Whisked Away By Her Sicilian Boss. Rebecca Winters

they hung up, he told the limo driver to take him to the main express mail outlet in Milan. Asking him to wait, he went in to have Tuccia’s letter to the comte couriered overnight to Cesare’s attorney. Rudy Goldman always spent this time of year at his retreat in Barbados. Inside the mailing envelope he put the following instructions.

      Rudy.

      Put a stamp on this and send it airmail immediately.

      Many thanks,

      Cesare.

      His attorney was the soul of discretion and always did what he was told without question. When Cesare had addressed the mailing envelope, he paid the clerk who put it in the slot. Before long it would be on its way to Bridgetown. The comte needed to receive it ASAP. Cesare knew in his gut the other man would start a search for his fiancée.

      She was a prize. No one knew that better than Cesare. His thoughts wandered. Not every man would be worthy of her love when she had an ancestry that had made her unique in the world. Certainly not Cesare, whose family tree might as well have half a trunk missing. What could a fatherless man bring to a marriage with a princess?

      Depressed by his thoughts, he returned to the limo and told the driver to take him back to the pensione. It was the same apartment where Vincenzo’s wife Gemma had once stayed when she’d come from Florence to the castello for an interview. The padrona could be trusted.

      By the time the limo pulled up in front, Cesare had made up his mind to send Tuccia to the States in the morning. The police wouldn’t find her there and he could put her out of his mind. She was on it too much already.

      He got out to the pay the driver, then walked to the front door of her apartment and knocked loud enough for her to hear. “Tuccia? It’s Cesare. May I come in?”

      “You haven’t left for Palermo yet?” she called out in surprise. “I’ll be right there.”

      In less than a minute she opened the door in bare feet, dressed in the yellow silk robe she’d worn in the middle of the night. He could smell the peach shampoo she’d used to wash her hair. She had a brush in one hand and had been styling her naturally curly black hair.

      The sight of such natural beauty would make any man go weak in the knees. Cesare was no exception. “I had a call from my mother and have been forced to change my plans.”

      “Uh-oh.” Anxiety marred her features. He knew what she was thinking.

      “Forgive me for making you stand there. Please come in.”

      Her faultless manners impressed him. “Thank you.” He walked in the little living room off the kitchen.

      She eyed him nervously. “Did the police interrogate her already? Is she in terrible trouble?” Tuccia put the hand not holding the brush to her heart. “Bertina should never have involved your mother and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

      “So far everything is all right. The police talked to your aunt who told them she knew nothing. I’m sure my mother will be next, but she’ll have no information, either. They both received your letters.”

      “I’m so glad. Then why have you changed your plans? I don’t understand. But before you tell me, let me get dressed. Please sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”

      He chose the chair by the coffee table while she rushed to her bedroom. Cesare caught a fleeting glimpse of her long shapely legs beneath the flap of her robe before she disappeared. He was growing more enamored of her by the second.

      How could it be that after all the years of working with attractive businesswomen, he found himself in trouble just being in her presence for a few hours total. Along with her attributes, her utter femininity blew him away. It was a good thing she’d be gone tomorrow so there’d be no temptation to spend any extra time with her.