned the accompanying prose.

Heartthrob property tycoon Salvio De Gennaro

was pictured enjoying the sea air in Malibu today.

Newly wed to former maid Molly Miller, in a lavish ceremony which took place in the groom’s native Naples, the Italian billionaire still found time to catch up with ex-fiancée Lauren Meyer.

With the ink barely dry on her divorce papers, perhaps heiress Lauren was advising Salvio on some of the pitfalls of marriage.