The woman’s soft voice filtered into Matteo’s thoughts and he made no effort to hide his exasperation as he leaned back against the leather seat of the luxury car. He’d been thinking about his father. Wondering if he intended carrying out the blustering threat he’d made just before Matteo had left Rome—and if so, whether or not he could prevent it. He gave a heavy sigh, forcing himself to accept that the ties of blood went deeper than any others. They must do. He certainly wouldn’t have tolerated so much from one person if they hadn’t been related. But family were difficult to walk away from. Difficult to leave. He felt his heart clench. Unless, of course, they left you.

‘Mr Valenti?’ the soft voice repeated.

Matteo gave a small click of irritation and not just because he loathed people talking to him when it was clear he didn’t want to be disturbed. It was more to do with the fact that this damned trip hadn’t gone according to plan, and not just because he hadn’t seen a single hotel he’d wanted to buy. It was as much to do with the small-boned female behind the steering wheel who was irritating the hell out of him.

‘Cos’ hai detto?’ he demanded until the ensuing silence reminded him that the woman didn’t speak Italian, that he was a long way from home—in fact, he was in the middle of the infernal English countryside with a woman driver.

He frowned. Having a woman chauffeur was a first for him and when he’d first seen her slender build and startled blue eyes, Matteo had been tempted to demand a replacement of the more burly male variety. Until he reminded himself that the last thing he needed was to be accused of sexual prejudice. His aristocratic nostrils flared as he glanced into the driver’s mirror and met her eyes. ‘What did you say?’ he amended, in English.

The woman cleared her throat, her slim shoulders shifting slightly—though the ridiculous peaked cap she insisted on wearing over her shorn hair stayed firmly in place. ‘I said that the weather seems to have taken a turn for the worse.’

Matteo turned his head to glance out of the window where the deepening dusk was almost obscured by the violent swirl of snowflakes. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d paid scant attention to the passing countryside but now he could see that the landscape was nothing but a bleached blur. He scowled. ‘But we’ll be able to get through?’

‘I certainly hope so.’

‘You hope so?’ he echoed, his voice growing harder. ‘What kind of an answer is that? You do realise that I have a flight all geared up and ready to go?’

‘Yes, Mr Valenti. But it’s a private jet and it will wait for you.’

‘I am perfectly aware that it’s a private jet since I happen to own it,’ he bit out impatiently. ‘But I’m due at a party in Rome tonight, and I don’t intend being late.’

With a monumental effort Keira stifled a sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the snowy road ahead. She needed to act calm and stay calm because Matteo Valenti was the most important customer she’d ever driven, a fact her boss had drummed into her over and over again. Whatever happened, she mustn’t show the nerves she’d been experiencing for the past few days—because driving a client of this calibre was a whole new experience for her. Being the only woman and the more junior driver on the payroll, she usually got different sorts of jobs. She collected urgent packages and delivered them, or picked up spoilt children from their prep school and returned them to their nanny in one of the many exclusive mansions which were dotted around London. But even mega-rich London customers paled into insignificance when you compared them with the wealth of Matteo Valenti.

Her boss had emphasised the fact that this was the first time the Italian billionaire had ever used their company and it was her duty to make sure he gave them plenty of repeat business. She thought it was great that such an influential tycoon had decided to give Luxury Limos his business, but she wasn’t stupid. It was obvious he was only using them because he’d decided on the trip at the last minute—just as it was obvious she’d only been given the job because none of the other drivers were available, this close to Christmas. According to her boss, he was an important hotelier looking to buy a development site in England, to expand his growing empire of hotels. So far they had visited Kent, Sussex and Dorset—though they’d left the most far-flung destination of Devon until last, which wouldn’t have been how she would have arranged it, especially not with the pre-holiday traffic being what it was. Still, she wasn’t being employed to sort out his schedule for him—she was here to get him safely from A to B.

She stared straight ahead at the wild flurry of snowflakes. It was strange. She worked with men and for men and knew most of their foibles. She’d learnt that in order to be accepted it was better to act like one of the boys and not stand out. It was the reason she wore her hair short—though not the reason she’d cut it in the first place. It was why she didn’t usually bother with make-up, or wearing the kind of clothes which invited a second look. The tomboy look suited her just fine, because if a man forgot you were there, he tended to relax—though unfortunately the same rule didn’t seem to apply to Matteo Valenti. She’d never met a less relaxed individual.

But that wasn’t the whole story, was it? She clutched the steering wheel tightly, unwilling to admit the real reason why she felt so self-conscious in his company. Because wasn’t the truth that he had blown her away the moment they’d met, with the most potent brand of charisma she’d ever encountered? It was disturbing and exciting and scary all at the same time and it had never happened to her before—that thing of looking into

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