Mistress to a Millionaire

She swayed backwards and forwards a few times amidst the rumpled covers before the bedside clock caught her attention. Eleven o’clock? She stared at it in horror. She was always up at seven so she could be washed and dressed for breakfast at eight with Francesco! And her mother and sisters were here. The recollection of their arrival the day before hit her like a ton of bricks. But she had been so distraught last night after the scene with Slade that she must have forgotten to set her alarm. But why hadn’t someone called her and where was everyone?

The thought propelled her out of the bed like a small missile. Where was Francesco? And her mother and Rose and Violet? The house seemed unnaturally quiet and subdued.

She paused in her dash to the bathroom as another thought hit, and this one was full of mingled relief and pain. Slade would be gone by now. She shut her eyes tightly for a moment as a shaft of something hot and fierce pierced her heart. And he would be thinking goodness knew what about her after last night. She had been so incredibly, unforgivably foolish.

She showered and dressed at record speed, not bothering with any make-up and bundling her hair into a high ponytail at the back of her head. She glanced at her reflection briefly just before she left the bedroom and grimaced at the fine-boned, slender girl staring anxiously back at her. She looked about sixteen this morning with her scrubbed face and utilitarian hairstyle, she thought dismissively, missing the ethereal beauty in the fragile, delicate face that stared back at her.

As Slade watched her walk down the stairs some moments later he did not dismiss it, and it caused his voice to be very soft as he said, ‘At last! If it had been winter I would have thought you were hibernating up there.’

‘Slade!’ She had whirled round so quickly he thought she was going to overbalance, and then, as the colour flooded into her face in a painful red tide, her voice came rushed and agitated as she said, ‘I thought you were going to Geneva this morning? You said you were leaving early.’

‘I changed my mind.’ He shrugged easily, a smile about his lips, but she noticed his eyes were not smiling and her unease increased tenfold. ‘I can do that; I am the boss.’

‘Where are my mother and the girls?’ said Daisy quickly.

‘Mario and Isabella have taken them sightseeing and Francesco has gone along for the ride,’ he said smoothly. ‘Isabella has packed a picnic large enough to feed an army, so I don’t expect them back much before nightfall.’

‘Nightfall?’ She stared at him in bewilderment. ‘But it’s their first day here and I haven’t seen them in ages. Didn’t they want to…?’ Her voice trailed away as she read the answer in his dark eyes. ‘You sent them away?’ she asked accusingly. ‘And you didn’t let anyone wake me up?’

‘I suggested they might like to have an enjoyable excursion and get to know Francesco better at the same time,’ Slade answered comfortably, ‘and everyone was most enthusiastic.’

‘Were they?’ She was angry and upset and not a little frightened by the dramatic turn of events, and she couldn’t work out where Slade was coming from. ‘Well, I’d have liked to go too!’

‘Do you want to know why I made such a proposition?’ Slade was watching her very closely.

She rubbed at her nose—something he had noticed she did when she was upset or out of her depth—and the gesture caused his heart to twist with tenderness. ‘Not particularly but I’m sure you are going to tell me,’ she bit out jaggedly, her tone wiping away the tenderness and replacing it with frustration.

‘That I am.’ His voice didn’t betray his impatience by a single syllable. ‘But first you are going to eat. I noticed you hardly ate a thing last night and that has got to stop.’

She couldn’t believe they were talking like this—but then, she couldn’t believe he was here! ‘What I eat or don’t eat is nothing to do with you,’ she began tightly, before realising they had had this particular conversation before. He had won then and there was no reason why he wouldn’t again, she thought resentfully. ‘Look…’ She took a deep breath and prayed for calm. ‘I’ve a hundred things to do and I’m sure you have too; what time is your plane?’

‘Damn my plane.’ It was said in such a conversational tone that it took a moment to register. ‘And you will sit down and eat, Daisy; it was an order, not a request.’

She stared at him, her jaw dropping, and she saw he meant every word. ‘You said Isabella was out,’ she prevaricated.

‘She is.’ He smiled, a crocodile sort of smile. ‘But I am in, and I’ve prepared an early lunch for the two of us.’

‘You’ve prepared lunch?’ Her eyes opened even wider.

‘Don’t look so surprised.’ His smile was positively lethal now. ‘Call it brunch if it makes you feel better.’

She didn’t care what they called it! And feeling better wasn’t an option. Not with the two of them alone here.

‘Come on.’ He took her arm and such was his grip she didn’t even think about pulling away, walking through with him to the breakfast room and then out through its patio doors and on to the small paved area beyond where the small wooden table it housed had been set for two, with pretty plates and crystal glasses.

‘Sit.’ He pointed to one of the chairs.

‘And stay?’ she asked resentfully. The tone he had used was more suitable for a dog than a human being and it rankled.

‘Just so. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Once he had disappeared back into the house Daisy put her hands to her hot cheeks as she screwed up her eyes for one brief second. The world had gone mad. She’d gone mad. And Slade had definitely gone mad. She opened her eyes and looked at the bottle of wine staring back at her. Wine? With her breakfast? Well, she needed something and in the absence of caffeine…!

By the time Slade returned with Isabella’s trolley laden with piping hot ham and cheese omelettes, cold meat, green salad, bowls of pasta and savoury rice, along with warm croissants and various preserves, the glass of fruity red wine Daisy had consumed had given her enough Dutch courage to smile fairly normally and say, her tone light, ‘You aren’t going to tell me you did all that?’ She waved her hand at the food.

‘Of course.’ He eyed her easily, his dark face autocratic.

‘I didn’t know you could cook.’