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wedding. Her fiancé’s mother had offered the couple her Victorian house on Martha’s Vineyard, but his sister had nixed that suggestion in no uncertain terms. ‘She wants to make the wedding all preppy and tasteful,’ she’d complained, scorn in her voice. Valentina’s brand was all about exuberance and she wanted to make sure her wedding reflected that—and what Valentina wanted she usually got. That determination had propelled her from part-time model and socialite to online queen and supermodel. Her willingness to share every instant of her life, complete with the perfect filter and hashtag, was partly what had elevated her above all the other pretty-girl wannabes, but it was hard work and a cool business brain that had turned her into a global brand.
Leo didn’t understand how Valentina could bear to live her life through millions of screens, but he didn’t have to. All he wanted was for her to be happy, to make up for her childhood, for the neglect from his side of her family. Which was why, after he’d heard that a fire had destroyed her previous choice of wedding venue, he offered to head to La Isla Marina and check out why they could accommodate a lavish wedding at such short notice.
It had taken approximately five seconds to reach an answer. The island was completely unsuitable—and yet here he still was. Gaze still fixed on the sea nymph, feet still fixed to the ground, still wondering exactly what shade of pink her plump lips were.
‘No, I’m not the owner, I’m her daughter. Look. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but everything is under control.’
But her eyes couldn’t quite meet his as she said the words. Leo folded his arms and regarded her sardonically, watching the faint blush of colour spread over her cheeks. ‘You’re an experienced wedding planner? Or maybe you’re an events co-ordinator? A hotel manager? A plumber and builder? All of the above?’
She blinked. ‘Well, no...’
‘No? What do you do?’
‘I’m a lecturer, I don’t see...’
‘A lecturer? In plumbing?’
Her colour heightened. ‘In European history. I mostly look at history from a feminist perspective...’ She caught his eye and stopped.
‘That will be very useful, I’m sure. I don’t think I need to see any more.’ There was no point in staying, no matter how pretty the help. He turned, ready to leave when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out. Valentina. ‘Hola.’
‘Is it amazing? I wish I could be there with you. I have to fly to Japan tomorrow, and then I’m off to Australia for a week and there’s a shoot booked in here in New York after that so it’s impossible for me to get there before the wedding, but, Leo darling, I am so grateful that you are there making sure everything is perfect. Is it perfect? Just as I remember?’
‘Valentina.’ He tried to interrupt her, but his sister babbled on.
‘This feels right, Leo. It is such a shame about the villa, but I spent such happy summers on La Isla Marina, that has to be a good omen, doesn’t it? It will be like coming home in some ways. Todd won’t know what’s hit him,’ she added. ‘I know the Vineyard is beautiful, but I want this wedding to reflect me, to be as un-New York as possible.’
Leo paused. Valentina was extremely well off now, and she was marrying into serious old New York money, but she had been brought up on the edge of poverty thanks to his father’s nasty habit of discarding his mistresses and their offspring as soon as their demands got too inconvenient. While Leo had been brought up in the solitary, austere luxury of the castillo, she had spent her childhood years in a tiny apartment in the rougher side of the city. Who could blame her for wanting to live the fairy tale she’d been denied? She was the daughter of a conde after all, even if the illustrious Lord refused to acknowledge her.
Leo looked around, assessing the island with fresh eyes. It was battered, sure, but it didn’t need a fortune to bring it up to scratch; it needed some time and care. Leo could easily make that happen. It could be his wedding gift to the sister he had spent too many years not knowing. ‘It needs some work, but nothing that can’t be easily fixed. Don’t panic.’
‘How can I panic when you’re there taking care of things for me, mi hermano? Will you keep an eye on it until I can get there? I don’t need it to be perfect for the sponsors or all the people who will be watching and judging. I just want it to be perfect for me. For Todd.’
‘It will be,’ Leo promised. He snapped his phone shut. His options were clear: find his sister another whimsical Spanish island wedding venue able and willing to accommodate over one hundred bright young things in a month’s time or make sure this place was transformed into the venue of her dreams. Besides, what else did he have to do? He fixed the nymph with a hard stare. ‘Pass me that notebook,’ he said. ‘We have a lot of work to do.’
THE NYMPH CLUTCHED her notebook tightly and glared. ‘We?’
‘We,’ Leo confirmed. ‘Right now this hotel is only fit for a Halloween-themed wedding. I’m sure your knowledge of European feminist history will be very useful when it comes to sorting out the dripping showers, but just in case it isn’t I am intending to stay and oversee.’
‘Really?’ The bright blue eyes were hard. ‘And you know how to fix a dripping tap, I suppose?’
‘I can fix a tap, tile a wall, paint woodwork. Can you?’ It was all true, not that many people knew that. It would ruin his carefully cultivated, trust-funded euro-playboy image if anyone knew just how handy he was with a spanner, just as no one knew that every penny that slipped so seemingly carelessly through his fingers he had earnt. His father had cut him off at eighteen expecting a repentant and obedient son to beg for the purse strings to be reinstated. He was still waiting.
It drove him mad, not having the financial control he yearned for over his son, drove him to distraction that he had no idea where or how Leo obtained the funds for his extravagant lifestyle. And the lifestyle he saw his only son, the future Conde de Olvares, choose to lead drove him craziest of all. Every photo of Leo at another party, in a new casino, with a new model on his arm guaranteed it, Leo made sure of that. In the Conde de Olvares’s rulebook appearances were everything, vices were to be hidden away.
Leo had taken his father’s rule and reversed it. Every vice on the surface for everyone to see, the virtues hidden far beneath. Truth was he barely attended any parties any more—and when he did usually stayed just long enough to be photographed. Valentina had taught him well. Perception was everything.
The nymph tilted her chin defiantly. ‘I’m sure I can learn. I can follow instructions.’
‘That’s good to know,’ Leo said softly and her cheeks burned a deeper red.
‘Look. I can see why you’re worried.’ Her gaze slid over to the nearest bungalow. ‘But I have assured you, repeatedly, that everything is under control.’
Leo followed her gaze. The bungalow was dirty, the white paint peeling off the external walls, the trees and flowers growing so close it was only a matter of time till nature recolonised the building. It needed nails in the roof, a lick of paint and a damn good clean. Hot, sweaty, hard manual work.
His eyes narrowed. Maybe the work would help fix the melancholy he couldn’t quite shake. Leo wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced real, unadulterated happiness, but for the past twelve years he had managed something resembling content; always on the move, always making money, always his own man. But ever since Valentina had announced her engagement, that contentment had become elusive, her glowing happiness a sharp contrast to his darkness.
Leo had always thought that they were cut from the same cloth, but now his baby sister was proving braver—or more foolhardy—than him. Either way Leo was left in her wake. It was an uncomfortable place to be.
His original intention had been to make a few phone calls and get a team of labourers despatched to La Isla Marina then return in