Читать книгу The Correttis (Books 1-8) - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 33

‘WHEN ARE YOU getting married?’

‘Tell us how you met Luca Corretti.’

‘Why didn’t you attend the wedding together?’

Journalists pressed around her, trapping her with a volley of questions until Taylor wanted to scream at them to leave her alone but she couldn’t react because there, at the edge of the pack, watching her with a warning in his eyes was Santo Corretti.

He hadn’t said a word but she’d got the message.

If she didn’t handle this well, she was off the film.

He wouldn’t save her.

And how could she handle it well? Thanks to Luca’s refusal to play along with her, there was nothing to handle. As soon as she told them there was no engagement, it would be over.

The day was turning into a bad dream.

She’d already ordered herself a taxi and in the meantime she was stalling, waiting for it to arrive. Once she told them the truth she’d be on her own. She had no illusions about that. She needed an escape route.

And once she was safely away from here, she’d rethink her life. She didn’t have much choice, did she? Her past was a constant roadblock to her dream of being taken seriously as an actress. Maybe she should give up on film and work in theatre instead. Maybe she could fly to England and base herself there. They had Stratford on Avon and The Globe.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she told herself that the first thing she was going to do when she was safely away from here was eat something. The second was to give that Portia woman Luca’s home address and all his personal details. They deserved each other.

The loud roar of an engine made heads turn.

Taylor’s heart beat faster. So this was it. ‘I have something to tell you—’

But the journalists weren’t looking at her. They were staring at a red Ferrari hurtling towards them at a terrifying speed.

At any other time the car would have made her drool, but right now the only car she was interested in was her taxi and this definitely wasn’t it.

She felt a flash of panic. Already some of the journalists were turning back to her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. It was too late to back down. She was going to have to go ahead and tell them the truth about Luca. Santo Corretti would be so disgusted he’d leave her to it. She was going to have to elbow her way out of this mob alone and just hope the taxi showed up before she was ripped to pieces.

The sports car showed no sign of slowing and she saw several journalists mutter to one another in alarm before taking a few precautionary steps backwards.

Just when it appeared the driver was going to mow them down he hit the brakes, sending a cloud of dust rising upwards. And Taylor simply stared because there, seated behind the wheel, his eyes hidden by a pair of dark glasses that made him look insanely attractive, was Luca Corretti.

A female journalist standing nearby reached into her bag for lipgloss and Taylor felt the anger start to boil inside her.

This was all his fault.

Not only had he created this whole situation with his careless lack of concern for other people, but he’d refused to go along with her plan to bail them both out. And now he had the nerve to turn up here to make sure she’d confessed to her crime in public.

Her anger grew as he vaulted from the car and strolled towards the journalists with indolent grace. ‘So maybe I broke the speed limit just a little bit—’ playing to the crowd, he gave a wicked smile that held no trace of regret or apology ‘—but some things are worth rushing for and a beautiful woman is one of those.’

Furious that he could be so relaxed when her life was in shreds, Taylor elbowed her way through the journalists, who retreated in fascination, their professional sensors telling them that they were about to witness something worth writing about.

Taylor didn’t care. She was off the film anyway. How much worse could it get?

‘Luca Corretti, you are the most—’

His hands cupped her face and his mouth covered hers. His kiss was hot, explicit and devastating, and when he finally lifted his dark head enough for her to speak, the only sound she was capable of was a moan. Because there was no way she was moaning in public, she stayed silent.

‘Sorry, tesoro, you were saying?’ Slumberous dark eyes looked down at her. ‘You wanted to tell me that you missed me, no? That I am the sexiest man in the world? The most clever? The most amusing?’ Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he turned to face the journalists, his smile disarming. ‘She is struck dumb.’

A ripple of laughter spread across the crowd.

Taylor was so shaken by that kiss, she couldn’t focus. All she wanted to do was lock her hands in that glossy dark hair, pull his head down to her and kiss him again. And again—

‘Luca—’

‘Mi dispiace…’ Turning towards her, he leaned his forehead against hers and smiled that smile that made women forget how to put one leg in front of the other to walk away. ‘Forgive me for not making it here on time. I am a rat. A total bastard. I don’t deserve you.’

She stared at him, eyes locked with his, hypnotised by the sheer power of the chemistry. It wrapped itself around her like metal bands, holding her trapped.

A sea of excited questions washed up against the wall of their own private sexual cocoon.

‘So it really is true?’ A female journalist thrust a microphone towards them. ‘Luca, you always said you weren’t the marrying kind. What’s changed?’

Taylor wanted to ask the same question. ‘Yes,’ she muttered through clenched teeth, ‘do tell us what changed.’ But relief spread through her, taking with it her anger.

He was going to play along. For now, she was safe and that was all that mattered. They could work out the detail later.

His fingers stroked her face gently. ‘I realised there is nothing I want more than to be engaged to Taylor.’

Another journalist stepped closer. ‘You’ve just broken a million women’s hearts.’

‘I’m only interested in one woman’s heart.’ He leaned closer to her, his mouth by her ear. ‘How long am I supposed to keep this up?’

She went from wanting to punch him to wanting to laugh out loud and not just because she was relieved he’d decided to go along with her plan. She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips along the dark shadow of his jaw. ‘Mess this up and I’ll sentence you to death by a thousand Portias.’

‘Portia?’ His tone was innocent. ‘I’ve never met anyone called Portia.’

To the watching journalists it looked like a romantic exchange and she heard someone sigh wistfully.

‘All right, that’s enough romance for one day,’ Luca murmured under his breath, easing away from her and addressing the crowd. ‘All this attention is very distracting for my…fiancée.’

Taylor wondered if she was the only one who noticed he stumbled over the word. ‘Yes. I need to get on with my job. So if there are no more questions—’

‘Tell us about the proposal. And why aren’t you wearing a ring?’

Taylor froze. Deprived of sleep, her brain failed to think of a response but Luca pushed his hand into his pocket and there, dangling from his fingers and sparkling in the Sicilian sunshine, was a huge diamond ring.

‘I chose an extra big one,’ he drawled, ‘to hold her in place so she can’t run away when I misbehave. And also so that when she’s angry with me she can throw it and knock me unconscious. I’ve been keeping it with me because we hadn’t exactly planned to go public with this today.’

Wondering where he’d managed to find such an incredible ring at such short notice, Taylor allowed him to slip it onto the appropriate finger and smiled her most romantic smile while the female journalists gazed on with envy and greed.

‘Taylor, can you tell me in a single word how you felt when he gave you that ring?’

That was easy enough. ‘It was a moment beyond words. I was speechless.’

‘And that was the best possible response because speechless is how I prefer my women.’ At his most shocking, Luca kept her hand tightly in his and ploughed his way through the flock of press back to his Ferrari. ‘And now if you’ll excuse us, we are going to seek some privacy to do, er, to do those things engaged people do. Santo, when you find a director with balls, call us.’

She was still on the film.

Weak with relief, Taylor closed her eyes, leaned her head against The passenger seat and let the wind blow through her hair. Beneath her she felt the power of the engine and smiled. the car was a glorious, sinful expression of luxury and speed and part of her just wanted to push him aside, grab the wheel and slam her foot to the floor. She wanted to swing round tight hairpin bends and drive the car to the edge in every sense of the word.

But Taylor Carmichael didn’t do things like that.

Not any more.

Taylor Carmichael behaved herself at all times.

Taylor Carmichael was never, ever going to be caught out again.

She opened her eyes feeling light-headed. Somehow, she was still on the film. Unfortunately she was also with Luca Corretti, a man as capable of extinguishing her good fortune as he was at nurturing it. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere away from all those people who seem determined to share in our special, private moment.’ He shifted gears smoothly. The engine roared and they overtook car after car as they sped along the coast road.

Taylor, who normally hated being driven, wondered why she didn’t feel nervous. ‘So why the change of heart? I thought you didn’t want to be engaged.’

‘I don’t. But I don’t mind pretending to be engaged for as long as it suits me. I gained instant respectability. The board cried over my instant transformation.’

‘They cried? Really?’ The wind whipped her hair around her face and she anchored it with her hand, exhilarated by the speed, a smile on her lips. ‘That’s almost funny.’

‘I agree.’ Leaning on his horn as he executed a deathdefying acceleration to pass another car, he threw her a slanting smile that made her think of nothing but sex. ‘Who would have thought it? We appear to share a sense of humour. And a love of speed.’

Unsettled at the thought of having anything in common with him, Taylor frowned. ‘We’ll be sharing an ambulance if you don’t slow down.’

‘Oh, come on—’ his eyes were back on the road ‘—you’re a woman who was built to go fast.’

‘I hate driving fast.’

‘No, you don’t. You love it.’

‘You’re reckless.’ She told herself it was the speed of the car not the wicked curve of his mouth that made her heart beat a little bit faster.

‘Has it ever occurred to you that it’s the other drivers who are going too slowly? There should be a sign—Dithering Is Dangerous. And you should know that fast is my default speed for everything except sex.’

‘I don’t need to know that.’ She’d been trying not to think about sex but it was impossible around this man. Everything about him screamed masculinity, even the way he handled the car. She looked away quickly, trying to forget the sheer animal passion they’d unleashed together. And that had been just a single kiss. Her brief moment of relief turned to dread as she realised that her desperate, impulsive attempt to protect her position on the film had placed her in a position where she was going to have to spend time with this man. This man who tempted her more than any other. Despite the baking sun her skin felt suddenly cold. ‘I already know enough and I think you are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.’

‘No, you don’t.’ His voice was a soft, masculine purr. ‘I make you laugh and we understand each other, dolcezza, because we are so alike.’

It felt as if someone were squeezing her throat. ‘I’m nothing like you. And you drive me mad.’

‘You just think that because you’re hungry. A hungry woman is always irritable. When did you last eat?’

‘Eat? I don’t want to eat.’ She just wanted to get out of the car. She wanted to wind the clock back and find another way of extracting herself from this mess.

She didn’t do this. She didn’t put herself in the way of temptation.

‘Of course you want to eat. You’re permanently starving but for some reason you suppress every appetite you ever experience.’ Without warning, he took a right turn, roared into a small village and cut the engine, oblivious to the stares he earned from the locals. ‘Wait here.’

He disappeared for a few moments and then reappeared and dropped a bag onto her lap. ‘Never let it be said I don’t know what a woman really wants.’

The smell made her stomach rumble and Taylor opened the bag curiously. ‘A cheeseburger? You think that’s what a woman really wants?’

He leaned towards her and for a terrifying, breathless moment she thought he was going to kiss her again but he simply smiled that maddening smile that made her stomach curl. ‘I’m good at understanding a woman’s hidden desires, dolcezza.’

Pride kept her still in her seat. ‘Evidently not, because I have no desire for a cheeseburger.’ Her stomach growled loudly and his smile widened as he pulled back from her and started the engine.

‘I’ll leave you to argue with your stomach about that one. But while you’re engaged to me, you’ll eat carbs. Otherwise one of us will kill the other and that is not going to produce the headlines you’re hoping for.’ Eyes in the mirror, he executed a perfect U-turn and rejoined the main highway while Taylor stared at the cheeseburger, remembering the time she’d sneaked out with friends for a burger and been caught by her mother. She’d been twelve years old, excited by her first-ever invitation to join a group of girls and feeling almost normal for the first time in her life, when her mother had come storming into the restaurant and dragged it out of her hand, demanding to know why she was so determined to ruin her career.

Taylor closed the bag and gripped the top so that she wasn’t tempted, but the smell wouldn’t leave her alone.

Her mouth watered. Her stomach mewed.

She made an impatient sound. The day was turning from a bad dream into a nightmare. ‘You’re cruel, you know that, don’t you?’

‘Just eat it and spare me the drama.’

‘I can’t.’ Her fingers tightened on the bag. ‘It’s on the forbidden list.’

‘Scusi?’

‘The forbidden list. The list of things I can’t do.’

‘You’re seriously telling me you have a list of things you can’t do?’

‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ Taylor snapped, ‘but I can’t eat this. For a start my character in the movie is supposed to be slender.’

‘Your character will be found strangled by her infuriated fiancée if you don’t eat something substantial soon.’ He pulled back onto the coast road. ‘Tell me more about this forbidden list. I think I might have one too.’

‘You? You have to be kidding.’

‘Well, I have a list—the difference is that mine is called my priority list. What else is on yours?’

Spending time with men like him.

‘Everything that is bad for me and will wreck my career.’

‘So it’s also called the boring list. I suggest you flip that list and do everything on it, starting with eating food that’s bad for you and tastes good. Open that bag and feed the real you. Go on. You know you want to.’

She did want to. She wanted to so badly.

Oh, hell, why not?

Tired and starving hungry, Taylor gave in to temptation. It wasn’t as if one hamburger was going to kill her.

Trying to block out the sound of her mother saying ‘think of your career’ she closed her eyes and took a bite. Flavour exploded in her mouth. She moaned. ‘I think that might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Find a bin, quickly. I have to throw it away before I’m tempted to take another bite.’

‘Take another bite. And then another. When your stomach is full and you’re not behaving like a she-wolf stalking her prey, we’ll talk.’

Flavour slicing through her willpower, Taylor took another bite. ‘OK, you win. When filming is over I’m going to buy a truckload of these. How do I ask for it in Italian?’

‘You ask for pane con la milza.’

‘Pane con la milza. That’s Italian for cheeseburger?’ She took another mouthful and chewed slowly, savouring every moment. ‘I know that pane means “bread,” and con means “with.” So milza must be—what? Beef? Ham?’

‘Spleen.’

Taylor stopped chewing. ‘Pardon?’

‘Milza means “spleen.”’

At the point of swallowing, she choked. ‘I’m eating a spleen burger? You fed me spleen burger?’

‘Your translation is less than elegant but yes, the meat is spleen. Pane con la milza is a delicacy, particularly around Palermo. My grandmother used to make it in her kitchen when I was a little boy.’

She dropped the rest of the ‘burger’ in the bag and put it on the floor of his car. ‘Pull over. Now.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m going to throw up.’

‘Throw up in my Ferrari and this engagement is off. Nothing is worth that. Cristo, Taylor, stop behaving like a wimpy female.’ He flung her an impatient look before fixing his eyes on the road again. ‘What is that phrase you use? Put your big-girl pants on. But not literally—I prefer you in something more revealing. A thong works for me. Does that phrase exist? Put your sexy-girl thong on? Whatever—show some guts.’

‘Thanks to you I just ate guts.’

‘And even as we speak the nutrition will be flowing into your starved veins. Your starved body should be thanking me.’

‘You have a problem with my body? That’s odd because it certainly didn’t seem that way when you were ripping my clothes off a few days ago.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing his hands tighten on the wheel.

‘I didn’t see enough of it to judge.’

The atmosphere in the car had shifted dangerously and she wished she’d kept the conversation on the topic of food. Wiping her fingers on a napkin, she shuddered. ‘Do not ever mention this particular meal again. I do not want to even think about the fact I just ate a—never mind.’

‘I never would have thought you were squeamish. Meat is meat.’

‘I don’t often eat meat and when I do I like to know what I’m eating before I eat it. Now I understand why all your relationships have been short. I don’t think I can even pretend to love you enough to marry you. You drive me crazy.’

‘Anyone choosing to get married has to be crazy, so I don’t see that as a problem.’ He slowed the car, waiting as a pair of electric gates opened slowly, and then accelerated along a drive bordered by tall cypress trees.

‘Where are we?’ She threw a glance at his profile, wondering why he was so firmly against marriage. She decided it was probably because he lived his life surrounded by gorgeous women.

‘We’re somewhere exclusive where we can be assured of privacy.’ The tyres crunched over gravel as he pulled up outside a beautiful building built from honey-coloured stone.

A woman appeared from nowhere. ‘Luca!’ She burst into a stream of fluent Italian and Luca replied in the same language. Taylor glanced around her, trying to ignore the fact that hearing him speak in that beautiful, lilting language made her tummy tighten.

Impatient with herself, she reminded herself that any time her self-control weakened around him she just needed to think of him feeding her a spleen burger. Most of all she needed to remember that there was nothing romantic about this situation.

Which suited her just fine.

Never again was she trusting a man. Or any other person for that matter. She was using Luca Corretti, just as he was using her.

Having reminded herself of that, it was doubly unsettling when the woman walked across to her and took her hands, her eyes filling.

Taylor suppressed her natural impulse to back away. ‘Er, bueno, er…’ She glanced hopelessly at Luca, who rolled his eyes.

‘That’s Spanish. What are you trying to say?’

Taylor felt her face turn scarlet with embarrassment. ‘I’m trying to be friendly and say hello.’

‘If it’s after midday you can just say buona sera. This is Geovana. She speaks some English, although she might not be familiar with “spleen burger.”’

‘You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.’ Geovana’s hands tightened on hers. ‘Welcome.’

Touched by the warmth shown to her, Taylor looked at Luca. ‘How do I say “I’m pleased to be here” in Italian?’

‘I amarlo così tanto la sua folle.’

She repeated it slowly and was stunned when Geovana flung her arms round her and hugged her tightly. Unused to being hugged, Taylor held herself rigid. ‘Oh! This is…nice and…welcoming.’ Most of all it was unfamiliar. She frowned slightly, feeling something inside her unravel. Geovana was warm and plump and…motherly. Taylor swallowed. Her own mother had seen her as a meal ticket, as a means to live out her own dreams, not as a daughter to be hugged. Their conversations had only ever been about how Taylor could do more, be more, never about who she was or what she wanted, and it had never, ever been about affection. They’d parted ways when Taylor was seventeen and hadn’t spoken since.

When Geovana finally released her only to kiss her on both cheeks, Taylor felt confused, raw and vulnerable.

‘She likes you,’ Luca said in a flat drawl, ‘that’s a compliment. Come on, I’ll show you to our bedroom suite.’

Our bedroom? She decided to ignore that until they were alone. ‘Doesn’t she usually like your girlfriends?’

‘She’s never met any of them.’ Taking her hand, Luca strode into the house as if he owned it, crossed the beautiful, light-filled entrance hall and up a curved staircase.

‘Why hasn’t she met any of them?’ Taylor tugged at her hand but he didn’t release her. His fingers were cool and strong. ‘I assumed this hotel is one of your regular sex hideouts. Or do you smuggle your women in and out through the window?’ She tugged at her hand, harder this time, and this time he released her.

Relief flowed through her and she promised herself that from now on she’d keep a physical distance from him. No touching. She had enough problems without adding to them.

‘This isn’t a hotel.’ He pushed open a door and walked into a room that took her breath away. Through the open French doors the view stretched across a garden to a vineyard and, beyond that, in the distance, the towering peak of Mount Etna.

Taylor decided she’d never seen a more perfect view in her life. ‘Wow. You have an eye for beauty, I’ll give you that. It’s stunning. And so private.’ Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes from the view to look at him. ‘If this isn’t a hotel, then what is it?’

‘It’s my home.’ He shrugged off his jacket and removed his tie. ‘And I don’t bring women here, so don’t get too comfortable. Strictly speaking I should have blindfolded you before I brought you to my private lair.’

‘Why don’t you bring women here?’

‘Because my home is a place to relax and women are exhausting.’ He strolled across the sunlit room and placed his cufflinks in a dish on the nightstand, ‘From their uncanny ability to misinterpret everything a man says or does, to their endless demands for reassurance, including such well-loved phrases as “Does this dress make me look fat?” and—every man’s favourite—“What are you thinking?”’

‘Yeah, that must be a tough one for a guy like you who never bothers thinking. If you had bothered to think you wouldn’t have messed up so badly with Portia.’ She used sarcasm to cover up the way he made her feel. It wasn’t just the sexual chemistry that terrified her, it was the buzz she had from talking to him.

‘I didn’t mess up with Portia. That relationship ended precisely when I intended it to. I consider that to be a success.’

‘But if you’d ended it more thoughtfully we wouldn’t be in this position.’

‘In what position? Suddenly we’re both respectable. It’s a miracle.’ With a complete lack of self-consciousness he undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt, allowing it to fall open. His trousers rode low on his lean hips, revealing toned, male abs, and Taylor averted her eyes, ignoring the dangerous curl of warmth that spread through her body.

‘Thanks, but I can live without the striptease.’

‘Is it bothering you?’

Exasperation mingled with a much more dangerous emotion. ‘No, it isn’t bothering me. But I’m the sort of person who needs personal space. We should have stayed at my hotel.’ The glimpse had been brief, but the image of his bronzed, fit body was seared onto her brain. ‘I have a suite with two rooms.’

‘I can’t stand hotels.’

‘And yet you want to run the family business?’

‘That’s different.’ He shrugged, his tone bored. ‘That’s just about proving a point. And if we’re going to be engaged then I need space too. I’m not good at being trapped with a woman.’

But now they were both trapped and he was looking at her, assessing her with that lazy, sexy stare that was so much a part of him until she felt as if her skin might catch fire.

Desperately, she steered the subject onto safer ground. ‘So tell me about Geovana.’ She thought about the warmth the other woman had shown her. ‘Why did she hug me so tightly? When I said I was pleased to be here, she almost strangled me.’

‘That’s because you didn’t say you were pleased to be here. You said you were so in love with me it’s driving you crazy.’

She gaped at him. ‘I said what you told me to say.’

‘Yes. And you were remarkably fluent. Very impressive for a non-Italian speaker.’

Mouth tightening, she tapped her foot on the floor. ‘I suppose you think that’s really funny. Like teaching a toddler to use rude words.’

‘Since I don’t intend to ever marry, that’s an experience I’m not going to be in a position to comment on but strangely enough I didn’t do it to be funny. I did it because we’re supposed to be engaged. You’re not the only one who can act a part when required.’

‘That’s why she hugged me? Because I told her I was crazy about you?’

‘So it would seem.’ A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. ‘Today is probably the happiest day of her life. Geovana had given up on seeing me bring a woman home.’

‘Because no woman would put up with you.’ But part of her wondered whether there was a deeper reason for his aversion to marriage. Her instincts told her there was more to it than simply a love of a playboy lifestyle. ‘Have you known her a long time?’

‘Since I was five years old.’

Taylor felt a twinge of envy at the warmth of his relationship with the woman.

She didn’t have anyone in her life she was close to. No one she could trust as Luca clearly trusted Geovana. It was obvious that the older woman adored him.

‘How did you meet her?’ She asked the question as they walked up the stairs towards the bedroom.

‘She was our nanny until my mother fired her in a fit of jealousy.’

‘You had a nanny?’ She bit her tongue. Of course he’d had a nanny. He came from a rich family. He hadn’t been used as the breadwinner by an ambitious mother while he was still in nappies. ‘Did your mother work?’

‘It was a full-time job trying to keep my father happy.’

She was about to question that statement when he started to unbuckle his belt. ‘Whoa. Rewind. I do not need to see you naked. This engagement is fake, remember?’

‘There is no way I’ll forget that, dolcezza. Just make sure you don’t.’

‘Oh, please—there is no way I’ll forget that.’

‘Don’t be so sure. Every woman I meet thinks she’s going to be the one to change my ways and drag me to the altar.’

Turning her back on him, Taylor paced around the room, noticing the art on the walls and the beautiful stylish touches. There were no photographs. Nothing personal. ‘You are known for living the high life. We are going to have to work extra hard to convince people this is real. Even pretending is giving you a hunted look. I’m going to have to teach you to act.’

‘I can act. I don’t need your help.’

‘And I may not need yours if Santo doesn’t manage to replace the director.’ Battling a rush of insecurity, Taylor walked through the French doors onto the pretty balcony with its glorious views of the Sicilian countryside. ‘It’s gorgeous. Are you sure the press won’t find us here?’

‘Of course I’m not sure. They can find us anywhere, that’s their job.’ He seemed completely indifferent to the possibility and she felt her own pulse rate quicken as she walked back into the bedroom.

‘Don’t you care?’

‘Why would I?’

‘It’s an invasion of privacy.’

‘I’ve never seen the need to hide what I do.’ He removed his shirt and dropped it onto the bed. The flex of hard, honed muscle across his wide shoulders had her staring, and because this was the day where nothing was going her way that was the moment he turned and caught her.

‘Enjoying the view?’

‘Not particularly. And I have no idea why you’re undressing.’

‘Purely for your entertainment, dolcezza.’ Sending her a sexy smile, he unclipped his watch. ‘And for the entertainment of any photographers who happen to have long lenses trained on my bedroom. I’d hate to disappoint them. Oh—and because I intend to take a shower.’

‘Photographers?’ Horrified, she looked from him to the long windows that offered a view into the distance. ‘Can this house be seen from the road?’

‘I have no idea. I suppose we’ll find out now you’re staying here.’

‘I’m not staying here…’ She stumbled over the words in her panic, tripping over her bag as she backed to the door and opened it. ‘If the press could be watching, I can’t stay. I have to go somewhere I know I can’t be photographed—I have to—’

‘You have to calm down.’ Luca strode over to her and pushed the door shut with the flat of his hand, saying something to her in Italian. ‘Cristo, Taylor, why all the drama? You’re not on set now.’

‘I hate being photographed.’

‘Yes, I’m starting to get that part. Even I’m not that obtuse.’ His keen gaze was fixed on her face. ‘What I don’t get is why. You’re an actress. You’re photographed all the time. It’s part of the job.’

‘And I accept it when I’m out filming, or at a premiere or even when I’m out having fun because I know I can never go anywhere without being recognised any more, but I have to know I’m safe when I’m at h-home. I don’t want to be photographed when I—think I’m alone.’ She was stammering. ‘I deserve that. Doesn’t everyone deserve that?’

‘Yes, I suppose so, if that’s what they want. And now are you going to tell me what happened?’

Her stomach felt as if someone had tied a knot in it. ‘What do you mean?’

‘No one freaks out like that without a reason. So tell me the reason. What happened?’

‘Nothing happened.’ She had no intention of talking about it, especially not to him. She’d learned the hard way that no one could be trusted. Thinking back to how naive she’d been at seventeen made her want to curl up in embarrassment but at least she’d learned the lesson. ‘I’m a private person, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

‘Except that, like most celebrities, the press considers you public property.’

His choice of phrase triggered something inside her. ‘I’m a person, not property. I am not anyone’s meal ticket!’

‘Taylor—’

‘Enough, OK? I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. I just hate the press, that’s all you need to know. I don’t want to stay somewhere they can see me! If they’re pushing a camera in my face, I want to know about it.’ Shocked to discover just how much emotion was still simmering deep inside her, Taylor reached for the door handle but his hand covered hers.

‘Cristo, you’re shaking.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met,’ he breathed. ‘Ballsy one minute and fragile the next.’

‘I’m not fragile.’

There was a long pause. ‘I’ll brief my security team. I’ll make sure this place is like a fortress. The only photographs those bastards get will be the ones we want them to take. Us doing engagement stuff—whatever that is. Talking of which, we’d better find out what we’re supposed to do.’ He released her and strolled across the bedroom as if nothing had happened, leaving Taylor shaken. It unsettled her to know she was nowhere near as in control as she liked to think she was.

Pulling herself together, she looked at him. ‘What are you doing now?’

He keyed something into his phone. ‘Given that you and I are clueless, I’m doing a search for the typical behaviour of engaged people. There has to be a website. It’s probably called getmeoutofhere.com. Or possibly killmenow.org.’ The remark was typical of him and for some reason that normality helped relax her.

‘We’re not just engaged, we’re newly engaged.’

‘And the significance of that is…?’

‘The first glow of excitement has yet to wear off. We have to be supersickly.’

‘No worries. The thought of being engaged makes me feel more sickly than you can possibly imagine.’

‘And you fed me spleen burger. Need I say more?’

‘No, but you’re a woman so no doubt you will anyway. If you want to sit down, sit on the bed. It can’t be seen from the window unless they have a lens shaped like a periscope.’ It was the only reference he made to her sudden loss of control. ‘Here you are. Ten habits of engaged couples. Can you believe someone researched that and then wrote about it? What a total waste of a life.’

Taylor glanced from the window to the bed and decided to follow his advice. She slid off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the end of the bed. ‘Go on. Read it out.’

He was staring at her legs. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Relaxing. I do yoga. It’s good for the core and helps keep me flexible.’

‘Flexible?’ His voice slightly rough, Luca lifted his gaze from her legs to her face, his phone forgotten. ‘How flexible?’

The temperature in the room shot up and suddenly all she could think of was the way his mouth had felt on hers.

‘Flexible enough to make sure that when we’re seen in public you’re looking very tired.’ Unable to resist teasing him, she wrapped one leg behind her neck and his brows rose.

‘That position has amazing possibilities but there’s no way I’d look tired in public. I have endless stamina. Maybe you’ll be the one who is looking tired, tesoro, from my male demands.’

Her heart thudded a little harder. ‘I’ve been working with a trainer for months in preparation for this role. I can cope with any physical demands you care to throw my way.’

‘Is that a challenge?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Taylor swallowed and allowed her leg to slide back into its original position. ‘So what advice does your website offer?’

His eyes lingered on hers and then eventually he looked back at the screen. ‘Touching.’

‘Pardon?’

‘According to this, newly engaged couples touch all the time. They can’t bear to be next to each other and not feel each other. Does that mean I have permission to stroke your breasts in public? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.’

‘Public. Of course. We have to be seen in public.’ Taylor pushed away thoughts of his hands on her breasts. ‘We need to be seen, otherwise no one is going to believe this is real. We should go out for dinner or something.’

‘What’s the point of that? You don’t eat anything.’

‘All the better. People will assume my love for you is putting me off my food.’

‘Just as long as you don’t expect me to be off my food too, because I have no intention of starving myself for the role.’ He scanned the screen, his expression comical. ‘Cristo, is there anything good about being engaged?’

‘Why ask me? I’ve never been engaged before either. Nor do I want to be.’

‘No?’ His gaze lifted to hers. ‘Then that makes us a perfect pair. So what happened to you to put you off relationships?’

Her heart thudded a little bit faster. ‘Life.’

‘You mean a man.’

Would a real man take advantage of a vulnerable girl? Would a real man cynically manipulate someone’s feelings for his own benefit? She felt the panic stir deep inside her and squashed it down. ‘Well, he had a penis, if that’s what you mean. But apart from that no, I wouldn’t call him a man.’ The words tasted like acid in her mouth and they must have sounded the same way because he lowered his phone, his dark gaze suddenly sharp.

‘Is this guy the reason you hate the press? What did he do?’

Why on earth had she started this conversation? Especially with a man as shallow and superficial as Luca Corretti. She was surprised he’d even asked the question. what did he know about loneliness? Or vulnerability, come to that. He came from a huge family. He had no idea what it was like to have no one. He would never in a million years understand what had happened to her.

‘It isn’t relevant.’

‘I’m your fiancé. If you have something in your past that had that big an impact on you, I need to know about it.’

‘No, you don’t.’ She felt the panic rise from deep inside her and block her throat. ‘My past is none of your business.’

‘For someone who claims this is in the “past” you look pretty stressed out.’

‘It’s being with you that makes me stressed out. And what about you?’ She turned it back on him. ‘Anything in your past I need to know about?’

‘Nothing at all.’ He deflected her question with ease. ‘My life is an open book.’

No one’s life was an open book, she knew that now. There were hidden corners, areas of darkness, a graveyard of secrets.

She wondered what his were.

While she was musing on the comment he’d made about his mother, he strode across the room, picked up the phone And spoke in Italian. ‘I’m taking you out to dinner. My team will book us a table at Da Giovanni. It’s very elegant. And high-profile. You can push a lettuce leaf around your plate and gaze at me adoringly.’

‘You’ll have to gaze at me adoringly too.’

‘I can do that as long as you don’t get confused and start thinking it’s real.’

‘When I grab a gun and shoot myself through the head you’ll know I’m starting to think our relationship is real,’ she told him in a cool tone. ‘Until then, you’re safe. Unfortunately I don’t have any faith that you are capable of even acting the part of a man in love, so concentrate because I’m going to give you some hints.’

‘I’ve already told you I don’t need an acting lesson.’

She ignored that. ‘The best way to convincingly play emotion is to conjure up the feeling. So if I’m playing someone sad, I try and remember a time when I was sad.’

‘I’ve never been engaged so I can’t conjure up the horror that went with it.’

‘Very funny, but not helpful. Tonight you have to look as if I’m the only woman in the world for you. Is there any chance you can do that?’

‘Are all the other women in the world dead? I suppose if that were the case, I might be relieved to be shackled to you. You’re not bad once you’re fed.’

Taylor clenched her jaw. ‘This is a nightmare. You are never going to be able to act as if you’re engaged. It isn’t in your nature.’

‘Watch me prove you wrong. I can act. I can dredge emotions from deep inside me or wherever it is emotions are stored. You want happiness, right? I can do happiness as long as I’m not expected to associate it with relationships.’

Taylor breathed slowly. ‘All right, let’s try this another way. What is the happiest moment you can remember?’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘The day they delivered my Ferrari.’

‘Fine! Tonight, you are going to look at me as if I’m your Ferrari.’

‘Do I get to put your top down?’

‘You are infuriating!’ So why did she want to laugh? ‘This was such a bad idea. You’ll blow it and this will be the shortest engagement on record.’

‘I am not going to blow it. I love my Ferrari. I love my Ferrari.’ He muttered the words under his breath and shot her a glance. ‘Perhaps I’d better dress you in red, just so that there’s a similarity.’

Taylor shook her head in despair. ‘And on that note, I have to go back to my hotel. I can’t go out to dinner in the same clothes I’ve been wearing all day, and anyway, if we’re going to stay here I need to pack up my things and move them here.’

‘One of the advantages of being engaged to the head of a fashion house is that clothes aren’t a problem.’ He sent a quick message on his phone. ‘If we’re going to be seen together, you might as well showcase something from Corretti.’

‘So now you’re using me for free publicity?’

‘Of course I’m using you. That’s what this is all about. I’m using you. You’re using me.’

Of course I’m using you.

Taylor ignored the uneasy feeling in her stomach. She told herself this was different. Yes, she’d been used before but Luca was right—this time she was using him too.

And that made this different from all the times people had used her before.