Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire Read Free

now.
    â€˜You are lucky to have a godmother to live with,’ Marco di Fivizzano observed as he strode ahead of her.
    â€˜Yes. I am,’ she agreed, chasing after him.
    The warmth and strength of her godmother’s love had never wavered, and when the day had come when Cass had been ready to fly the nest, she had helped her to get the job here in Tuscany.
    She stood back when they arrived at the front door.
    â€˜Come into the house,’ Fivizzano instructed when she hesitated.
    She’d never been beyond the kitchen. She’d never entered the house through the front door. Her room was in an annex across the courtyard. The house was grand. She was not. She was covered in mud and she knew how hard Maria worked to keep the place spotless.
    But the real reason for her hesitation was that she didn’t want to be alone in the house with him .
    â€˜It’s Giuseppe and Maria’s day off,’ she explained, still hovering outside the door.
    â€˜And?’ he demanded impatiently.
    â€˜I’m sure if they had expected you—’
    â€˜I don’t pay my staff to expect .’
    She flinched when he added, ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
    Yes. She had a problem. She had never met a man so rude or so insensitive. Giuseppe and Maria would do anything for him. Did he know that? And she was definitely not going inside the house. ‘I’m sure Maria must have left something in the fridge for you to eat—’
    His expression blackened. ‘I beg your pardon?’
    She had to remind herself that she loved this job, and that it would help to pay for her godmother’s trip to Australia, and therefore she should say nothing and just get on with it.
    â€˜As Maria isn’t here, you’ll have to do,’ he said, giving her a scathing appraisal. ‘Clean yourself up and fix lunch.’
    Her face blazed red beneath the arrogant stare. She had to remind herself that she had dealt with plenty of difficult customers at the supermarket. Sucking in a steadying breath, she told herself that for all his immense wealth Marco di Fivizzano was just another man.
    Just another man?
    She would have to remind herself of that several times a day, Cass guessed wryly, but she couldn’t deny that if there was one thing she loved it was a challenge.
    â€˜My cooking isn’t up to much,’ she admitted, kicking off her boots.
    â€˜Do what you can.’
    Senna pods in his omelette sprang to mind.
    Stepping inside the beautiful old house, she was silenced for a moment. Overwhelmed by its beauty, she stared around in awe. This had to be the most beautiful hallway outside a palace. It was square and elegant...beautifully proportioned, with a high, vaulted ceiling. It was decorated with burnished antiques, as well as the most exquisite rugs—rugs Marco di Fivizzano was simply striding over in his outdoor shoes on his way to the foot of an impressive mahogany staircase.
    â€˜You can clean yourself up in the back kitchen,’ he instructed, as if she were a latter-day Cinderella. ‘An omelette shouldn’t be beyond you.’
    â€˜I’ll pick some fresh herbs—’
    Her suggestion was wasted. He was already halfway up the stairs.
    So much for that challenge she’d been looking forward to!
    Her first assessment of Marco di Fivizzano had been correct. He was insufferably rude and incredibly insensitive. She didn’t even register on his radar. He was hungry and he expected to be fed.
    Then she remembered with a little pulse of interest that Marco di Fivizzano was always hungry, according to the scandal sheets—and she doubted they were talking about food. He was also a spectacular lover, according to the same magazines...
    She definitely needed that wash down in cold water before she saw him again.
    Having cleaned herself up, she went back into the garden and, selecting a clump of herbs, she slashed them with her knife.
    No supressed emotions