Mistress To A Millionaire. Helen Brooks

feeling he had made a pretty good guess as to the state of her bank balance.

      ‘Which brings us to my problem.’ He settled himself more comfortably on the chair and she tried to ignore what the movement did to her nerve-endings as the dark power of his masculinity became tangible.

      ‘I have an apartment in London, but my main home is in Italy,’ he continued quietly, ‘and that is where my family live.’

      His family? A little dart of something, something she didn’t want to examine, brought Daisy’s eyes wide. She hadn’t had him down as a family man somehow, but the Italian connection explained both the dark good looks and the accent.

      ‘My mother is Italian but my father was English,’ he continued as though in explanation of her thoughts. ‘I lived in England for the first twenty years of my life but then when my father died and my mother moved back to her own country my life became a little more complicated. I took over my father’s business interests here but spent a good deal of time with my mother’s people; my wife’s family is part of the far-reaching clan.’

      He was married. Well, hadn’t she sensed it the moment he had mentioned family? Daisy asked herself silently. And of course a man like him wouldn’t remain single for too long—some enterprising female, more beautiful and tenacious than the rest, would have been sure to have snapped him up. And she was welcome.

      The last thought was unexpected but carried a wealth of bitterness that surprised her in spite of herself. But he was too good-looking, too charismatic, too dynamic to make a comfortable partner to be with, she affirmed to the accusing voice in her head that said she was being unfair. And if anyone should know she should. She’d had enough of good-looking men to last her a lifetime.

      ‘My wife was reluctant to live in England so we made our home in Italy and I continued to divide my time between the two countries.’ If Slade noticed the shadows in her eyes he made no comment on it, and his voice was cool and matter-of-fact as he said, ‘When my son was born Luisa became even less inclined to travel. In fact she became almost phobic about her home.’

      ‘You have one child?’ Daisy asked carefully.

      He nodded. ‘Francesco is six years of age,’ he said quietly, his voice softening on the name. ‘The accident which took his mother’s life was also the cause of putting him in a wheelchair eighteen months ago.’

      Daisy was too shocked to do more than gasp.

      ‘He is walking again now,’ Slade said quickly, ‘but he is a difficult little boy. I feel this is less to do with his mother’s death than the outrageous spoiling he receives at the hands of his maternal grandparents and aunties and uncles. Of course it is understandable—’ this last was said in a tone which suggested Slade did not understand or accept it at all ‘—but it cannot continue. When Luisa died her mother undertook the task of hiring a nanny and nurse for Francesco when he came out of hospital. I let her do this because she was still devastated by Luisa’s death and needed something to occupy her mind, but it was a mistake. The nurse left once Francesco was walking again, six months later, but Luisa’s mother is at the house most days and the nanny is completely under her influence.’

      ‘And your mother?’ Daisy asked quietly, totally immersed in the story. ‘Does she live near you?’

      ‘She married again four years ago and now lives in Madesimo, which is a village high in the Spluga Valley close to the border of Switzerland. It is far enough away from Merano to prevent daily visits,’ he added drily. ‘Now Francesco’s nanny is getting married and leaving my employ it is time for someone to take a firm hand with Francesco when I am not around to do so, and I intend to see that this happens. I also feel it is time for my son to develop his English heritage, and to that end I have had it in mind to advertise for an English nanny. You have saved me the trouble, maybe?’ he added with a wry twist to his lips.

      ‘Me?’ Daisy squeaked nervously. He had to be joking! It appeared he was not.

      ‘There is a reason why this would be impossible?’ he asked steadily, the brilliant gaze hard on her flushed face.

      Too true, and it was sitting a foot or so away from her, Daisy thought desperately. But she couldn’t very well say so.

      ‘You have no commitments to keep you in England from what the nurse tells me,’ Slade said calmly, ‘and you have recently come to London to begin afresh.’

      Daisy hadn’t told the nurse what she wanted to get away from and Slade Eastwood didn’t enquire either. She wouldn’t have told him anyway, and perhaps he had sensed that? She asked herself.

      ‘That being the case, one place is as good as another. Francesco’s nanny told me of her impending marriage at the weekend and wishes to leave my employ in three months’ time.’ His mouth tightened. ‘My wife’s mother is not getting involved this time,’ he added grimly. ‘Not in the smallest way.’

      ‘But…but you don’t know me,’ Daisy murmured helplessly. This was crazy, surreal; it couldn’t be happening.

      ‘I know your circumstances make it possible for you to get to know Francesco well before Angelica leaves,’ Slade said coolly, ‘and I have learnt more about you than I would glean at an interview. You are not easily intimidated and you are both honest and brave, as your insistence to reimburse me proves,’ he added drily. ‘All those qualities would be essential when dealing with the household in my absence. If your qualifications and references are satisfactory then I think we could look on our meeting as fate?’

      Fate her foot! Daisy broke from the power of the dark gaze and lowered her eyes to hide her thoughts. She couldn’t work for this man, see him every day when he was at home, live in his house! She just couldn’t. ‘The thing is, Mr Eastwood, working as a nanny has never appealed,’ she said slowly as she looked at the bright poppies on her bedcover. ‘I’ve always worked in a classroom environment with twenty or so children.’

      ‘Then working with one would be easy,’ he countered swiftly. ‘And how do you know you wouldn’t like it until you have tried? We could make the position temporary—say, a trial period of three months at first, to make sure both parties feel it is successful. I am prepared to pay you a retainer for the next few weeks while you recover from your injuries and settle your affairs in England—’ he mentioned a sum that made Daisy’s mouth fall open for a second ‘—and then, once you are fit again, you could fly out to Italy and have the latter half of Angelica’s notice with her and my son. It would work very well all round.’

      She lifted her gaze now and the piercing black eyes were waiting for her, their power immediately mesmerising.

      ‘My son has a private tutor at home so you would not be required to undertake his schooling beyond encouraging him at his lessons of course; your contribution would be in the capacity of a mother figure providing discipline, control and restraint.’

      Discipline, control and restraint? Daisy thought bemusedly. It sounded to her as if he was looking more for an army corporal than a nanny. This just had to be a total non-starter.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mr Eastwood,’ she began politely, wondering if it was she who was crazy or he, ‘but I’m sure when you’ve had time to consider this properly you will see that it just wouldn’t work. Of course I am very grateful for all your kindness—’

      ‘Prove it.’ It was straight for the jugular and totally unexpected. ‘And I would just make the point that you would have your own suite and the door has a bolt,’ he added pointedly, ‘and my housekeeper and her husband live on the premises.’

      She stared at him as a flood of scarlet stained her skin. She hadn’t thought he was suggesting anything improper! Not for a second! How dared he assume that? Her voice was very tight when she said, ‘I didn’t think for a moment that this was anything other than a job offer, Mr Eastwood.’

      ‘No?’ It was lazy and slightly amused.

      ‘No!’ she snapped back hotly.

      ‘This is good.’