The Count of Castelfino Read Online Free PDF Page A

to get more sleep than he normally did in a week. Then reality kicked in again. His father was dead. The future of hundreds of hectares of real estate and thousands of staff across the globe relied on him, in his capacity as the new Count di Castelfino. His business could expand now, exactly as planned.
    Walking over to his sound system, he put on some music. Then he went out onto the balcony leading from his private dining room. From there he could survey the scene at his leisure. All the land below him, right out as far as the sheltering hills, was now his responsibility. Until a few days ago, his vineyard had occupied fewer than a hundred hectares of the vast estate. That was set to change. Gianni had his gaze fixed firmly on the future. His nights of excess were behind him. From now on, improving his wine business would absorb all his waking moments. It saved him having to think about the one aspect of aristocratic life that loomed over him like a cloud of volcanic ash. He didn’t want to be the last man to bear his name and title—but neither did he want to see a child suffer by being born into the Bellini family. The taste of that was still bitter in his own mouth.
    He sat down to reflect on the view, trying to avoid thinking about the inevitable. It was quite a distraction. He had never really looked at the landscape outside his suitebefore. It had simply always been there. Now every vine, olive tree and cypress belonged to him. He relaxed in his seat contentedly.
    And then Megan Imsey walked into view, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with tools. A broad brimmed straw hat shaded her expression, but Gianni could see she was enjoying herself in the sunshine. As he watched she turned her head this way and that, looking at the desiccated grasses sprawling over the weedy path. She must be heading for the walled garden, he realised. Work was already well under way there, on his father’s last project. It was an extravagance of greenhouses, wild enough to bankrupt the Bellini coffers. His study of her became critical. Why was she going there when he had already told her what he thought of his father’s plans? And what sort of person worked when they didn’t have to, in any case?
    With that, Gianni’s scorn slipped into a smile. He only had to think of the times he’d rolled home at first light, still on a champagne-fuelled high. He’d stopped off at his vineyard many times, to work off his excess energy. An attitude like that had carved him a spectacular career as a wine producer in only a few years. He had done it by applying the same guidelines he used in his private life—if you want something done properly, do it yourself.
    He wondered if Miss Megan Imsey had a similar interest in quality control. This might be the perfect moment to find out. It was a beautiful day, and he was feeling lucky…
    The Tuscan sun clung to Meg like a second skin. To call it hot was an understatement. Beneath her long sleeved white shirt, baggy overalls, shady straw hat and sunglassesshe was coated in sunscreen. It might be safe, but it felt totally suffocating. Despite the heat she bowled along through the gardens at a good pace. She was always eager to get to work, but the Villa Castelfino had one big novelty that made it really special. A hundred years ago, an earlier count had built his aristocratic young English wife a walled kitchen garden to stop her feeling homesick. Nothing had been done with it for years, until Gianni’s father had hatched this scheme for a grand range of state-of-the-art greenhouses. The new complex was almost finished, but on this sunny morning Meg was more interested in the undeveloped parts of the garden. Its faded melancholy really appealed to her. Smiling, she unlocked the garden door and let herself into one whole hectare of heaven.
    She stood for a moment and relished her achievement. This was what she had spent the last few months planning and supervising on her trips to Italy. A glass palace took