Italian Tycoon, Secret Son

She was astonished. Her college degrees entitled her to be addressed as ‘Doctor’ but it was still surprising that Ferrini had known it. How much did he know about her, and who had told him?

He was a small, thin man with white hair, a lean face and a brilliant smile. He introduced his family, then took her inside, where she received a shock. She’d expected a small gathering, but there were at least a hundred people there, enjoying pre-dinner drinks.

Ferrini introduced her as an honoured guest, repeating Dottoressa several times, so that they should all appreciate that a person of distinction had come among them. And Mandy soon realized that they were genuinely impressed. They were Italians, with a respect not only for learning but for the indefinable quality known as bella figura. It was something she had noticed in Renzo-style, assurance. Now she sensed that her fellow guests could see it in her, and her confidence flowered.

The others were dressed in the costliest of jewels, the most elegant of clothes, but it was Mandy who stood out, perhaps because she had chosen a simple look. Or perhaps because she was stunning. The men opened their eyes wider at the sight of her, and many of them jostled to get close and offer her wine.

Only one man did neither. Like the others, he watched the new arrival carefully, but only from the shelter of a large bookcase, to see without being seen, for he feared prying eyes.

If they could observe him now they would rake him over, fascinated by the longing which he tried to hide but feared he couldn’t. Worst of all, she might guess the truth.

He’d seen a difference in her from the start. Her face was no longer the cheeky imp he’d known before, but older, thinner, marked by sadness, yet no less entrancing. It added one more confusion to those that already swamped him, and her appearance tonight-chic, beautiful-only compounded his bewilderment.

And she knew she was beautiful. Oh, how she knew it!

Suddenly he was back in that other time, when she’d forced him to watch her with another man, dancing as though they were one, moving sinuously, provocatively, teasing, taunting him, daring him to take action.

And he hadn’t dared, because what he’d wanted to do was toss her over his shoulder, carry her to bed and make love until they were both dizzy.

Which, might, just possibly, have caused a scandal.

Now, she was doing it again, flickering through the lights, vanishing, reappearing, luring him on yet, with every movement, every turn of her head, proclaiming herself queen of her surroundings and far, far out of his reach.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘SHALL we go through to dinner now?’ Ferrini asked Mandy.

At once his two grown sons stepped forward, inviting her to take the arm of one or both of them.

‘Be off,’ their father commanded, laughing and crooking his own arm. ‘Age has its privileges.’

‘But you don’t need to claim privilege,’ Mandy said lightly. ‘You are the one I would have chosen.’

This raised a cheer and a smattering of applause, led by Ferrini’s much entertained wife. Mandy accepted his arm, glancing triumphantly around at her audience. Then she froze with shock.

Just for a moment she thought she’d seen Renzo, standing in the far corner of the room, watching her intently. But surely it was her imagination. One blink and he was gone.

‘Are you all right?’ Ferrini asked gallantly.

‘Perfectly,’ she said brightly. ‘Except that I’m famished, and longing for this splendid meal.’

‘Then let us depart on the instant.’

Signora Ferrini prided herself on having the best cook in Milan, and it showed. With every course, several dishes were on offer-saffron-coloured Risotto alla Milanese, Frito Misto, a mixed fry of seafoods and meat, Osso Buco, veal shank garnished with parsley, garlic and lemon rind, followed by Lombardy apple fritters and paradise cake.

While eating she took the chance to glance along the table, seeking the face that she might-or might not-have seen earlier. But it was some distance and the people at the far end were indistinct.

I’ve got to stop this, she told herself. Of course he can’t be here. He’s not well enough.

Then she saw him, sitting at the far end, deep in conversation with a vivacious young woman who was clearly straining every nerve to hold his attention. He wore a black dinner jacket and bow tie, just as he had the night he’d leapt into her room, certain of his right to do as he pleased whether it was to seduce one woman or comically throw himself on the mercies of another.

It was a shock to see that he could still look like the old Renzo-handsome, confident, basking in female adoration.

So that was why she’d been ignored, Mandy thought indignantly. Renzo had learned all he wanted to from her, decided it didn’t interest him and turned away, leaving her sitting, waiting in the hotel like an idiot. No doubt he thought that by now she’d have given up and left Milan. The last thing he’d expected was to see her here, which was why he’d been trying to escape her notice.

Angrily, she focused on her host and asked about the work he wanted her to do. He explained that he was writing a history of his family, whose activities over the generations had been colourful.

‘We have long had a connection with England. Many Ferrini wives have come from there, some from notable political families, and it is this that I would like you to work on.’

‘Pooh, politics!’ said the young man on her other side.

Turning, Mandy saw Luigi, Ferrini’s younger son, in his early twenties and one of the most dazzlingly handsome young men she had ever met. His eyes were dark and lustrous, gazing into hers with a fervour that made her want to laugh.

‘Dottoressa,’ he said, taking her hand, ‘our history contains many great love stories that are far more important than politics. The Ferrini men have gone out and conquered.’ He carried her hand to his lips. ‘I’m sure you understand me.’

‘I understand you perfectly,’ she said with meaning.

‘Behave yourself, Luigi,’ Ferrini commanded. ‘You will embarrass our guest.’

‘Not at all,’ Mandy said lightly, recovering her hand. ‘I’m very good at coping with over eager little boys.’

This caused a general laugh. Luigi smote his forehead.

‘She calls me a little boy. Dottoressa, this will never do. I must have my revenge.’

‘Perhaps I will also take mine,’ she murmured.

‘Is that a promise?’

‘No,’ she said, smiling provocatively. ‘It’s a threat.’

This caused another laugh. Under the cover of looking around her, Mandy managed to dart a quick glance down the table. She might as well not have bothered. Renzo was totally absorbed in his lovely companion. There was nothing to suggest that he’d seen what was going on at the other end.

The meal was coming to an end. People split into groups, drifting out into the beautiful gardens.

‘Perhaps we could now go into the library,’ Ferrini said.

‘Let us all go,’ Luigi added, drawing Mandy’s hand through his arm.

Together, the three of them headed out of the dining room, Luigi talking non-stop, both to her and the other guests as he passed them.

‘Of course we all think our own family is interesting, but ours has produced more scoundrels than most-Elena, how lovely to see you again-plus a few who can claim royal blood-unofficially. Of course that’s shocking but-ah, my friend, Renzo, I was wondering where you were. Do you know Signorina Jenkins?’

‘I have that pleasure,’ Renzo said, rising to his feet and nodding politely at Mandy. ‘Good evening, Dottoressa. I trust you’re enjoying yourself.’

‘More than I would have believed possible,’ she replied. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that I came.’ She added significantly, ‘I’m learning so much.’

It would have been a pleasure to see him discomfited, but his face was blank as he gave another brief nod before Luigi swept her away.