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CHAPTER ONE
LORENZO ZANELLI, owner of the centuries-old Zanelli Merchant Bank, originally bankers to Italian principalities and now a global concern, exited the elevator at his office suite on the top floor of thein the heart of Verona, a frownhis broad brow
His business lunch with Manuel Cervantes, the head of an Argentinean congloone well, but Lorenzo was not a happyto be late for his next appointment as his lunch had severely overrun—despite the fact that they had completed their business quite quickly
As soon as as out of the way Manuel had turned to aup his career as aof the coo and his subsequent e and two children Then finally he had shown Lorenzo so from his last trip to the Alps
They were pictures taken at the main base camp on Manuel’s final expedition to Mont Blanc, and included by sheer chance a few shots of Lorenzo’s brother, Antonio, and Daht red jackets and even brighter grins, just arriving as Manuel’s team were about to start their ascent
The next e of the climb to the summit when he had received news that his father had suffered a heart attack He’d been airlifted off the mountain by helicopter, and his last shot was a view of the mountain as he was flon to base caentina to be at his father’s bedside He had heard ht Lorenzo would like to have ere probably the last pictures of his brother Lorenzo was grateful, but it brought back et
Lorenzo had been looking through the photos as he’d walked back to his offices, taking in the implications of the detail in the landscape shot Manuel had pointed out to hilia, which had delayed him even further
His frown deepened as he saw the fair head of a wo for hiotten about Miss Steadman, and noas not the best time to deal with her …
‘Lucy Steadlance her way He reo when, on a business trip to London, he had called briefly at Antonio’s apartment to check in on his little brother She had been a pluy sweater, with long fair pigtails, who had been visiting her brother and was leaving as Lorenzo arrived Her brother Damien had met Antonio at university in London, and they’d become firically, and one he certainly did not need re of for a second time today
‘Sorry for the delay, but it was unavoidable’ She rose to her feet and he noted she had scarcely changed at all Small—she barely reached his shoulder—with her hair scraped back in a knot on top of her head, her face free of y sweater had been replaced with an equally volu skirt that did her no favours at all Slender ankles, he noted, and tiny feet, but the flat shoes she wore had definitely seen better days She obviously cared little for her appearance—not a trait he admired in a woman
Lucy Stead in front of her Antonio had told her once his brother was a lot older than hi banker who did not kno to enjoy life, ast other similarly harsh comments, and now she could see what he had meant …
Tall—well over six feet—he was dressed conservatively in a dark suit, a white shirt and plain dark tie And expensively, she guessed His broad shoulders were outlined superbly by the well-cut jacket, and she hastily lifted her gaze frohs to fix on his face The , but Antonio had missed one attribute that was immediately obvious to Lucy, even with her limited experience of men
Lorenzo Zanelli was a truly arresting netism about hinise Given the severity of his clothes, surprisingly his thick black hair was longer than the current fashion and brushed the white collar of his shirt The planes of his face were firmly etched, his heavy lidded eyes were brown, almost black, and deep-set beneath thick arched brows his nose large and definitely Rohtly controlled
‘You must be Lorenzo Zanelli,’ she said, and held out her hand
‘Correct, Miss Steadman,’ he responded, and took her hand
His clasp was firm and brief, but the sudden ripple of sensation that shot up the length of her arm affected Lucy well after he had dropped her hand, and she simply stared at him She had the oddest notion he was fa met him before, and he in no way resembled his brother
He wasn’t handso There was strength in his bold features—a powerful character that was undeniable—and the subtle hint of sensuality about his ered on the perfectly chiselled lips, the botto what his kiss would taste like … sensuous and beguiling A tiny shudder vibrated through her body and, shocked by her physical response to an uncharacteristic flight of fantasy, she swiftly raised her eyes and ignored her strange reaction to a man she had every reason to dislike
Lucy excused her totally unprecedented lapse with the wry thought that Lorenzo Zanelli was the sort of man to make anyone look twice In fact she would like to paint a portrait of hi back in to her professional comfort zone
‘Miss Steadman, I knohy you are here’
His deep, slightly accented voice cut into her reverie, and she blinked just in time to see his dark eyes flick disdainfully over her She felt the
colour rise in her cheeks with e ‘You do?’ she murmured inanely Of course he did—she had written to him
Her original reason for this trip to Italy was to personally deliver a portrait she had painted of an Italian countess’s recently departed husband The lady had co into Lucy’s art and craft gallery with the friend she’d been visiting in England Lucy had received via the post dozens of photographs of theto get sonition beyond the local scene
Not that she was seeking fame—realistically, in today’s world where a pickled sheep or an unet it, but it was nice to feel appreciated for what she did excel at She had a natural gift for catching the likeness and character of any subject, be it a stuffed dog—her first ever coure or portrait, large canvas or ood, even if she did say so herself