Million Dollar Christmas Proposal

“Naturally. However, that margin is taken into consideration and is far narrower for me than it might be for someone else.”

“You don’t lack confidence, that’s for sure.”

“Should I?” he asked, arrogance lacing his tone, and his expression just this side of condescending. “I built a multimillion-dollar investment into a billion-dollar company in less than a decade, during a worldwide financial slump the like of which has not been seen in decades.”

“When you put it like that…” She grinned, inviting him to share her self-deprecating acknowledgement of his undeniable financial genius.

He returned the smile, his blue eyes warming in a way that was way too appealing for her peace of mind.

They arrived at his house a few minutes later. Wrought-iron gates swung inward to allow the car through, closing with only a small clang behind them.

The winding drive was so long Audrey did not see the house until they crested a rise after the first curve. A brick mansion that would have made royalty proud rose toward the sky, its windows indicating there were three floors aboveground and no doubt one below as well.

“Full-time mother does not include housekeeping duties?” she asked faintly, entirely daunted by the prospect of keeping up with such a huge property.

“Not at all. There is a full-time housekeeper who oversees a team of maids.”

“Sounds like a hotel.”

“No. It sounds like a home. My home.”

Oh, she’d hit a nerve with that one. She hadn’t meant to. “I’m sorry, Vincenzo. I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t a lovely place to live.”

“Enzu.”

“What?”

“My family calls me Enzu.”

Audrey didn’t point out that she wasn’t a member of his family, or that she wasn’t even sure she ever would be. She was too busy swallowing down the emotion his invitation to use the nickname engendered in her.

She just nodded.

“The housekeeper does not live in. She and her husband, the groundskeeper, have a small cottage on the property. They are usually in the house from early morning until just before dinner.”

“Oh.” Audrey wasn’t sure what to say to that.

This lifestyle was entirely outside her experience.

Yes, Audrey’s mother had a part-time housekeeper who kept her home immaculately clean and running smoothly, as well as a cook. But that wasn’t anything like having a bevy of staff charged with keeping this impressive mansion a pleasant home for a billionaire and his newly acquired children.

“Devon serves dinner. Because he likes to.” Tolerant affection laced Vincenzo’s tone.

“Who is Devon?”

“He is my majordomo.”

“You have a majordomo?” She should not be surprised. Vincenzo needed someone with ultimate authority over his domiciles, considering the fact one was a mansion on its own estate and the other a penthouse apartment in the city.

Her research had not revealed other properties, but that didn’t mean Vincenzo didn’t have any. As that was not of particular interest, Audrey hadn’t dug that deep.

“Devon worked for my parents when I was a child and came to oversee my household when I left the family home.”

Audrey heard what she wasn’t even sure Vincenzo knew he was saying. If she hoped to come into that household and make a place for herself, she’d do well to make a friend of Devon.

“He lives in?” she asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“He, the cook and a night-shift maid are the only ones that do.” Vincenzo frowned. “And the nanny, Mrs. Percy.”

“You don’t like the nanny?”

“She’s competent.”

“But?”

“She is…” Vincenzo’s gorgeous blue eyes narrowed in thought. “Cold. A little emotionless.”

It was all Audrey could do to stifle laughter at the irony of Vincenzo Tomasi labeling someone else as emotionless.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ENZU WATCHED IN pleased amazement as Audrey coaxed his quiet Franca right out of her shell, drawing forth smiles the little girl usually reserved for those she knew well.

He’d been startled when the first thing Audrey had done was to drop to her haunches when she was introduced to Franca, bringing herself down to eye-level.

Enzu often did the same, but that was because he was over six feet tall and did not want to intimidate his diminutive niece. Audrey was hardly a giant for a woman and yet she made the same concession.

She’d put her hand out to shake and waited patiently with an encouraging smile for Franca to shake it. Enzu had been shocked when Franca had done just that.

And the surprises just kept coming.

Audrey was currently sitting on the floor of the playroom, coloring with the four-year-old. Enzu found himself doing what he often did with the children: sitting back as he watched in silence.

He’d taken a seat at the table meant for coloring, but apparently Audrey and Franca preferred the floor.

Audrey laid a new blank piece of paper out between them. “What do you think we should draw now?”

They’d started with people. Franca had drawn a very wobbly stick figure with a square that was supposed to be a computer. She’d said it was Uncle Enzu. Working.

Audrey had praised the picture, but given Enzu a look he didn’t want to interpret. He was pretty sure there’d been a component of disapproval and maybe even pity.

“Flowers?” Franca asked uncertainly.

Audrey’s enthusiastic agreement had Franca’s tense shoulders relaxing and soon they were coloring again. His niece made yellow and pink shapes that vaguely resembled circles with green lines going toward the bottom of the paper. The stems, no doubt.

Audrey drew a single bloom that filled the whole sheet, a big daisy with fat petals and a tiny stem, but exaggerated leaves. She then proceeded to color each fat petal in a truly bizarre fashion.

“Flowers don’t have polka dots,” Franca whispered in a worried tone to Audrey.

“In our imagination they can be anything we want.”

Franca looked askance at Audrey. “Johana said flowers had to be pretty.”

Everything inside Enzu froze as he waited for Audrey to respond to Franca’s first mention of her dead stepmother since the accident had taken Johana and Pinu from her.

“Did she?” Audrey asked in an offhand manner.

Enzu let out a breath he was just now conscious of holding.

Franca nodded somberly. “She said my flowers weren’t pretty enough to keep.” Remembered hurt was reflected in the small features. “Johana always threw my pictures away. Percy keeps them. In a special frame.”

Enzu’s jaw hardened and his less than stellar view of his late sister-in-law dropped another notch, while another tick went in the column of why he had to keep Mrs. Percy on. While the woman always seemed cold toward him, it was clear she did not react to her charges the same way.

Audrey stiffened, but her tone remained relaxed. “Maybe she didn’t understand art. Some people don’t.”

“Art?”

“Your pictures are art.”

“They are?” Franca asked, eyes the same blue as Enzu’s wide with wonder.

“Absolutely. Some people don’t realize that art doesn’t always look exactly like its inspiration.”

“What’s inspiration?”

There were an extra couple of syllables in the word that made Enzu smile.

Audrey smiled, too. “Like the flower you’re thinking of when you draw one. Or how you remember seeing your uncle working so you drew him.”

“Oh. I’ve got a book about flowers. They’re so pretty.”

“I’d love to see that book if you want to show it to me.”

Franca jumped up. “I’ll go get it. It’s in the library. Uncle Enzu has shelves just for us.”

She was running from the room before Audrey could answer.

Audrey turned troubled eyes to Enzu. “I k

now I’ve just met Franca, and I could be jumping to conclusions, but I don’t think Johana was the most sympathetic stepmother around.”

“My brother had questionable taste in women.”

A snort from near the door told Enzu the nanny had returned. “It’s not my place to say, I’m sure, but I’ve been caring for that little tyke for a month now and I’d say your assessment was spot-on, Miss Miller.”

Enzu wasn’t surprised when the nanny didn’t address him directly. She rarely spoke to him. He was pretty sure it wasn’t because she was intimidated by his wealth and position, either.

The woman didn’t approve of him. He would have fired her after the first week if Franca and Angilu hadn’t responded so well to this expatriate Scottish woman of an age to be their grandmother, if a youngish one. Besides, Devon approved of her, and he had shared Enzu’s disgust with the other nannies he’d fired.

Audrey just nodded in acknowledgement of the nanny’s words. “Has Angilu woken from his nap, Mrs. Percy?”

“You can drop the Mrs., my dear. My families just call me Percy.”

She’d never asked Enzu to drop the Mrs. and it was news to him that her families called her Percy.