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The idea of swimming in his pool was more than a little intimidating. Still, the area was so beautiful that she thought she might do it. If she was here long enough, she probably wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation.
He led her across perfectly manicured grounds to a little stone cottage at the edge of the property. “This is yours,” he said. “No one will come out here without your say-so. You may summon the staff, if you need anything, but I won’t ever come to this part of the property. It will be your own space for as long as you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Amy said, feeling truly grateful for the first time. The truth was, shehadworried about her privacy while she was here, and it was nice to be reassured that she would still have it.
“I’ll let you go inside and settle in, then,” he said. “I’d like to meet with you tomorrow to discuss my treatment plan and your research needs. Please come by the main house tomorrow at noon so we can talk.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer. He turned and walked off, leaving her on her own.
CHAPTER9
ADRIANO
The following morning, Adriano, as he always did when staying in his Lake Como house, came down to breakfast in his bathrobe.
He was used to a leisurely morning meal out on the first-floor patio, from where he was able to see the lake. It was a view that made commuting between countries worth all the trouble, in Adriano’s opinion. He would never have considered giving up the Lake Como house, even though he did most of his business in the United States. This place felt much more like a home to him.
He didn’t notice a couple of his staff giving him odd looks as he made his way across the foyer toward the kitchen. Why would he? This was a day just like any other.
Except that upon entering the kitchen, he saw that nothing could have been further from the truth.
“Do you have any brioche?” Amy asked, though he wasn’t sure who the question was addressed to. Her head was deep in the refrigerator and she was bent over, rummaging for something. Adriano had trouble breathing for a moment. The sight of her bent over like that…it was completely indecent. Alluring. It made him want to cross the room and put his hands on her.
What had happened to professionalism? She’d made it clear that she would never have slept with him had she known who he was. Was she really going to act like this in his kitchen while she was here? What was she even doing in the kitchen? She had said she wanted to do her cooking in the guest cottage, which was what sheshouldbe doing. She had a space of her own. What was she doing in his house?
She straightened up.
His head cleared. He was being ridiculous. He had told her she could come to the kitchen. And yes, all right, he had told her to rely on the staff to supply her with anything she needed, but it wasn’t like he had banned her from coming over here.
And he couldn’t be angry with her for bending over, for God’s sake. That was completely irrational.
Still, he cleared his throat to get her attention, and she spun around guiltily and dropped what was in her hands—a pair of eggs, as it turned, out, which broke on the floor.
“Oh no!” she cried. She looked up at him reproachfully. “Adriano, you startled me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I came into my own kitchen.”
“I didn’t know you were there.” She looked down at the mess at her feet. “Which towel can I use to clean this up? I don’t see any paper towels.”
“You don’t have to clean it up,” he told her. “Someone will get it.”
“Of course I’m going to take care of it,” Amy countered. “I’m the one who made the mess. I’m not going to just leave it there for someone else to clean up.” She picked up a towel. “Can I use this one?”
What difference did it make what towel she used? “Whatever you’d like,” he said.
She dropped to her knees and began to sop up the eggy mess on the floor. Adriano stood watching her, feeling strange. It felt like he should be doing something—helping her, maybe. But things like this were the reason he kept a staff in the first place—so he wouldn’t have to get down on his hands and knees and scrub the floors.
He went out to the patio.
And frowned. His breakfast wasn’t there.
“Sorry, boss,” Claudia, his personal chef, called after him. “Almost done with your food. I’m afraid I got a little distracted helping Amy here find what she needed.”
All right, that was too much. If her coming into his house was going to prevent his staff from doing their jobs, it wasn’t going to work. He went back into the kitchen and took the towel out of Amy’s hands as she stood up.
Immediately, of course, he wished he hadn’t done that. Now his hands were covered with egg.
She looked at him. “Make sure you wash your hands,” she said. “Raw egg can make you sick.”
