His voice lilted with danger. Michelle sensed it. Her mother might have seen off all her boyfriends in the past, but when it came to Alessandro Castiglione no previous experience was necessary. This man was seduction in the flesh.

Pressing his foot into the carpet of tiny sweet herbs beneath the swing-seat, he set it moving. It rocked gently in the warm breeze, scented by low-growing thyme. Michelle hoped it would cool her flaming cheeks. Instead, she felt hotter than ever. She began moving uneasily. Strange feelings flowed through her body every time she looked at him. She had never experienced anything like this before. At home, eye contact had been something to be avoided. Here, held by his steady gaze, it was to be enjoyed.

His arm dropped lazily along the back of the bench. Michelle had an overwhelming urge to lean against it. She had felt the strong security of his hands once already. To feel them a second time, in a caress rather than as a support, would be heavenly. It took a real effort to shake free from the power of his eyes.

‘What’s the matter, cara?’

She stood up quickly. ‘I don’t like this.’

He laughed. It was a low, provocative sound.

‘No…? I think you like it very much.’

Michelle couldn’t answer. Telling the truth at a time like this would only catapult her straight into trouble.

‘Tonight belongs to you and me, Michelle. There are no spectators, no listeners behind doors. We are free to be ourselves for once.’

He looked her up and down with a practised eye. She felt like a rabbit, cornered by a very attractive fox. She sat down again, faintly surprised by her new courage. A slow smile warmed his eyes. He stretched out his limbs, extending his legs across the gravel in front of the studio house. His body language and his expression were so open and inviting. He looked a completely different man from the world-weary professional who had stamped up to the villa a few days earlier.

Michelle caught her breath. He was wonderful. Wonderfully dangerous, she reminded herself. Something about that look in his eyes warned her to take care. She was only the hired help, after all. She would be mad to encourage him. He had burst into her life from nowhere, and he would vanish with the same speed.

A mischevious breeze ruffled his night-dark hair.

‘Would you like some more champagne, signor?’ she said, before he could draw her further into his orbit.

He shook his head, and she pursed her lips. He must think she was a complete innocent, talking about wine when there might be so much more on offer. It was a short step from that to imagining she was stupid. Michelle knew that wasn’t true—despite the number of times her mother had said it.

‘So—what’s your answer?’ he went on. ‘Will you move out of here so I can indulge myself in Terence’s purpose built art studio? The change would do us both a lot of good. Trust me,’ he repeated.

Michelle sensed it was the last thing she should do. On the other hand…she needed to prove she wasn’t a na"ive fool. Alessandro had looked so careworn when he’d arrived. He already looked a lot better. How much more improvement might there be if she gave in to him over this little matter? Music was supposed to work wonders as a form of therapy. Art might do the same for him.

‘All right,’ she agreed, before she could change her mind. But she knew his reputation couldn’t be allowed to frighten her into falling in with all his plans. She was determined to have boundaries.

‘Good…you’re making a work-worn billionaire very happy.’ He laughed softly.

Michelle could tell he hadn’t said it to pull rank. His words had been hollow, and his gaze told of something deeper behind his words. Michelle shivered, and he snapped out of his reverie.

‘You are cold. I can’t keep you from your bed any longer, Michelle. I must go.’ He stood up and, bending forward until his head was almost touching hers, took her hand and raised it to his lips. His parting kiss was the light touch of a butterfly dancing on her skin, but it burned like the passion that fuelled his life.

‘Buona notte, Michelle. Sweet dreams,’ he added with a flash of mischief as he swung away into the night.

Michelle watched him move away through the shadowy garden. His white shirt was visible for a long way, despite the gloom. It only disappeared when he closed the villa door behind him. It extinguished the last hold he had over her. Standing up, she went slowly into the studio house. How could she have been so wrong about him? Although there was no doubt that beneath his handsome exterior Signor Alessandro Castiglione was ruthless, tonight he had been devastatingly charming. She drifted back into the studio house in a daze.

Michelle set her alarm clock for 4:00 a.m., but was awake in time to switch it off. It would have echoed through the peace and quiet of the Jolie Fleur estate. The memory of Alessandro’s midnight visit was still hot in her mind.

It took her no time at all to pack. When she had stacked her few possessions on the doorstep of the studio house, she showered and then dressed in her bikini. It had been a long night, with not enough sleep. A swim before breakfast would perk her up. Dawn in the garden was as magical as dusk, and she could hardly wait to experience it again. She pulled on her dressing gown for the short walk to the villa’s outdoor pool. The sun was still low, and filtered by a slight sea mist.