The Mysterious Italian Houseguest

She was nodding slowly as she looked out over the bay. ‘So what is it that you want to do here?’

‘You mentioned your sister needed specialist help. I want to do that for Aldo’s condition—for bipolar disorder. The meeting yesterday—it was with a potential director for the charity I want to set up. I want to set up a helpline. I want to raise awareness of the signs of the condition. I want to organise support groups for those that need it—and specialist help.’

She gave a serious nod. ‘That’s a huge undertaking.’

‘I know. But it’s something I need to do. The money is easy—I have the money. I have more money than I can actually spend. I just need to be sure that I set up things to work well.’

Portia looked serious. ‘It could be a minefield. You have to be prepared for anything.’ She paused for a second. ‘People will wonder why Javier Russo is so interested in bipolar disorder. You’ll have to be prepared for the press you might get.’

‘I know.’

He could see her concentrating. ‘What about your mum?’

He nodded. ‘She’s well right now. She hasn’t worked as a model in years. Times have changed. She’s ready to talk about her mental health condition.’

He was overwhelmed by how understanding Portia was being. She was taking what he was saying seriously. She hadn’t let him think—even for the briefest second—that she was disappointed he hadn’t returned the call to Aldo straight away. She’d been kind. She’d been rational. And she’d shown him affection and love.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

She looked surprised. ‘For what?’

‘For being you.’

A soft smile appeared on her lips. ‘Why would I be anyone else?’ She leaned forward and dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead, her hair brushing against his face. ‘You’re a good man, Javier. I’m sorry about your friend—really I am. And I understand you wanting to look out for his family.’ She slid her hand under his dressing gown and placed it over his heart. ‘But you have to look out for yourself too. I get that you want to take some time. I think you’re right to stop working so hard. But you need to think carefully about the next steps.’

Javier breathed slowly. It was as if a whole weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d shared. He’d said the words out loud that had haunted him for the last few months.

Did fate really put people in your path?

He looked up at the pale blue sky above and smiled. He’d come to Villa Rosa for solitude. For quiet. And instead he’d met Portia Marlowe. With her tumbling curls, perfect English accent and chocolate-brown eyes she’d taken him by surprise. Her intuitive questions. Her feisty attitude. Her laugh. The sometimes suggestive twinkle in her eyes. But most of all her good heart.

Slowly but surely, Portia had burrowed her way under his skin and into his own heart.

The gorgeous woman in his arms right now laughed as her stomach growled loudly. ‘Oh, no! That’s what happens when you distract me from breakfast.’

She walked back inside for a second, grabbed an apple then walked back out to his side. She looked back over the Bay of Naples and gave a little sigh. ‘It’s so beautiful here.’

Javier put his hands on her waist. The electric-blue bay was buzzing with activity. White million-dollar yachts and cruise ships bobbed beneath them. The area around the bay was packed with tourists, visiting the shops and heading in towards the city. The distant peak of Vesuvius looked crested in purple this morning with a white cloud misting around it. For lots of people this would be paradise.

Portia waved back in towards the suite. ‘And this place is sumptuous. Won’t you be sorry to go back to our crumbling Villa Rosa with its antiquated plumbing, dust-filled attics and barely functioning kitchen?’

He bent his head and whispered in her ear. ‘Absolutely not. I can’t wait.’

She twirled in his arms to face him. ‘Really, why?’

‘Because Villa Rosa brought me you.’

And he met her lips with his own and they forgot all about breakfast.

* * *

Any minute now she was going to wake up and discover this had all been some kind of wistful dream.

Even now it felt too good to be a dream.

When Javier had told her about his friend the anguish on his face had been heartbreaking. He truly believed he could have done something differently. The fact he hadn’t returned the call straight away would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

But she loved the fact he was trying to turn something tragic into something positive. Her stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. If she’d come here looking for a story—this was it. And depending on the mood of the press it could be spun either way. In one headline Javier Russo would be the tragic school friend of a man who’d committed suicide and was now trying to start a charity to help others with the same condition. In another, he would be the villain, the heartless Hollywood star who’d ignored the call of a suicidal friend.

But she didn’t want a story any more.

She didn’t want any of it any more.

All she wanted was Javier. The man who made her blood sizzle just by saying her name with his Italian accent. The man who could entice her to cross a room with one look. The man whose touch she would never tire of.

She wanted to help him. She wanted to support him.

She’d thought leaving Hollywood was a curse—instead it was a blessing. She’d had a chance to connect with someone who made her feel whole. Who made her feel complete.

She hadn’t had a chance yet to tell him about her job. Or lack of it.

She’d toyed with the idea of just sending an email to her boss and quitting. But Portia wasn’t that kind of girl. She’d meet her boss, have that conversation and walk out of the room with her dignity and pride intact.

She was professional enough to know she didn’t want a bad reputation to follow her.

When she got back she would have to pack up her apartment and look for somewhere less expensive to stay. But she didn’t care any more. Holly Payne could be the star at Entertainment Buzz TV. Her heart just wasn’t in it any more.

Javier’s hand stayed intertwined with hers on the car journey back through Naples and then on the ferry back to L’Isola dei Fiori. They talked through his plans for the phone line and she took some notes on questions he needed to ask. His phone rang a few times on the way back. Each time he took it from his pocket, checked it and put it away again.

‘You don’t want to take it?’

Javier shook his head firmly. ‘No. I don’t. It’s my agent. I think he and I will be parting company soon.’

‘You do?’

‘I do. Let’s just say it’s time.’

She licked her lips and looked out at the coastline of L’Isola dei Fiori as the boat moved to dock. ‘So, when are you due back home?’ Asking the question made her a little nervous. It felt like putting a sign above her head saying, Do any future plans include me?

‘Home? Oh, you mean Hollywood? That’s not really home. I have a house in the hills and a house down in Malibu on the beach.’

‘You have an original Malibu beach house?’

‘And guess who helped me remodel?’

She laughed. ‘Uncle Vinnie?’

‘Yep. Uncle Vinnie. And guess what? He was the boss. I had to follow all his instructions.’

‘Wow. I’d love to meet Uncle Vinnie. I bet he keeps you on your toes.’

‘Oh, he does. He’d love you. Once he hears your accent you’ll have him in the palm of your hand.’

A warm feeling spread across her chest. Javier said those words so easily—as if he was assuming she would meet his family.

He flung his arm around her shoulders as they disembarked the ferry. ‘I also have a house at Lake Como. You shou

ld come and see that some time. I think you’d like it.’

Her footsteps faltered. ‘The Lake Como?’

He gave her an amused smile. ‘Is there any other?’