The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin

‘I could handle everything for you.’

‘You?’ He didn’t break stride as he headed back towards the palazzo.

‘Yes, me,’ Savannah said patiently, scurrying along at his side.

‘The boys can come over for a quiet kitchen-supper.’

She felt like punching the air.

‘But I don’t do celebrations.’

‘There’s always a first time.’

‘That’s a popular misconception put about by an optimist,’ Ethan informed her, speeding up again.

‘You wouldn’t even have to be there,’ Savannah added hastily, forced to run to keep up as they crossed the courtyard. ‘Unless you wanted to be there, of course,’ she added, seeing Ethan’s expression darken.

‘If I agree to anything at all, it will be a quiet meal organised by my staff. And an early night for everyone,’ he told her sternly, reaching for the door.

‘Oh…I’m sure the squad will enjoy that.’ Savannah pulled a face Ethan couldn’t see as he lifted the latch on the big wooden door that led through to the utility rooms at the back of the palazzo.

‘So, what are you saying?’ He swung round to confront her. ‘You want to stay another night?’

It would have been nice if he’d wanted her to. She swallowed her pride. ‘If it would help you, yes; I’m prepared to do that.’

Ethan’s hum told her nothing, his expression even less, but she wasn’t done yet. This was one straw she wasn’t going to lose her grip on. ‘You helped me. I’d like to help you.’ She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

The very least.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘MY STAFF won’t need your help with a kitchen-supper,’ Ethan pointed out.

‘I’d like to do a little more than that for the squad.’ And when Ethan threw her a hard stare she added, ‘Don’t look so suspicious, Ethan. I’m not going to turn it into a bacchanalian romp.’

‘I should hope not.’ He held the door into the hallway for her.

‘Just some good food and hospitality.’

‘A kitchen-supper,’ Ethan confirmed, which wasn’t what Savannah had in mind at all. There was that cobwebby old dining-room to be brought out of wraps, just for starters.

‘Either way,’ she said, curbing her enthusiasm as more ideas came to her, ‘we should consult with your staff first, as this is very short notice for them.’

‘At the start of this discussion, tonight wasn’t going to be an event my staff would need notice for,’ he pointed out.

True, but she had learned when to speak and when to say nothing—and what was it people said about actions speaking louder than words?

She wasn’t going to build any bridges with marshmallow and fluff, Savannah reflected, rolling up her sleeves to help Ethan’s staff prepare the neglected dining-room. Beneath the dust sheets the furniture was still beautiful, and the upholstery, in a variety of jewel-coloured silks, was as good as new. Ethan had carved his own narrow path through the glories of the palazzo, looking neither left nor right, she guessed, until he’d reached the suite of rooms he had chosen to occupy.

Later that day as Savannah straightened up to survey the finished dining-room she joined Ethan’s staff in exclaiming with delight. The transformation from spooky and dark to glittery and bright was incredible. But would Ethan share their pleasure, or would he be furious? Having given his tacit consent to a quiet evening in, he would hardly have expected her to expand that brief quite so radically. But the old palazzo deserved an airing and the England squad certainly deserved this.

Savannah thanked each member of the household by name before they left the dining-room, knowing she couldn’t have done any of this without them. She had been accepted by the people who worked for Ethan, and their smiles were so warm and friendly that she felt quite at home. Which was a joke, because this was not her home. In twenty-four hours she would fly back to England and never see it again. That was her deadline for convincing Ethan that this scene of warmth, comfort and welcome didn’t have to end when she left, and that it was better for everyone who lived in the Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati than cobwebs, shadows and dust.

Taking one last look

around before she left the glowing room, Savannah thought of this as her one chance to give Ethan an evening to remember, as well as to restore the heart of his palazzo before she returned home.

Ethan’s chef excelled himself, working non-stop in the kitchen, and when the housekeeper had finished lighting all the candles Savannah thought she had never seen a lovelier room. With its soaring ceiling and deep, mullioned windows, the flicker of candlelight, the long, oval dining-table dressed with fine linen, sparkling crystal glasses, and Ethan’s best silver cutlery brought out of storage for the occasion, it looked quite magnificent. Ethan had sent a message to say he had been detained on business and to start without him. What he would think of her opening up the dining-room when he was expecting to hunker down in the kitchen, she could only guess. It wouldn’t be good news for her, Savannah thought, but what mattered more was that Ethan saw the possibilities here. There was a palpable air of excitement amongst his staff, and at their urging she had even gone mad and donned her neglected pink gown for the evening.