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Dragging himself out of an erotic rerun of the previous night’s kiss, Matteo returned to his desk and opened up his laptop. ‘Remind me why we chose her to write and perform our charity single?’
‘Because her last single was the fastest download ever. But she was in love when she wrote it so she was inspired.’
‘And the single before that?’
‘She was in love then too. Different guy.’
Love, Matteo thought savagely, had a lot to answer for.
I believe in love, I just think it’s hard to find. Izzy’s words came back into his head and he frowned, thinking it was an unusually observant comment from someone so superficial.
‘We can’t wait for Callie to be inspired so we’d better move to plan B. Get Pete Foster on the phone.’
He worked for the rest of the morning and by the time he’d unravelled one crisis after another he was cursing creative people whose approach to work was so unreliable.
He’d left instructions that Izzy should meet him for lunch, but when he finally made it to the dining room the table was laid but the room was empty apart from two flustered footmen, one of whom was sneaking looks out of the window as Matteo strode into the room.
‘Where is she?’ Matteo addressed the senior of the two, a man who had worked for him for more than ten years.
‘I believe Miss Jackson went for a walk, Your Highness.’ The fact that the man didn’t quite meet his gaze confirmed his suspicions that Izzy Jackson was doing something she shouldn’t.
‘Do you have any idea where?’
The gaze of the younger of the two men slid towards the window and then back again. ‘She’s. outside, Sir.’
‘Where outside?’ Matteo’s tone was lethally soft and the man’s cheeks flushed.
‘I believe she’s gone for a walk down to the lake, Sir. She said she was too hot.’
Sensing that there was a great deal more that he wasn’t being told, Matteo spun on his heel.
He had a mountain of work problems waiting for his attention, the last thing he needed was to be chasing some wannabe popstar round his grounds. If they were going to share living space then she had to learn to respect boundaries.
Deeply regretting the impulse that had driven him to bring her to his home and even more deeply regretting the impulse that had driven him to kiss her, Matteo strode through the grounds of the palazzo.
He never allowed a woman to get under his skin but somehow she’d managed it.
He could see no sign of her anywhere and was about to try the botanical garden when he heard singing and a splash of colour caught his eye. Turning his head, he stared down the long sweep of grass to the ornamental lake that could be seen from the front of the palazzo and formed the focus of the Renaissance garden. In the centre of the lake was the famous Neptune fountain and there, splashing happily around in the spray, was Izzy.
Finally he understood the unusual buzz amongst his staff.
Never had the formal gardens of the palazzo been used for such a practical purpose.
Teeth gritted, blood boiling, Matteo strode down the grassy slope towards the lake. As he approached he noticed a small pile of clothes and what looked like the remains of her breakfast, a half-eaten croissant on a plate.
Apparently she hadn’t noticed him and she twirled in the fountain, sending droplets of water flying. Her strawberry-pink hair clung wet to her bare shoulders and the only thing covering her modesty were two skimpy pieces of a bright fuchsia bikini.
She was a blur of colour, brighter than any bloom in the formal gardens, and in that moment he knew that if he’d been an artist, this was the image he would have chosen to paint.
Girl in a fountain.
He saw lush breasts pushing at the top of her bikini, a smooth flat stomach and dazzling smile momentarily stopped him in his tracks, as she sang and splashed with unselfconscious enjoyment.
Even when she finally noticed him, her smile didn’t slip. ‘Buongiorno, Your Highness.’
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Relaxing! This is amazing. Like having your own shower in a swimming pool. So cool. Is this Michelangelo again? The guy re
