cold, flickering world where he kept a handle on his business empire. He had this same facility in all his houses. No one was welcome to join him, because this was his techno-version of an ivory tower. He sat in the swivel chair absorbing a blizzard of information, and realised immediately he’d been away too long. He had to go to Savannah now and update her on the current situation. Of course he’d take legal measures to protect her from the braying paparazzi, but the sooner she could leave Italy the sooner she could break free of his shadow and get on with her life.
Savannah ran down the magnificent staircase, consumed by excitement at the thought of seeing Ethan. She could see his servants bustling about in the hallway, and knew that one of them would be able to tell her where he was. She didn’t even try to hide her beaming smile, and was half-afraid everyone would guess she was in love with their gran signore, and half-afraid they wouldn’t. She approached the first young man who smiled back at her to ask him where she could find Signore Alexander.
Signore Alexander was in his office as usual, the young man told her, adding that if she would like to wait out on the terrace he would make sure breakfast was served there, and that Signore Alexander would be told she was asking for him.
‘Thank you!’ Savannah exclaimed happily. She must look such a sight, she realised as the young man smiled back at her, but she hadn’t wanted to waste a single moment on make-up or drying her hair. After her shower she had quickly thrown on her jeans and a casual top, and left her hair hanging loose and damp down her back. This was a whole new world to her. Catching sight of the housekeeper, she waved, and when the older woman came over to see if Savannah needed anything she took the chance to ask a few discreet questions about the paintings on Ethan’s walls. As she expected, the housekeeper told her that Ethan had indeed painted them, but they had never been exhibited as far as the housekeeper could remember.
She’d expected that too, and asked if it would be possible to open more windows. ‘And I’d like to pick some flowers, if that’s all right. I’d love to fill the palazzo with flowers—if I’m allowed to.’
‘ Signorina, we have a hothouse full of flowers—and that’s before you even start on the garden—but no one ever picks them.’
‘Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t.’ It wasn’t her house, after all, and she’d made enough changes.
‘Perhaps you should,’ the housekeeper encouraged. ‘Why don’t I show you where the vases are kept?’
‘Are you sure Signore Alexander won’t mind?’
‘I’m sure the palazzo can only benefit from your attentions, signorina.’
With her fresh flowers newly arranged in the centre of the table, Savannah settled herself at the breakfast table on the terrace to wait for Ethan. Last night was still framed in a rosy glow. Her world had been turned upside down over the past twenty-four hours, and it was a very beautiful world indeed, Savannah thought as she gazed across the emerald parkland. There was a lake at the palazzo, as well as formal gardens, and with wooden shutters framing the sparkling windows and vivid bougainvillea tumbling down the walls, the ancient palace was like something out of her most romantic fantasy.
Savannah’s gaze returned to the floral arrangement on the table. She had picked the flowers herself and had placed them in a vase. It wasn’t much of a gift, on the scale of the things Ethan owned, but it was a love token given with sincerity.
‘It’s good to see you’ve made yourself at home.’
‘Ethan!’ In her euphoric state it seemed to Savannah she only had to think of Ethan for him to appear. ‘You startled me,’ she admitted, still clutching her chest. She sank down in her chair again, not wanting him to think her too excitable—or, worst-case scenario, too much in love with him. If he thought that it might prompt the unwanted opinion that she was too young to know what she wanted yet.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Perhaps you were daydreaming?’
‘Perhaps I was,’ she admitted shyly.
‘No reason why you shouldn’t. I want you to enjoy your short stay here.’
Savannah paled at Ethan’s mention of a short stay. So last night had meant nothing to him. Of course it hadn’t meant anything to him, Savannah realised, breaking up inside. Ethan was a sophisticated man, and she was …
What? A fool?
She was a farm girl from the depths of the country. And perhaps that was where she should have stayed.
She had jumped to so many conclusions, and all of them wrong. This man was not the tender lover from last night, but a stern and formidable stranger who was currently staring back at her as if she were a visitor he barely knew, and whom he was kindly putting up for the night.
‘Do you have everything you need?’ he said.
Not nearly, Savannah thought, following Ethan’s gaze to her empty plate. ‘I was waiting for you.’
‘There’s no need.’ He appeared restless, as if he didn’t even want to sit down.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked him.
‘I need to speak to you.’ His voice, his manner, was a return to their former, professional relationship.
‘It’s not my parents, is it?’ That at least would make a horrible sort of sense.
‘No. They’re both well,’ he reassured her. He reached out a hand that didn’t quite make it to her shoulder. ‘Do you mind if I sit down, Savannah?’
Did she mind? It was the wrong question from the right mouth. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Her heart squeezed tight. She was tense all over. ‘Would you like some tea? Can I pour it for you?’
‘I don’t want anything, thank you.’
Normal, everyday things should make a crisis manageable, shouldn’t they? It didn’t work for her. Ethan hadn’t even glanced at the flowers she’d picked for him. and now she braced herself, certain there was worse to come.
‘The paparazzi are at the gates, Savannah.’
How right she was! ‘Here at the palazzo?’ She couldn’t believe it. The stab of distress she felt at the thought that Ethan’s privacy had been breached, and that it was all her fault, was terrible.
‘You mustn’t be alarmed,’ he said, misreading her expression.
‘Alarmed? I’m concerned for you.’
Ethan wasn’t listening. ‘If you stay in the grounds and let me handle them, you’ll be safe. Savannah,’ he said, staring at her intently, ‘Trust me. I won’t let them near you.’
All the ground she’d gained had been lost. Ethan thought she couldn’t handle it. He was going to mop up the mess she’d created without her help. No wonder he’d cooled towards her. He’d had time to think, and had concluded she was a liability. A man who guarded his privacy as Ethan did must be eager to be rid of her. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’
‘Sorry?’ he cut across her. ‘Please don’t be. You have nothing to apologise for, Savannah. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
Other than to fall in love with him. Ethan was all concern for her—not because he loved her, but because she was under his protection—and he would do anything it took to keep her safe. Savannah knew she shouldn’t want more than that, but she did. ‘What can I do to help?’
‘Stay out of the way?’ Ethan suggested.
So she was to be compliant, invisible and ineffectual? She had never longed for the farm more. At least there she could have shown Ethan another side of her. It seemed now that was a side of her he would never see.
‘The only problem, as I see it,’ he observed, thoughtfully thumbing his stubble, ‘Is that you’ll have to stay here a little longer.’
He