“And would you like to? If it were possible, I mean?”
Would she like to stay here, in this beautiful house? Would she like to spend her days with a woman who had already claimed a bit of her heart? Would she prefer that to shimmying down another catwalk?
Caroline sighed. What was the harm in admitting it? Staying on here was about as possible as flying to the moon.
“Sure. If it were possible. But it isn’t.”
“Because?”
“We’ve just been through all that! I’m under contract to the agency. I even owe them money. For my rent, for the funds they advance us—”
“Silvio says what you earned modeling for Fabbiano last night paid that off.”
She laughed. “That’s what he told you. If I were to ask him, the answer would be—”
“It would be the same.” Nicolo’s expression hardened. “Otherwise, as I explained to him, he would have to answer the question yet again, this time for my attorneys.”
“Thank you for that.” Sighing, she sank into a chair, and slipped off one shoe, and rubbed her toes against the cool marble floor. “Maybe now I can start out even on the remaining six months of my contract.”
Nicolo looked at her in silence, and then he walked to where he’d left his glass of sherry and picked it up.
“What would you say if I told you I could make your contract disappear?”
Her lips curved up in a smile. “I’d say you’d been sitting out in the sun too long.”
He lifted the glass to his mouth. “It is simple enough to do,” he said, watching her across the rim.
“So is getting sunstroke.”
Nicolo frowned. “I am not joking, Caroline.”
“No. And neither am I.”
His brows knotted together. “Your contract will end, because I will buy it.”
Caroline’s smile faded. “You’ll what?”
“I will buy it, so that I may have you to myself.”
She stabbed her toes into her shoe and got to her feet. “Thank you for reminding me of what this is really all about,” she snapped. “What is it that the Roman poet Catullus said? ‘Hail and farewell’? Well, ‘hail and farewell,’ Prince—!”
She cried out as he caught her by the shoulders. His eyes had gone from sapphire to a blue so dark it was almost black.
“I told you, I am asking you to be my grandmother’s companion.”
“Who are you kidding? You’ll be damned if you won’t try to get me into your bed, one way or another.”
Her breath caught as his hands tightened on her. “I assure you, I have no interest in having you in my bed.” His mouth twisted, as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “I have no interest in a woman who prefers herself to anyone else.”
“What?”
“Some men may see it as a challenge,” he said coldly. “But I do not.”
Caroline met his gaze with defiance. “Has anyone ever told you,” she said, just as coldly, “that you are the most egotistical man in Rome?”
His eyes darkened again. “Yes,” he said. “Someone did. The same someone who taught me that there is no pleasure in a woman’s coldness. It made as little impression on me then as it does now.”
Arianna, Caroline thought in amazement, they were talking about Arianna again.
His hands tightened on her for an instant, and then he let her go. “So,” he said briskly. “What will you do? Will you leave here—or will you stay?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Nicolo, please. You make it sound so simple. But—”
“I will pay you twice the hourly fee you make modeling—with a guarantee of four months’ wages, no matter how quickly the Princess recovers. And, of course, your room and board will be free.”
She stared at him. Four months, at double pay, with no charges for rent or food.
“I have to admit, it’s tempting,” she said with a little laugh. “But even if I were willing to consider it, the agency wouldn’t agree to—”
“It already has.”
“What do you mean, it already has? Did you discuss this with Silvio without first discussing it with me?”
“Certainly.” His smile matched his voice. “There was no reason to tell you of my proposal until I’d assured myself of his agreement to it.”
Caroline laughed in disbelief. “If anyone had told me Italy was like this—”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Italian men treat women as if…as if they’re either creatures who aren’t fit to do anything but cook, clean, and have babies—or expensive toys to play with.”
“For a woman who claims to have had little to do with my countrymen,” Nicolo said coldly, “you seem very well informed.”
“I’m getting a firsthand lesson! Just look at what you’re doing!”
“Yes? What am I doing, Caroline, except offering you a way out of a situation you claim to abhor?”
Caroline rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I do abhor it! But that doesn’t mean I want you to—to take over my life. I don’t like it. I don’t want to be treated as if—as if—”
“I am treating you as you need to be treated,” Nicolo said sternly. “Santa Maria! Just listen to yourself! Five minutes ago you were ranting about how you hate your work and yet, when I offer you a perfectly equitable way out of your situation, you hesitate.”
“I’m not hesitating,” Caroline said, folding her arms across her breasts. She gave him a cold look. “I’m turning you down, flat.”
“For what reason? Do you think my proposal impossible to carry out?”
“I never said it was impossible. I said—”
“You said, if you could stay here, in Roma, and be la Principessa’s companion instead of cavorting on a catwalk, you would leap at the chance.”
“That’s putting it a little strongly!”
“I think not. Or are you going to claim I misunderstood you?”
Caroline stared at him. The man was worse than she’d thought, not just egocentric but mad, to boot.
“Well?” he demanded. “What are you thinking?”
That you’re crazy, she thought, and, without warning, she began to laugh.
Nicolo’s eyes narrowed. “If I have misused another of your American idioms,” he said stiffly, “I should like to be so informed.”
“It isn’t that. It’s—it’s…” Words failed her, and she shook her head. “You just don’t see what you’ve done, do you? Thanks to you, I’m unemployed, penniless, in danger of losing my visa—and there you stand, with that look on your face—”
“Look? What look?”
“The one that says you own the world and all that’s in it, that says you can’t for the life of you figure out why I’m not jumping for joy at the prospect of staying on here, in this house, as your grandmother’s companion.”
“You are correct.”
Caroline blinked. “I am?”
He nodded. “Now that you point it out, I see that I may have acted precipitately.”
She stared at him. “You did?”
“I suppose I should have given you the choice before I took matters into my own hands.”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Was he really saying these things? Was he apologizing?
“Certainly it cannot be easy, choosing between slave’s wages and a handsome salary.”
Caroline shrugged. “Well,” she began, “I—”
“Nor can it be any easier to decide if you prefer strolling the runway you abhor or sitting in the garden of the palazzo, sipping tea and talking with la Principessa.”
“Wait a second, Nicolo. You can’t just—”