Italian Tycoon, Secret Son. Lucy Gordon

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      ‘Every girl on this trip feels like that about him. Except you, but then you’re just “ornery”. I can’t think why, especially when he’s been so nice to you today. Oh, yes—I see. I should have thought of that.’

      ‘Thought of what?’

      ‘When he was giving you that massage—I should have stayed here, shouldn’t I? I thought he was the perfect gentleman, but I ought to have known better.’

      ‘What are you saying?’ Mandy demanded.

      ‘Well—you know—he probably let his hands wander too far. That’s it, isn’t it? He “took advantage of you”.’

      ‘No, he didn’t,’ Mandy said, exasperated beyond endurance. ‘He was totally professional and his hands didn’t wander one inch from where they should be.’

      ‘What, not even the tiniest—’

      ‘No!’

      ‘Ah,’ said Joan wisely. ‘Now I see.’

      ‘There’s nothing to see. It’s time I got up,’ Mandy said firmly. ‘I’ll eat out there. Shall we go?’

      Joan’s knowing eyes saw too much.

      Mandy edged tentatively off the bed, fearing the worst, but she felt good. Dr Renzo had been very effective, she thought, pulling on some clothes, pleased to find that it was easy.

      The others raised a cheer as she appeared and asked kindly how she was. Renzo didn’t speak, but he observed her carefully and served her food with his own hands.

      ‘Eat it all,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to keep your strength up.’

      While she ate he watched over her like a guard dog, or a nanny. Suddenly her thoughts about his amorous intentions seemed ridiculous, and she began to chuckle.

      ‘Careful,’ he said gently. ‘What’s so funny?’

      ‘Nothing—nothing—’ she gasped.

      ‘Well, don’t choke yourself for nothing. Steady.’ He was patting her on the back. ‘That’s better. Now can you share the joke?’

      ‘No way,’ she said. ‘Some jokes just can’t be shared.’

      ‘They can be the best,’ he suggested.

      ‘That’s true, and this one—Oh, don’t get me started again.’

      He looked at her curiously, and seemed about to say something, when a shout of, ‘Hey!’made everyone look up.

      It was Henry, standing at the window.

      ‘It’s snowing,’ he bawled.

      At once they crowded to the window to see the soft flakes drifting down. Renzo slipped outside and Mandy joined him.

      ‘I don’t like this,’ he said, staring intently.

      ‘It’s not very bad, is it?’ she asked. ‘It’s only a light fall.’

      ‘Yes, but if it keeps on for long it can have a destabilising effect. You get too much light, powdery snow that hasn’t had a chance to firm up and compact with the rest.’

      ‘You mean, we couldn’t go on?’

      ‘It might be a good idea to turn back.’

      ‘I hope we don’t have to,’ she said with a little sigh. ‘It’s so lovely up here—and just a little bit of snow—’

      ‘The trouble with you English is that you live in a moderate climate,’ he chided her. ‘You don’t really understand that snow can be dangerous. But look high up.’ Renzo indicated the flakes and, beyond them, the white peaks rearing up in the darkness. ‘Snow like that isn’t just affecting life. It is life. At the best it’s a challenge, at the worst it’s an enemy.’

      ‘Hey ho! That’s that then.’

      ‘No, it’s too soon to know how bad it’ll be. Don’t despair yet.’

      ‘Me, I never despair,’ said a voice behind them, and they both groaned at the arrival of Henry. ‘Come on,’ he rallied them. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’

      ‘I put it to rest on the day I accepted responsibility for bringing people up here,’ Renzo said through gritted teeth.

      Now he was a guard dog again, shepherding them both back inside, commanding everyone to bed, chivvying them until they obeyed.

      ‘How’s the leg?’ he asked Mandy.

      ‘Fine. Everything’s fine. Dr Renzo’s Linctus is great. You should patent it.’

      ‘No, I keep it for special occasions. Sleep well.’

      To everyone’s relief, the snow stopped during the night, but the day was overcast, making Renzo frown. As breakfast finished they were startled by the sight of a group coming out of the clouds on skis, heading towards them. When they arrived, it soon appeared that they had turned back.

      ‘It’s getting bad up ahead,’ said the leader, a bearded young man called Toby. ‘We’re going down before it gets worse.’

      ‘Right, then so will we,’ Renzo declared. ‘Sorry, folks, but safety first.

      ‘Everyone get packed up and ready to go. And that includes you, Henry. Henry? Where is he?’

      ‘I haven’t seen him this morning,’ one of the men said.

      Even then nobody guessed the truth. Renzo simply shrugged and said, ‘Tell him to get packed up, and then hurry.’

      It was another five minutes before one of the young men approached him and said worriedly, ‘Henry’s vanished. We found this.’

      It was a note in Henry’s schoolboy handwriting:

       Some of us aren’t afraid to go on. See you up there, losers!

      ‘He’s gone ahead on his own!’ Mandy breathed. ‘How can he be such an idiot?’

      ‘Because he is an idiot,’ Renzo said savagely.

      The look on his face made his audience recoil. They were used to seeing Renzo friendly, amusing and firm, but nothing had prepared them for the bleak fury that confronted them now.

      ‘Scary,’ somebody muttered.

      Mandy agreed. Suddenly he become a new man, one capable of terrible deeds. She wondered how she could ever have thought him lightweight.

      He began to curse in Italian, speaking softly but in a way that made the underlying violence more alarming. At last he controlled himself and said, ‘I have to go after him. The rest of you are going down with the party that’s just arrived. Get moving.’

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