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Staring at her reflection she reminded herself that every journey was made up of single steps and no one was going to take those steps for you. She just needed to stay focused.
She was still stunned by the discovery that he had a recording studio in his home. Envy seeped through her. He could just walk into it at any time of the day and start playing. Drums, acoustic guitar, piano—
Her palms itched with the need to play. The piano was amazing. If only he’d given her permission to use it, she’d be as happy as a monkey in a banana plantation.
Walking over to the window, Izzy stared wistfully across the floodlit grounds towards the recording studio. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
The piano was in the outer room. She didn’t even need to go into the rooms that housed all the expensive equipment. All she needed to do was get through the first door.
Her heart started to beat faster.
A slow smile spread across her face.
She wondered if Matteo had realised that he hadn’t locked the door behind him when he’d left.
Matteo lay sprawled on the sofa in his office as he listened to the final track.
Was he being too fussy?
That last song was fine. Nothing special, but not awful.
With a curse he reached for the bottle of beer on the table next to him.
He didn’t want ‘fine.’ He wanted mesmerising. He wanted emotional, heartbreaking, beautiful—a song everyone would be humming and words that would embed themselves into people’s brains.
He couldn’t even put his finger on exactly what was wrong, except that everything he’d heard had been instantly forgettable and he wanted unforgettable. He wanted it to touch hearts.
Touch hearts? Laughing silently at himself, he finished the beer.
Who was he kidding?
He wanted the song to raise money. Piles of the stuff. He wanted the song to be so damn good the whole world downloaded it. He wanted the music websites to crash but nothing he’d heard had the emotion needed to guarantee the song would be a global success.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Matteo tapped out a quick email.
They were running out of time and options. And as if the concert wasn’t enough to give him a headache, he now had Izzy Jackson to think about.
His jaw tightened as he contemplated what the hell he was going to do with her.
As she’d threatened, she hadn’t turned up to dinner and he’d been too busy with his guests to chase her down.
Or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to chase her down.
Restless, his mind uncomfortably preoccupied with the past, he rose to his feet and strolled over to the tall windows that overlooked the landscaped gardens. The lake was floodlit, but beyond that everything was in darkness.
Or at least, it was supposed to be in darkness.
Matteo stared in the direction of the recording studio.
Was it his imagination or had he seen a flicker of light?
No. The place was locked, and—
He gave a faint groan. He’d forgotten to lock it. He’d been so busy trying not to grab her that he’d forgotten to lock the door. And she would have noticed that, of course, because Izzy Jackson didn’t miss a thing. Not if it might help her achieve one of her goals.
Anger erupted inside him and the anger felt good because it blew away the more uncomfortable thoughts that had seriously disturbed his evening. Nursing that anger like a vulnerable flame, he strode out of the door.
He’d told her the place was out of bounds. With well over a million pounds worth of recording equipment in the studio, not to mention the
