Chapter Five
JUST BEFORE MIDDAY on Friday, Mia frowned at the thick envelope and double-checked the sender’s details.
This was definitely the package Sante had been waiting on—he’d been at her desk every thirty minutes or less every day this week demanding an update.
Now it was finally here but he wasn’t here to receive it.
She glanced at his office but he hadn’t materialised in the three minutes since she’d last looked.
Her irritation levels escalated. She checked the meeting schedule but there was nothing blocked out in there for him—although he didn’t ever fill it in.
She phoned him but yet again, it went straight to voice mail.
He’d not yet replied to her earlier email, either.
She drummed her fingers on the desk and tried not to worry.
She would focus on another task. He would turn up or phone in soon enough.
Two hours later he’d done neither of those things. The parcel preyed on her mind—he’d really wanted it. But if he wasn’t going to bother telling her where he was, then she couldn’t courier it to him directly, could she? Bracing, she walked to the lawyer’s office.
‘Paolo, do you know where Sante is today?’
Paolo glanced up from his computer. ‘No, but I’m not surprised if he doesn’t show. He’s been abnormally present this week.’
Yeah, there were reasons for that. ‘Do you know where he’s likely to be?’
Paolo’s gaze drifted back to his screen, clearly unfazed. ‘If he’s not answering calls he’s probably offline.’
No kidding, Sherlock.
‘And where would offline be in Sante’s world?’ Mia summoned patience. ‘I just want to courier a parcel to him.’
He’d said he was going to keep a close eye on her.
Now he wasn’t here and he’d not bothered to tell her where he was or why, which didn’t track given the complete lack of distrust he had over everything she did.
But it was Friday, the end of her ‘week’ and what if this was a test?
Sante wanted this document delivered immediately but maybe he’d removed himself to an impossible location to confound her.
Just when she’d thought they’d almost reached a cordial working relationship, when she was starting to think he wasn’t entirely as awful as she’d long believed.
Well, she wasn’t failing and he wasn’t winning.
‘If he’s not at his Rome apartment, he’ll most likely be at the Sicilian estate,’ Paolo muttered. ‘Courier won’t deliver there before Wednesday at the earliest. You could scan and email the contents.’
There was no way she was opening this envelope. It had ‘private and confidential’ stamped all over it. ‘Can I get the address for both? I’ll find a way to get the hard copy to him.’
Paolo clicked a few times and jerked his chin towards the printer. ‘If he’s not in Sicily, then it could be any of the others on the list.’
Mia gaped at the list of properties that emerged from the printer.
Aside from the Sicilian and Rome addresses, there were places in Paris, Madrid, New York—there was even a property in Melbourne, Australia.
She was hardly going to circumnavigate the globe to get this to him, but she would at least try the first couple given he’d been banging on about it for days.
She would prove herself to Sante Trovato.
Because his unexplained absence was aggravating.
If she didn’t know he regularly went offline she might actually worry about him.
Okay, she was worried about him. He’d worked through the night too many times this week and he’d seemed particularly ragged by the end of day yesterday.
What if he was unwell? Surely, all that lack of sleep had to catch up to him at some point.
Mia set an auto-response on her email, picked up the package and set forth.
More than eight hours later she stiffly got out of the taxi and stretched out her cramping muscles.
She’d gotten no reply when she’d buzzed the door at the Rome apartment, so she’d gone to the airport.
Despite her frequent attempts, he’d still not picked up so she’d flown to Palermo and then struggled to find a driver willing to drive her all the way here.
The trip had taken way more time and effort than she’d expected.
Now she stared at the enormous stone wall that obscured any view of the house and garden. It wasn’t exactly inviting.
‘Do you mind waiting?’ she asked the driver.
He immediately frowned.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
The gigantic gates were firmly closed but the pedestrian gate on the left was slightly ajar.
She would hand the wretched package to Sante, turn around, walk out to face another long drive, flight and taxi before finally getting home.
She didn’t care about working all the hours or proving anything anymore. She just wanted this over.
She trudged up the winding tree-lined driveway wishing she had better shoes than her office pumps.
Was this even the right address? That stone wall was deceptive—tall and bland, it shielded a seemingly endless expanse of palm trees, wide stretching lawns, an ornamental lake, even a citrus grove.
Between the trees she glimpsed an enormous iron greenhouse and realised it was a vast private paradise.
She steeled herself against its beauty but she was reminded of Palazzo di Constanzo, the estate her father had bought to house her mother in Capri after he’d walked out on their marriage when Mia was only a baby.
Mia had spent the first few years of her life there—swimming and playing in an enormous garden like this only more neglected, more wild.
Nostalgia hit. She’d had a freedom there that she’d never really had since.
One she knew Dario missed, too—he’d loved their home in Capri.
And she understood how this place would fit Sante—it was a stunning sanctuary in which a lone wolf could freely roam.
Turning the corner she saw the main building and she stopped. It wasn’t like the beautiful villas she’d seen on the journey here; it was an enormous palazzo—an imposing structure far too large for a single occupant. The lone wolf ought to have an entire pack.
Finally, she made it to the enormous front door. There would be staff here. The property was too sprawling and too perfect not to be tended by an army of housekeepers and gardeners. She would give the parcel to the first staff member she saw and escape without even having to face Sante. Good.
Brushing her hair from her hot face, she rang the bell.
It pealed loudly, echoing long after she’d released the button.
Her confidence faltered as no footsteps sounded inside.
As no one answered. Steeling herself, she pressed the button again.
If Sante wasn’t here, she was going to throttle him the next time she—
‘Mia?’ A harsh voice snapped behind her. ‘What are you doing here?’
Mia spun. Sante was standing at the foot of the stairs behind her. She stared, so startled her heart stopped. He was wearing faded shorts, heavy boots and nothing else. Why wasn’t he wearing anything else? Why was he sweating? And how had she not heard him walking with heavy boots like those?
‘Mia?’ he repeated, clearly irritated. ‘Why are you here?’
He sounded furious but he looked so outrageously earthy, she just snapped right back.
‘Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?’ She clutched the package to her chest and glared at him angrily. ‘You should be wearing a shirt!’
‘In my own garden?’ He stomped up the stairs to glare at her directly in the eyes. ‘When I wasn’t expecting guests?’
‘I’m not a guest,’ she argued. ‘I’m…’
Fully distracted. He was strong, vital, physical—about as man as a man got—oozing testosterone and power.
Dirt was smeared on his legs and forearms and the next second his forehead as well as he swept a hand through his already messy hair.
As he moved, his muscles rippled. Mia gaped at his abs, his gleaming chest, his broad shoulders.
She couldn’t drag her gaze away as he stepped nearer and took up all her visual space.
‘What do you want?’ he repeated huskily.
Utterly thrown by the expanse of bronzed skin and flexing muscles, Mia couldn’t think let alone keep her emotions in check. ‘What do I want? I want you to answer your damned phone.’
‘What?’ He patted his pocket and frowned. ‘Why?’
Yeah, it was obvious he didn’t have his phone on him. He had barely anything on him.
‘So I could tell you this had finally arrived.’ She held out the package to him.
An astounded expression widened his eyes. ‘You came all the way to Sicily to deliver mail?’
There was grumpy and there was rude, and this was both with his thunderous frown as bonus.
‘Given you’ve spent all week asking me five times a day whether it had arrived, I assumed it was vitally important!
’ She tossed the package at his feet with a thud.
‘So you could at least show a little gratitude. But no, your true colours emerge. You might not have taken my dad’s money but you’re still a selfish jerk who doesn’t care about inconveniencing everyone else. ’
She was pissed. How dare he be here looking all relaxed and living his best outdoor life and not giving her or anyone else a second thought?
And she was doubly pissed with herself for responding to him on such a basic level.
Her hormones were activated—it was a raw sexual attraction to the most wildly inappropriate man ever.
One who clearly couldn’t think of anything worse than her appearing on his doorstep unexpectedly.
‘How did you even get here?’ He ignored her outburst.
‘Taxi, plane, taxi,’ she shot.
‘Commercial plane?’ He looked at her like she was insane. ‘Why didn’t you take the helicopter?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘As if I would just use an expensive resource without authorisation.’