Free Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire by Susan Stephens Page A

was no one.’
    â€˜Ah...’ Marco nodded his head. ‘Let me explain. The man I was talking to was a major fundraiser for my charity. He’s always on the lookout for new sponsors, as he should be—’
    â€˜And, of course, I’m no use to him. I couldn’t do anything practical to help your charity, could I, Marco? And what can you do? Write another cheque?’
    She had a point, he conceded. ‘I’m sure you could do a lot for my charity, and if my shorthand way of telling a fundraiser that he was wasting his time asking you for money has offended you, I apologise. Maybe you shouldn’t be so touchy.’
    She shrugged. Her face was burning. Maybe she had overreacted.
    â€˜I agree that I’m no one where the funding side of your charity is concerned, but I could do other things apart from giving money. I could give my time, for instance.’
    â€˜I have no doubt of it,’ Marco said, and then he surprised her with the hint of a smile.
    It was the fact that they came from two such different worlds that was at the heart of her anger, Cass realised. Marco’s world frightened her because she’d had experience of it, and, however many years ago it had been, there were some memories that never faded.
    And Marco? Sometimes, when he relaxed like this and showed her a warmer, more caring side, she knew that his pain cut as deep as hers—he was just better at hiding it. They had never really talked, so she didn’t know what lay behind Marco’s armour. Why would they talk? She was paid to do a job. She was his gardener, briefly on an outing to help him. She was a place-filler, a puppet. ‘You must think I’m stupid, overreacting like that...’
    â€˜Not at all,’ he said firmly.
    â€˜But I am naïve enough to allow you to dress me up like a doll, and then expect you to be interested enough to spend all evening with me.’
    â€˜You are an extremely forthright woman,’ he remarked with amusement in his eyes.
    â€˜Yes, I am,’ she agreed.
    â€˜You did well tonight.’
    â€˜Are you mocking me now?’ she asked suspiciously.
    â€˜No,’ Marco murmured, the faint smile still in place. ‘I’m very grateful to you. I can’t think of anyone who could have pulled this off with such style and grace at such short notice. I’m only sorry I didn’t make more effort to...break the ice for you, as you put it. I do know that society here can be very hard to break into.’
    Cass slanted a rueful smile. ‘And, I suppose, in fairness, your guests hadn’t come here tonight to interview staff for their gardens.’
    â€˜I should have thought of that,’ Marco admitted.
    â€˜And so should I.’
    â€˜Then we both got carried away.’
    His eyes were deeply unsettling as they stared steadily into hers.
    â€˜Yes, we did,’ she said.
    â€˜Truce?’ he said.
    â€˜Truce,’ she agreed, shaking hands with him.
    Oh, how good that felt. She was almost disappointed when he let go and moved away.
    â€˜I’ve got something for you,’ he said, turning back to her with a smile.
    â€˜Something for me?’ She couldn’t have been more surprised. ‘You’ve paid me more than enough.’ But she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t thrilled at the idea of a small gift—something personal from Marco. She’d keep it always, and long after this night was a memory she would find it and look at it, and think, He gave it to me...
    â€˜Oh, my word!’ She couldn’t have been more shocked. ‘What have you done?’
    â€˜Please allow me, just this once, to fulfil someone’s fantasy.’
    She stared at the Hockney sketch in amazement. ‘But this must have cost you a fortune.’
    â€˜In spite of what you think of me, I do value things in more than just monetary terms. You said you wanted this for your godmother. Well, now you can give it