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‘My sister lost eighty percent of her hearing after she had meningitis when she was a child,’ she explained. ‘It was seeing how Mina struggled at first to cope with her deafness that made me decide that I wanted to work with hearing-impaired children.’
Salvatore heard the emotion in Darcey’s voice and sensed she was softening. Determined to seize his advantage, he took his wallet from his jacket and pulled out a photograph of his daughter.
‘Rosa is a shy child who, as a result of her disability, finds it hard to connect with people. I hope that the gift of language will help her self-confidence. I believe you can give her that gift, Darcey. James Forbes is confident that you are the best person to teach my daughter to speak.’
Oh, heavens! The way he said her name, in his gravelly, sexy accent, sent a little shiver down Darcey’s spine. His dark eyes were mesmerising and his words tugged on her emotions. He was right, she thought. Language was a gift, but most people took the ability to hear and speak for granted. Darcey remembered how Mina had once confided that when she had lost her hearing she had felt lonely and isolated.
She studied the photo of a startlingly pretty little girl with a mass of dark curls framing a delicate face. Of course nothing in the photo revealed Rosa’s deafness. Only when she looked closely did Darcey notice that there was no sparkle in the child’s eyes but a sense of loneliness that was heart-wrenching.
It wouldn’t hurt to see the child and make an assessment of her needs, Darcey mused. She could hand the case over to one of her colleagues who had also been made redundant and might be interested in working with Rosa.
Unbeknown to Darcey, her indecision was reflected in her eyes. She had beautiful eyes, Salvatore noticed. They were an unusual light green colour—the exact shade of the peridot pendant she was wearing suspended on a chain around her throat. He was surprised by the flicker of interest he felt. It was a long time since he had been intrigued by a woman. The delicate fragrance of her perfume—a sensual musk of jasmine and old-fashioned roses—teased his senses, and his eyes were drawn to the scattering of golden freckles on her nose and cheeks.
His mouth firmed as he reminded himself of the reason for his visit. His daughter needed the help of a speech therapist and Ms Rivers came with the highest recommendations. The fact that she was attractive was immaterial. There was no likelihood he would find her a distraction. During his lonely childhood he had learned to impose iron control over his feelings, and the loss of parts of his memory four years ago had only furthered his sense of emotional detachment.
‘All I am asking at this stage is for you to visit my house in London to meet Rosa,’ he said. ‘We can take things from there.’
Darcey chewed her bottom lip. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to help your daughter, Mr Castellano—’
‘Good,’ he cut her off mid-sentence. ‘I think the best thing would be for you to come and meet her now.’ He got to his feet and towered over her, so that Darcey had to tilt her head to look at him. ‘Can you postpone whatever plans you had for this afternoon?’
She wondered if he recognised the word no. He was like a steamroller, flattening any opposition to what he wanted, she thought ruefully. But she could not help but be impressed by his single-minded determination to help his daughter.
‘I...I guess so.’ Her cheeks grew pink as she recalled her white lie that she would be busy later. ‘But I’m packed and ready to leave for France on Friday, so I don’t really see the point.’
His dark eyes trapped her gaze. ‘You would not say that if you were my daughter. Sadly, Rosa cannot say anything. She is unable to voice her thoughts, her hopes...her fears.’
He was deliberately playing on her emotions, Darcey recognised. But his ploy had worked.
She threw up her hands in surrender. ‘All right, I’ll come and meet your daughter. I’ll assess the level of speech therapy she needs and then, if you wish, I will hand her case over to one of my colleagues. But I have to warn you, Mr Castellano, there is no chance I will go to Sicily with you.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘I’LL TAKE MY car,’ Darcey told Salvatore as they walked across the car park. Despite his injured leg his stride was twice the size of hers, and her stiletto heels tip-tapped on the tarmac as she tried to keep pace with him.
‘There’s no need for you to drive through the centre of London. I’ll drop you back here later so that you can collect your car.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know you, Mr Castellano, and I’m not going to get into a stranger’s car.’
Personal safety was an issue she took very seriously. Her parents also owned a touring theatre company and ran drama workshops in schools and youth clubs to promote ways for young people to stay safe. Before she had become involved in her own career Darcey had frequently performed with the company, Speak Out, which also promoted drama for the deaf community.
‘I promise I have no plans to ravish you on the back seat,’ Salvatore said drily.
He glanced at the petite woman at his side and idly wondered if the spark of fire in her green eyes would live up to its promise. Outwardly Darcey appeared cool and collected, but beneath her smart suit he sensed she was an explosive bundle of sexual energy.
He frowned, annoyed by his unexpected train of thought. ‘You are welcome to sit in the front with my chauffeur.’
Through the Bentley’s smoked glass windows Darcey made out the figure of a driver sitting behind the wheel and she felt like an idiot.
‘As for not knowing who I am,’ Salvatore continued, ‘do you drink wine?’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Occasionally. My father is interested in fine wines and has built up a large collection.’
‘Then he will almost certainly know that the wines from the Castellano Estate are the finest in Sicily.’ Reaching inside his jacket, Salvatore withdrew a business card and handed it to her.
Darcey glanced at the logo on the card and recognition dawned.
‘Castellano Wine! I’ve seen the label on wines in supermarkets and specialist wine shops. My father says the Castellano vineyards produce the best wine that has ever come from Sicily.’ She looked uncertainly at Salvatore. ‘So...do you work for the company?’
‘I own it,’ he said coolly. ‘At least, I own the vineyards and the winery, and also a wine distribution business under the umbrella of the Castellano Group, which is a multi-faceted global organisation. My father retired from the company last year, leaving me and my twin brother as joint CEOs. Sergio is responsible for the property development division, and also has a personal interest in the Hotel Royale in Bayswater, which the company purchased and refurbished a couple of years ago.’
Salvatore opened the rear door of the Bentley.
‘Now that you know as much about me as you need to know, will you accept my offer of a lift to my house in Mayfair?’
Darcey was still reeling from the realisation that he must be very wealthy—probably a multi-millionaire at the very least. Where else would he own a house but in the most expensive area of London? she thought wryly.
She shook her head. ‘I’d still prefer to take my car.’ It meant that she was in control and could leave his home when she chose.
Salvatore frowned. He was used to being obeyed without question, and he found Darcey’s obstinacy irritating, but she was already getting into her car.
‘I’ll follow you,’ she said, ‘but you had better tell me your address and I’ll put it into my sat nav.’
He gave her the postcode. ‘It’s on Park Lane, close to Marble Arch.’ Salvatore snatched his eyes from the expanse of slender thigh exposed as Darcey’s skirt rode up her legs as she climbed into her car and ruthlessly dismissed his faint stirring of sexual interest. ‘It will be simpler for Rosa’s sake if we drop formality and use our Christian names. Darcey is a charming name.’
Feeling hot and bothered by the predatory glint she had glimpsed in Salvatore’s eyes, Darcey was glad of the distraction.
‘It has both Irish and French origins. My father is half-Irish and half-French and he chose the name for me.’
‘The meaning of Salvatore is saviour.’
To Darcey’s surprise he gave a harsh laugh, and for a second she glimpsed a tortured expression in his eyes that was truly shocking.
His expression hardened and became unreadable once more. ‘The irony isn’t lost on me,’ he muttered obliquely.
She wondered what he meant, but before she could ask he slid into the back of the Bentley and disappeared from view behind the darkened windows. He was a man of mystery and absolutely the last thing she needed when she was two days away from her holiday, Darcey thought as she started the Mini’s engine and followed the Bentley out of the car park. For weeks she had been daydreaming about relaxing on a golden beach, eating melting Brie on crusty French bread, and drinking the local red wine. She was regretting her impulsive decision to meet Salvatore’s daughter, but as she recalled the photo of Rosa she could not help feeling sympathetic towards the little girl with the sad eyes.
* * *
Traffic in the capital at the start of the rush hour was heavily congested, and Darcey had lost sight of the Bentley by the time she crawled along Oxford Street and turned onto Park Lane. Opposite was Marble Arch and the green oasis of Hyde Park, but she was too busy looking for the address Salvatore had given her to be able to admire the famous London landmarks. Suddenly she caught sight of the Bentley parked in front of a stunning neo-classical style mansion house. Hastily indicating to change lanes, she nipped into a parking space, thankful that her small car was so easy to manoeuvre.
Salvatore was standing on the front steps of the house and seemed to be in deep conversation with a striking blonde wearing a very short skirt and a low-cut top that revealed her enviable cleavage. Darcey sensed from their body language that they were arguing. The woman spun away from him, but he followed her down the steps and caught hold of her arm.
Feeling awkward at the idea of interrupting a lovers’ tiff, Darcey remained in her car and watched the woman jerk free from Salvatore and climb into a waiting taxi, which immediately sped away. She was tempted to drive off too, but he was striding along the pavement towards her, his powerful masculinity in no way lessened by the slight unevenness of his gait due to his injured leg. With a sigh, she got out of the Mini and went to meet him.
‘It might be best if I left,’ she said, feeling her heart skitter when he halted in front of her. Her reaction to him was all the more unsettling because she could not control it. Since her divorce eighteen months ago she had not felt the slightest interest in men, and she was horrified by her body’s response to Salvatore’s potent virility.
He frowned, and she explained, ‘I saw you arguing with your girlfriend and I thought you might want to go after her.’
‘That wasn’t my girlfriend,’ he said curtly, and Darcey suddenly realised that his temper was on a tight leash. ‘Sharon was my daughter’s nanny. I hired her through an agency when I brought Rosa to England for surgery to fit the cochlear implants. The arrangement was that Sharon would accompany me back to Sicily and continue looking after Rosa. But she has just informed me that she has got back together with a boyfriend and is moving to Birmingham to be with him.’
‘So who is looking after Rosa now?’
‘Sharon said she had asked one of the maids to keep an eye on her.’
Darcey could imagine how confused and upset Rosa must feel at being abandoned by the nanny who was supposed to be taking care of her. ‘Poor little girl,’ she said softly.
There was no flicker of emotion in Salvatore’s dark eyes. ‘Unfortunately Luisa—the nanny who had looked after Rosa since she was a baby—left to get married shortly before we came to England. Finding someone able to use sign language at short notice was difficult, and Sharon was the only person on the agency’s books. I admit that when I took her on I was unaware of her boyfriend problems.’ He glanced at Darcey. ‘Come and meet my daughter.’
He began to walk back towards the house, and after a moment’s hesitation Darcey hurried after him. ‘Was Rosa close to her previous nanny?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose so. My daughter has no memory of her mother and had only been cared for by Luisa. I imagine she missed her at first, but she’s a resilient child.’
Darcey was chilled by his cool tone and his curiously detached air when he spoke about his little girl. She wondered if a five-year-old could really be as resilient as he seemed to think, but she made no comment as she followed him up the steps and into the house. With grey marble walls and floor, and elegant antique furniture, the entrance hall looked more like the foyer of a five-star hotel—with the same impersonal feel. It was obvious that expert interior designers had been given a limitless budget to spend, but although it was a beautiful house it was not a home, and seemed as cold and unwelcoming as its owner.
Darcey glanced at Salvatore’s hard profile as they walked up the sweeping staircase. ‘This is a stunning place,’ she commented.
‘Do you think so? There’s rather too much marble decor for my taste, but I suppose it’s impressive.’ His tone was sardonic. ‘My brother purchased the house to add to his property portfolio. When he married his English wife he considered using it as a London base, but he and Kristen have a very lively four-year-old son, and now another child on the way. They rarely visit England, so I bought the house from Sergio. Most of the time it is rented out to an Arab sheikh. I have only been staying here for the past couple of months, while Rosa had the cochlear implants fitted and adjusted.’
At the top of the stairs Salvatore led Darcey along the landing and opened a door. As she stepped into the room she noticed that a half-hearted attempt had been made to make the room child-friendly, with posters of fairies on the walls and a large dolls’ house in the corner. A movement from over by the window caught her attention, and she watched a little girl slide down from the window seat and run across the room.
Rosa was tall for her age, and even prettier than the photo Darcey had seen of her. Her curly hair was tied in a ponytail, and her dark eyes, framed by long lashes, were hauntingly beautiful. A small earpiece attached to a wire that disappeared beneath her tee shirt and was attached to a battery pack was the only sign of her hearing impairment. Darcey knew that another wire running from the earpiece to a small circle taped to Rosa’s head, was linked magnetically to the implant inside her skull, enabling her to hear.
Rosa’s face had lit up at the sight of her father, but as she came towards Salvatore her steps slowed and she gave him an uncertain smile that made Darcey’s heart ache. She expected Salvatore to sweep his daughter into his arms, but although he gave a brief smile he seemed strangely awkward and patted Rosa’s head, as if he were a distant uncle who was unused to children.
Why don’t you cuddle your daughter? Darcey wanted to ask him. He did not appear to notice the little flash of hurt in Rosa’s eyes, but Darcey saw, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the child.
She recalled instances from her own childhood when she had felt rejected by her father. Joshua had never meant to be deliberately cruel, but he’d often been self-absorbed and careless of other people’s feelings. As an adult Darcey understood his artistic temperament, but as a child she had been hurt and had believed that she had done something to upset her father.
She leaned down so that her face was level with Rosa’s. ‘Hello, Rosa. My name is Darcey,’ she said gently, speaking the words at the same time as she signed them.
Hello, Rosa signed, but made no attempt to speak. She looked up at her father and asked in sign language, Where is Sharon?
Salvatore hesitated before he signed back: She had to go and visit a friend.
When is she coming back?
Another pause, and then he signed, She isn’t.
Rosa’s lip trembled. Darcey shot Salvatore a glance, willing him to lift his daughter into his arms and reassure her that, although the nanny had gone, he would never leave her.
But instead he signed, Darcey has come to play with you.
That’s right—hand the problem over to someone else, she thought, flashing him a fulminating glare. She did not understand what was wrong with him. His determination to arrange speech therapy for Rosa suggested that he cared about the little girl, but he seemed incapable of expressing his emotions.
Perhaps he really was as hard as his granite-like features suggested and did not feel the normal range of emotions most people felt. Darcey could only guess what effect his detachment would have on his five-year-old daughter, who had to cope with deafness and was growing up without a mother. If any child needed her father’s love it was Rosa, but Salvatore seemed to have a heart of stone.
‘I will need to make a proper assessment to determine the level of speech therapy Rosa needs,’ she told him. ‘It should take an hour or so.’ She frowned when he strode over to the door. ‘I assumed you would want to be present during the assessment.’
‘I’ll leave you to get on with your job while I phone the agency and arrange a replacement for Sharon.’ Salvatore saw no reason to explain that he was in a hurry to go to his study because he had just received a text message asking him to call his brother about an urgent matter.
‘But—’
‘Rosa will probably respond better if I’m not here,’ he cut her off abruptly. He could tell from the glowering look Darcey gave him that she did not think him much of a father. Guilt clawed in his gut. She was right, he thought grimly. He was not the sort of father he wished he could be. The truth was he did not know how to act like a loving parent. When he had been growing up his father had been a remote figure. And as for his mother—well, the less said about her the better.
He had been five years old when Patti had left. He had never understood why she had forbidden him and his brother from calling her mamma. She had disappeared one day and taken Sergio with her. Salvatore had assumed she loved his twin and that was why she had taken him to America. It turned out that she had not loved Sergio either. Recently his brother had confided that Patti had been an alcoholic who had often beaten him when she’d had too much to drink.
Salvatore did not know if he felt better or worse now that his illusions about his mother had been shattered. For so many years he had put her on a pedestal and believed he was unworthy of being loved. That belief was still deeply ingrained on his psyche. Maybe it was why he found it so hard to show his emotions.
He wished things were different. He wished he could be an openly loving papa to Rosa, like his brother, Sergio, was to his son, Nico. But always in the back of his mind was the guilt that it was his fault Rosa was growing up without her mother, the fear that one day she would learn the truth and perhaps would hate him.
He jerked his gaze from the accusatory expression in Darcey Rivers’s bright green eyes. ‘I will be in my study. Press nine on the phone if you need anything and a member of staff will attend to you.’
Salvatore barely glanced at Rosa as he exited the nursery, Darcey noticed. She could not understand his remoteness from his daughter. It seemed as though he preferred to hand over the little girl to a nanny, but now Sharon had left and Rosa had no one to take care of her.
She glanced at the child and her heart ached when she saw the wistful expression on her face. Smiling, she walked over to Rosa and crouched down beside her. I like your dolls’ house, she signed. Can I play too?
Dark eyes studied her gravely for a few moments. Rosa had inherited her father’s eyes, Darcey noticed. She tried to block out the image of Salvatore’s ruggedly handsome face from her mind, annoyed by her inexplicable attraction to the cold and enigmatic man. She was here in her professional capacity, and she was determined to concentrate solely on the little girl who was smiling tentatively at her.
* * *
Over the next hour it quickly became clear that Rosa was a highly intelligent child, but although she was proficient in sign language she was unable or unwilling to attempt to speak. The little girl would need plenty of encouragement to develop self-confidence as well as to master language skills.
The nursery door opened and Darcey glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see that Salvatore had returned. But a butler stood in the doorway and informed her that it was Rosa’s dinner time.
‘Mr Castellano is unavoidably detained and has asked if you would accompany his daughter to the dining room.’
She could not refuse when Rosa slipped a small hand into hers and gave her a trusting smile, and she was glad she had stayed with the little girl when they walked into the huge dining room. A single place was set at one end of a long dining table.
Doesn’t your father eat dinner with you? she signed to Rosa.
The child shook he head. Papa eats later. He is always busy in his office.
Darcey felt another pang of sympathy for Salvatore’s little daughter, who was growing up in such isolated splendour. Clearly she did not lack for material things, but Darcey sensed that Rosa yearned for companionship and love.
Will you stay and play with me? Rosa signed when she had finished her meal.
Realising that there was no one else to take care of her, Darcey decided she would have to stay with the little girl and wait for Salvatore. Back in the nursery, she played a few more games with Rosa before helping her to get ready for bed. Rosa removed the battery pack she had worn during the day and the device behind her ear that was the cochlear implant processor.
I don’t like the dark, she signed when Darcey pulled the curtains and was about to turn off the bedside lamp. Will you leave the light on?
Recalling how Mina had hated the dark, because she had felt cut off when she could neither see nor hear, Darcey nodded. Rosa reminded her so much of her sister when they had been children. Perhaps that was why she felt an immediate bond with the little girl. But while Mina had grown up with the support of loving parents and family, Rosa had no one but her stern-faced father.
Darcey was appalled by Salvatore’s seemingly uncaring attitude towards his daughter. He might be the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on but beneath his devastating good looks he was as selfish as her ex-husband. It was about time someone told Salvatore Castellano a few home truths, she thought grimly.
* * *
Salvatore stared moodily out of his study window and noticed that the trees in Hyde Park opposite resembled black silhouettes in the gathering dusk. After he had spoken to his brother and learned that there had been a fire at the winery in Sicily he had been busy on the phone, dealing with the crisis, and had not realised how late it was. He felt guilty that he had left Rosa for so long, but the maid had reported that Darcey Rivers had stayed to help his daughter with her bedtime routine.
He grimaced. No doubt his absence had confirmed her belief that he was an uninterested father. The truth was far more complicated. He loved Rosa, but love was not something he’d had much experience of and he did not know how to get close to his child.
He closed his eyes, trying to control the searing pain in his head. The migraines that had plagued him since the accident four years ago had become more frequent in recent months, and were so debilitating that he was forced to resort to taking painkillers. It was no coincidence that this headache had started soon after he had spoken to Sergio and heard the shocking news his old friend Pietro was dead. The elderly vintner had suffered a fatal heart attack while trying to fight the blaze at the winery.