Undressed by the Billionaire: The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin / The Billionaire's Defiant Wife / The British Billionaire's Innocent Bride

CHAPTER SEVEN

SAVANNAH waited for Ethan’s footsteps to fade before asking the housekeeper shyly, ‘Do you think it would be possible to put on some more lights?’ The housekeeper had been so kind to her that Savannah felt her request might have some chance of success.

‘More lights, signorina?’

‘In the palazzo? I mean, it’s very dark outside my room, and I just thought it might be safer for you—for all of us.’

The housekeeper studied Savannah’s face before deciding. ‘Come with me, signorina. ’

As they left the room together the housekeeper called to a passing footman, who looked at Savannah with surprise when he heard her request via the housekeeper. As he hurried away, the housekeeper exchanged a look with Savannah. ‘You are starting a revolution,’ she confided.

‘Oh dear.’

‘No, it’s good.’

‘Is it?’ If only she could feel confident that Ethan would agree.

Savannah approached the first light-switch.

It took all of her resolve just to switch it on. But when she did …

‘Bellissima!’ The housekeeper exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her. ‘This is what the palazzo has been waiting for.’

Her endorsement encouraged Savannah to ask if they could put a few more lights on.

The housekeeper drew in a breath and then, exhaling slowly, she turned to look at Savannah. Her eyes were sparkling. ‘A very few,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s do it!’

They hurried off in different directions, snapping on light switches like naughty children, and they didn’t stop until the whole of the upper floor was flooded with light.

Down in the hallway Savannah could see more lights being turned on. It was like the curtain going up at the theatre, she concluded, feeling that same sense of wonder—but the only difference here was a glorious home was being revealed rather than a stage set.

The housekeeper rendezvoused with Savannah back at her room. ‘It’s amazing!’ Savannah exclaimed softly, gazing at the transformation they’d created.

‘Si, signorina. You have worked a miracle.’

‘A very tiny miracle,’ Savannah argued with a smile. ‘I only turned on the lights.’

‘Sometimes that’s all it takes,’ the older woman observed shrewdly.

They shared a smile before the housekeeper left Savannah, after asking her to promise she would call downstairs if she needed anything more.

Well, she would need all the friends she could find on the staff, if she stood a chance of leaving Ethan’s home happier than she had found it, Savannah reflected. But with all his beautiful treasures bathed in light she had to believe he would share her enthusiasm for ancient frescoes stepping out of the shadows, and carvings revealed in all their intricate detail after years of neglect.

But … would he be pleased, or would he be angry at her continued interference? She was only a guest, after all, and one that wasn’t here for very long. She suspected she knew why Ethan avoided light, but her concern was for the main thoroughfares where safety was an issue. The more intimate areas like Ethan’s rooms could remain discreetly lit. She could only hope he would agree it was a happy balance.

Deep inside, Savannah believed everyone needed light. And as for the palazzo, well, she’d already seen the results of the transformation Ethan’s staff had brought about in her rooms, and their instincts were right. There should be light, love and music in such a beautiful home. There should be life at the palazzo.

Savannah took a long, soapy bath. Now the excitement was over, she realised how hungry she was, and until supper arrived a bath was the perfect distraction from hunger pangs as well as from the likely repercussions of her interference in Ethan’s home.

Twiddling the taps with her toes, she sank a little lower in the fragrant bubbles. This story might not have a happy-ever-after ending, but she had fairy-tale accommodation for the night, and after the staff had gone to so much trouble it would have been churlish for her to refuse the setting they had prepared.

She had rifled through the full-sized luxury products on the glass shelves like a small child in a beauty salon, and now the scent rising from the steam had led her into a dream world of erotic images in which Ethan starred …

Wrapped up cosily in a warm robe some time later, she stared into the mirror. It was so easy to imagine Ethan’s dark face when she saw him in the shadows everywhere she went. It was torture, knowing he was somewhere close by, and almost impossible not to imagine him stripped and naked beneath an ice-cold shower. It would be cold water, because warm was too indulgent for him. And his bedroom would be spartan, she decided, because Ethan denied himself anything soft or superfluous—which didn’t leave her with too much hope, Savannah concluded wistfully.

Rubbing her hair vigorously, she walked back into the bedroom. Kneeling in front of the fire to dry her long hair, she thought about Ethan’s complex character. All he seemed to need was a clean bed and a floor to pace—perhaps with the addition of a giant television-screen in every room to catch up on any rugby matches he might have missed. Perhaps it was the legacy of those dreadful scars that made him so careless of his own comfort.

Thinking about them always made her so angry. Casting the towel aside, she began to pluck distractedly at the rug. Who would do that to him? Who could do that to a fellow human being?

Why don’t you ask him? Savannah’s inner voice prompted.

Because life isn’t that simple?

But it could be, if she went to him, and spoke to him …

Rolling onto her back, Savannah stared up at the ornate plasterwork. All the palazzo could be like this, cared for and fully restored, and always welcoming. Or it could remain cold and full of shadows. How lonely it must be to live in the dark.

Sitting bolt upright, Savannah hugged her knees and, resting her chin, she stared into the fire. It didn’t have to be like this if someone changed it around—if she changed it around. An impossible task, perhaps, but not if she had the help of Ethan’s staff. Even this gleaming fireguard, polished to a flawless sheen, was evidence of their care for him. They had to be as keen as she was to see the palazzo come back to life.

Impatient with inaction, she sprang up. She hardly knew where she was going, but as she crossed the room her spirits lifted. It was such a glorious ultra-feminine space it must have given Ethan a headache just to poke his head round the door. Everything that wasn’t gilded or twinkling glass was covered in silk, satins or velvet, and all in the most exquisite pastel colours. Stretching out her arms, she turned full circle, thinking it the most appealing space she had ever inhabited. She was still smiling broadly when she reached the door and opened it. ‘Ethan!’

‘Savannah.’

She knew immediately from his voice that Ethan was furious. She felt instantly guilty, as well as silly and awkward, standing barefoot in front of him in her towelling robe. Her lips trembled and her smile died instantly.

‘What have you done?’ he snapped.

Her gaze slid away. ‘I was taking a bath.’

‘You know I don’t mean that.’

Savannah drew her robe a little closer, conscious that Ethan’s stare was boring into her, demanding an answer.

‘I mean the lights,’ he explained. ‘I take it you’re responsible?’

‘Yes, I switched them on. Please don’t be angry with your staff, Ethan.’ She touched his arm. ‘It was all my fault. I did it for them, for you.’

‘For me? For them? What is this nonsense?’

Tears were threatening. She had been so looking forward to sharing this moment with him, Savannah realised, and now it had all gone wrong. Far from wanting light, Ethan craved the darkness to hide his scars. She should have known and not been so insensitive. In trying to help him she had arrogantly assumed she was right, only seeing the world from her own perspective. And now he couldn’t wait to turn those lights off, or for her to leave. ‘I’m so sorry—’

‘You’ll have to leave,’ he said, perfectly echoing her thoughts. ‘I can’t have this sort of interference. Please pack your bags.’

‘Ethan—’

‘There’s nothing more to say, Savannah.’

‘But it’s nighttime. Where will I go?’

‘A hotel, the airport, somewhere—I don’t care.’

‘You’re throwing me out?’

‘Save your melodrama for the stage.’

‘Says you, living in the dark!’ She couldn’t believe she’d said that. But it was true. She was fighting for Ethan, and where that was concerned nothing she said was going too far. But as Ethan’s stony stare raked her face, Savannah realised he didn’t see it that way.

‘Will you pack?’ he said coldly, confirming her worst fears. ‘Or must I call the housekeeper to do that for you?’

‘Ethan, please.’ It was no use. He’d closed off to her.

As he shook Savannah’s hand from his arm, he saw her tears and his heart ignored the dictates of his head.

‘Please don’t be angry with your housekeeper,’ she entreated, adding to the conflict boiling inside him. ‘You must know this is all my fault.’

Every bit of it was Savannah’s fault … or her blessing. He turned his back so he wouldn’t have to look into her face, but still he felt her goodness washing over him. She wouldn’t stop until all the bitterness was cleaned away. She touched his arm, begging him. ‘You’ve gone too far,’ he growled, wanting even now to protect her from that black evil inside him.

She didn’t argue, and instead she did something far worse: she confessed.

‘You’re right,’ she said frankly. ‘I interfered where I shouldn’t have. This is your home, Ethan, not mine. I asked your staff to turn on some lights so it was safer for them, and for you. I can see I went too far with that plan when one or two lights would have been sufficient, and if you want me to leave I will. All I ask is your promise that you won’t blame your staff for my thoughtless actions.’

He didn’t need to see any more tears to know that Savannah was at her most vulnerable. Yet she fought on in the defence of others. He couldn’t ignore that. Her appeal had touched him deeply in a way he hadn’t felt, maybe, ever. He was still wondering how best to deal with this unusual situation when the housekeeper Savannah was at such pains to defend came unwittingly to their rescue.

‘Something to eat, signore, signorina?’ she said blithely when Savannah opened the door to her knock.

What perfect timing, Savannah thought, exhaling with relief as she smiled at her new friend. As her shoulders relaxed she quickly adapted her manner so as not to concern the older woman. ‘Let me take that tray from you.’

‘No, please, let me.’ Ethan’s innate good manners meant he had to step forward in front of Savannah to take the tray himself.

‘Thank you, signore,’ the housekeeper said politely, handing Ethan the tray without any sign that she had overheard their heated exchange. ‘I’ve made enough for two.’

Hmm, Savannah thought, realising Ethan had no other option other than to carry the tray into her room. ‘Let me clear a space for you,’ she said, hurrying ahead of him.

To give her a moment to regroup, she rushed about, hunting for her slippers. Ethan placed the tray down on the low table between the two sofas and remained standing.

This was one consequence she could not avoid.

By the time she had found her slippers and slipped them on, she could hardly breathe, let alone speak as she came to a halt in front of Ethan.

When exactly had he become so hard and unfeeling? She had only turned the lights on, after all, which in the bright world Savannah inhabited was a very small transgression. As she ran her fingers through her still-damp hair, her face naked after her shower, he knew she was also naked under her robe. She looked nervous, apprehensive; fearful. She was certainly braced for a stinging rebuke. ‘We shouldn’t let the supper go to waste. That’s if you don’t mind …’

She looked surprised at his suggestion, as he had expected, but she quickly rallied, saying, ‘Of course I don’t mind. Please, sit down. You must be hungry too?’

‘A little,’ he admitted.

Savannah had to stop audibly sighing with relief as Ethan sat down. Maybe there was a chance, however slender, that she could change things for him before she left; it was all she wanted. But as always in the world of Savannah things never ran according to plan. She remembered that her underwear for the next day, having been rinsed out, was still hanging over the bath—large, comfy knickers included. What if he decided to go in there? ‘D’you mind, if I …?’ Flapping her hands, she glanced anxiously across the room.

‘Not at all. Take your time,’ Ethan invited.

She would have to, Savannah thought, resting back against the bathroom door. She wasn’t leaving this room until her heartbeat steadied, which meant she could be in here quite some time. Ethan was full of surprises. She felt like he was giving her a second chance. But he was so complex, she had no idea what to expect next. But then she hardly knew him, Savannah reasoned. When she emerged from the bathroom, there was music playing.

‘Do you like it?’ Ethan asked as Savannah poked her head self-consciously round the door.

‘Is it what I think it is?’

‘If you think it’s your first CD then, yes, it is.’

Savannah pulled back inside the bathroom, suffused with too many emotions to impose them on Ethan. She felt elated that her teachers’ and parents’ dreams for her had come true, and dread that Ethan only regarded her as a property belonging to his record label.

‘Aren’t you coming out to join me?’ he called. ‘Come and listen to your music.’

She could hardly refuse, since Ethan owned the record company. ‘Do you like it?’ she said anxiously when she returned.

‘Like it? Your singing voice always makes me think of …’

Frogs croaking? Wheels grinding?

‘Birds singing,’ he said, settling back with a blissful expression on his face as Savannah’s voice filled the room. ‘Song birds,’ he added dryly, without opening his eyes.

At least not crows squawking.

She should have more confidence, Savannah told herself, but in many ways she was as happy in the shadows as Ethan. In a different way, of course. But she loved nothing more than the wide-open countryside back home, and the fact that she could walk for miles unnoticed as she soaked up all the glories of nature.

‘I’m glad we signed you.’

Savannah refocused to find Ethan staring thoughtfully at her. ‘Thank you.’ She risked a small smile as her heart drummed wildly.

‘You should eat something. It must be hours since you last ate.’

Probably. She had no idea. But she would have to lean past him to take something, and she was acutely aware that she was naked under her robe.

‘Here,’ he said, offering her the loaded plate. ‘Take one of these delicious ciabatta.’

‘Ethan, if I’ve offended you—’

‘Eat something, Savannah, before you faint.’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she finished softly. ‘Sometimes my enthusiasm carries me away.’

He hummed at this and angled his stubble-shaded chin towards the plate.

‘Thank you.’ Selecting a delicious-looking, well-filled roll, she bit into it with relish, expressing her pleasure in a series of appreciative sounds. Even now, beneath Ethan’s unforgiving eye, she couldn’t hide her feelings. ‘You’re very lucky to have such wonderful staff.’

‘Yes, I am.’ And when she thought that short statement was it, he added, ‘You were right about the gloom making life difficult for them. And, yes, even dangerous. And, as for artworks, I hadn’t even noticed.’ He paused and then admitted, ‘Who would think turning on the lights could make such a difference?’

She could.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ETHAN realised how much he had misjudged Susannah when his housekeeper, having returned with a fresh plate of food, took him to one side to inform him that she was glad to see how happy the piccola signorina was now the lights were on.

The way the older woman had held his gaze suggested more than the fact that Savannah was a guest with particular tastes to accommodate, or even that his housekeeper liked the young singer and wanted to make her stay as comfortable as possible. It was more the type of look the older generation gave the younger in Italy—and would sometimes be accompanied by tapping the side of the nose. Naturally, the older woman wouldn’t dream of being so familiar with him, but she had got her message across. He’d brushed off her inquisitiveness with a rare smile.

Some time ago he had come to understand and even envy the Italian nation’s fixation with love. And how could he be angry with Savannah, when all it took to make him smile was to watch her sucking her fingers with gusto before devouring another sandwich? Savannah had transformed the palazzo in the short time she’d been here, filling it with good things and raising the spirits of his staff. It wouldn’t last when she’d gone, of course, but she had unlocked one small portion of his heart, which was good news for his staff.

‘It is a beautiful room, isn’t it?’

As Savannah lifted her head with surprise, he realised he was seeing things through her eyes and how different things could be if he decided to make them so.

She’d go mad with grief if she heard that Ethan had returned to his old ways when she went home. And that wasn’t overreaction, it was pure, hard fact, Savannah concluded, blushing when, having held the door for his housekeeper, Ethan remained leaning against the door frame with his powerful arms folded across his chest, watching her.

Her body reacted as if Ethan had just made the most indecent suggestion. His tight fitting T-shirt strained hard across his chest, and his jeans were secured with a heavy-duty belt. She had noticed all this in the space of a few seconds, and started nervously when Ethan moved.

‘More sandwiches?’ he suggested, strolling across the room towards her.

She was as tense as a doe at bay, Savannah realised, sitting straight. ‘No, thank you.’

And then she decided she had better get up and clear some space on the table for all the new food, but being nervous and clumsy she moved erratically, and somehow a chair leg got in her way. Ethan called out, but it was too late, and as he reached out to grab her to stop her falling she ended up in his arms.

‘Suddenly you’ve got more legs than a millipede, and each one of them travelling in a different direction,’ he suggested.

‘Pretty much,’ she admitted, though the millipede analogy failed to grow on her. A better woman would have made the most of this opportunity, while all she could think was had she cleaned her teeth?

‘Well, I’m still hungry,’ he admitted, letting her go and heading back to the sofa.

She watched him stretch out his muscular legs, knowing she had never felt more awkward in her life. And yes—thank the dentist’s warnings—she had cleaned her teeth, but Savannah Ross was about to play host to Ethan Alexander? It hardly seemed possible.

‘Won’t you help me?’ He glanced her way as he reached for a sandwich. ‘My housekeeper clearly thinks we both need feeding up.’

Or perhaps the older woman wanted to keep him here, Savannah thought, surprising herself with this reflection. They ate in silence until Savannah put down her napkin with a sigh of contentment. The hearty feed had reminded her of home.

‘You were hungry,’ Ethan commented, wiping his lips on a napkin.

As he continued to stare at her, Savannah’s cheeks heated up. They were still talking about food, weren’t they?

Of course they were, she reasoned, smoothing out her hair, or rather the tangles. What must Ethan think of her, bare faced and barely dressed? Having never entertained a man before whilst naked beneath a robe, she wasn’t too sure of the protocol. And as Ethan still showed no sign of going anywhere, she suggested, ‘Why don’t I switch on the television?’ Maybe they’d catch the news, she reasoned.

‘The television?’