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Daniele frowned. He had given Paloma’s grandfather his word that he would take care of her, which meant he must help her to secure her place as the head of Morante Group.
‘You are not the only one who is devastated by Marcello’s death,’ he said gruffly. ‘I share your grief. But you are your grandfather’s successor, and he would want you to show strong leadership of the company. I ordered some clothes for you from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll leave them outside the door.’ His words were met with silence. ‘There are things we need to discuss, and I do not intend to talk to you through the door. Don’t make me break it down.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘I never make idle threats,cara.’ Daniele walked back to the sitting room, cursing as his leg throbbed. The old injury was a permanent reminder of the events that had led to him meeting Marcello Morante. Ten years ago, he had paid a heavy price for saving Marcello’s life, but Marcello had in turn saved Daniele from the dark place he’d fallen into and given him the chance of a glittering future.
The grief that Daniele had suppressed since his old friend’s death felt like a knife blade through his heart. He took a bottle of beer from the fridge and opened it before he stepped out onto the balcony. Now that Paloma was safe, he could finally focus on the man who had meant so much to him.
With his last breaths, Marcello had told Daniele that he’d thought of him as a grandson. It was ironic, Daniele brooded, that his real grandfather, who had disowned him when he was a child, had died only days before Marcello. Daniele had not mourned his mother’s father, and in fact, he’d only met the Conte Alfonso Farnesi on one humiliating occasion when he had been made to feel that he was muck on the sole of his grandfather’s shoe.
Daniele had been nine when his mother had unexpectedly invited him to the Farnesi estate near Florence. She had not been in contact since she’d left four years earlier and she’d divorced Daniele’s father and remarried. There had been photos in the newspapers of her and her new husband, who was from an aristocratic banking family. Some while later, it had been reported that she had given birth to a son by her second husband.
Daniele had been desperate to see his mother and excited to meet his half-brother, Stefano. But the visit had gone badly. He’d felt awkward when he’d walked into his grandfather Alfonso’s imposing villa where his mother and her new family lived. On the walls were paintings of grand-looking men and women. The House of Farnesi had been an important family since the time of the Renaissance. But it had been made clear to Daniele that his portrait would never hang alongside his glorious ancestors. His father was a common soldier, and his grandfather was determined that the Farnesi blue-blooded lineage would not be tainted by a low-born grandson.
Under ancient nobility laws, titles were passed down through the male line. But if, as in Conte Farnesi’s case, he had a daughter, but no son, the title could skip a generation and be passed to the first male grandchild. By rights, that should have been Daniele. But during that infamous visit, Alfonso had announced that he’d disinherited Daniele and made Stefano his heir.
Daniele forced his mind away from bitter memories of his childhood and took a long swig of beer. The title of Conte was only a courtesy, as official recognition of Italian nobility had ended decades ago. He’d assumed that he had come to terms with being overlooked by his grandfather and rejected by his mother. But before he’d left Italy for Africa, the newspapers had been full of reports of the death of the seventeenth Conte Farnesi. Much gushing prose had been printed about Alfonso’s successor, his grandson Stefano, who would take the surname Farnesi.
Daniele had studied the newspaper photo of his mother looking proudly at his half-brother and he’d been surprised at how much it still rankled that he was not good enough for her. He had made a fortune by using his brain and working hard, and his online affiliate marketing company, Premio, was ranked in the top ten most successful businesses in Italy. But despite his achievements, his mother would never be proud of him because his father had not belonged to the nobility.
Daniele heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and inhaled sharply as he watched Paloma walk towards him. During her kidnap ordeal, she had worn the same T-shirt and shorts for days, but despite looking tired and dishevelled, she had still been beautiful when Daniele had rescued her from her captors.
This evening she was utterly breathtaking. The clothes that had been delivered from the hotel’s boutique were typical holiday wear. Paloma was dressed in a long, kaftan-style garment made of fine white cotton, with delicate gold embroidery along the V-shaped neckline. A wide belt of the same material emphasised her tiny waist. As she walked, the side splits on either side of the skirt parted to reveal her slim legs.
Daniele heard the thunder of his pulse in his ears and was conscious that his blood had surged down to his groin. The kick of awareness was even stronger than he’d felt in the truck when he had stretched his body out on top of Paloma to shield her from the gunmen’s bullets. He could not tear his gaze from her long, chestnut-brown hair that fell midway to her waist and gleamed like raw silk in the light from the lamps on the balcony. The lemony scent of shampoo, mingled with the subtle, floral fragrance of her perfume, assailed his senses and his pulse quickened.
He was struck by the realisation that the pretty teenager he had first met nearly a decade ago, and even the naive but achingly lovely twenty-one-year-old intern Paloma had been three years ago, had not prepared him for the exquisite and sensuous woman who halted in front of him.
Her dark eyelashes swept upwards and eyes the intense blue of lapis lazuli glared at him. ‘You always were as cold as a block of ice, Daniele.’
He was fascinated and relieved to see the pink flush that highlighted Paloma’s delicate cheekbones. Her face had been ashen when he’d half carried her into the hotel, but now the evidence of her temper was a good sign. She would need to be strong. Marcello was a hard act to follow, and Daniele did not know if Paloma was up to the task, but it was his duty to give her the chance to find out.
‘I have lost my grandfather, who I loved more than anyone in the world.’ Her voice shook. ‘Would it hurt you to show a little compassion?’
Daniele’s eyes dropped to her lips, which trembled slightly before she pressed them together. He sensed she was struggling to control her emotions, and he was furious with himself for imagining covering her lush mouth with his. Paloma was out of bounds, and the quicker his libido accepted that fact, the better. He wondered what she would say if he admitted that, far from being a block of ice, he was on fire. Fortunately, he was a master at concealing his thoughts behind an enigmatic expression.
‘I gave you the space that I thought you needed, but time is against us,’ he told her. ‘You must be at Morante Group’s offices tomorrow to make a formal announcement of Marcello’s death. We will fly to Italy on a private jet first thing in the morning.’
She frowned. ‘You mean we are not in Italy? I’d assumed it was where we were headed when we left Mali, but I was thinking about Nonno, and I didn’t take much notice of anything else.’ Paloma stepped closer to the balcony rail and looked out. Night had fallen, and the moon was a huge silver ball reflected in the pool below. ‘I can see palm trees. Where are we?’
‘Tunisia. A friend of mine, Enrique, owns the hotel. Another ex-army friend piloted the plane that was used in the operation to rescue you. I decided against taking you to Italy until I’d had a chance to try and find out who was behind the kidnap plot. For your safety, only Enrique knows that you are staying here.’
‘You have useful friends,’ Paloma murmured wryly. She slanted Daniele a look when he came to stand beside her. ‘I keep hoping that I will wake up and find it was all a dream. Being kidnapped, and then you turning up to rescue me.’ She swallowed. ‘Nonno dying. It all seems unreal. I can’t believe that the two events are linked. The political situation in Mali is unstable and militia groups have a history of attacking civilians.’
‘The gunmen who snatched you from the school were not Malian nationals.’
‘How do you know?’
‘A couple of my guys stayed behind in Mali to carry out surveillance. The gunmen were picked up by the police but refused to say who they were working for.’ Daniele exhaled heavily. Paloma needed to understand the seriousness of the situation. ‘The kidnappers escaped from custody, or, more likely, someone was paid to allow them to go free. Who was behind the plot to kidnap you? That’s what I’d like to know.’
‘I don’t believe anyone on the board of trustees could be involved. They are...’ she bit her lip ‘...were Nonno’s friends and I have known them all my life.’
Daniele shrugged. ‘At least two of them have financial problems that would be resolved if you were not around and your grandfather’s fortune was split between the board members.’
‘It’s always about money,’ Paloma burst out. ‘People believe that wealth brings happiness, but not in my experience. I’m convinced that my family is cursed. Nonno adored his wife, but my grandmother died giving birth to my father. Papa was only forty when he was killed in a speedboat race. Now my grandfather has gone too, and you say that my safety is threatened because I am a rich heiress. Sometimes I wish I could walk away from it all,’ she muttered.
Daniele tore his gaze from Paloma’s breasts rising and falling swiftly beneath her dress, and silently cursed his damnable attraction to her that he was determined to resist. ‘If I don’t get you to Livorno by tomorrow, your wish may come true.’
