The Italian's Christmas Housekeeper

‘But you already have a job,’ he pointed out. ‘You work for the Averys.’

Molly shook her head and found herself wishing she didn’t have to say this. Because wasn’t it a humiliating thing to have to admit—that she had been kicked out of her job just before Christmas? ‘Not any more, I don’t,’ she said. She met the question which was glittering from his black eyes. ‘Lady Avery caught me leaving your bedroom.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And she sacked you because of that?’

Molly’s colour increased. ‘I’m afraid so.’

Beneath his breath, Salvio uttered some of the words he’d learnt in the backstreets of Naples during his poverty-stricken childhood. Words he hadn’t spoken in a long time but which seemed appropriate now as remorse clawed at his gut. It was his fault. Of course it was. Was that why she was looking at him with those big grey eyes, like some wounded animal you discovered hiding in the woods? Because she blamed him and held him responsible for what had happened? And it never should have happened, he told himself bitterly. He should never have invited her into his room for a drink, despite the fact that she’d been crying. He’d tried very hard to justify his actions. He’d told himself he’d been motivated by compassion rather than lust, but perhaps he had been deluding himself. Because ultimately he was a man and she was a woman and the chemistry between them had been as powerful as anything he’d ever experienced. Surely he wasn’t going to deny that.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Despite her initial innocence, had she subsequently recognised the sexual power she had wielded over him? It wasn’t inconceivable that her sacking had come about as a result of her own ego. She might easily have made a big show of leaving his room, with that dreamy look of sexual satisfaction which made a woman look more beautiful than fancy clothes ever could. And mightn’t that have provoked Sarah Avery, whose advances he had most definitely rejected?

Suddenly he felt as if he was back on familiar territory, as he recalled the behaviour of women during his playing days, and one woman in particular. He remembered the dollar signs which had lit up in their eyes when they’d realised how much his contract had been worth. These days he might no longer be one of Italy’s best-paid sportsmen, but in reality he was even wealthier. Was that why Molly Miller was here—prettily decorating his tree—just waiting to hit him with some kind of clumsy demand for recompense?

‘So why exactly did Gina offer you this job?’ he questioned.

She bit her lip. ‘Because the woman who was supposed to be doing it had to suddenly go and look after her mother. And I didn’t let on that I...’ Her words faltered. ‘That I knew you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Gina doesn’t have a clue about what went on between us. There was a slot to fill, that’s all—and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.’

Or the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like the last time they’d met.

The thoughts rushed into Salvio’s head before he could stop them and he felt his body tense as he worked out how best to handle this. Because now he found himself in a difficult situation. He frowned. The amazing night he’d shared with her had haunted him ever since, but nobody was going to deny that it had been a foolhardy action on so many levels. Did she think it was going to happen again? he wondered. Was she expecting to resume her position in his bed? That once all his guests had left, he would be introducing her to another night of bliss?

He raked his gaze over her, unable to suppress the hunger which instantly fired up his blood but resenting it all the same. He shouldn’t feel this way about her. He shouldn’t still want her. That night had been a mistake and one which definitely shouldn’t be repeated. Yet desire was spiralling up inside him with an intensity which took him by surprise and despite his best efforts he was failing to dampen it. With her fleshy curves accentuated by the waistba

nd of an apron, she looked the antithesis of the glamour he’d always regarded as a prerequisite for his lovers. She looked wholesome and plain and yet somehow incredibly sexy.

Suddenly he felt a powerful urge to take her in his arms and lie her down beside the Christmas tree. To pull down her mismatched panties and kiss between those generous thighs, before losing his tongue and then his body in all that tight, molten heat. He wondered how she would react if he did. With the same breathtaking eagerness she had shown before—or would she push him away this time? His mouth hardened and so uncomfortably did his groin and, although he was unbearably tempted to test out the idea, he drew himself up, wondering if he’d taken leave of his senses.

He was her boss, for heaven’s sake!

Shaking his head, he walked over to the window and stared out at the thick white layer which was coating the lawns and bare branches of the trees. The light was fading from the sky, intensifying the monochrome colours of the garden so that all he noticed was the diamond-bright glitter of the ice-encrusted snow.

His mouth hardened. He’d thought tonight would just be another evening to get through, before flying out to Naples for a family Christmas. Slowly, he turned around. But suddenly everything had changed—and all because of this pink-faced woman who was standing in front of him, nervously chewing her lip.

‘How long are you supposed to be working here?’ he demanded.

‘Just for tonight. And tomorrow I have to supervise the clean-up after the party.’

‘And after that?’ he probed. ‘What then?’

She rubbed the tip of her ugly shoe over the Persian rug as if she were polishing it. ‘I don’t know yet. I’ll just have to find something else.’

‘Including accommodation, I suppose?’

She moved her shoulders awkwardly, as if he had reminded her of something she would prefer to forget, and when she looked up, her grey eyes were almost defiant. ‘Well, yes. The jobs I take are always live-in.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And how easy will that be?’

Her attempt to look nonchalant failed and for the first time Salvio saw a trace of vulnerability on her face.

‘Not very easy at this time of the year, I imagine.’

Salvio felt the flicker of a heavy pulse at his temple as another unwanted streak of conscience hit him and he recognised he couldn’t just abandon her to the wolves. He had bedded her and she had lost her job as a result of that—so it stood to reason he must take some of the responsibility. He nodded. ‘Very well. Tomorrow, I’ll have a word with Gina. See if we can’t find you something more permanent.’ He saw her face brighten and wondered if he had falsely raised her hopes. ‘Not with me, of course,’ he continued hastily. ‘That isn’t going to happen. The night we shared was many things, Molly, but it certainly didn’t lay down a suitable foundation for any kind of working relationship between us.’

Molly flinched. She had thought him kind and that his behaviour towards her in the past had been thoughtful. But he wasn’t kind, not really. He’d made it clear she couldn’t ever work for him, not now she had been his lover—so, in effect, wasn’t he patronising her just as much as Lady Avery had done? Before she thought she’d seen consideration in his face but that had been replaced by a flinty kind of calculation. Because Salvio De Gennaro could be utterly ruthless, she recognised—her heart sinking as she tried to imagine how he was going to react to her unwelcome news.

‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Molly?’ he continued remorselessly.

‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting to get a job with you. So please don’t worry about it, Salv—Signor De Gennaro,’ she amended, unable to hide her sudden flash of sarcasm. ‘I won’t bother you. You won’t even know I’m here.’