Chapter 5
ASHIVER RAN THE LENGTH of her spine as she watched the older man leave, his promise—and threat—hanging in the air.
“What did he mean?” she asked, though she could well guess.
Luca’s features were drawn, his face a mask of control. He turned to face her and the shiver turned to something else entirely.
“That he will know if we don’t share a room.”
Her lips parted at that. “That’s…so…” she searched for the right word, and clicked her fingers as she recalled the anecdote it reminded her of. “Medieval. Like we’re ancient kings and queens, needing to prove our marriage consummation.”
“Be that as it may, unless you want me to forcibly have him removed—which is not out of the question—we will have to accommodate this change in circumstance.”
She felt the colour drain from her face.
But he was right. This was all a part of it, and she was being too well paid—and needed the money too damn badly—to argue.
“Okay,” she said, fidgeting with her fingers, wishing on every star that would later shine in the heavens that she had more experience with men.
Enough to know if it was normal to feel this way!
“So we’ll share a room,” she said, slowly, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “You said your room is a decent size.”
“Yes.”
“So…it’s not a big deal.”
Except, it felt like a big deal. A really big deal, as she stared up at him and was sucked back into the memory of their kiss, the passion they’d shared. Despite the fact they were out in the fresh air, she could suddenly hardly breathe.
“We have some work to do before dinner,” he said, but his voice was strangled too, as though the same oppressive awareness was making his lungs work overtime, like hers.
“Oh?”
“Si. He might have treated you with kid gloves just now, but believe me, Valentino is too clever to be easily fooled. He will be looking for holes in our story.”
“So we need to get our story straight.”
He nodded once. “Starting right now. Do you need time alone, or are you ready to begin?”
She opened her mouth to say something. In truth, she needed the time he’d offered. She needed space to breathe, to think, to try to find her way to something more familiar, an anchor to who she was. But Luca was right. They had a lot of ground to cover and less than eight hours in which to do it.
“Let’s just get started,” she said, breathily. “I’ll…take time, later.”
He dipped his head once. “Are you hungry?”
She frowned. Strangely, she was. They’d eaten on the flight, but her stomach didn’t seem to know what time zone she was in. “A little.”
He nodded once and moved off, towards the house, returning a moment later. No doubt, he’d given instructions to one of the army of staff she’d been aware of, moving discreetly through the house, placing coffee and fruit down on the terrace table, as they’d sat with Valentino.
“So,” she said, glad at least that with Valentino gone she could sit a distance from Luca, could get a little of that space she so badly needed, even with him right there. “Where do we start?”
“The basics, first,” he said, businesslike and pragmatic, in a way she found reassuring. He acted almost as though this was commonplace for him.
“Like where we met?”
“Precisamente.”
She considered that. “I think it’s best if we keep this as close to the truth as possible.”
He arched a brow. “I don’t think the truth will convince him this is real.”
She ignored the heaviness pressing on her chest. “I just mean, we should say it was a bar.”
“That he will believe, at least as far as I am concerned.” Something shifted on Luca’s face though. A look of scepticism. Of doubt. Of concern? “But with you? It seems less likely. Tell me, Allegra, are you someone who routinely spends time in bars like that?”
Her heart stammered. She felt seen. She felt panicked.
Suddenly, she was back there, the reality of her situation wrapping around her like tentacles, so it was impossible to draw breath.
She stared at him, stricken, truly having never felt something like this before.
Her eyes were flooded with black dots and then bright white, and a second later, Luca was crouching in front of her, his hands on her face, drawing her downwards.
“Put your face down, it’s okay,” he was saying, low and soft, his hand on her back rubbing rhythmically, as he guided her head to rest between her knees, and there was no longer a hint of distance between them.
Her panic was too all consuming to leave space for anything else though.
She struggled to swallow, to think, to do anything but try not to pass out.
“It’s okay,” he continued, and then shifted to Italian, the foreign, beautiful words doing what nothing else had, and soothing her enough for her to suck in air, once, again, and again, until her lungs were inflated and she was once again breathing.
She stayed where she was though, for long enough to know the panic attack had passed and then, slowly, straightened, sitting back in her seat, aware of him now being so close, his hand on her back still, his expression guarded.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, eyes shifting to the sea, lips tugging downward. “That’s never happened before.”
He made a grunting noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. “You were scared.”
She turned to face him, frowning. “Of you?”
“That night. I remember now. You seemed terrified. You kept looking over your shoulder, and your hand shook as you lifted your drink. Long before I spoke to you, I had decided to watch out for you. To make sure you made it into a taxi without harm.”
She was too vulnerable, and he was too close, for her to hear that admission without it squeezing parts of her she hadn’t known existed.
“Are you always so chivalrous?” She intended the question to be light hearted, to ease some of the weightiness that was surrounding them, but it came out as a genuine question.
“Far from it, believe me.” His frown deepened.
“And you should not mistake concern for anything else. I have no interest in seeing a young woman afraid, nor hurt, but generally, that is where I would draw a line. I cannot understand how we went from being strangers in a bar, to being legally married—,”
She sat up straighter and turned to him, eyes saucer-wide. “What if we’re not?”
He frowned.
“Legally married,” she rushed the words out. “I mean, it was a Vegas wedding, we were both drunk. What if it doesn’t actually count?”
His lips formed a flat line. “It does. I checked.”
“Oh.” Of course he had. Without proof of legal connection, she wouldn’t be here.
She dropped her gaze to the tiled ground beneath them.
“So we met at a bar,” he said, drawing her attention back to the conversation at hand.
“And had a whirlwind affair,” she said, lifting one shoulder. “That’s close enough to the truth.”
He lifted one hand then, almost as though he couldn’t help it, brushing her hair back from her face, eyes sweeping over her features like he was cataloguing her inch by inch. “We barely left my room.”
Heat bloomed in her face. “I don’t think we’ll need that detail.”
“It explains why we weren’t seen out at events. If we’d genuinely been dating, some photo or other would have ended up online.”
That made sense. So did the fact they would have spent weeks in his room. The explosive heat of that single kiss had made it easy to believe how addictive she would have found him, if ever she had access to more.
“Is that normal for you?” She hadn’t thought to google.
“Si.”
He’d already told her that, too, though. Hence the background check on her. A frisson of something unpleasant ran down her spine, but it was quickly chased away by heat, because of how close he was.
“I wouldn’t like that.”
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“But it’s just the way it is for you.”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “Okay.”
His eyes held hers. Her pulse raced.
“What else?” Her voice was strangled. She cleared her throat.
“I know a lot of what I need about you from the background check.”
She felt her eyes widen. “You’ve already got the results?”
“A partial. You’re very private.”
She bit into her lower lip. “I guess.”
“Why?”
She stared at him. “Am I hiding something? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“You don’t have any social media accounts.”
“Actually, I used to have snapchat, but I don’t use it.”
He pulled a face.
“I just never really got into it.”
He didn’t react. Nervousness made her lick her lower lip but she wished he hadn’t when his eyes dropped lower and her whole body felt overheated again. He stared at her mouth like it was the answer to every question he’d ever posed in his life.
“What did you find out about me?” she asked, sounding nervous.
Not because there was anything anyone could reveal that she wouldn’t want Luca to know, but because he was still staring at her lips and all she wanted to do was literally move from her seat to his, to straddle him and kiss him and yes, God, yes, to make love to him.
It terrified and excited her in equal measure. She tried to look away but couldn’t.
“You’re twenty four. You’ve lived in the same town all your life. You graduated high school with good grades but didn’t go to college. You lived with your dad, who recently passed away. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Grief lanced her unexpectedly. It was like that. She knew it could come at any time, from any direction, and was getting used to just accepting the sudden feeling that she was in freefall. It always stopped, eventually.
“You’ve worked menial jobs, locally.”
“Yes.”
“What I don’t understand is why.”
“Do you need to?”
His eyes finally left her mouth, travelling just a little higher, to latch with hers. “I’d like to.”
She appreciated his honesty. “It suited me.”
“That’s not an answer, Allegra.”
“Why do you do that?”
He cocked a brow in response.
“Nobody calls me Allegra.”
His eyes raked her face, setting her pulse alight. “It suits you.” He lifted a hand as though he couldn’t help himself, his finger tracing a line over her cheek. “There’s something musical about you. Lyrical.”