Mistress to a Millionaire

He had done it again—materialised out of thin air, Daisy thought irritably as she turned at the sound of Slade’s voice behind her, but then she took a long, silent breath and called on all her resources before she was able to answer in a fairly offhand voice, ‘I hate unpunctuality.’

Slade had dressed up—black dinner-jacket and tie—and the formal clothes took his dangerous attractiveness to another dimension. But attractiveness didn’t even begin to describe the dark magnetism that oozed out of every pore and cell of that lean body, Daisy admitted with reluctant honesty. He was powerful, controlled, virile, threatening—the list was endless—and she should never have agreed to leave England and come to this little corner of the globe where he was master.

The last thought was one of panic and it worked like adrenalin straight into her wilting frame. She was the nanny, she was the nanny, that was all, and once the job got underway properly she would probably go for days—weeks if he was away on business—without seeing him at all. And to be fair he hadn’t twisted her arm; it had been her decision to come to Italy, she reminded herself quickly as he walked towards her. She just hadn’t expected everything to be quite so overwhelming.

The most overwhelming thing of all took her arm. ‘There are cocktails in the drawing room,’ he murmured easily. ‘Shall we…?’

Once she was seated on one of the magnificent antique French sofas that dotted the room—along with several Louis XIV armchairs and small exquisite tables and bureaus, any one of which would have cost a small fortune—Daisy carefully smiled her thanks at the bubble-gum-pink cocktail in a tall fluted glass which Slade handed her. The drawing room had an air of very genteel tranquillity, its high, ornate ceiling and wonderful decor imposing and elegant, and as Slade sat down in one of the armchairs opposite her he was very much the lord of all he surveyed.

Although he wasn’t. Not as far as she was concerned anyway! Her thoughts prompted her tongue into action. ‘Do you always dress for dinner?’ she asked tentatively, wondering how she could bring the conversation round to what she really wanted to ask.

‘No, not now,’ Slade said easily, settling back in his chair with one leg crossed over his knee and his hands relaxed on the arms of the chair. The very male pose did nothing to help her erratic heartbeat. ‘When my wife was alive she enjoyed all this sort of thing—her mother is a stickler for formality and Luisa had been brought up with a great deal of ceremony and protocol from when she was a babe in arms—but I prefer more relaxed evenings at home normally. Of course tonight is special,’ he added softly.

He was flirting with her. Daisy lowered her eyelids and prayed for the words to put him firmly in his place. She might as well have prayed for the moon. ‘I’m only here as one of your employees, Slade,’ she managed fairly coolly as she kept her eyes trained on the flamboyant glass in her hands. ‘But it’s very nice of you to make me so welcome.’

‘You are not just one of my employees, Daisy.’ The rich, slightly husky voice brought her head up to meet his measured gaze, and as he caught the defensive wariness in her eyes and the barely perceptible withdrawal of her body his tone was very even when he continued, ‘You are the most important in your role as nanny to Francesco.’

‘Right.’ She nodded cautiously. Yes, she could accept that—to a point. ‘So Angelica usually dines with you?’ she asked guardedly a moment later.

‘No, Angelica does not dine with me,’ Slade returned softly. ‘Angelica has never dined with me.’ He did not continue and his tone was not in the least embarrassed or awkward.

He was playing with her, like a cat with a mouse! Daisy could feel her cheeks burning but it was more with anger now than anything else. She looked straight into the ebony eyes and her voice was very clear when she said, ‘Then I think it is unwise that you have invited me to do so tonight, Slade. I would not like anyone in your household to get the wrong impression of why I am here, and human nature being what it is that could easily happen. We both know it would be ridiculous, but once seeds are sown…’

‘Ridiculous?’ The firm lips twisted wryly. ‘I fail to see why but we will pursue that another time. For now let me explain why it was imperative you dine with me tonight and that we start as we mean to carry on.’

Start as we mean to…?

‘My mother-in-law needs to understand that you are in authority as far as Francesco is concerned, and that you report directly to me,’ Slade said quietly. ‘Anything else is totally unacceptable. Now, Claudia is a strong woman and her position in this household has been less well defined than I would like. Angelica’s mother is in her employ, which does not help matters, but Angelica herself is too timid and nervous to command respect. You are English—’ his eyes glittered and his white teeth flashed as he allowed himself a brief smile ‘—and unknown to my mother-in-law; this is very good.’

‘Good’ wasn’t quite the word she would have chosen, Daisy thought drily. There were others far more suitable.

‘You have come here in a very different position to that of Angelica, and it is important this is made clear from the outset.’ He looked at her steadily, the dark face daring her to disagree.

And disagree she did. ‘Are you intending to give your mother-in-law the idea that there is more between us than mere employer/employee status?’ Daisy asked in a taut voice. ‘And I would like a straight answer, please.’

‘Certainly.’ And he had the gall to smile again, a fleeting, sexy quirk of a smile that had her stomach muscles contracting before she could control them. ‘I want her to see you in the role of trusted friend,’ he continued smoothly, before Daisy could spit out the hot retort hovering on her tongue. ‘That is most important. My trusted friend who has complete authority over the rest of the household when I am not here, including her grandson.’

Trusted friend. Yes, right, Daisy thought venomously. She had heard what he was proposing described in various terms before, and friend wasn’t a new one. Of course it was normally good friends—just good friends! That was how Ronald had explained his relationship with Susan at first before he had realised the game was up. Well, so was Slade Eastwood’s.

‘Forget it.’ It was cool and razor-sharp.

‘What?’

Daisy had risen to her feet as she had spoken and she had the gratification of seeing Slade completely taken aback.

‘I said, forget it,’ she said tightly, her eyes shooting gold sparks. ‘I’m not into whatever tawdry little affair you’ve got planned, Mr Eastwood, and I’m on the first plane home. Okay?’ She placed the glass on a table with icy composure.

‘Mr Eastwood?’ He too had risen to his feet, his dark face now expressionless and his voice very calm. ‘What happened to Slade?’ he asked laconically.

She’d hit him. One more cool, clever word and she would hit him, Daisy thought furiously. She gave him a look which would have felled a lesser man and turned to go, and then, as he caught hold of her arm with a sharp, ‘Now hold on just a damn minute’, her hand shot out all by itself and connected with the tanned skin of his face in a resounding slap that actually echoed in the disapproving hauteur of the room.

For a moment they stood perfectly still in a frozen tableau in which time didn’t exist, and although Daisy was immediately horrified by what she had done a little voice at the back of her mind—a voice which had been born in the caustic aftermath of Ronald’s desertion—was saying, He deserved it. He did. That will teach him he can’t have things all his own way.

Although Slade didn’t look too convinced. In fact he just looked blazingly, frighteningly mad, Daisy told herself shakily as the flood of rage and bitter hurt drained away, leaving her pale and trembling.

‘Sit.’ The tone was exactly the same as the one she had used with the pet dog she and her sisters had had as children but Daisy was too emotionally shattered to argue. She sat. And then, as she waited to be cut apart by the cold steel of his tongue, she was mortified to see the outline of her fingers on the side of his face. She had hit him! She’d really hit him.

‘Like to tell me what that was all about?’ It was icy cold and Daisy felt terrified, but she raised her chin as she met the power of the stony black gaze even though her face was as white as a sheet and she felt horribly sick.