CHAPTER SEVEN
The stupid milk had a hole in the carton.
Only a small one, because Kate hadn’t realized until she was three blocks from the market.
By then, enough milk had leaked out that it had weakened the paper of the bag, bursting a hole in the base sending three eggs and a lovely fennel bulb onto the footpath.
The eggs had cracked and the fennel landed in something suspiciously moist but she’d put it back into the bag and gripped it underneath.
Her arms ached by the time she reached the front door to her apartment building.
It was propped open, which wasn’t unusual on Monday nights.
Signora Verdi from the upstairs flat had her grandchildren every Monday evening while their parents caught up for a child-free dinner.
The noise was always loud in Kate’s apartment – the sounds of dozens of feet scampering in the cramped space, laughing and fighting, and playing for hours and hours.
Kate loved it. She would listen and imagine how different her own childhood might have been with a little more noise and frivolity.
When she reached her apartment though, a sense of fear began to tremble in her gut.
She couldn’t have said what provoked it, but her instincts were going haywire.
Her heart was pounding as she shifted so that she could lift her phone from her handbag and juggle it in one hand whilst still keeping a tight hold of the groceries.
She dialed her boss’s number out of desperation – Melania was ill with tonsillitis but she was still the best person to go to in a crisis.
Well, except for … she swallowed. Benedetto.
Did she even have his number? With surprise, she realized she didn’t. Which meant she had no way of contacting him, even if she wanted to.
Her fingers shook a little as she slid the key into the lock.
All day she’d had the strangest sense that something bad was about to happen. And all day she’d told herself that she was overreacting. That her emotions and nerve endings were supercharged. Nothing else.
But now, some ancient source of adrenalin had kicked up a gear.
She took in a deep breath and then pushed the door inwards, her whole body coiled for action.
Her eyes scanned the room quickly. Everything was different, and yet somehow the same.
The lamps had been switched on in the lounge area, casting the room in a soft, warm glow, and another bunch of flowers had been added to the coffee table.
No, not flowers. They were blossoms. Orange blossoms, she’d have guessed, from where she stood.
And there was a beautiful smell that had nothing to do with flora. It was food. Something savoury and delicious that made her stomach grumble. Kate hadn’t eaten all day. The errant thought broke through her confused mind; she shook her head to dispel it and took another step into the apartment.
Benedetto was in her kitchen, his business shirt pushed up to the elbows, and the tie removed from his neck. He looked dangerously dark and wickedly sexy, with his hair flopped a little over his forehead and his dark eyes meeting hers broodingly.
Kate stared at him as she placed the sodden bag of groceries onto the bench. Her mouth was dry and her tongue thick.
“What …” she swallowed. “What are you doing here?”
He reached into the fridge and pulled a bottle of wine out. He poured some into a glass and handed it to her.
She didn’t move to take it; he placed it onto the bench.
“How did you get into my apartment, Benedetto?” She pushed, her voice shaking.
His smile was lopsided. “I told you it would not pose any difficulty.”
“You broke in?” She demanded huskily. “To make some kind of point?”
“No.”
Her eyes drifted beyond him suspiciously, to the pans that were on the small electric stove.
“I don’t understand …”
“No.” He walked across the small apartment to the windows. She stayed where she was, planted to the small bit of floor just beside the kitchen bench, but she watched him.
He nodded towards the windows and she noticed that shining brass knobs had been added. “What is that?”
“Security.” He flattened the note of disapproval from his voice. She should have seen to this months ago.
“Security?” She repeated, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand.”
“Your apartment was not safe.”
“So you … made it safe?” A frown furrowed her brow. “I don’t get it. Why?”
He ignored the question. “You also have an alarm system. There is a switch on one side of the bed. If you press it twice, it will alert a private security company. They will send a guard to check on your safety.”
“Benedetto,” she shook her head. “This is too much. I’m only renting here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay. And you’ve gone to all this trouble and expense. It’s … completely unnecessary.”
“Are you moving somewhere?” He asked, stalking back across the room to stand at her side.
“No,” she shook her head, then shrugged. “Not that I know of. But, I mean … you’re missing the point.”
“What is the point?” He was close now and her equilibrium was boxing itself in.
Her frown deepened. “You had no right.”
“You do not think so?” He lifted a hand and brushed a clump of her silvery blonde hair from her cheek. “You do not think it is important to me to know that you are safe?”
“No.” Her cheeks flushed pink.
“Then you’re wrong.” He brushed her cheek then lifted her wine and placed it into her hand. “Dinner is almost ready. Sit with me while it finishes cooking.”
“You made dinner?” She murmured in disbelief.
“Si.” That smile of his once more sent her heart lurching painfully. “This surprises you.”
“Si,” she repeated, sipping her wine. It was delicious. Buttery and floral, and crisply chilled.
He lifted his own wine and put an arm around her shoulders so that he could guide her to the armchair. He sat down first and then tapped his lap. At her look of hesitation, he reached a hand up and pulled her down. She didn’t resist. After all, her whole body was craving the closeness he offered.
He pressed his lips into her neck and then lifted his face to hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt, cara.”
She had another sip of her wine and then forced herself to meet his eyes. “I don’t think you know what you want,” she said thoughtfully.
“Oh?” His hand was rubbing the sensitive flesh of her upper thigh rhythmically and she felt a growing sense of confusion.
“On Friday night, you were so … adamant that this was just about sex. And even yesterday, you told me you wanted to see me again, but only if I understood that you’d never care for me other than …
physically. And yet, here you are, some billionaire burglar in my apartment, fixing locks and making meals. I don’t get it.”
He couldn’t help the twisting smile at her words. “Perhaps I feel responsible for your safety,” he suggested in a throaty murmur. “You are, after all, a guest in my city.”
“I am safe,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Cazzate.” His accent was thick when he swore. “Why do you do this, cara? Any woman in her right mind would be scared witless about living here. A terrible part of the city, with inadequate security. And yet you rail against my attempt to make you safer. Why?”
She swallowed. He’d never understand. Someone like him couldn’t know the thrill she got out of tempting danger and beating it. Her eyes were enormous in her face as she shook her head.
“Your … interest is completely misplaced,” she said seriously. “And dinner? Why would you bring me food?”
“Recompense for the bruschetta we did not share yesterday morning.”
Kate pursed her lips in frustration. “You’re still doing it.
You’re saying one thing and acting completely the opposite.
This whole time you’ve been trying to push me away with your words but pulling me closer with how you act.
I don’t get it.” She swallowed, furious at the tears that made her throat ache.
“I don’t get why you can’t just tell me what you want. ”
“What do you want?” He flipped the table on her easily, but it only frustrated Kate more.
“I want you to do what you say. Yesterday was meant to be goodbye for us. So what are you doing here?”
“You’re not happy to see me?” He pushed, the arrogance of his tone showing that he knew she was.
“I’m confused. That doesn’t mean I’m not … God! Stop … making this so hard for me.”
“You are beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, staring up at her dainty features with a sense of appreciation that should have terrified him.
Only those eyes stopped him from feeling anything too deeply.
Those eyes were such a reminder of who she was that he knew he could never be in any real danger of truly caring for her.
“I’m not angry,” she retorted.
“You should be. I’m being an arsehole to you.”
Her laugh was short and sharp. “At least you realize it.”
“The truth is,” he murmured, wondering just how he would ever be genuinely honest with her. “I saw you and I knew I wanted to be with you. I thought one weekend would be enough. That you’d be out of my system. That’s how it is for me.” His smile was distracted.
“You just … sleep with women and then forget all about them.”
He shrugged. “More or less.”
“Charming,” she snapped, but her heart was breaking with the certainty that soon, she would be one of the Forgetten Women.
“I am being truthful with you.” At least on this score.
“I cannot give you the guarantee you want. I cannot – will not – promise that I will still feel this way in a week. I am not going to lie to you, cara. But I want you now. In this moment, you are all I can think of. I want you to come to my apartment. Not because this place is a disaster waiting to happen. I put locks and an alarm here so you would understand. I am not scaring you into my life. I am empowering you to make the choice based purely on what you want. So? Will you come to me and stay for as long as it suits us both?”
“I…” She shook her head. Confusion was making speech impossible.