The Millionaire Tycoon's English Rose

‘He’s trying to go, too,’ Francesco said.

‘It’s nothing,’ Signor Feltona said hurriedly. ‘He’s just a little distressed. Please don’t be angry with him. He’s a good boy.’

‘Of course he is,’ Celia said. ‘Come here, Jacko.’

She held out her hand. For a moment it seemed that Jacko would defy her, but then he seemed to abandon hope and moved slowly forward until he was in front of her.

‘Goodbye,’ said Signor Feltona, turning towards the door.

Jacko didn’t move, but a wail of such anguish broke from him that it froze everyone who heard it. He laid his snout in Celia’s hand while wave upon wave of despair came from his throat as a lifetime’s discipline struggled with heartbreak.

‘Wait!’ Celia called. ‘Don’t go. Francesco, stop him.’

‘No need,’ Francesco said, going to where their visitor was standing frozen, joy and disbelief warring on his face. ‘Come back, signore.’

‘Go on,’ Celia said, giving Jacko a little push.

Nothing would have stopped him then. The dog bounded across the room to hurl himself into his old owner’s arms so fiercely that the two of them landed on the sofa.

‘Forgive me,’ Antonio said, recovering some poise but still clinging to Jacko. ‘Do you mean-’

‘Jacko belongs with you,’ Celia said. ‘He can’t bear to be parted from you. I won’t force him to stay.’

‘You mean it?’ he asked incredulously. ‘You really mean it?’

‘I mean every word. Take him with you now, and I’ll make it all right with the society.’

‘But what will you do before you get a new dog?’ Having got what he wanted, Antonio was suddenly assailed by conscience.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Celia said. ‘I have a friend who will look after me. Now, take Jacko quickly.’

‘First we say thank you,’ Feltona said. He touched Jacko gently, whispering, ‘Go.’

She dropped to her knees for one last embrace and the dog came into her arms-willingly this time. Francesco watched as he nuzzled her and she buried her face against him. When she released him he put up a paw as if to have one last contact.

He understands, Francesco thought. He’s a dog, but he knows she’s made a sacrifice for him.

‘Goodbye,’ she said at last, huskily. ‘Be happy. Good dog.’

Celia came with them to the door. Francesco came, too, watching her closely, seeing how close she was to weeping. She controlled herself until the door had closed, then she leaned against it, making no effort to hide the tears that now streamed down her face.

‘That was a very brave and generous thing you did,’ he said gently.

‘No, it wasn’t. I should have let him go at once. How could I be so cruel as to keep the poor creature here against his will?’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘I was going to be so practical. But I could feel his misery and I couldn’t bear it.’

‘I’m glad,’ he said.

‘But just think of the ramifications of this,’ she cried.

‘It’s actually very simple. Tomorrow you contact the society, explain what happened and ask them to find you another dog. In the meantime, just call me Jacko.’

‘You know what you’ve let yourself in for, don’t you?’

‘And you know that I am willing.’

‘I must be crazy.’

‘Hey, play fair! Don’t keep all the craziness to yourself. I’ve earned some, too.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, laughing weakly.

‘Well, I know that for you only crazy people count, and I’m doing my best.’

‘Oh, caro, will I ever understand you?’ She sighed.

‘Probably not. But you could make me a coffee.’

As they sat in the kitchen he said, ‘So, tell me about my duties. Shall I wear a harness?’

Her lips twitched. ‘I think I can let you off the harness. But you have to obey my every command. Sit when I say sit.’

‘Curl up under your chair when you don’t need me?’

‘I’d love to tell you to do just that,’ she mused. ‘I think I might just enjoy this. Whether you will is another matter.’

‘I’ve told you-I’m a slave to your every whim. Well, except for one thing. I draw the line at the pooper- scooper.’

She gave a little choke of laughter that enchanted him. ‘Hmm! So much for being my slave.’

‘I’ll be Jacko’s substitute in every other way,’ he promised. ‘I’ll even sleep at the foot of your bed.’

‘You’ll sleep in the spare room like a good doggie,’ she told him firmly.

‘Wuff!’ he said.

CHAPTER NINE

THE next day they drove to the Villa Rinucci to collect his things. Knowing his mother, Francesco took the precaution of telephoning her first, to explain that this was strictly a practical arrangement, and would she kindly refrain from asking Celia when the wedding was going to be?

‘Please, Mamma-unless you want me to die of embarrassment.’

Hope promised to be good, and contented herself with loading Celia with gifts of home-baked treats, which she received with delight. Then it was back to the apartment for him to unpack and settle into the spare room, where they made the bed together.

As they were preparing a meal she said, ‘I called the society. They were very understanding and said they’ll find me another dog, but it may take a couple of months. I hope you won’t find that awkward.’

‘I hope you won’t,’ he said. ‘I know you don’t want me around that long.’

‘We’ll just have to try to endure each other,’ she said lightly.

The exchange was pleasant enough, but behind it they were each assessing a situation that had taken them by surprise.

They spent the evening working in their various ways. Francesco had brought his laptop so that he could direct the firm as far as possible.

‘Is this going to damage you?’ she asked worriedly. ‘Your business is only just starting and the boss is deserting it.’

‘I can still go in for a few hours. You can come with me. It’ll help you assess our progress for your report.’

At last he said, ‘Isn’t it time for the evening walk? We both need some fresh air.’

Francesco found that he was nervous. Earlier in the day he’d taken her arm for a few moments when they’d visited the villa, but that had been too brief to count. And in the apartment she knew her way around. But this would be the real test-the first time she would be completely reliant on him.

She took his arm as they left the building and went down the three stone steps together.

‘Let’s head for the docks,’ she said. ‘Or shall we go the other way and wander around the shops?’

‘You’re the boss. Isn’t that what Jacko would have said?’

‘No, he wouldn’t, and nor would Wicksy. In many ways they were the boss. Let’s head for the port.’

As they walked he asked, ‘How was Jacko the boss?’

‘If I wanted to cross the road and he could see that it wasn’t safe he’d refuse. I’d say, Go forward, and he’d just sit there, sometimes actually on my foot so that I knew he meant business. He could see the danger, so I had to take his advice.’

‘Yes, I saw that once or twice,’ he recalled. ‘I thought he was being awkward.’

‘No, he was doing his job. And sometimes he’d obey me in a roundabout way. If I said, Forward, and the way was blocked, he’d go sideways and find a way to negotiate the problem.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘He was a clever