Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
E rin wiped the condensation from her shower off the mirror in the bedroom’s en suite and stared at herself.
Even this morning, her eyes were bright, her cheeks flush and she knew it wasn’t from the heat of the powerful jets of water.
Her thoughts were a scattered mess, and her body still hummed to the tune of his touch.
He hadn’t stayed with her. She’d been aware of it, vaguely as he’d put her to bed. But, he’d left and she’d not wanted him to. She wanted to message Sam, but she didn’t know what she’d even say.
She’d already deleted: I think I’m making a mistake . And: I think I got him wrong .
But she’d not quite been able to type: Maybe I don’t need Charterhouse after all.
She dressed, feeling a strange combination of elated, pleasured, exposed, and a little heartsore, and went looking for Enzo. She found him on the balcony of the hotel suite where breakfast had already been laid out for them.
He poured her coffee, explained the different fillings of the cornetti. He’d offered her eggs, and she’d politely declined, all so very civilised when last night had been anything but. So much so that she half wanted to scream.
‘About last night...’ she began, but then couldn’t quite find the words.
‘Yes, cara ?’
‘I...you... I feel like I used you,’ she confessed on a raw whisper.
His gaze was heavy on her, she felt it, even though her eyeline was filled solely with the plate in front of her.
His reaction was a stilted sigh. As if he’d part expected it.
‘I did nothing I did not want to do, Erin,’ he said, his tone gentle and sincere.
But you don’t know. I’m using you and you don’t know it.
‘Do you regret it?’ he asked, the concern in his voice raising her gaze to his.
She frowned and shook her head. She couldn’t possibly. It had been the most exquisite night of her life. But did that make her a bad person?
‘How about this. Why don’t we take the day off?’ Enzo offered.
Erin laughed a little. ‘You make it sound like we’re working.’
Though in a horrible way, she almost was, wasn’t she?
‘ There . It’s that look I want to take the day off from,’ Enzo teased gently.
She swallowed her guilt. Maybe taking a day off would make things clearer for her. She hadn’t done anything that couldn’t be undone yet. Not really. And she thought she’d quite like to take a ‘day off’ with Enzo.
‘So, let’s, as the English say, ‘bunk off’?’ he asked and she laughed. ‘We’ll reschedule the wedding planner—’
Oh god , she’d forgotten about that.
‘And Marcus can wait—’
‘Marcus?’
‘Yes, I promised to meet up with him in Cannes, but he can wait, cara .’
Marcus from the party where she’d worn that horrible dress. He’d been nice, but Cynthia not so much. Yes, Erin thought she could do with delaying bumping into them again so soon. Even if just for a day.
‘What do you say?’
Feeling a hint of excitement at the delay, she smiled and nodded in agreement.
They still met the speedboat at the allotted time, but instead of returning them to the yacht, Enzo swapped with the pilot, and took them out of Livorno’s port across to the Isola di Gorgona.
Unable to help herself she had laughed as the boat bucked and rocked as they’d crested the waves from the larger tourist ferry where people had pointed and waved and taken pictures of Enzo’s sleek boat.
Enzo steered towards a bay far too small to interest the other tourists, and dropped the anchor in the depths of the little inlet.
The rough tumble of craggy sun-bleached rocks clearly made it difficult to access the beach by any other means than boat.
Nature had claimed large patches above and around that rock with thick bright green leafy foliage but nothing was as beautiful as the dark turquoise of pristine waters lapping gently at the boat.
Beside her, Enzo slipped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes and stepped up on to the side of the boat.
His head fell back, face turned to the sun, soaking in its warmth for a breathtaking moment.
He looked utterly uncaring. No one to please, to serve, his shoulders relaxed, before he took a deep breath and executed a perfect swan dive into the azure waters, leaving barely a ripple in his wake.
She’d always assumed that being on the yacht for him was about money and prestige, about rootlessness. But seeing him in the water, she was beginning to wonder whether it went deeper than that. Whether it was something to do with a connection to that worldly element.
He surfaced, flipping his hand—and his hair—one side to another, using his hands to push the water from his face and away.
‘Well? Are you going to join me, cara ?’ he teased. It was an easy flirtation, without the heady intensity of last night and she welcomed it.
She peeled off her sundress and swung her legs over the side of the boat, dangling her feet into the cool—not but frigid—water.
She closed her eyes. Maybe they could have this moment.
Just this one. Where she wasn’t trying to marry him to get Charterhouse, and he wasn’t the careless playboy that pushed all her buttons.
She didn’t deserve it, she knew that much, but she wanted it anyway.
Enzo watched Erin slip into the water from the side of the boat and waited for her to surface.
‘You looked like you’re making a wish, amore mio ,’ Enzo said, treading water.
‘Maybe I was,’ she replied with a cryptic smile.
‘What did you wish for?’ he asked, curious in spite of himself, wanting to know her every thought.
‘I can’t tell you that,’ Erin chided.
‘Why not?’
‘Because then it wouldn’t come true,’ she reasoned, before sliding from the boat into the aquamarine waters of the inlet.
‘I’d tell you mine,’ he stropped teasingly, when she rose from the waters.
‘Go on then.’
‘ I didn’t make one,’ he said in the same childish tone that seemed to bring ease to her gaze.
It felt playful and fun—different and so much more chaste than what he was used to, but more importantly it chased whatever shadows had filled her gaze that morning.
Was she beginning to have second thoughts, like he was?
She swept an arc of water towards him, the small wave hitting his chest and making him laugh, reminding him that they had promised to take the day off.
‘Don’t start something you can’t finish,’ he warned, shaking his finger at her, delighted when his words ignited the small spark of naughtiness glinting in her eye into a meteor shower.
She pushed towards him with two hands, letting out a gasp of frustration as he dipped beneath the water. Plunging to a depth that would make it hard for her to spot him, he closed the distance between them in long, powerful strokes, until he saw the glow of her skin in the deep blue depths.
Her legs twisted back and forth, as if she were searching for him. Hidden from her, he let the smile loose, as he grabbed her legs and instead of tugging her down, launched them both upwards, until he broke the surface of the water, to hear a high-pitched cry peppered with laughter.
She clung to his shoulders and despite his plans to carefully throw her back into the water, he kept her in his arms, her hair, thick, ruby-red ropes, coming around them like a curtain, closing out the rest of the world.
It’d be nice, he realised. To stay like that. And the part of him that knew that this was all just part of the game grew quieter and quieter.
He changed his hold, letting her slip down his chest until his arms banded around her torso and he found the ticklish spots at her ribs that sent more screams and more laughter into the air around them.
Making her laugh was becoming something addictive. Something that he wanted to indulge in. Just today. Just this. Perhaps for just this moment, he could pretend that it was all real. That she wasn’t only here because she wanted something from him. That she wasn’t just like his parents.
They stayed in the water for another half an hour, splashing around, swimming, Erin doing handstands and circles under water, and him just enjoying her playfulness.
After that, they slowly unpacked the lunch the chef had prepared for them. Erin’s shocked gasps of delight were fulfilling enough as she unpacked delicacy after delicacy. Champagne, caviar, smoked salmon, charcoal crackers.
‘Brie?’ she asked, peeling back the parchment it had been wrapped in. ‘Vacherin Mont d’Or? Is that not a little heavy?’ she wondered out loud.
Enzo huffed out a breath. ‘The chef is taunting me. We have an ongoing disagreement as to the better cheese, Italian or French.’
‘I—’
‘I don’t want to hear it, cara !’ he exclaimed, raising his hand to ward her off.
‘I won’t let you break my heart,’ he warned, his unintended use of words landing awkwardly between them.
Erin seemed to take the same moment, a blink shielding the intense blue of her gaze, before she laughed and picked up the fennel salami.
‘This is some picnic,’ she said, stealing a thin sliver of the delicate meat, as she looked out at the slashes of blue that defined the horizon. ‘Do you always do this?’ she asked, her curious gaze returning to his.
‘Do what?’
‘Come out here with your...’
A smile pulled at his mouth, as she seemed too uncomfortable to finish the rest of her sentence.
‘Lovers?’ he suggested.
She cleared her throat, and nodded.
He leaned back on his elbow and considered her question, tossing an olive into his mouth and savouring the salty, vinegary morsel.
‘No,’ he said truthfully. Usually, he didn’t have the time to spare, as he went from place to place. And he realised how peaceful it was just to come here, take the moment, to play .
From the corner of his eye, he saw the way her mouth lifted into a half-smile, as if his answer had pleased her, which made him feel.
..too damn good, he realised. But he chose to ignore the warning that echoed quietly in his mind, and instead, lay back against the cushion and peppered her with questions about her life.