Chapter Six #2
Anticipation and warmth fizzled out, to be replaced by cold dispassion. Pain from the past had long fingers, and they were wrapping their ice-like bones around her now, so she paled perceptibly. Rubbing her hands together, she paced the suite, wishing she could do something to stem that pain.
But meeting her grandparents had brought it all back to the surface.
The way they’d stared at her, as though she were their daughter, finally returned to them.
As though…as though she were everything they’d been waiting for.
When the truth was, they hadn’t ever bothered to try contacting her.
Did they have any idea what that would have meant to Amelia?
To know that, while her mother had abandoned her, there were people, besides her father, who wanted her in their lives?
She was still pacing when, a moment later, the buzzer for her suite sounded and her heart kicked up a gear.
Thoughts of her grandparents were totally scattered from her mind, replaced by memories of last night.
That kiss they’d shared. The heat that had spread through her.
The way she’d felt as though he were the only person on earth.
Her pulse surged like a tsunami inside her as she moved quickly towards the door and pulled it inwards, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared out at the man opposite.
He wore a dark grey suit, a pale blue shirt, and looked good enough to eat.
Heat flushed her cheeks and her knees felt weak.
‘Hi,’ she said, noticing the way his eyes swept over her body first before landing on her cheek as a frown etched across his face.
‘How does it feel?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘It’s okay. Looks worse, feels a bit better. It was hard to sleep, though. Every time I rolled onto that side, I woke up.’
She was sure she wasn’t imagining the way his eyes flared in response to that. The image of her in bed?
‘Did you want to come in?’
‘No.’ His answer came out quickly. He seemed to want to soften that with a smile, but it appeared more of a grimace. ‘We should go. Are you ready?’
She glanced down at her outfit with a nod. ‘I just need my bag. I won’t be long.’
‘And your ring,’ he reminded her.
She shot him a look. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Until your replacement arrives, assolutamente.’
She bit into her lip. She felt a hint of compunction at having him order a cheap dupe, but it was better than wearing something so priceless and irreplaceable.
She disappeared back into the hotel suite, scooped up her clutch bag, slid the diamond ring in place, then returned to the door, where he was waiting.
‘Let’s go,’ she murmured, ignoring the way her insides were trembling.
The elevator was a form of agony. Being so close to him, in an enclosed space, she couldn’t help but be intimately aware of his entire body, nor to focus on how much she wanted him to reach out and pull her into his arms, to kiss her as he had in the car that night.
He didn’t. They swooped to ground level, walked side by side across the lobby, and then they were back in his limousine.
Amelia sat with her hands clasped in her lap and back ramrod straight the whole way there. Every shift he made, every movement, made her aware of him in a way that was making her lose her mind. Tension zipped through her and desire flared in the pit of her stomach.
Meeting his grandfather was important, but, in that moment, she desperately prayed for the car to break down. Something that would strand them together in an enclosed space, so that he might kiss her all over again.
Of course, there was no such luck. His expensive car was meticulously maintained, and it purred and hummed all the way across Rome.
She was not remotely familiar with the city, but all metropolises shared certain hallmarks.
She knew, for instance, that the buildings had become smaller, the graffiti more prominent, the cars parked on either side less expensive and modern.
The car finally drew to a stop outside an unassuming, warmly lit trattoria with green and white striped awnings and small, round tables for two lined up on the footpath.
‘What is this place?’ she asked, instantly captivated.
‘You don’t approve?’
‘Are you kidding? It kind of reminds me of the diner.’
He let out a laugh. ‘In what way?’
‘It looks welcoming. No airs and graces.’
‘It also has, in my opinion, the best food in the entire city.’
She turned to face him, and instantly wished she hadn’t.
He’d leaned closer to her, to see out of her window, so, with that one simple movement, she was looking right at his profile.
Her throat constricted as her gaze roamed his angular cheekbones then dropped to his stubble-covered jaw, and finally settled on his mouth. That magical, insanely addictive mouth…
He turned slowly, as if he was aware of the risks in that. That in one simple movement, he could bring them back together again.
Her lips parted on a rush of breath and her heart stammered against her ribs.
She moved forward infinitesimally, the need for his touch overtaking every other emotion.
‘Massimiliano,’ she murmured, lifting a hand to his chest. Their eyes locked and she felt a surge of desire, a suffocating need, and she was pretty sure he felt it too, going by the way his gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there.
His hand lifted though, his thumb padding across her pink lips, pulling the lower to the side. ‘One night, Amelia. And not tonight.’
It was almost verbatim what he’d said when he’d dropped her home the night before.
Maybe she was wrong about his desiring her. Or perhaps he was just way better at controlling his instincts. It was hard not to take it personally, though, when her whole body seemed to catch fire if he was nearby.
Before she could say anything in response, her door was being opened by the driver, and Massimiliano was moving towards his own side, to get out of the car.
She watched him a moment, frowning, before pulling herself together and stepping onto the footpath, careful not to lose her footing in the sky-high heels.
A moment later, he was by her side, arm weaving around her waist, drawing her to him, so those fires that had been lit the moment he’d arrived at the hotel went into full-blown explosives territory.
‘Show time.’
Her heart turned over in her chest.
Yes, it was show time. A game of pretend. Nothing about this was real. Except for her reactions to him…
‘I’m ready,’ she said, forcing an over-bright smile as she glanced up at his face.
His features were locked carefully into place, a mask of determination, and then they were walking forwards, together, towards the unassuming little restaurant.
There were no suited staff here, so it was Massimiliano who stepped forward and pushed the door inwards, holding it for her, before returning his hand to her waist.
Inside was so much sweeter than she’d expected.
Red and white tablecloths covered each sturdy timber table, the chairs were black bentwood, the lighting was warm and casual, there were ferns in pots dotted around to create a pleasing effect and old Chianti bottles had been pushed into service as makeshift candle holders on each table, their round bodies rumpled by wax pillars.
The air was heavy with the fragrance of garlic and herbs, and in the corner there was a rustic-looking brick pizza oven, very clearly in use.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she murmured, smiling.
When she glanced up at Massimiliano, there was something in his face that made her insides go all warm and soft. Approval. Appreciation. It was gone again almost as quickly, but she was sure she’d seen it.
Amelia cleared her throat, eyes scanning the restaurant for people now.
It was busy, though, unlike the place they’d gone the night before, this trattoria was filled with families, elderly couples, there was a group of female friends sharing a bottle of red wine and pizzas.
There was a lot of ambient noise—chatter and laughter, and also, the gentle strains of Italian singing coming from crackly speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
‘Is there anything I need to know about your grandfather?’ she asked, realising it was probably a question she should have asked in the car.
‘Such as?’
‘Other than what I already know.’
He stopped walking and looked down on her. ‘He’s one of the best people you will ever meet. Honourable, intelligent and proud. I think you’ll like him.’
‘Is he…’ she hesitated, not wanting to be insensitive ‘…unwell?’
‘No. His cancer was detected in a routine check-up. So far, he has no symptoms, beyond a little exhaustion. He’ll start treatment this week.’
Panic squeezed her throat. A muscle memory, rather than related to anything he’d said.
But she’d spent so long advocating for her father to have the benefit of the experimental drugs that were showing such promise, and without success.
She would have put money on that not being an issue for Massimiliano’s grandfather.
Despite his age, and no matter his prognosis, money talked, and that he had in abundance.
The bitterness she felt had nothing to do with resenting Massimiliano’s ability to fund that medical care.
It was fuelled by injustice—of cancer in general, and the practicalities of treatment.
‘Ready?’ he prompted, lifting his gaze and scanning the restaurant.
‘Of course. Let’s do this.’
His hand shifted to the small of her back, fingers splayed wide, so she felt his presence in her whole body. Arrows of desire needled just beneath her skin as they weaved through the restaurant, towards a table at the back.