The Italian's Christmas Housekeeper - Шэрон Кендрик (2019)

He was immediately wary—recoiling from the thought that some unwanted invitation might soon be heading his way. ‘I am away for most of it—in Naples,’ he said, accepting a glass of wine from Molly—ridiculously pleased to capture her blushing gaze before she quickly turned away. ‘I’m always glad to see my family but, to be honest, I’m equally glad when the holiday is over. The world shuts down and business suffers as a result.’

‘Oh, you men!’ Sarah Avery slunk back across the room to perch on a nearby chair, her bony knees clamped tightly together. ‘You’re all the same!’

Salvio managed not to wince, trying to steer the conversation onto a more neutral footing as he sipped his wine, though all he could think about was Molly hovering nervously in the background, the black dress clinging to her curvaceous figure and a stray strand of glossy brown hair dangling alluringly against her pink cheek. He cleared his throat. ‘How are you and your husband planning to spend Christmas?’ he questioned politely.

This was obviously the opportunity Sarah Avery had been waiting for and she let him have the answer in full, telling him how much Philip’s adult children hated her and blamed her for ending their parents’ marriage. ‘I mean, I certainly didn’t set out to get him, but I was his secretary and these things happen.’ She gave a helpless shrug. ‘Philip told me he couldn’t help falling in love with me. That no power on earth could have stopped it. How was I supposed to know his wife was pregnant at the time?’ She sipped a mouthful of wine, leaving a thin red stain above the line of her lip gloss. ‘I mean, I really don’t care if his wretched kids won’t see me—it’s Philip I’m concerned about—and I really think they need to be mindful of their inheritance. He’ll cut them off if they’re not careful!’

Salvio forced himself to endure several minutes more of her malicious chatter, his old-fashioned sensibilities outraged by her total lack of shame. But eventually he could stand no more and rose to his feet and, despite all her cajoling, she finally seemed to get the message that he was going to bed. Alone. Like a child, she pouted, but he paid her sulky expression no heed. He felt like someone who’d just been released from the cage of a prowling she-cat by the time he escaped to the quietness of the guest corridor and closed the door of his room behind him.

A sigh of relief left his lips as he looked around. A fire had been lit and red and golden lights from the flames were dancing across the walls. He’d been in these grand houses before and often found them unbearably cold, but this high-ceilinged room was deliciously warm. Over by the window was a polished antique cabinet on which stood an array of glittering crystal decanters, filled with liquor which glinted in the moonlight. He studied the walls, which were studded with paintings, including some beautiful landscapes by well-known artists. Salvio’s mouth twisted. It was ironic really. This house contained pictures which would have been given pride of place in a national gallery—yet a trip to the bathroom required a walk along an icy corridor, because the idea of en-suite was still an alien concept to some members of the aristocracy.

He yawned but didn’t go straight to bed, preferring to half pack his small suitcase so he was ready to leave first thing. Outside he could see dark clouds scudding across the sky and partially obscuring the moon, turning the churning ocean silver and black. It was stark and it was beautiful but he was unable to appreciate it because he was restless and didn’t know why.