CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I was right ,’ Juliet said, lying with her head on his chest, tethered by his arms.
It was just as well, because she felt so relaxed and floaty that she thought if he let go she might just float away.
‘About what?’
‘My first time was perfect.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Well, I didn’t get a picnic…’ She both felt and heard his low laugh. ‘Or a dance. But apart from that…’
There was another thing she’d asked for, to share pieces of themselves only with each other, and perhaps that was why she asked now, ‘Was your first time this romantic?’
* * *
‘No!’ He half laughed, but then lay still, thinking back to a version of himself he had long since forgotten.
For so long it had felt as if his bastioned life had started after the accident, or the fight with his brother, or his marriage. But this rare togetherness with another person, the curiosity rather than nosiness behind her question, meant his perpetual guard didn’t shoot up. Her gentle silence allowed him to think.
‘It wasn’t like this, but perhaps it was a bit romantic.’
‘Was it her first time too?’
He shook his head. ‘She was older…a tourist.’
Juliet’s questions still didn’t feel invasive, even if it was something he had never discussed with anyone. Even if it was a topic that might be best not discussed as you lay with another woman. There was an honest element to her questions, and the agreement they’d made that they didn’t have to answer—it made it easier for him to explore the past.
‘She was staying at Forte dei Marmi…’
He told her about the sandy beaches, the jet-set tourists and luxury hotels…
‘She was there for a few weeks. It suited us both…’ He thought back. ‘I was never in love, or anything like that, but I thought she was incredible. We both knew it was short-lived.’
‘A holiday romance?’
‘For her. I wasn’t on holiday—I was working. For me, it was more a short indulgence.’
He thought back to lighter days. He’d always been serious, and held back from getting overly involved, but that long, hot summer was a world away from the brief interludes he allowed himself now.
‘I was probably better company then.’
‘I like your company now,’ she told him. ‘And I can see the appeal of short, intense relationships. It doesn’t have to be for ever to be wonderful.’
Her words struck within him, making him think of long-ago days when he’d never given his heart or made promises he’d never keep.
‘You’re right…’ He looked down, saw they were loosely holding hands. ‘It doesn’t have to be for ever to be…’
He couldn’t say it. He didn’t do ‘wonderful’ and never had. He’d always been a bit of a lone wolf, and more cynical than most, but there was something about lying here with her, the day he’d been dreading since his brother had told him about it now safely over.
‘To be incredible,’ he said.
Incredible because for more than a decade all his emotion had been locked in a vault, and tonight he had allowed himself to feel, to make love, to hold and caress and just escape into her charms and her scent. To get to know her some more.
For Sev, that was sheer indulgence.
‘How old were you?’ she asked.
‘That, I am not answering.’
‘You were old enough to work, though?’
‘Work experience.’
‘No-o-o…’ She moaned and covered her face with her hands.
He leant forward and peeled them from her face. ‘That was the same as most of my relationships.’
‘With holidaymakers?’
‘Yes.’ He hadn’t ever really thought about it, but now, looking back, he saw it. ‘We could be close, but there was an expiry date. I could adore them, but know it wasn’t going to last. It worked both ways—both of us knew the terms.’
She didn’t seem shocked. ‘Actually, it sounds perfect.’
‘I think you might have more heart than me.’
‘No…’ She lay still. ‘I wanted this—honestly. I really don’t have time for a relationship. I have the most important months of my life coming up. I need to concentrate on that.’
‘Why did you wait?’ he asked. ‘And don’t give me all that nonsense about being too busy.’
‘It’s true, though,’ she said. ‘Well, in part… I told you my parents broke up when I was twelve, then both married again. I was always being roped in for babysitting and then I was working to pay for my music lessons.’
‘They didn’t pay for them?’
‘Things changed after the divorce. School…their finances…’ There was a stretch of quiet. ‘We don’t get on. Of course we never actually say that, but…’ She trailed off, as if she was skipping past something. ‘Then I went to university and I honestly thought my life would start then—well, dating and such. But…’ She stopped again. ‘You’ve never been shy, I assume?’
‘Shy?’ He thought about it. ‘If you mean timid, then no. But I wouldn’t say that about you either. You perform, you dance, you have friends…’ He shook his head. ‘Being busy is an excuse.’
‘We can’t all dive into bed with a single look.’ Juliet thumped his chest, but then sighed.
They lay quietly and Sev wanted to know more—he wanted to get to the bit she’d glossed over. But that wasn’t fair. They’d agreed not to press each other.
It was still there, though, that desire to talk…to open up to her.
* * *
They dozed, and she awoke lying on her stomach, felt herself being watched.
She smiled right into his eyes.
‘You’re not shy,’ he told her.
‘I’m not shy with you,’ she admitted. ‘Or maybe it’s my casual lover persona?’
‘Do you want breakfast? We could have it here or go down.’
‘I’m not sure… I think the hotel restaurant might be a bit public. I’m not slinking about, but…’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’d prefer it if Susie didn’t know about last night.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘She’d be arranging double dates.’
‘God, no,’ he laughed.
‘Oh, yes. And, knowing Susie, she’d have us seated together at the christening.’
His smile faded.
‘I was joking, Sev.’
‘I know that… You and Susie?’ he asked. ‘You’re very close?’
‘We are.’ She leant up on her elbow. ‘Though I shan’t say anything to her about this. We’re not that close. I don’t normally open up to people.’
‘I believe you.’
‘And, given I don’t discuss my sex life—or lack of it…’ She looked right at him. ‘I don’t like to get too involved with anyone either.’ She pressed her lips together for a second before continuing. ‘Believe me, I shan’t be saying anything about…’
She gestured to the rumpled bed.
* * *
‘I don’t mind,’ he told her.
He put a hand up to her gorgeous hair.
No, he decided, she wasn’t shy. It was something more.
And if he wanted more of those pieces of her then he should give her some of his own.
Some of those things no other person knew.
‘Yes,’ he said suddenly, and watched her slight frown. ‘In answer to your earlier question, yesterday was hard for me. Thank you for being there.’
She smiled, and he looked at the jade-green eyes that were so patient, and he felt he was on the edge of telling her something not a single soul new—answering the second assumption all those others had made, that he’d missed Rosa yesterday.
‘As to the other… No.’
She gave a tiny nod, the same one they’d shared a couple of times yesterday, and he knew she was just understanding that this was hard, and offering support.
‘I didn’t miss Rosa yesterday. I am sad that she died, but our marriage wasn’t as good as everyone believes.’
‘I’m so sorry…it must be hell whenever you come back here.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you see her family?’
‘They were there last night. They’re always there. They own a small winery next to ours.’
He inhaled deeply. Enough . He looked over, wanting something in return.
‘Who hurt you?’ he asked.
‘No one.’
But he knew that was lie.
He thought she was about to say she didn’t want to answer that question, but then, with the sky outside starting to lighten, she did.
‘I’m the one who caused the hurt. I broke up my parents’ marriage.’
He waited rather than respond.
‘My father was head of music at my school.’
‘High school?’ he checked. ‘Or do you call it senior school?’
‘Senior.’ She nodded. ‘At the end of my first year there was some gossip about him and another teacher. I just ignored it. But after the summer the rumours got worse. My mother kept asking me what was wrong. She was worried, I guess. I was in my room, crying a lot, trying to hide it. She insisted I tell her. She said that she loved me, that she was concerned, and that I could tell her anything. So eventually I did.’ She shrugged. ‘She’s never forgiven me for it.’
‘And your father?’
‘He’s never forgiven me either. They don’t say it, but I know they blame me.’
‘For what?’
‘The divorce…the change in circumstances. I’m quite sure they both wish I’d just shut the hell up. Anyway, they both married again and had new families.’ She took a big breath. ‘You don’t need to hear all this.’
‘I asked to hear it.’
‘You did…’ She looked pensive for a moment. ‘Would you have said anything? If you’d found out your father was cheating?’
‘I wouldn’t have had to, the way people talk here. My mother would’ve known about it before he made it home.’ Then he thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.
* * *
She closed her eyes in relief at his honest answer—relief that he hadn’t just dashed in and said she’d been right. Instead, he seemed to be considering it—and then he told her something about himself.
‘I’ve never really shared what’s on my mind. Dante was always the more emotional one.’ He laughed. ‘At my nonna ’s funeral he asked me when she was coming back. I said she was dead, and he said, “I know that, but when is she coming back…?” So I told him—never. I got told off for upsetting him.’
He was quiet then, as if he was really considering her question. She could almost feel him thinking.
‘No, I don’t think I would have told my mother,’ he said at last. ‘But that’s more a reflection on me…’ He squeezed her arm. ‘I would hate it, though, if you were mine…to think of you in bed crying and unable to come to me.’
‘My mother said I could tell her anything. And then, when I did, she took her love away. And you’re right—it hurt.’ She nodded. ‘Everything was taken away. Truly, I wish I’d never found out. Certainly I wish I’d never said anything.’
‘You got through it, though.’
‘Maybe…’
‘Of course you did. You’re here, aren’t you…?’
Sex was their reward for sharing, and soon they lost themselves in each other.
She missed breakfast in the restaurant and it was inching past her check-out time as they lay there, breathless.
‘I should go,’ Juliet said. ‘I have to check out.’
‘Have a shower,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll get your stuff brought up here so you don’t have to rush off.’
She didn’t want to rush off.
She liked it here an awful lot.
Sex had always seemed to her like a hurdle to be jumped over. She’d never thought of after . She rather wished it had been awful and awkward… Not really, but it might be easier to leave if it hadn’t been so wonderful.
If he hadn’t been so wonderful.
‘You okay?’ he checked.
‘Perfect.’
‘No regrets?’
‘None.’ She shook her head, and her smile stayed in place, but she had to force it just a little, and there was a slight amendment taking place in her head.
She would deal with that later.
She dashed to his bathroom and bypassed the petals still strewn in the bath. She jumped in the shower, trying not to examine the thought that had occurred to her. After all, how could you possibly regret enjoying a lover too much? How could you regret your first time being so wonderful?
She found a new toothbrush in the little basket of goodies, and a bamboo comb, but her eyes lingered on his silver comb and heavy razor. She reached out for a heavy glass bottle, removing the stopper and almost folding at the delicious hit of his cologne. She breathed in the peppery, woody scent she’d first met in the lobby, and then later, so intimately, with her face in his neck, on his chest…
Don’t think of that now .
She went to replace the stopper, but then ran it across her wrist. She’d think of him later, Juliet decided. Breathe him in when she was alone. Then she stared at herself and saw that her lips were plump from the attention. She also saw the slight panic flaring in her green eyes at the prospect of nonchalantly saying goodbye.
One night, she reminded herself, dabbing the stopper on her neck and somehow calming down, telling herself it was just as well their time was limited.
He could become very easy to fall for.
And far too hard to let go.
She wrapped herself in a towel and headed out, ready to put on last night’s clothes. But all her things had been brought up from her room—her violin, even her flowers.
She went through her overnight bag and found the cheesecloth dress she’d arrived in—not that he’d seen it.
‘The real me,’ she said, snapping on her regular bra and smiling as he pulled a sulky face. Then she put on her dress and combed her hair, before sitting on the bed where he lay and pulling on her espadrilles.
‘Do you want to do something today?’
Her hand paused for a second, then resumed tying the straps as she answered, ‘I don’t know…’ She looked over as she carried on fastening her footwear.
‘I could sort out your boss…’
‘It would take more than charm.’
She was tense at the prospect of saying goodbye…tense at the thought of returning to Anna’s.
Just tense.
* * *
He looked at her as she stood and walked over to the long mirror and leant forward, coiling her long red hair and tying it on top of her head in one practised movement.
The dress was the colour of sea glass and it brought out the red of her hair, and he watched as she did up a couple of buttons at the front.
‘You could maybe try and talk to Anna…’
She didn’t realise he was watching her, and he saw her roll her eyes a little, as if to ask what the hell he would know.
‘I saw that.’
She caught his eye and the tension left her and she actually smiled—but she was clearly still certain he couldn’t help.
‘You don’t play an instrument.’
‘True.’
‘And am I right in assuming it’s not a house-share set-up at your place in Dubai, Sevandro?’ she asked, with a twist of light sarcasm.
‘I don’t share my space with anyone.’ His response was equally dry. ‘I have a penthouse apartment looking out over the Persian Gulf.’
For a brief second he saw her there, pale on his coffee-coloured silk sheets, the glittering ocean behind her.
‘But it’s all soundproofed. I could have an entire orchestra playing and no one would hear a thing.’
‘Exactly. And we don’t all have PAs to arrange our schedules.’
She was smiling and teasing him through the mirror. And he’d been right, Sev decided. She wasn’t shy—just nervous about reaching out. But once that contact had been made it was like watching a flower open.
‘Do you want to go to the beach?’ he offered.
‘The beach? I don’t have anything to swim in.’
‘We can get something there. There are some nice boutiques. Besides, I still haven’t wined and dined you, and nor have we danced. How about a little intense romance?’
‘Like you used to know?’ She laughed, but then it faded. ‘When do you leave?’
* * *
It was perhaps an odd question, but she needed to know—needed a timeline to give to her heart.
‘When do you go back to Dubai?’
‘Tomorrow. Leave your things here, then I can drop you back at Anna’s later tonight.’
That sounded doable, she told herself. And she wasn’t going to fall any further in a day.
Except she looked to where he lay and felt as if he were beckoning her towards a slightly more perilous path. But she discounted the silent alert, glancing at the rumpled sheets where he lay, in the bed he’d taken her in.
‘I’d love to go to the beach.’