Master of Bella Terra (13 page)

She wouldn't want him now.

He barely noticed the colonial mansion he had travelled thousands of miles to inspect. Unable to make a decision on it, he retreated to Manhattan. His apartment on Fifth Avenue was as cheerless as any of his other homes. He roamed about, trying to put Kira out of his mind. It was hopeless. From the contrast between her cosy little home and his soulless apartment to the sight of lovers strolling hand in hand through Central Park, everything reminded him of her.

Finally, he went out, throwing himself into the surf of crowds and noise swirling through the city streets. It was supposed to block thoughts of Kira with the white noise of chaos. It didn't work. Each woman he saw was automatically matched against her memory, and found wanting.

Eventually, he washed up at an all-night club. The atmosphere was intended to stifle Kira's memory. Instead, her voice echoed in his brain. It cut straight through the racket, as he remembered how she had chosen to spend the evening with him on Silver Island—no distractions—rather than be wined and dined in the city. They wanted the same things out of life. Why didn't he trust himself to share them with her? The answer to that circled him like a shark but he didn't want to face it. Instead, he told himself that he'd done the right thing. She had been hurt before, and he'd only hurt her again—he had left her to protect her.

After a sleepless night, he went into the Manhattan
offices of Albani International. That was another disaster. He lasted twenty minutes. Unable to work, he spent the whole time resisting the urge to pick up the phone and ring Kira. In the end, he had to walk out and ask a secretary to order a car for him. He couldn't trust himself to make one simple, innocent business call. Once he lifted that receiver, he knew he would end up ringing Kira instead.

 

Kira tried to make a full and detailed assessment of Stefano's tropical paradise. It was impossible. She made some silly mistakes, and couldn't complete the simplest calculations. Her emotions were too raw. He had swept her up to heaven, and then dropped her the morning after. It was history repeating itself, and she felt empty, completely crushed. As soon as she had filled a few pages of her notebook, she made arrangements to board one of his private jets and leave the island chain.

The flight home was agonising. She did her best to make it look as though she was enjoying every second. She had a lifetime's experience of putting on a good show. She watched a romantic comedy, and took care to laugh in all the right places. She smiled and chatted to the cabin crew, and ate every meal and titbit they offered her. In contrast, she took only a solitary glass of white wine with her dinner, and most of that went back to the galley untouched. No way was she going to let anyone think Stefano Albani had driven her to drink!

One of his fleet of cars was waiting for her at the airport. The chauffeur said he had instructions to whisk her straight back home to La Ritirata. Kira had other ideas. She asked to be taken directly to Stefano's town house in Florence. That would put some distance between her
and the valley she had left with such high hopes, only a couple of days before. Stefano had already infused the entire Bella Terra estate with so many memories for her. They had talked and laughed there. His new town house did not mean quite so much to her. As long as she kept well away from the place where he had seduced her, it had no hold over her. Stefano's offer to let her stay there while she worked on the project had seemed wildly overgenerous. Now she was glad of the opportunity. A break from La Ritirata was exactly what she needed. It would give her some time away from his memory.

 

Stefano suffered through another sleepless night, and that morning he knew he had to come to his senses. He couldn't think of anything but Kira and there could be only one outcome. He wanted her, and he would never get any rest until she was safely in his arms again. He didn't need to think any further than that. Summoning a car, he headed straight for the airport. Then he blazed a trail across the world. He hadn't thought beyond the fact that Kira had bewitched his mind and his body, and he could not live without her for a moment longer. All he wanted to do was reach her side. This was such a new sensation he had no idea what he was going to say, but right now, he didn't care. He needed her. The moment he saw her, the words would come. He knew it.

Driving towards the Bella Terra villa felt like coming home. It reinforced all his deepest feelings. This was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Now he was going to claim the woman he wanted by his side for all eternity. Leaping out of the car before his chauffeur had brought it to a standstill, he strode straight across the valley towards La Ritirata. He still hadn't worked
out his argument, but words could wait. His first kiss would tell Kira all she needed to know.

He was so consumed by what he would do, it took him a while to realise something was wrong. The day was hot and the sky stormy, but all the windows of Kira's little home were tightly closed. As he registered that fact, he smelled smoke. The countryside was dry as dust. Fire was a constant threat, but now he saw it was a reality. Smoke was curling up from the back of La Ritirata. He started to run.

‘Kira!'

Pulling out his phone as he ran, he summoned help from the villa but didn't wait for it to arrive. The woman he loved was in danger. Kicking down the front door, he burst into the living room. It was a furnace, centred on the burning kitchen door. A thick haze of smoke rose to fill the house, but Stefano never hesitated. Dropping to the floor where the atmosphere was clearest, he made straight for the burning room.

‘Kira!'

There was no reply. He held his breath. The kitchen was well alight, but empty. His heart started to beat again. There was still hope. Calling her name, he quartered the living room, searching through the smoke and straining to hear the smallest noise. The crumble and crackle of feasting flames threatened to silence everything in its path.

Time was slipping away, dragging a suffocating chain ever tighter around his chest. He cast a desperate look at the fresh air outside, but could not waste a precious second. Reaching the staircase he went up on all fours. Keeping his head below the level of the smoke was good in theory, but the fire was sucking all the available
oxygen from the air. If Kira was here, he had to get her out within the next couple of minutes. He ran into her bedroom, his movements now desperate Walking away from her was the worst mistake he had ever made, and if he had now lost her for ever…

 

The town house in Florence was every bit as tempting as Kira remembered from her first visit but the unfinished business with Stefano hung over her like a thundercloud. Nothing could distract her. Flipping on the TV, she tried to get interested in the news. Gazing out of the window, she was only half listening to the babbled headlines. The sky outside was crying. She stared out over the sodden rooftops of Florence. If only Stefano had not tried to shut her out of his life so abruptly. She might still be lying in his arms. The silver sand would be soft and warm beneath their skin, while sunlight danced in patterns overhead, sparkling through palm leaves.

Here in Italy, it was wet and Kira was miserable. She closed her eyes and inhaled, imagining the warm, fertile perfume of her garden back at La Ritirata after a shower. All it needed to make her fantasy complete was Stefano. He had broken her heart, but she could not stop yearning for him. Angry with herself for being so weak she reached over to switch off the useless distraction of the television when her hand froze in midair. Half a dozen words snatched her attention and held it, breathless.

‘Mystery fire rages at billionaire's hideaway…'

The plasma screen was alive with flames and thick funnels of smoke. As the presenter droned on, the scene changed. A bird's-eye view showed again the frighteningly familiar landscape. The pictures were so huge and horrific she could practically feel the heat. The news
report said only that a house on the estate of a reclusive billionaire had been destroyed, but Kira didn't need any more details. Despite the flickering flames and jagged camera work, she recognised La Ritirata.

Her home had been destroyed.

Alight with fear, she called a hire car and drove straight to the Bella Terra estate. The smell of smoke was almost overpowering as she drove up the track towards the villa. She had to close all the ventilators. It was impossible to miss the turning for La Ritirata. The TV item had been recorded earlier in the day, so the news crews and fire services had vanished. Only the mess remained, where all their vehicles had been stationed. Grass and bushes were flattened, and the recent rain had surrounded the blackened stinking ruins of her little house with mud.

Kira put a hand up to open her car door, but stopped before she made contact. She couldn't do it. She couldn't step out into this disaster. Unable to bear the horrible sight any longer, she turned the car around and headed for Stefano's villa. The sick feeling inside her was made a hundred times worse by the reek of smoke that crept into the vehicle. There could be no escape from the after-effects of the blaze. They would linger for a long time, and in her memory for ever.

She brought her car to a halt on the grand terrace where Stefano had once parked his helicopter. She got out of the car, and plodded up the steps to the great front doors. There she pulled on the bell, which echoed like an alarm through the rambling old house. She purposely kept her back to the wreckage of La Ritirata, unable to look at the damage.

When the villa door opened, the interior came as
a complete surprise to her. It had been transformed. Although Stefano had owned La Bella Terra for only a few days, an impressive desk and banks of telecommunications equipment had already been installed in the reception area. As Kira stepped inside, a woman rushed forward and grabbed her hands. Her face was tight with panic and stress and it took a few moments for Kira to recognise Stefano's senior PA beneath the smudges of mascara. That was a shock. Kira had last seen her arriving on Silver Island, and assumed she would have followed her boss to the USA.

‘Is there any news, Miss Banks?'

‘What about? And why are you here?' Kira stared at her, puzzled, the chaos surrounding her house momentarily pushed to one side. ‘I thought you stuck to Stefano like a Post-it note?'

At the mention of her boss the woman went even whiter.

‘Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Banks…'

Feeling panic rise, Kira prised herself out of the PA's grasp. To be clutched at by a stranger was almost as bad as seeing her house in ruins.

‘It's only sticks and stones,' she muttered, embarrassed by such a show of emotion from someone she hardly knew. Stefano mustn't be allowed to see her fail. If she could walk away from him on Silver Island, she could carry on holding everything together now. She avoided thinking in too much detail about how much she had lost. All of her hard work over the years…

‘It isn't as though there were lives at stake,' she went on, keeping a skin of ice over the turbulent depths of her true feelings. ‘Could you send a message to Signor Albani, please?' she asked briskly. ‘I was only going
to be staying in Florence while I worked on his town house, but now I've lost my home, I've got nowhere to live. I'll need to stay in town on a permanent basis, until I can sort things out….'

The girl was looking at her in confusion.

‘Miss Banks! You mean to say you don't know what happened? Signor Albani has been rushed to hospital!'

Kira's mind went completely blank. She fell back, aghast.

‘He tried to save your house. He put his life on the line, looking for you, and for what? You hardly seem to care about him, or your home!' The PA was clearly fighting tears.

Kira was suddenly aware of the villa's entrance hall filling with faces. Builders, architects and members of staff poked their heads from doorways or looked over the banisters from the upper floors. Covered in shame, she wanted to run away and hide, but she was too thunderstruck to do anything but gawp at the collection of furious, accusing faces.

‘Me? What have I done?' she said faintly. ‘It's not my fault!' No answer came. The PA had turned away and Kira was left to her own thoughts. If Stefano had not gone looking for me—
why was he looking for me?

‘I had no idea he was in the country. I thought he was still in America,' she whispered to herself.

Kira's heart solidified inside her chest. Stefano had left her, that last fateful day on Silver Island. He had betrayed her, forcing mental and physical distance between them. Now she was expected to believe he had taken a pointless risk by searching for her in an empty house! It was too much to take on board.

Ignoring her audience, she marched straight back out to her car. On the way, she steeled herself to take another glance at the smoking ruin that had once been her home. It was terrifying. Stefano had been in there. She had to find out why.

O
NCE
at the hospital, rules and regulations held her up for ages. Getting into Stefano's private suite took longer than the drive from La Bella Terra had done. When she was finally allowed to enter, her nerves were put to their stiffest test. Stefano lay motionless in the bed. His eyes were closed, and the only colour in his face came from a network of cuts, scratches and bruises. His natural colour had drained away to a deathly grey. Once the orderly had shown her into the room, he left. When she was completely alone with the patient, Kira could not contain herself any longer. She rushed forward and grabbed his hand, which was swathed in bandages.

‘Stefano!' she gasped.

He flinched, scowled and opened his eyes, in that order. Kira instantly dropped his hand and stepped back, his cold eyes reminding her of the distance between them.

‘What are you doing here? I gave express instructions that you, above all people, weren't to be allowed in.'

Digging both elbows into his bed, he struggled up into a sitting position. Once there, he reached for the alarm button on his side table.

‘Stop! Don't blame the staff. It's nobody's fault but
mine,' Kira said. ‘I waited until the shift changed on reception and then said I was one of your PAs, coming to consult you about some paperwork.'

Stefano let his hand fall back to the bed, winced and then managed a half-smile at her ingenuity.

‘Why do you think I issued that order? I didn't want you to see me like this.' He wouldn't meet her eyes.

There was a silence. Scrabbling for words, Kira said with an awkward laugh, ‘I did all that work making my house beautiful and comfortable, but never got around to fitting a sprinkler system!'

‘Dio! It was a country cottage, not the Uffizi Gallery.' They both paused again.

‘Are your burns very painful?'

He looked at her finally, but only for a moment. ‘They're not too bad. I'm only in for observation.'

Kira poured him a glass of water, but he shook his head.

‘Why did you risk going into a burning building?' she burst out, unable to wait any longer.

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer her, but then he sighed and spoke.

‘I thought you were inside. I assumed you would shut yourself away in La Ritirata after getting back from Silver Island.'

Kira watched him intently. He brushed folds from his coverlet, picked up his watch from the bedside cabinet and put it on, but he did not look directly at her.

‘So…you actually went looking for me?' she said at last.

‘It was the least I could do,' he said, still avoiding her eyes. ‘I realised that, however much you claimed to understand I wasn't offering you anything more than a
good time, I had hurt you. I was determined to make up for that. I saw smoke, thought the worst and broke in. I thought maybe you were asleep, or unconscious, or…'

‘You risked your life for me,' Kira said slowly. ‘I never imagined anyone would do that.'

‘I couldn't help myself.' Stefano evaded her eyes. ‘The flames took hold very quickly. When I realised you weren't there I concentrated on getting as many of your belongings out as possible.'

‘You saved some of my things!' Kira's heart leapt for a moment, before shock distracted her. ‘You stayed and did all that when I wasn't even in the house, Stefano?'

‘They were your things. You made a perfect home. You weren't going to lose anything, if I could help it,' he said simply. ‘Things matter to you.'

And so do you, she thought painfully.

Shutting her eyes, she sank down in the nearest chair. When Stefano first abandoned her, she had been filled with anger. That evaporated the second she heard he had been injured. Now she felt weak, confused and resentful that he should force her through such an obstacle course of emotions.

‘You might claim to know my mind, but you're a total mystery to me, Stefano Albani. I thought you didn't ever want to see me again. And then you go and do something like this,' she said quietly.

‘I've told you. I couldn't help myself.' Stefano sounded as though he could hardly believe it himself.

Kira did not need to search his face to see that he was telling the simple truth.

‘Did you buy that house in America?'

He shook his head. ‘It didn't seem important any more. Once upon a time I had nothing, but now I can
have what I like, and make a home anywhere I want. It's enough to know that. I don't need to follow through.'

‘But you can't make yourself any kind of home, can you? That's what all this is about!' Her eyes flew open. ‘On the day we first met, you spoke as though the Bella Terra estate was the answer to all your prayers. You were going to make your home there, and settle. But it wasn't good enough, was it? I should have seen the warning signs when you showed me around the town house in Florence—that must have been your previous “ideal home.” It would have been the solution to all your problems—until you lit upon my valley. Before that, it must have been Silver Island. All these places have one thing in common, Stefano. You haven't been able to make a home out of any of them!'

Breathless, she ran out of words. Stefano had watched her in silence. Now he laced his fingers together, winced and straightened them carefully again before speaking.

‘We're alike, you and I. Neither of us likes to be out of control. Neither of us appreciates surprises.' He paused before adding, ‘But my existence has been anything but predictable since I met you.'

His calculated tone was in such contrast to her outburst, Kira sat back in surprise. He seemed to have somehow retreated from her, in spite of not having moved from his bed.

‘I'm a free agent, Kira.' He spread his hands in a bleak gesture. ‘I need to be able to come and go, in the same way you do. Work defines both our lives, doesn't it? We can't devote ourselves to our careers if we're always looking out for the other, can we?' he finished, with a hint of defiance.

Over the past few days Kira had begun to reassess her life. She was beginning to think work was playing too big a part in it. Her heart sank as she realised that Stefano had clearly done no such thing.

He grazed his teeth over his lower lip. ‘What are you going to do about La Ritirata now? I doubt if it's habitable.'

‘There isn't much left standing.'

Always restless, Stefano reached for the water Kira had poured him. After taking a sip, he slid the glass across his bedside table. He did not look at her as he spoke.

‘Look—don't take this the wrong way, Kira, but why not consider selling what is left of your house to me? I can take it off your hands, give you a good price and you can start again. I can make everything all right for you again. You were never keen on a stranger moving into Bella Terra. This way, it won't matter to you.'

Kira stared at him, looking for any trace of the man she thought she loved. All she could see was the cold, hard exterior. She forced herself to ask, ‘You—you'd like me to go back to England?'

‘Well, it's obviously up to you,' he responded mildly. ‘I'm simply offering to help you. That heap of rubble is nothing but a liability to you now.'

The truth hurt. Kira was so used to it, she only knew one defence. She squared up to him again.

‘A liability? You know all about those, of course. Apparently, that's how you saw me on the morning you abandoned me on Silver Island.'

She rose from her seat, all the hurt rushing back as fresh and raw as that first moment when she saw him getting ready to leave her.

‘I served your purpose, and then you left.'

‘Oh, Kira…' For a moment she thought she saw a flash of something deeper in his eyes, but then it was gone, and when he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled.

‘That night on Silver Island, you seemed to understand me better than I knew myself. You know what I'm like now, which is more than anyone else in the world does. I didn't want you to get too fond of me, so I went to look at a property. That's all.'

Kira looked at him, really looked at him. His white face and guarded eyes. He was lying. She knew it. Somewhere deep inside, he must know it, too. Her sadness was suddenly gone, eclipsed by anger at his stubborn blindness. Her hands flexed in impotent rage. ‘You are a coward, Stefano. We had something incredible between us—I know you felt it, too. Deny it all you want, but I hope one day you'll understand what you have thrown away. Property? You've already got more of that than you know what to do with! Why don't you start looking closer to home, Stefano? Oh, I'm sorry, you don't have one of those!' Grabbing her bag, she threw herself towards the door.

‘Wait, Kira! Where are you going?'

‘I'm going to show you how to make a home from absolutely nothing, Stefano. I'm going to rebuild La Ritirata stone by stone, if it takes me the rest of my life,' she finished, with steely resolve.

Swinging out of his room, she let the door slam shut behind her.

Shell-shocked, Stefano dragged himself out of bed. He didn't want things to end like this. They needed to finish on his terms—he needed the last word. He flung
open the door of his private room. She was already gone, straight out of his life. It was too late.

 

It was almost dark by the time Kira reached her car. With a heavy heart she decided there was no point in going back to La Ritirata until the morning. Nothing could be done by night. Instead, she headed back to her guest suite in Stefano's Florentine town house.

Hours later, she wished she had returned to the Bella Terra valley anyway. Sleep was impossible. Inspecting the ruins of her home by torchlight would have been a better use of her time than tossing and turning in bed. She got up while it was still barely light, and went out for a short walk around town. It was supposed to clear her head, but her mind was too full for that. She thought about the home she had lost, and how much more terrible it could so easily have been. Stefano might have been killed. When it came to matters of life and death, possessions didn't matter. They could be replaced. People couldn't. When he left her on Silver Island, Stefano had torn a hole in her heart. While he was still alive, there was a chance it might be repaired. If he had died in the fire, he would have been lost to her forever.

At least today she still had hope, where there might have only been tragedy.

 

Kira was a perfectionist, but when it came to Stefano's town house her standards reached new heights. She went into overdrive. When she wasn't busy with her contract to beautify the house, its roof and courtyard, she sat in her borrowed suite and co-ordinated the rebuilding of her own home. It was so painful to be confronted by the ashes of her happy life, but she refused to be
beaten. Her vow to recreate her home was written in smoke-blackened stones. She poured all her anger and disappointment into her project to rebuild it. Each day she concentrated on her work at Stefano's town house, determined to fulfil her contract impeccably. Each evening, she drove to La Ritirata and worked on until it was too dark to see. She did all the odd jobs that might otherwise eat into the builders' time: making phone calls, sweeping up and washing down. Everything had to run according to her plan. Nothing must go wrong. She wanted her house to stand as a monument to her iron will.

Her commitment to both jobs never wavered. Her self-control often did. She was so glad that this was something she could do alone. For anyone else to see her anguish would have been unbearable. Each time she walked out onto Stefano's new roof garden, she kept expecting him to appear. He never did. As she walked through the cool, beautifully designed rooms of his suite, she knew that other women would have the benefit of the emperor-size bed and the shower that was big enough for two. She had lost him. Her bridges were burned, along with her house.

She had turned out to be the architect of her own unhappiness, and that was the most painful thing of all.

 

Kira's punishing schedule began to take its toll. There were times when she could barely drag herself from one project to the other. Her body was numb with exhaustion. She kept her mind blank with the anaesthetic of work. If she let it wander for a moment, it homed straight in on Stefano.

Rebuilding La Ritirata would take a long time, and more money than she could bear to think about. Her beloved garden was wrecked. It sagged beneath the weight of disaster. Nothing had escaped. Plants had been scorched, crushed beneath falling masonry or trampled and drowned by the emergency services or the builders.

Her house could be replaced, but its heart and soul would take a lot longer to repair. Wandering around the site, Kira couldn't help wondering if it would feel as soulless as all Stefano's properties did. There would be no love in it. She had none left to give. The rebuilt La Ritirata would rattle with emptiness, and smell of nothing but new paint and plaster. They were nice smells, but as impersonal as a hospital. The place would be eerily silent, too. Kira had grown to love the little creaks and moans her old house made. All its imperfections would vanish, like the original building. None of the new windows would jam, and the front door would open first time, every time. The usual pantomime of wiggling the key and bumping her shoulder against one particular spot would be a thing of the past. This new house should be ideal in every way, but somehow she knew it never would be. Something would always be missing.

All she had ever craved was a quiet life, far away from strangers, in her old house with its funny little ways. Now she had lost everything. Looking out across the valley at the Bella Terra villa, all Kira saw now was the wrong sort of isolation. She wanted to carry on being alone—alone, together with Stefano.

It was the end of her wonderful dream. She had lost her home, and the only man she would ever love or need or want. Stefano had been on to something. She
should have accepted his offer to buy the ruins of La Ritirata. Her contracted jobs were well on the way to being finished—they didn't need her any longer. There was nothing in the Bella Terra valley for her now. Sadly, regretfully, she pulled out her mobile phone.