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Tempted By Desire
Carole Mortimer
Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites - and find new ones! - in this fabulous collection…Tempted by the Italian…Suzanne Hammond has spent most of her life alone. Her father hopped from one wife to the next, sending Suzanne to boarding school as soon as he could. So when her father dies and her stepmother unexpectedly invites her on a luxury trip to London, Suzanne jumps at the chance!Meeting suave, Italian Conte Cesare Martino is an added bonus—especially when his desire for Suzanne is as fiery as his touch! But little does Suzanne know that another woman plans to rival her affections…




Tempted by Desire
Carole Mortimer


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents
Cover (#u0b4d88f0-d346-5186-9b5a-4ab7edd09444)
Title Page (#u02f99835-871b-5a02-bc41-aeaa1e6eeb75)
CHAPTER ONE (#u2d7520da-53bb-54b4-90e1-d2f170677018)
CHAPTER TWO (#u4cbd773f-b67a-5e3d-9bed-e0d659466eb2)
CHAPTER THREE (#u1b8c2ba1-f1a0-545b-91c7-f0f93a039d98)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_abfefe73-e0a3-573e-a1bf-58f0a164e903)
‘Do stand up straight, Suzanne!’ snapped Celeste, herself coolly and sophisticatedly beautiful in a green halter-necked sun-dress, a perfect foil for her shoulder-length auburn hair. The two of them had just entered the hotel lounge, its quiet luxury exactly to Celeste’s liking. This holiday was costing enough, so why not expect and receive the best? She looked critically at her stepdaughter. ‘And do take that expression off your face!’
Suzanne looked at her with wide green eyes. ‘What expression?’ she asked innocently.
‘What expression!’ Celeste scoffed cruelly. ‘The one of self-pity you’ve been sporting all week. You look like a lamb for the slaughter. Anyone would think it was you who had to marry an old man simply for his money.’
Suzanne cringed at the crudeness of her stepmother’s words. ‘Neither of us needs to marry anyone!’ she objected. ‘It’s just you!’
‘I don’t intend to live in poverty for the rest of my life.’ Celeste’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. ‘If that father of yours hadn’t wasted and frittered away all his money, none—–’
‘Now that’s enough!’ Suzanne’s words came out in an angry whisper. Celeste had picked the unlikeliest places to have an argument, the lounge of one of the most exclusive hotels in London! But it had to be exclusive. How else could Celeste meet this ageing millionaire of hers? Suzanne stood her ground, her eyes silently saying she would go no further. ‘My father spent what little money he possessed on you. And this is how you repay him, with recriminations and scorn.
What he ever saw in you I’ll never know.’
She knew she had gone too far by the two bright spots of colour that appeared in Celeste’s usually creamy cheeks whenever she was about to forget she was supposed to be a lady. Her manicured and lacquered nails clenched into fists, and if she had been a child, Suzanne would have said the other woman was about to have a tantrum. As it was, she was probably about to make a scene.
‘All right, Celeste,’ she sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry for that remark. Put it down to the fact that I’m tired and we’ve been in each other’s company constantly for six days. We probably need a break from each other.’
Celeste wasn’t so easily mollified. ‘Tired!’ she burst out. ‘What on earth have you to feel tired about? Oh, I agree with you about the company—I’m getting sick and tired of looking at you if the truth be known. But you have no reason to feel tired, living here in the lap of luxury, your every whim arranged with ease. Tired!’ she repeated in disgust.
Suzanne looked about the room self-consciously, aware that they were causing quite a lot of eyes to be turned in their direction. Although their words couldn’t be heard, Celeste’s stance was obviously one of anger and her own one of obstinacy. ‘We’ll continue this conversation some other time, Celeste,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m going to my room, but you go ahead and have your afternoon tea as planned.’
‘Well, thank you! I’m so glad I have your permission,’ Celeste said sneeringly.
‘Oh, I’ve had enough!’ Suzanne turned on her heel and left the lounge, walking uncaringly to the lift that stood empty. The other two lifts seemed to be either going up or down already, and although it seemed rather selfish to take the lift up to the sixth floor just for herself, she didn’t feel like waiting for one of the others to arrive.
Celeste was daily becoming more and more impossible. She wouldn’t mind if she had wanted to come on this visit to London with her stepmother, but she hadn’t. Oh, the lure of luxury for a few weeks had been all too tempting, but the thought of sharing the so far unseen sights of London with Celeste of all people had rather put the damper on her enthusiasm. And so far Celeste had proved just as unreasonable as she had thought she would be. Celeste hated sightseeing, in fact, the hotel and the pool were Celeste’s only haunts, and Suzanne had perforce to share them.
God, it was so restricting! She wanted to explore the depths of the town, wanted to walk about London until she knew every inch of it. Maybe that would be a bit impossible, she had heard that even some Londoners could become lost in the more densely populated areas, each street looking like the last. But that had been the reason behind her coming here with Celeste, the reason she had told her friends that the idea sounded so appealing.
Robert, especially, had been against the idea of at least six weeks’ separation, but Suzanne had thought this perhaps another thing in London’s favour. Robert was all right as a friend, but what had started out as a mild flirtation was deepening into something more serious on his side. But it certainly wasn’t on hers. Robert was fun and he made her laugh a lot with his crazy ideas, but surely there had to be more to love than making her laugh. What had happened to the romantic, passionate side of a relationship? Robert’s kisses certainly did no more for her than anything else she would enjoy in an apathetic sort of way. There were certainly no flashing lights and sounds of thunder when they kissed, just a warm pleasant feeling, the same as she might feel after an enjoyable evening or meal.
But then according to Celeste the flashing lights and thunder were purely a figment of the romantic’s imagination. Romantic rubbish she called it, and so far Suzanne had to agree with her.
Once in her room she threw down her sun-glasses and magazine, running on to the balcony and looking longingly at the sun. It was all right coming to her room to escape Celeste’s temper, but by doing so she had also denied herself the freedom of the pool. She was in London wasn’t she! One of the most exciting cities in the world! So where was her excitement? She looked down at the teeming streets below her. Somewhere down there could be the man of her dreams, the man who would let her see the flashing lights and hear the thunder.
He would be dark, of course, she had always preferred men with dark colouring, and he would have beautiful dark teasing eyes. And tall—he would have to be tall. At just over five feet herself she felt cosseted and cared for in the company of tall men. Yes, she knew exactly what he would look like: tall, elegant, with a lithe masculine body. And he would look at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in his world.
She burst out laughing at her thoughts. Now she was just being imaginative. Beautiful was something she wasn’t and never could be. Short bouncing blonde curls surrounding a heart-shaped elfin face could never be called beautiful in any language. As far as she was concerned, her only redeeming feature was her huge green almond-shaped eyes surrounded by thick naturally dark lashes. But what man would want to marry her for her eyes? Robert would! But in no way could he be made to fit into her picture of her ideal man, with his reddish-brown hair and laughing blue eyes. And he wasn’t tall, at least, only moderately so, and his physique could only be described as thin. No, she would have to face it and so would Robert, he just wasn’t the man for her. Besides, he wasn’t nearly sophisticated enough. Her ideal man was older than herself by at least five years, worldly and knowledgeable, with all the self-assurance she herself lacked.
She sighed deeply. What was the use of dreaming, with someone like Celeste about she didn’t stand a chance with any man, let alone one of good looks. Celeste, with her tall proud body, her thick vibrant auburn hair, and most of all her perfect beautiful face. Suzanne’s father hadn’t been the first man to fall for Celeste’s deceptive innocently charming demeanour. He had been flattered and bemused by the evident interest of such a beautiful twenty-two-year-old to his already forty years. So flattered that within a few short weeks of meeting the two of them had become man and wife.
And a few weeks after that Suzanne had been sent away to school! She saw her father occasionally during the school holidays, although more often than not she had been told she was to stay on at school for the holidays too. Not that she had minded too much at first, a lot of other girls did it too, but after a time it had begun to pall. The few times she did go home for the holidays Celeste was noticeable by her absence. Not that Suzanne minded this either, she much preferred to be alone with her father, but it was apparent that her father would have much rather have been with his young, not always faithful wife.
She had naturally been upset when her father was killed in a road accident not long before she was due to leave school. She had been sixteen, and it had been then that she had found that although her father had lived his life to the full in the last six years, he had done it by using up every penny he possessed. Celeste and she had been left destitute, and although it was a blow to her, it was complete devastation to Celeste. None of her so-called friends, male or female, had wanted to know her then, making it perfectly obvious that if she couldn’t pay her way then she wasn’t welcome. Most of these people had been hangers on anyway, and now there was nothing to hang on to.
For Suzanne the future had been clear. She was to go to college and later to university, her main subjects being anatomy and physiology, which she hoped eventually to go on to teach. But for Celeste things hadn’t been so easy, if missing meals and walking everywhere could ever be called easy. How Celeste had survived the next three years Suzanne hadn’t gone into too deeply, but she felt sure it must have involved a man with money. Now Celeste had decided she wanted more than money. She wanted marriage, and if possible, a title. This hotel dealt only with the elite and titled, and as Suzanne knew, Celeste was a very determined woman. But as she had tried to point out, most of the earls or whatever they were called were as broke as they were. But Celeste wouldn’t be daunted, she felt confident enough of her own beauty and determination to catch herself a rich prize.
No one had been more surprised than Suzanne when her stepmother had invited her to stay here too, and no one but a fool would have turned it down. She had lived for too long in a badly decorated bed-sitter, missing too many meals than was good for her, and studying much too hard to turn down the opportunity of six weeks of absolute luxury. She hadn’t enquired where the money had come from for them to book into one of the most exclusive hotels in London, and any guilt she might have felt about Celeste paying all the bills was quickly quenched. Celeste had calmly informed her that she was only required to lend respectability to her own stay there. Escorting her stepdaughter for her health was the story Celeste had put about, and Suzanne’s too thin, delicate appearance lent truth to such a lie. Never mind that her experiences of the last three years had given her a toughness and strength of body and mind that made her a much more durable person than Celeste. At least, she hoped it did.
Celeste’s constant truculence was beginning to be an irritant she was finding it impossible to bear. She had imagined Celeste would quickly find her doting rich suitor and leave her pretty much to herself. Not so. Celeste was very choosy about her escorts, and although Suzanne knew a couple of them were rich and very interested in her stepmother, Celeste quickly spurned them. It was as if she were waiting for something—or someone. Someone in particular.
Oh, it was too nice a day to let Celeste spoil it for her! She would go down to the pool anyway. She quickly changed into a green bikini that matched her eyes and slipping on a beach robe of the same colour to cover her near-nakedness she ran quickly out of the room and into the lift.
The clothes had been Celeste’s idea too, insisting that her denims and tee-shirts weren’t suitable attire. Not that she was supposed to look too attractive, just elegant enough to be thought the stepdaughter of a rich widow. Another of Celeste’s lies. If it was known she was using every penny she possessed on this last fling then she would be known for what she was, a gold-digger.
At almost five o’clock in the evening the pool and its surrounding loungers were beginning to empty. Most of these people would shower and rest before changing for dinner, then spend an hour or so drinking, and the same after their meal. Suzanne knew the routine so well, and she was sick of it all. Well, tonight she wasn’t going to do that. She would laze by the pool for as long as she felt like it, go up, and shower and change in her room before strolling over to one of the cafés she had seen in the square and treating herself to a simple meal. She only hoped Celeste didn’t bother to look in her room but just went down to dinner without her. Another argument tonight would be more than she could bear.
Slipping off her robe and dropping her sun-glasses on to a lounger, she ran lithely to the edge of the pool to jump capably into the heated blue water. Mmm, it was delicious! She pushed back the hair that had plastered to her face, licking droplets of water from her lips. Over the last few days she had managed to acquire a golden tan and her hair looked very blonde against the darkened skin.
Turning on her back, she swam effortlessly from one end of the pool to the other, revelling in her solitariness. At exclusive places like this hotel there always seemed to be someone standing beside you ready to carry out the least little request, and while it may have seemed rather exciting the first couple of days, this attention soon became rather tedious. But for once the waiters all seemed to be elsewhere, and she relaxed completely, closing her eyes and drifting dreamily.
‘Excuse me, signorina,’ a deep voice broke into her meanderings. ‘You are alone here?’
Suzanne trod water, looking to the nearside of the pool. Wow! She blinked rapidly. The man of her dreams! Tall and lithe, dark hair, quizzical teasing eyes, and those faint lines at either side of his nose and mouth giving evidence to his sophistication and experience. He looked anything between thirty and thirty-five, much older than the five years’ difference she had wanted in their ages, but everything else was perfect. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was fantastic, marvellous, and she couldn’t believe she was seeing him.
‘Signorina?’ He frowned his puzzlement at her long silence, his blatant good looks not marred by the action. He stood at the side of the pool, relaxed and confident, his only attire a pair of white bathing trunks that clung like a second skin and emphasised the darkness of his own skin.
There were many foreign people staying at this hotel and she couldn’t help her curiosity at his being sure she was English. ‘Why did you address me in English?’ she asked him, completely ignoring his own question.
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled, showing clear even white teeth, giving him an oddly boyish look. ‘With hair the colour of corn you would most likely be either English or American. You also have their air of freedom.’ He indicated the deserted pool area. ‘And not many women would brave this isolation with a dangerous Venetian roaming about,’ he teased her.
‘Oh, you’re a Venetian!’ she sighed ecstatically. He was absolutely perfect. In every way.
He bowed politely, and while it might have appeared effeminate on any other man dressed informally as he was, on this man it appeared only as a charming gesture. ‘Vidal Martino at your service, signorina.’
She climbed breathlessly out of the pool, dropping her proffered hand self-consciously as she realised it was dripping water everywhere. ‘Suzanne Hammond,’ she supplied shyly.
‘I am honoured to meet you. Are you alone here?’ he repeated his first question.
‘I’m alone here at the pool, but not at the hotel. My stepmother is probably in the process of changing for dinner right now.’
Vidal Martino smiled again, looking deeply into her wide green eyes. ‘The proverbial wicked stepmother?’
Suzanne laughed. ‘Not really, although we aren’t the best of friends either.’ She picked up her towel and began to dry her wet curls. She must look an absolute mess! Whatever must Mr Martino think of her?
He indicated that she sit on a lounger, only relaxing the long length of his own body on to the one next to her after she had complied. ‘I arrived only this afternoon.
You will have to excuse my curiosity concerning yourself. You live with your stepmother?’
‘Oh, no,’ she shook her head emphatically. ‘No, I’m merely holidaying with Celeste. Since my father died three years ago Celeste and I haven’t been the best of correspondents,’ she laughed nervously. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with my family history.’
‘And you have not done so. I was merely curious as to why one so young as yourself should be staying at such a staid respectable hotel. I would have thought one of the more modern hotels, with dancing and music, would have been more to your liking.’
‘But surely the same applies to you, signore?’
Vidal Martino shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘As I am a Martino it is expected of me to stay here.’ He grimaced his distaste. ‘I am here for one night only. I have just arrived from the Palazzo Martino, which is just as respectable, let me assure you.’
‘A palazzo!’ She reassessed her new companion. ‘You surely aren’t a count or something, are you?’ It would be just her luck if he was. No one of such importance would be interested in ordinary Suzanne Hammond. Unless of course he was one of those impoverished counts that seemed to exist in abundance? She looked at him sharply—no, this man certainly wasn’t impoverished. There was arrogance and bearing in every line of his superb body.
He laughed with genuine amusement. ‘Not I, Signorina Hammond. Unlike you, I am not so lucky as you seem to be with your stepmother. I have the proverbial wicked stepbrother, the Conte Cesare Martino. And I would like it very much if I had no correspondence with him for three years.’ The last was said with bitterness and the boyish charm left his face.
‘You don’t like your brother?’
‘Cesare is difficult to like or dislike. He is like a rock, and you cannot feel emotion for a rock.’ He sprang up from the lounger. ‘It is too depressing to talk of Cesare. Would you like to go for another swim?’
Suzanne was still muddling over Vidal Martino’s remarks concerning his brother. So his brother was a count! A much older, embittered man, by the sound of it, who tried to rule this charming man with an iron will. She couldn’t imagine anyone more charming than Vidal Martino, so she could only assume that the Conte Cesare Martino was unreasonable to his fun-loving younger brother.
She shook her head regretfully, looking at the watch she was just attaching to her slim wrist. ‘I really must shower and then find myself some dinner.’
Vidal Martino put a restraining hand on her arm, and Suzanne found she liked that warm caressing touch, feeling strangely bereft as his hand was removed. ‘You do not intend dining at the hotel?’
‘Not this evening. I feel in need of a change of scenery. I thought this evening I might try one of the little restaurants just outside the hotel. They look nice, and more my—my taste, if you know what I mean?’
‘Oh, I know exactly what you mean,’ he smiled at her. ‘Would it be permissible for me to join you? I too feel in need of more simple surroundings.’
She was taken aback by his request. Surely he had something better to do than join her, people he should go and see if he had just arrived? It would appear not, by the look on his face.
‘Signorina Hammond?’
‘Oh, yes, Mr Martino, of course you can join me if you want to. I’m not going anywhere exciting, though.’
‘Believe me, I have had enough excitement these last few weeks to welcome a quiet dinner with a beautiful companion. Venice can be rather exhausting.’
‘Surely no more so than London.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he conceded. ‘If you intend either working or enjoying the night life. Unfortunately I did both.’
‘You—you work?’ Although his athletic body and active brain did not point to him spending his time idly, neither did he look the sort of man who sat behind a desk all day.
Vidal Martino laughed aloud, a deep pleasant sound that evoked a smile on her own face. ‘Cesare would say not, but I would say yes, My brother has many business interests all over the world. I run the London office. Again Cesare would say it runs itself, but ultimately I have to make the final decisions—and face Cesare if anything goes wrong.’
‘You actually live in England?’ Excitement entered her voice as she thought of the possibility of seeing this man when she left the hotel. She mentally shook herself. She was just being silly. Just because he was at a loose end this evening it didn’t mean she would ever see him again. But she wanted to! Oh, yes, she wanted to.
‘For perhaps six months of the year.’ A look of consternation crossed his face. ‘I will have to be excused dinner, I am afraid. I have just remembered a previous engagement that I cannot break. Meeting you put all other thoughts out of my mind. Could I join you for drinks later this evening?’
‘You don’t have to meet me at all, if you don’t want to. I won’t be upset.’ But she would, she would! Vidal Martino was her ideal and she couldn’t lose him so soon after meeting him.
For answer he took one of her hands firmly in his own, threading their fingers together intimately. ‘That is a great pity, because I personally would be very upset—upset?’ he repeated with disgust. ‘I would be devastated, Suzanne Hammond. My engagement this evening is one that I cannot evade, otherwise I would do so. But please do me the honour of meeting me later. I should return by ten o’clock, ten-thirty at the latest. Is that too late for you?’
‘Oh, no, no, of course not. I rarely retire before midnight.’
‘Then I am permitted to join you in the lounge later?’
‘Please,’ she smiled at him shyly, acutely aware of her hand still held firmly in his. It seemed incredible that she had only met him an hour earlier, and even more incredible that he actually wanted to see her again. Her hand was suddenly free and he ran to the edge of the pool, diving into the clear depths with hardly a ripple. He struck out with strong movements, swimming two lengths before coming back to the side of the pool.
‘I will see you later, Signorina Hammond—Suzanne,’ he amended warmly.
‘Very well—Vidal,’ she replied breathlessly, surprised at her own daring.
With a last intimate smile Vidal Martino sank beneath the water. Suzanne picked up her wrap and towel and walked dreamily back into the hotel. Having dinner anywhere else didn’t seem such a good idea now, not if there was a chance of seeing Vidal later in the evening. There was always the possibility that he might return early.
It was already seven o’clock by the time she reached her room, and seven-fifteen by the time she had showered. Choosing what to wear was a difficult decision. Should she wear the clinging black silk and look sophisticated, or wear the lemon chiffon that made her hair look like spun gold? She finally decided on the black silk. At nineteen to Vidal Martino’s thirty-two, thirty-three, she wanted to appear as worldly as possible.
Her hair was another problem, a golden mass of riotous curls, it was difficult to tame into any semblance of order. Pinning the majority of the curls on to the top of her head, she allowed one or two tendrils to curl provocatively at her temples and three or four at her slender nape. It gave her a look of childish sophistication and she knew it was as good as she was going to get. A light make-up and pale lipstick to add colour to her face and she was ready to face even the watchful Celeste.
A hasty look in the mirror showed her that she had what Robert would call her ‘adult look’. Robert! She had completely forgotten him since her meeting with Vidal Martino. As she had thought, Robert paled to insignificance when compared with her ideal man. And since meeting the vibrant masculine man in the flesh, Robert had been put completely out of her thoughts.
Her hotel room door swung open without any warning and she didn’t need two guesses who it was, in fact, she didn’t even need to turn round. Nevertheless she did turn round, only to come under the scornful gaze of Celeste.
‘Well, well, well,’ she drawled silkily, swaying gracefully into the room to walk mockingly round Suzanne as she willed herself not to be bothered by Celeste’s taunting. ‘And who is this little lot for?’ she flicked one of the curls caressing Suzanne’s temple.
Suzanne flinched away from her stepmother. ‘What’s what little lot for?’ she asked steadily.
‘Why, the outfit, darling,’ purred Celeste. ‘Do you have an assignation with one of the waiters? Carlo perhaps?’
‘Don’t be childish,’ she snapped, picking up her evening bag in preparation to leave the room. ‘I’m merely dressed for dinner, nothing more.’
‘Really?’ I haven’t noticed such an effort on any other of the evenings we’ve been down to dinner.’
‘Are you trying to tell me I usually look a mess?’
‘Of course not, Suzanne. I would have told you so if you did. So who is it for?’
‘No one,’ Suzanne said sulkily. ‘I just felt like making an effort. Do you object?’
‘Oh, no.’ Celeste shook her head, her vibrant auburn hair gleaming as she moved. ‘I just hope you aren’t getting any big ideas about your own future. I made it obvious to you before we came here that it was my fortune we were seeking. Have you forgotten?’
‘How can I forget anything so disgusting?’
‘Quite,’ Celeste’s mouth twisted sneeringly. ‘And I think it’s just arrived.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. You don’t have to sound quite so eager to get rid of me.’ Celeste looked at her stepdaughter suspiciously, picking up bottles at random from the dressing-table to study their contents.
Suzanne saw her mistake as she felt Celeste’s keen looks in her direction. It was just that it would be so convenient if she didn’t have Celeste watching her every move over the next few days. But she mustn’t let Celeste know that; already she had given away too much to this perceptive woman.
‘Come along, Suzanne, we can discuss this better over dinner. Well, perhaps not better, but at least in comfort.’
‘All right,’ agreed Suzanne, herself eager to get dinner over with as soon as possible. The sooner she had eaten the sooner she could go to the lounge and wait for Vidal.
Dinner was delicious as usual and Celeste in her more mellowed mood was quite convivial company. They even laughed together a couple of times, something they had never done before. Celeste often laughed at Suzanne but never with her.
‘You many not believe this, Suzanne,’ Celeste said quietly as they drank their coffee at the end of the meal. ‘No, I’m sure you won’t believe it. But in my own selfish way I loved your father very much.’
‘You can safely say that now, can’t you, now that he’s dead and can’t refute such a statement?’ Suzanne said vehemently.
‘Are you trying to say I didn’t make your father happy?’ Celeste gave a slight smile. ‘I don’t think you can say that with any degree of honesty.’
‘Maybe not. But I was his daughter, didn’t I deserve to be included in his life too?’
‘I said in my own selfish way, Suzanne, and that didn’t include you. Children have never entered into my plans for my future, and that means other people’s as well as my own.’
‘Surely this wealthy man will want children?’ Suzanne pointed out spitefully. Celeste certainly brought out the worst in her.
‘Perhaps. It may be a necessary evil,’ she said in a bored voice. ‘Perhaps just one, to satisfy the man’s vanity.’
Suzanne looked about her curiously. The only man she could see who remotely fitted into Celeste’s mercenary plans was a man sitting at a corner table of the dining-room, but even he didn’t have to be the man, this dining-room was open to the public and he could just be a visitor, not an actual guest. He was a man in his mid-sixties, with grey streaked hair and a body that was running to fat. He was quite handsome for a man of his obvious years, but surely Celeste couldn’t be contemplating marriage to a man so much her senior.
But why not? Suzanne’s father had been eighteen years her senior, so what did it matter that this man could give her at least thirty years? It didn’t matter in the slightest to Suzanne, Celeste must make her own future, in any way she wanted. But to marry a man like that! It made her feel slightly sick.
She looked at her stepmother. Celeste might be hard and grasping, but surely she deserved something better than that. Her father had loved the woman, so she couldn’t be all bad. But she couldn’t be all good either, not when she could shut out a child of ten from her own father’s love.
‘What on earth is the matter now?’ Celeste asked impatiently. ‘Surely I haven’t shocked your puritan little mind again? Dear, oh dear, Suzanne, you’ll have to toughen up if you want to survive in this harsh cruel world your father and mother introduced you to. It’s a rough world out there and you have to be the same if you want to survive, and I intend to do just that.’
‘I’m not shocked, Celeste,’ Suzanne gave a rueful smile. ‘I think I’m past that where you’re concerned.’
Celeste laughed, a completely natural gesture that added to her already considerable beauty. Blue, often mercenary eyes were filled with amusement and Suzanne wished that Celeste would act this naturally all the time. How much more attractive it made her. Not that her stepmother needed any extra attraction tonight, dressed as she was in a clinging russet-coloured gown that should have clashed with her rich auburn hair, but somehow didn’t.
‘Why were you looking so serious, then?’
Suzanne shrugged, unwilling to start another argument. ‘I was—I was just looking round to see if I could spot the man—you know, the man you—–’ she broke off in embarrassed confusion.
‘The man I’ve picked out to be my husband,’ finished Celeste, completely unembarrassed herself. ‘And who did you decide it was?’
‘Well, I—–’ Suzanne looked at the elderly man she had picked out earlier and Celeste followed her gaze.
‘Not him, Suzanne!’ she burst out laughing. ‘Give me credit for a little taste!’
‘Then who?’
‘Oh, he isn’t here, darling,’ again Celeste affected that false drawl. ‘He’s otherwise engaged this evening, but I’m meeting him tomorrow. He’s absolutely fascinating, Suzanne, a shame he’s only a means to an end.’
‘So who is he, Celeste? Don’t keep me in suspense!’
‘You are interested, aren’t you? Well, I suppose it makes a change from your apathy. His name is Vidal Martino.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_5608c903-94f2-5c69-b663-1277043b9c23)
‘VIDAL MARTINO?’ Suzanne echoed weakly.
‘Mmm—lovely name, isn’t it? And so is the man. I think Celeste Martino sounds quite distinctive, don’t you?’
Suzanne felt physically sick. Oh, God! Not Vidal Martino! Why couldn’t it be anyone else but him? And Celeste had said she was meeting him tomorrow. Oh, how could he, when he had already arranged to meet her this evening! Her distress must have shown on her face, because Celeste looked quite concerned.
‘Are you all right, Suzanne?’ She touched her arm. ‘You’ve gone terribly pale.’
‘Oh, I—I’m fine. I felt rather faint for a moment, but I’m all right now,’ Suzanne lied. How could she feel fine when she was dying inside? In the space of an hour she had fallen in love for the first time in her life, and now it was completely shattered by a few short words. Celeste meant to marry Vidal Martino, and knowing Celeste that was exactly what she would do.
‘It is rather warm in here,’ Celeste agreed. ‘Why don’t you go out into the garden for a while?’
‘Yes. Yes!’ Suzanne said jerkily, rising unsteadily to her feet. ‘It is rather stuffy, isn’t it? I won’t be long.’
Celeste sat back lazily. ‘Take your time, darling. I may just wait here on the off chance that Vidal returns earlier than expected.’
‘Oh, oh, I see,’ Suzanne said dully. She had to escape from here, be on her own for a while to sort out her thoughts.
The garden was definitely cooler than the hotel dining-room, although the hotel was air-conditioned. The fragrance of the many flowers out here was exquisite.
She had escaped here many times during the last few days, when she couldn’t stand Celeste’s overbearing attitude any longer. And now this! For the first time in her life she had found someone she was sure she could love, and he was destined for Celeste! She was certainly no competition for the beautiful redhead, and she might as well give up any hope of keeping a man like Vidal Martino interested in someone as plain as herself when Celeste wanted him.
It was a bitter blow and one she had faced once before in her life—and both of them dealt by Celeste. First her father and now Vidal Martino. She should hate Celeste, but she didn’t. At times Celeste showed a gentler side of her character, a facet of her nature she took great pains to hide. And she mostly succeeded.
She said Vidal had arranged to meet her tomorrow—he couldn’t have wasted much time after leaving Suzanne this afternoon. This knowledge hurt her somehow, and she wasn’t feeling particularly friendly towards him when she saw him walking across the garden towards her.
‘Suzanne,’ he put out his hands to her, drawing her close to him. ‘You were not waiting in the lounge,’ he scolded gently. ‘Luckily I spotted your hair in the darkness.’
‘I see,’ she said huskily, unable to draw her gaze away from those warm compelling brown eyes. ‘My stepmother was in the lounge.’
‘Ah, I see,’ he nodded understandingly. ‘You did not want to meet me in front of her. Well, I think she must have gone to bed because the lounge was deserted when I came through just now.’
Suzanne felt angry at his casual dismissal of Celeste, and yet excited too. Celeste hadn’t made such a big impression on Vidal that he didn’t want to see her again. ‘Oh,’ she licked her lips nervously. ‘Did you—Did you have a nice evening?’
Vidal Martino grimaced. ‘As pleasant as one could when visiting a grandmother. When Cesare’s mother married our father her mother moved in too. She now lives in her own home in England and complains that we neglect her. She does not think that it would have been better for all of us if she had stayed at the Palazzo like any other grandmother would. And of course Cesare visits her regularly when he is here.’ Again that harshness entered his voice when talking of his brother. ‘But I must not bore you with my family. Shall we go in and have that drink now?’
Why not? Celeste wasn’t in the lounge, and by the look of things she would have to make the most of this meeting with Vidal Martino, tomorrow Celeste would take over. She nodded her head, renewed eagerness entering her eyes. ‘I’d love to.’
He grinned at her. ‘Good.’
As he had said, the lounge was deserted, and within minutes they were ensconced at a corner table with two drinks on the table in front of them.
‘So,’ Vidal turned on the bench seat they were both sitting on, his knee touching hers intimately before it was politely withdrawn. But he was still sitting very close to her and she found she liked his closeness, liked the fresh male tangy smell that his body exuded and the expensive aftershave that she had come to realise he wore exclusively. ‘Tell me a little about yourself, Suzanne.’
‘There isn’t much to tell, and I’m not being trite when I say that, there really isn’t much to tell. I’m a student, training to be a teacher, eventually.’
‘If the job is available,’ he put it mildly. ‘There seems to be an abundance of unemployed teachers in this country at the moment. I can sympathise with you.’
‘Mm, it could all be wasted effort when I’ve finished.’
‘And do you live on your own?’ He offered her a cigarette, lighting one for himself at her refusal.
‘In a bed-sitter? I certainly hope so, there’s hardly room for me, let alone anyone else.’
‘And you have a boy-friend?’
She looked at him sharply, but could see only mild curiosity in his clear brown eyes. ‘I have male friends,’ she said carefully. ‘But none that I feel serious about.’
‘But one who feels that way about you,’ he guessed shrewdly. ‘If he feels this way why has he allowed you to come to London without him?’
‘I don’t feel that way about him, it’s as simple as that.’
‘It is a good enough reason—and I for one am glad of it. I would not like to think I was—cutting in is, I believe, the right expression.’
Suzanne laughed. ‘Mmm, but you aren’t—or at least, you wouldn’t be if you intended—–’ she broke off confusedly.
His dark brows lowered with concern. ‘My age worries you, perhaps?’
She looked startled. It certainly wasn’t his age she was worried about, it was Celeste, beautiful Celeste with her lethal charm. She shook her head wordlessly.
‘I am thirty-two. Is that much older than you?’
Suzanne had to laugh at his earnestness. As if a little thing like age mattered where someone of his looks and charm was involved. ‘You shouldn’t ask a lady her age, Vidal,’ she rebuked him teasingly.
His dark eyes twinkled back at her. ‘I know, but you are not a lady—I mean, you aren’t—–Oh, dear, I am wording this badly. My English is not as fluent as I would wish it to be. What I meant was that you are a beautiful young girl and have no reason to hide your age.’
‘You had me worried for a moment.’ She couldn’t hold back a grin. Wow! When he smiled at her like that…! ‘I’m nineteen—just,’ she supplied.
‘You have been on your own since you were sixteen?’
‘Just about. But I was on my own long before that really. Daddy and my stepmother lived out of the country most of the time, and so I was left in boarding school.’
‘At least I cannot say that. Cesare always cared for me when I was a child. I was fifteen when our father died and Cesare was forced to take up the responsibilities of being the head of the family. I am afraid I was not always a well-behaved child, far from it in fact.’
‘I can believe it.’ And she could too. He still had the look of an impish child when he teased her and she felt sure the Conte Cesare Martino must have had his patience sorely tried. ‘And how did his wife feel about that.’
This question seemed to cause him a certain amount of amusement, and Suzanne could only wonder why. Until he told her. ‘Cesare is not married. Many have tried and many have failed, but as I have told you, it is hard to love a rock, and believe me, Cesare is pure granite. One day I think a woman will come along and knock him completely off balance. It must be so, I am sure of it. He is a Venetian, and we are a warm passionate race. Cesare cannot be so different,’ he smiled with relish. ‘I hope I am around when it happens, I think I would like to see him bowed by love for a woman.’
‘That isn’t a very nice thing to say,’ she scolded.
‘You are right, but I find I have many of these thoughts about my austere brother. You would know why if you were ever to meet him.’
Suzanne gave a little laugh, a soft gentle sound that riveted her companion’s eyes on her glowing face. ‘I don’t think there’s any chance of that!’
The smile faded from her face as she saw the scowl on Vidal Martino’s face, and following his gaze she saw the reason why. A man had just entered the lounge, a tall aristocratic man with a dark look of disapproval in his rigidly held features. Suzanne was instantly aware of his air of arrogance and she wasn’t surprised when the manager of the hotel began bowing subserviently to him, only to be waved imperiously away again. Icy grey eyes settled on the two of them sitting in the corner of the room and Suzanne felt herself stiffen as the newcomer strode towards them with long easy strides.
‘You are about to be proved wrong,’ muttered Vidal, rising slowly to his feet.
Suzanne’s startled gaze swung to the man now standing beside their table, her eyes widening with shock. Surely this couldn’t be the Conte Cesare Martino! This man was too young and he didn’t fit her picture of him at all. That over-long blond almost silver-coloured hair, and those steel grey eyes couldn’t possibly belong to a Venetian. And yet his skin was a dark swarthy colour. The whole effect was very startling and very attractive, much too attractive for any woman’s peace of mind.
‘Cesare,’ Vidal Martino said firmly, confirming Suzanne’s suspicions. ‘I did not expect to see you tonight.’
The Conte’s eyes flickered momentarily over Suzanne as she remained seated, and if anything his look became even more contemptuous. ‘So it would appear,’ he said coldly, his voice only slightly accented, much less so than his brother’s, a deep slightly husky sound that commanded attention.
‘And what do you mean by that?’ Vidal’s face became flushed with anger.
Suzanne compared the two men and could find little resemblance, except perhaps in their physique. Both looked powerful men, although she would hazard a guess that any battle these two entered opposed to each other, be it verbal or physical, the Conte would always emerge the winner. As brothers, half-brothers, they bore no resemblance to each other. One was so dark in colouring, and the other so fair and yet with that dark contrasting skin. There couldn’t be more than six or seven years difference in their ages and yet the Conte had such a distinguished air that he appeared older. And no wonder, if he had had to take over his duties as the Conte Martino at such an early age.
‘I merely meant that as you are already occupied then of course you could hot have been expecting me,’ the Conte answered his brother’s rather heated question. ‘Are you not going to introduce us, Vidal?’ As he said this the Conte lowered his tall frame to sit on the other side of Suzanne, and Vidal had perforce to join them.
‘Suzanne, my brother the Conte Cesare Martino,’ he gave in sulkily. Suzanne was again reminded of a little boy and her resentment towards his brother grew for interrupting what should have been a perfect evening spent with Vidal. ‘Cesare, this is Signorina Hammond, Signorina Suzanne Hammond.’
She felt her hand taken into a firm grip and at last looked up as the Conte’s silver-blond head neared her hand, kissing her suddenly warm flesh with those cold firm impassioned lips. Grey eyes widened slightly as they met the sparkle in her green ones and Suzanne felt strangely unreal for a moment before he calmly broke that gaze.
‘Signorina Hammond?’ he queried softly.
‘Yes,’ she replied breathlessly, feeling curiously as if she had run for miles and miles and now felt winded.
‘I only ask because I was informed that a Signora Hammond was staying here.’
‘That would be Suzanne’s stepmother,’ Vidal put in resentfully. ‘And what, may I ask, have you been doing this evening, Cesare?’
‘The same as you, no doubt, visiting my stubborn and wilful grandmother. When she informed me of your visit to her I thought it only polite to see you before I retired. As you only arrived this afternoon I thought perhaps you would be alone. I can see I have wasted my time.’ Again those grey eyes flickered over Suzanne’s still form.
Usually rudeness didn’t bother her, but she was perfectly well aware that coming from this arrogant man it was a gross insult. He certainly wouldn’t talk about one of his own countrywomen with such ill-disguised contempt, and definitely not in front of them. ‘If you are referring to me, signore, then you are quite wrong. I’m not detaining your brother,’ she said icily.
‘Whether you are or whether you are not is not Cesare’s concern,’ Vidal cut in. ‘I am no longer a child, Cesare, but a grown man. You would do well to remember it.’
The Conte stood up in unhurried movements. ‘And you would have done well to remember, Vidal, that the Grant contract was an important part of my plan for greater expansion into America,’ the words rang out with contempt. ‘And if you had contacted me immediately on your arrival this afternoon instead of—instead of flirting with this child—we may have still been able to salvage something from the mess. As it is, Leroy Grant has cancelled any further business with us.’ He bowed stiffly to Suzanne. ‘Miss Hammond. I will see you in your office tomorrow, Vidal.’
There was no mistaking the anger in his voice and Suzanne watched him nervously as he walked out of the lounge. The hand that lifted her glass shook with delayed reaction and she sipped the fiery liquid gratefully. So that was the Conte Martino! Vidal was right, that man was pure granite. She looked at Vidal and was shocked by his appearance. His face was paled somewhat and he was glaring after the Conte with undisguised dislike.
She put out her hand and touched his arm tentatively. ‘Vidal?’ she said questioningly. ‘You mustn’t let his anger bother you so much. I’m sure he’ll have forgotten it by tomorrow.’
Vidal seemed to visibly drag his attention back to her, smiling slightly at her concerned face. He patted her hand reassuringly. ‘Cesare forgets nothing. But I am unconcerned with his anger. Grant had already decided not to sell to us before we even made our offer. It was his rudeness to you that I find unforgivable. And do not say it does not matter, because I can see it did. He annoyed and upset you.’
‘Perhaps,’ Suzanne admitted. ‘At the time. But it isn’t important, at least, not important enough to ruin our evening.’
‘To me it is. He would not have spoken to one of our own nationality in that way. Cesare dislikes the freedom of your countrywomen.’
‘I had already guessed as much,’ she said with a light laugh. ‘But it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t half as old as I imagined him to be.’
Vidal Martino studied her suspiciously. ‘You do not find him attractive, do you?’ he demanded haughtily, looking curiously like his brother at that moment.
‘Why, I—–! No, of course not. What a strange thing to say!’
‘Not so strange when you consider what he has—money, harsh good looks, and most important of all, a title. I am not so foolish that I do not realise how attractive these things can be to a woman. Cesare is thirty-seven, only five years my senior, and yet at times he reduces me to a mere schoolboy. Imagine what havoc he could evoke in a babe like yourself.’
‘I don’t need to imagine anything, I’ve seen him with my own eyes, and as you’ve already said, he only annoyed and upset me. What do you take me for, Vidal? A gold-digger?’ Her green eyes sparkled angrily.
Vidal gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Forgive me, Suzanne. Of course I think no such thing. You must try to understand.
Cesare has always taken everything he wanted, and occasionally it has been women whom I thought I had prior claim to.’
These words gave Suzanne a warm glowing feeling and yet she still felt angry. ‘Now you’re being silly. You heard what your brother called me, a child. He obviously disliked me.’
‘Perhaps, perhaps not. It does not matter, as long as you disliked him.’
‘Well, I did,’ she said impatiently. ‘And I think this conversation is all rather pointless. You will be going to your apartment tomorrow and I’ll probably never see you again.’ She badly wanted to see him again, but in the last few minutes she had learnt that you could not go on looks alone. Vidal Martino might be perfect to look at, but his jealousy of his brother over even the little things certainly wasn’t an endearing quality. But perhaps he had good reason to feel that way—who was she to judge?
‘You will most certainly see me again, Suzanne,’ he said softly, caressingly, and Suzanne felt her bones melt at the warmth in his eyes. ‘We will meet often. You are staying long in London?’
Suzanne shrugged. ‘Until Celeste says we leave.’
‘I see. Then I could perhaps call on you some time during the next few days? I am unsure of when it will be,’ he grimaced. ‘Cesare will make sure I make reparation for losing the Grant contract, so I will probably be kept busy.’
‘I wouldn’t like to cause any more trouble between the Conte and yourself,’ Suzanne said stiffly.
Deep brown eyes looked at her imploringly. ‘Please do not be angry, cara. I would like very much to see you again. Answer truthfully, would you like to see me also?’
‘Well, yes, but I—–’
‘Then it is settled.’
Suzanne would have liked to point out that he might find it quite difficult meeting Celeste and herself without Celeste actually finding out about it, because it was a sure fact that her stepmother didn’t intend sharing Vidal with anyone. But the temptation to see this fascinating man again was too much for her. Why should she care about the Conte’s disapproval if Vidal didn’t? And it was only when reminded of his brother that Vidal became not quite the man of her dreams, and she doubted very much if she would ever meet the Conte again. She nodded her head wordlessly.
Vidal grinned. ‘Good. Would you care for a short walk in the garden? It is still quite warm and the perfume delightful.’
She knew that if she went out into the garden with him he was bound to kiss her goodnight, and her senses jumped in anticipation. Why not? This was London, sin city some people called it, so why not accept a kiss from a romantic Venetian? She smiled at him shyly. ‘I would love to.’
The garden seemed more than usually beautiful and Suzanne walked with this tall Venetian as if in a hazy dream. Everywhere appeared to have a special look and the flowers a strong heady perfume, and she knew this was entirely due to the presence of Vidal Martino. Never before had she felt so breathlessly nervous, as if she were floating on a silver cloud. This had to be love, this wild beating of her heart and the excitement of her senses by just being with him. What on earth would happen to her when he kissed her! She felt as if she would faint from pure delight at being in his arms.
‘You have beautiful hair, Suzanne,’ Vidal said close against her ear, making her aware of just how close to her he was. A slight movement and his hard thighs came close against the back of her legs and she knew he was standing directly behind her. Her breath caught and held in her throat and she felt afraid to turn around in case she broke the spell. She could feel his soft warm breath on the nape of her neck and she waited expectantly for his next move.
Strong hands closed firmly around the top of her arms and she was turned slowly to face him. His dark head bent and his lips lightly caressed the hollow visible at the base of her throat. Suzanne quivered with pleasure and sighed her disappointment as those firm passionate lips were reluctantly removed. She could see his handsome features in the moonlight and her heart turned over just at the sight of him.
‘You are trembling, Suzanne,’ he said, huskily soft. ‘Do I frighten you?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Ah,’ he smiled gently. ‘Then dare I hope that I—excite you?’
Suzanne blushed a fiery red. ‘Vidal!’ she said reprovingly.
‘Now I have shocked you. It is not shameful to admit to physical pleasure. With you I feel this pleasure. There, you see, I am not ashamed to admit such feelings.’
‘But you’re a man!’
‘And it is only men who are permitted to feel like this? Come, Suzanne, your studies must have told you differently.’
‘I’m not such an innocent, it’s just that it isn’t something one usually discusses.’
‘But why not? Sometimes the discussion can be almost as pleasurable as the action. But I will not tease you any more, no matter how delightful you look when you blush. Don’t ever lose that innocence,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘It is a fascinating part of your charm.’
‘I have to become a woman some time, Vidal,’ she pointed out, her cheeks still aflame with colour. No Englishman would ever talk in this way—well, not on such short acquaintance anyway.
‘To become a woman does not necessarily mean you lose your innocent approach to life. You are youthful and refreshing and it would be a great loss for you to become hardened and sophisticated.’
Suzanne could quite well believe this was the type of woman he usually entertained; wasn’t Celeste such a woman? ‘Thank you,’ she smiled shyly. ‘I think that’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had.’
Dark velvet eyes held her mesmerised and she waited expectantly while his dark head bent slowly for his lips to claim her own. Strong arms held her against the lean length of him and her own arms slowly slid up his shoulders and around the back of his neck to lengthen and deepen the kiss. At first his lips played gently with hers until finally he parted the softness of her mouth to greater explore her sweetness.
Never before had Suzanne experienced such a caress. It was beautifully sweet while being temptingly serious. And yet she felt disappointment too. No flashing lights and sounds of thunder to tell her this was the man she could love, and yet his kiss gave her more pleasure than she had felt before with any man. But no flashing lights and sounds of thunder! This knowledge spoilt everything. Was she to believe Celeste and admit that these things just didn’t happen? It would appear so, because she felt sure she was falling in love with Vidal Martino.
She felt bereft when at last those lips were removed but sighed with pleasure as he moved to continue his exploration of her creamy throat and shoulders. ‘Vidal!’ She couldn’t suppress her groan of pleasure at his touch.
‘You are beautiful, Suzanne, so beautiful.’ He drew back regretfully. ‘But for now we must part. I will call you and arrange a meeting. You will come?’
Her eyes glowed and her lips throbbed and it was all she could do to nod her agreement. A fleeting touch of lips and Vidal was leading her back into the hotel. They parted at the lift doors with a formal goodnight and at Suzanne’s surprised expression Vidal looked pointedly at the hotel receptionist, who was watching them with unconcealed curiosity.
‘I have no intention of giving them a free show,’ he told her with a smile, keeping his voice low and only for her ears.
Suzanne saw that the hotel porter was also watching them and she felt rather resentful at their intrusion into her perfect evening. But of course it hadn’t been perfect! Hadn’t the Conte Cesare Martino seen to that? Oh well, the latter part had more than made up for it. ‘Goodnight, Vidal,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’
The intimate glow in his eyes was his only indication that he would have liked to do more than politely kiss the back of her hand. Blushing prettily, she gave him one last glowing smile before pressing the button to close the lift doors. She hugged herself tightly. Wasn’t he wonderful, perfect, all that she had ever wanted in a man! And yet still the nagging doubt remained. No flashing lights and sounds of thunder. She dismissed this as unimportant, it had to be. Celeste must be right, because this had to be love she felt. It had to be!
She walked dreamily into her room, discarding her evening bag and her shoes before looking at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look any different, a little starry-eyed perhaps, but that was all. Shouldn’t there be something more than that to show how gloriously happy she felt, something more tangible than this bubbling feeling inside?
The door flew open without warning and Celeste marched purposefully into the room, interrupting and breaking into Suzanne’s dream world. ‘What a liar you are, Suzanne!’ she spat out with a sneer. She looked about the room as if she were surprised to see Suzanne alone. ‘Where is he, then? Skulking in the bathroom?’
‘Where is who?’ Suzanne’s eyes were bewildered. ‘What are you talking about, Celeste? Who could possibly be in my room at this time of night?’
Celeste gave a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t act the innocent with me, Suzanne. Not any more. I saw you—I saw you, I tell you! Out there in the garden!’
Suzanne began to look apprehensive. ‘You—You saw me?’ Oh, God, no! Celeste would never forgive her.
Celeste walked about the hotel room, a mocking smile marring her beauty. ‘Mmm. Mooning about the garden with your gigolo.’
‘Gigolo?’
‘Yes, gigolo. He could hardly be anything else, he thinks you’re rich, remember? I was right, wasn’t I? It was Carlo. How could you do it, Suzanne!’ She sat down on the bed. ‘You know my position here. You know how important it is that we retain an air of respectability. The Martino family won’t stand for any scandal. If it’s known that my stepdaughter keeps company with the waiters then the respectable appearance we’ve built up here will become non-existent. How could you do it, Suzanne? How could you!’
Suzanne felt a glimmer of hope. Celeste didn’t realise that her companion in the garden had been Vidal Martino, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell her. ‘You believe I was with Carlo?’
Her stepmother shrugged. ‘What does it matter which one of the waiters it was? You may go out with anyone you choose when at home in Manchester, but not here. I won’t allow it. If Vidal Martino gets to hear of this affair you’ll ruin my chances.’
‘V-Vidal Martino?’ Suzanne echoed hollowly. How could he not hear of it when it had been him all the time?
‘Yes, Vidal Martino!’ Celeste stood up angrily. ‘So this little flirtation must stop. Do you understand?’
‘Celeste, you can’t—–’
‘I can, Suzanne! This affair stops or you’ll return to that hovel you call home immediately. I mean it, Suzanne,’ she walked to the door. ‘So you’d better tell your little friend that it’s over.’
Suzanne stared at the closed door. Well! Just who did Celeste think she was? How dared she walk in here and proceed to order her life? The fact that Celeste considered her to have been meeting a waiter and not Vidal made no difference. She had no right to come in here and issue orders concerning Suzanne’s conduct. No right at all.
She walked restlessly about the room. Celeste must have seen her from the window of her own hotel room, they both had that view from their window. Obviously the darkness had prevented her from recognising Vidal, but her own golden hair must have shown up very clearly in the moonlight. Thank God she hadn’t actually seen the person who was with her; there was no telling what she would have done if she had known that.
Suzanne was late down to breakfast the next morning. She had tossed and turned most of the night. She was feeling so indignantly angry that she had great trouble getting to sleep at all. Celeste’s reprimand had stayed in her thoughts late into the night until finally she fell into a restless sleep.
Celeste was just finishing her coffee when Suzanne arrived at their table. She looked at her stepdaughter critically. ‘That’s a pretty dress,’ she remarked coolly.
Suzanne sat down reluctantly; she had hoped Celeste would already have breakfasted. ‘You’ve seen it before. You paid for it.’
‘There’s no need to be bitchy, Suzanne. I only said what I did last night for your own good. My marriage will benefit you as much as it does me.’
‘Why?’ Suzanne asked sharply. ‘Because I’ll get you out of my life once more? You don’t know how much I wish for that, Celeste. If I’d realised just how obnoxious you were going to be I wouldn’t have agreed to come here at all. I’ve managed without you so far and I’ll do so again.’ She poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘I can’t wait for the day.’
‘No one forced you to come here, Suzanne. Luxury appealed to you, didn’t it?’
‘Yes, it did, I don’t mind admitting it. But I wish now that I hadn’t bothered—I can’t stand being here with you.’
‘Now that’s a shame, because I quite like you. You’re like your father in many ways.’
‘Will you leave my father out of this!’ Suzanne’s cup clattered down into the saucer. ‘I couldn’t give a damn what you do with your life, but leave my father out of it.’
‘All right, Suzanne, I will. We never liked each other, did we? Perhaps you were right and I shouldn’t have shut you out of our life together. We would maybe have been friends then. Well, it’s too late now,’ she crumpled her napkin and stood up. ‘I’ll be seeing Vidal this morning, so you please yourself what you do.’
‘Thanks.’ Suzanne obstinately kept her eyes downwards, helping herself to a piece of toast and concentrating on spreading it with butter. ‘I was going to anyway.’
Celeste laughed, looking beautiful and vital in a black and white spotted sun-dress. ‘That’s what I thought. I may be out all day, so it’s up to you what you do. As long as you don’t meet that waiter,’ she added darkly.
‘I’ll meet who I please, when I please,’ Suzanne looked at her defiantly. Celeste’s casual mentioning, of her expected meeting with Vidal only made her feel more angry and contemptuous. How could Vidal help but find the attractive and sophisticated Celeste more beautiful than she?
‘Not on my money you won’t,’ was Celeste’s parting shot.
Suzanne suddenly wasn’t hungry. Her appetite hadn’t been too great to start with, but now it was non-existent. She left the dining-room to collect her bathing things and then went to the pool, intending to spend the morning lazing beside the pool and bathing in the soothing water.
Carlo, the waiter, brought her out a long cool lime juice at her request, placing it on the low table beside her. ‘Miss Hammond,’ he began nervously. ‘Someone is asking for you in reception, someone of importance,’ he indicated her bikini. ‘It would not be proper to meet him dressed so.’
Suzanne’s eyes opened wide at Carlo’s tone of rebuke. It wasn’t usual for the staff at this expensive hotel to act in this way. Perhaps Carlo guessed that she wasn’t one of its rich patrons, but a masquerader. But even so … ‘Who is it, Carlo?’ she asked sharply, not a snob herself, but she didn’t welcome this boy’s familiarity either.
Carlo, one of the Italian staff at the hotel, broke into a spate of his own language, the pure complicated Italian that only they could speak. Suzanne understood little of it, although she knew a little of the language, once having shared a flat with a young Italian girl over here for her education. The only thing that seemed to make any sense out of this tirade was the name Martino. Suzanne sat up, her eyes bright and happy. She had seen Vidal Martino leave the hotel with Celeste earlier, but perhaps he had returned to see her.
‘Mr Martino?’ she said excitedly. ‘Is Mr Martino waiting for me in reception?’
‘Si, si,’ Carlo nodded vigorously, watching as Suzanne jumped to her feet, pulling on her bathing robe. ‘But, Miss Hammond, it—–’
Suzanne didn’t wait to hear any more but ran into the hotel, slowing down to a fast walk as she neared the reception area. Her face glowed and her eyes shone. Vidal had come back to see her, she felt sure of it. She knew he had checked out of the hotel at eleven o’clock, she had seen him leave, and she had also seen Celeste clinging to his arm. But he had come back to see her.
She looked around for him excitedly, coming to a shocked halt as she saw who was waiting for her. ‘Conte Martino!’ She said breathlessly.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_f1af7f86-55bf-5bd5-910c-1f01faa30aa8)
HE walked towards her with those familiar long easy strides, completely male and dominant. He took her proffered hand, bowing low over her slender fingers. ‘Miss Hammond.’ Those icy grey eyes searched her startled face. Her hand was slowly released and he stepped back away from her. ‘You did not expect me,’ he surmised correctly. ‘Did the waiter not explain that I wished to see you?’
To see her! But why? Last night he had treated her with nothing but contempt, so what did he want with her now—not more insults, surely? ‘I—I thought you were—–’ She broke off in confusion. It sounded rude to say she had thought him to be someone else, even if it was true. She shook her head wordlessly.
‘You thought I was Vidal,’ he guessed correctly again. ‘But did the waiter not explain that it was Cesare Martino, and not Vidal?’
Suzanne put up a nervous hand to her disordered hair. It badly needed washing after her dip in the pool and at the moment surrounded her heart-shaped face in riotous curls. Oh, why hadn’t she stayed to listen to the end of Carlo’s conversation, for she felt sure now that he had been going to explain exactly who her visitor was. ‘He may have done,’ she said hurriedly, realising he was looking at her strangely for her prolonged silence. ‘He was talking in Italian at a very fast rate,’ she explained. ‘I’m all right with bookish Italian if it’s spoken very slowly, but anything else defeats me, I’m afraid.’
‘But surely he must have known this,’ the Conte said harshly. ‘All the non-English staff are requested to speak only English.’
‘Oh please, don’t be angry, Mr—Signor Conte,’ she amended hastily. ‘He was so excited, because you’re a count, I suppose, he just forgot for a moment.’ She looked down at her lack of clothing. ‘That’s probably the reason he told me I wasn’t dressed properly too,’ she said wryly.
The Conte’s swarthy face darkened with anger. ‘He dared to do that?’ he demanded coldly. ‘A waiter told a guest at my hotel that she was insufficiently dressed? But this cannot be!’
Only one thing made any sense to Suzanne. ‘Your hotel, Conte Martino? You own this hotel?’
‘That is correct. And many more like it throughout Europe and America. Sadly not enough in America—that was why the Grant contract was so important to me. But no matter, I did not come here to discuss business. In fact I came here to apologise for my behaviour yesterday evening. I may have been annoyed with Vidal, but my behaviour towards you was unforgivable.’
‘You don’t have to apologise to me,’ Suzanne said quickly. ‘I quite understand.’
Quite frankly she felt bewildered. Conte Martino actually owned this hotel she and Celeste were staying at. Had Celeste known this when she had decided to come to London, to this particular hotel? Suddenly she felt sure that she had. That was the reason Celeste had seemed as if she were waiting for something or someone—she had been. She must have guessed that sooner or later Vidal Martino would be a guest here at his family’s hotel, or perhaps she hadn’t needed to guess at all, perhaps she had known. Perhaps she knew more about the Martino family than Suzanne realised. But if this were so, then she must also realise there was a Conte Martino, a man with good looks, money, and most of all, a title. So why was she seemingly interested in Vidal Martino? It was all a mystery to Suzanne, a complete mystery.
‘So,’ he broke effectively into her thoughts, ‘is my apology accepted?’
‘Of course, Conte. But there was no need, really.’
He looked about the lounge, finally indicating for her to sit down in one of the luxurious armchairs provided. As she sat down she became blushingly aware of her lack of clothing. A thigh-length bathing robe was hardly suitable attire to entertain a real live Conte in. She should have listened to Carlo! He could have delayed the Conte while she ran upstairs to her room to change. Oh well, it was too late now.
‘I do not agree,’ he said haughtily. ‘I am not usually so abrupt to visitors at my hotel. You have visited London before?’ he asked suddenly, those strange grey eyes intent upon her.
‘No.’ What else could she say?
‘You like it?’
‘I haven’t actually seen much of it,’ she told him almost guiltily.
‘You have not been in London long?’
‘A week,’ she admitted reluctantly, feeling almost as if she had committed a sin; the way the Conte was looking at her she could almost believe she had. Goodness, a Conte, a Venetian aristocrat! And he was every inch that, from his styled curiously light hair to his immaculate linen and hand-made leather shoes.
‘I see,’ those firm well-shaped lips pressed together disapprovingly. ‘I naturally assumed you to be a tourist.’
‘Oh, I am. It isn’t that I don’t want to look around London,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I would really love to. Unfortunately my stepmother doesn’t like sightseeing. She finds it boring.’
‘And you feel obliged to keep her company?’
Suzanne laughed, a lighthearted youthful sound that made those grey eyes narrow even more. ‘Heavens, no!’ she shook her head. ‘Celeste doesn’t need me. Not now anyway, not when she has—–’ she broke off, realising she couldn’t actually say that to this man; Vidal was his brother. Anyway, she shouldn’t talk about such things to a stranger. But what a handsome stranger, handsome and intriguing. He raised a dark eyebrow at her sudden halt, strangely dark brows in comparison with that silver-blond hair.
‘Yes?’ that clipped voice enquired.
She shrugged. ‘It isn’t important. But I should be free to see some of London during the next few days. I’m really looking forward to it.’
‘Then you will do me the honour of letting me be your guide. There are many places not to be missed by any tourist.’ He looked enquiringly at her startled face. ‘There are many places of interest among the surrounding shops and restaurants that do not jar on the nerves. I cannot believe that you have been in London a Week and not been to see these things.’
‘But I have, Conte. But I promise to see them all now, it’s what I’m here for, after all. Celeste, my stepmother, will probably be entertained elsewhere during the next few days, so I’ll be able to go sightseeing to my heart’s content.’
That arrogant face tightened, the nostrils flaring out on that haughty nose. ‘You refuse my invitation to show you London?’
Suzanne looked at him searchingly, her green eyes shadowed. She fussed nervously with her sun-glasses in her hand and seeing his eyes on her movements stopped abruptly. ‘I didn’t say that, Conte. I believed your offer merely to be one of politeness.’
‘It was not.’
‘But I—I hardly know you. I can’t ask a complete stran—–’
‘But I am not a stranger. We were formally introduced yesterday evening, otherwise I would not be here now. Vidal introduced us and so everything is perfectly in order. Do I take it that you still refuse my offer? I assure you it was made only out of a desire to show you your beautiful city. But if the brother of Vidal is not good enough for you—–’
‘Conte Martino!’ Suzanne was really shocked now. ‘I didn’t say anything of the sort. You are the Conte Martino, and I would never do or say anything to imply that I felt anything but respect for you. As for Vidal, well …’ she raised her hands helplessly, ‘I met him for the first time yesterday too.’
If she had expected to shock this haughty man then she was mistaken; not a flicker of emotion showed in those pale grey eyes. ‘You met here at the hotel?’

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