Undressed by the Billionaire: The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin / The Billionaire's Defiant Wife / The British Billionaire's Innocent Bride
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‘So, what are you saying?’ He swung round to confront her. ‘You want to stay another night?’
It would have been nice if he’d wanted her to. She swallowed her pride. ‘If it would help you, yes; I’m prepared to do that.’
Ethan’s hum told her nothing, his expression even less, but she wasn’t done yet. This was one straw she wasn’t going to lose her grip on. ‘You helped me. I’d like to help you.’ She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
The very least.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘MY STAFF won’t need your help with a kitchen-supper,’ Ethan pointed out.
‘I’d like to do a little more than that for the squad.’ And when Ethan threw her a hard stare she added, ‘Don’t look so suspicious, Ethan. I’m not going to turn it into a bacchanalian romp.’
‘I should hope not.’ He held the door into the hallway for her.
‘Just some good food and hospitality.’
‘A kitchen-supper,’ Ethan confirmed, which wasn’t what Savannah had in mind at all. There was that cobwebby old dining-room to be brought out of wraps, just for starters.
‘Either way,’ she said, curbing her enthusiasm as more ideas came to her, ‘we should consult with your staff first, as this is very short notice for them.’
‘At the start of this discussion, tonight wasn’t going to be an event my staff would need notice for,’ he pointed out.
True, but she had learned when to speak and when to say nothing—and what was it people said about actions speaking louder than words?
She wasn’t going to build any bridges with marshmallow and fluff, Savannah reflected, rolling up her sleeves to help Ethan’s staff prepare the neglected dining-room. Beneath the dust sheets the furniture was still beautiful, and the upholstery, in a variety of jewel-coloured silks, was as good as new. Ethan had carved his own narrow path through the glories of the palazzo, looking neither left nor right, she guessed, until he’d reached the suite of rooms he had chosen to occupy.
Later that day as Savannah straightened up to survey the finished dining-room she joined Ethan’s staff in exclaiming with delight. The transformation from spooky and dark to glittery and bright was incredible. But would Ethan share their pleasure, or would he be furious? Having given his tacit consent to a quiet evening in, he would hardly have expected her to expand that brief quite so radically. But the old palazzo deserved an airing and the England squad certainly deserved this.
Savannah thanked each member of the household by name before they left the dining-room, knowing she couldn’t have done any of this without them. She had been accepted by the people who worked for Ethan, and their smiles were so warm and friendly that she felt quite at home. Which was a joke, because this was not her home. In twenty-four hours she would fly back to England and never see it again. That was her deadline for convincing Ethan that this scene of warmth, comfort and welcome didn’t have to end when she left, and that it was better for everyone who lived in the Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati than cobwebs, shadows and dust.
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