Читать книгу The Correttis (Books 1-8) - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 35

THE SET WAS heaving with people when Luca dropped Taylor off the next morning.

He’d been intending to leave immediately, but he took one look at her white face and parked his car in a no-parking zone.

‘Are you going to be all right?’

She turned her head to look at him, her expression blank, the dark shadows under her eyes telling him she’d lain awake for most of the night. ‘Pardon?’

And Luca realised the reason she hadn’t responded to a single word he’d said during the journey was because she hadn’t heard him.

And the cause of her distress lurked at the edge of the set like a lion waiting for an injured impala to leave the safety of the herd and limp into the open.

Rafaele.

Luca knew the director was going to take one look at her pale face and see a potential victim.

With a soft curse, he unclipped his seat belt and she looked at him in confusion.

‘What are you doing? You’re going to be late for your meeting.’

Luca stroked her pale cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘I hope the make-up department on this film is good because you look like hell, Carmichael. Shame you’re not making a vampire movie.’

‘Make-up…?’ She gasped and scrabbled for her bag. ‘How could I have forgotten make-up?’

Because she’d been distracted. Scared.

Luca tapped his fingers on the wheel and thought quickly. ‘I suppose I should apologise.’

‘For what?’

‘It’s my fault you couldn’t sleep last night. You should have just taken me up on my offer, dolcezza, instead of lying awake desperate for me.’

‘Desperate for you?’ Her voice rose slightly. ‘You think I was desperate for you?’

‘I know you were. You should have just admitted how you felt. There’s no shame in finding me irresistible. It happens.’

‘Not to me.’ Two streaks of angry colour highlighted her cheekbones and Luca smiled and sprang from the car.

‘Bene. Forget the make-up. You don’t need it and he doesn’t need to see you putting it on. You’re ready.’

‘Ready for what? Ready to kill you? You make me so mad I could—I could—’

‘You could thank me. Two minutes ago you were the colour of mozzarella. Now you look human. Anger is instant blusher. So is sexual arousal, by the way, but I’ll save that trick for when we’re alone. And by “ready” I mean ready to face him.’ Sliding his hand around her waist, he hauled her against him and lowered his voice. ‘Never go up against a man like Rafaele showing you’re afraid. Go out there and fight.’

Her eyes were wide. ‘You made me angry on purpose?’

‘Sì. Making a woman want to kill me is my special gift. It ensures they don’t exceed their sell-by date.’

She made a sound between a sob and curled her fingers into the front of his shirt. ‘You’re—you’re—’

‘I’m perfect. Now smile—’ he kissed the top of her head ‘—we have company. Not the company I would have chosen, but such is life. Ah, Rafaele, I saw you admiring my car. Work hard and maybe one day you’ll be able to afford one.’

Rafaele ignored Luca and looked straight at Taylor. It was like an eagle spotting a vole.

To give her credit, Taylor managed to look relaxed as she greeted him. ‘Rafaele.’

‘Querida. We have so much to catch up on.’ The sentence was loaded with subtext and Luca frowned slightly and was about to intervene when Taylor stepped forward.

‘My name is Taylor.’ Her voice was steady and strong. ‘And we don’t have anything to catch up on.’

‘And soon she’ll be Taylor Corretti,’ Luca said coldly, ‘so you might want to bear that in mind before you call her “querida” or anything else that implies intimacy. I don’t tolerate other men hitting on my woman. Unlike the wimp in your movie, I don’t forgive or forget.’ He draped a possessive arm around her shoulders, his eyes fixed on the older man’s face in blatant challenge. He thought of Taylor as she must have been at seventeen and then looked at the man standing in front of him and decided he didn’t like what he saw.

Rafaele stepped forward, eyes narrowed. ‘I read about the engagement. I see her taste in men hasn’t improved over the years.’

‘I disagree.’ Luca delivered his coolest smile. ‘Any time you want to treat yourself to a suit that fits properly, just give me a call. Well-cut quality fabric can transform even the most unfortunate of body shapes. I’m sure we can do something for you.’ He could sense Taylor’s tension. And something more. Nerves. This man made her nervous.

Clearly her history with Rafaele upset her deeply and it was obvious the director knew it and used it.

‘I hope all this personal stuff isn’t going to distract you from your work. This is a challenging role for someone like you.’ With every carefully chosen word he chipped away at the woman Taylor had become, exposing the vulnerability underneath.

Luca, who loathed bullies, resisted the urge to rearrange the other man’s features. ‘Taylor is the most talented actress of her generation. When you worked with her she was hampered by bad direction.’

Rafaele’s lips curled. ‘Taylor always responded well to direction.’

Luca stepped forward but Taylor’s hand gripped his arm.

‘I can handle this. I just want to do my job.’

‘Good—’ Rafaele gestured to one of the crew ‘—because today we’re filming the scene where you discover the husband you thought was dead, is alive.’

‘Obviously going to be a laugh a minute,’ Luca drawled, turning her away from Rafaele and towards him. ‘I’ll leave you to it, tesoro, and pick you up at the end of the day. The board want evidence that you’re real so we’re going to a drinks reception at the hotel. Not my favourite way to spend an evening. I’d much rather be alone with you.’ Before she could say anything, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slowly and deliberately on the mouth. The kiss was for the benefit of Rafaele but the moment their mouths met they were lost in it, the passion raw and elemental. He kissed her hungrily and she kissed him back, their surroundings forgotten, everything forgotten until the blare of a car horn cut through the sexual storm. Luca lifted his head, disorientated.

He stared down into her shocked blue eyes, saw his own confusion reflected right back at him and released her instantly. ‘I should get to work… .’

‘Me too.’ Her voice was husky and Luca, unsettled by how badly he wanted to kiss her again, backed towards the car and crashed into Rafaele, who made his frustration known.

‘Look where you’re going!’

Luca was too shaken to bother responding. Instead he slid behind the wheel of his Ferrari and started the engine, instantly comforted by the throaty roar. At least something in his life felt familiar which was more than could be said for his feelings.

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so out of control with a woman. When had he ever before lost track of time or place? Never.

Pulling onto the road that led to the office, he told himself that he’d got a little carried away with his role. After all, she’d questioned his acting ability, so it was only natural that he would try and prove how wrong she was, wasn’t it? He was as competitive as the next guy and any suggestion that he might not be convincing in his role as ‘fiancé’ was guaranteed to result in a performance worthy of Hollywood.

Having justified his behaviour to his satisfaction and confident that he had the situation completely under control, Luca relaxed.

He’d helped her deal with that slimy bastard Rafaele and she, in turn, could turn on her charm for the board.

So far their plan was working magnificently.

‘So, Taylor, I admit we never saw this happening. Luca has never shown any degree of responsibility in anything he does. He’s chosen to live his life on the fringe of this family.’ The air on the sunlit terrace of the Corretti flagship hotel was thick with cigarette smoke and disapproval of Luca.

Taylor, who knew exactly how it felt to feel disconnected from the family you’d been born into, disliked the pompous chairman on sight. ‘I’m confused.’ She smiled her most feminine smile and had the satisfaction of seeing him blink, dazed. ‘You say Luca has no sense of responsibility and yet he’s built a staggeringly successful business worth a fortune.’

‘Luca appears more interested in the models he employs than he is in taking business seriously.’

‘I disagree. Luca is a man who works hard but also plays hard. He appreciates beauty. To be able to achieve the level of success he has achieved and yet still have fun seems to me to indicate a man who appreciates the importance of work-life balance.’

‘Your defence of him is to your credit.’

‘But should a man need defending from his own family?’ Taylor was beginning to understand why they drove Luca mad. She glanced up and saw him surrounded by members of the hotel management team. He didn’t even bother to conceal his boredom and she hid a smile because she sensed he went out of his way to live up to his terrible reputation.

And suddenly she realised what a clever strategy that was. Because he didn’t appear to hide anything, no one looked deeper. No one suspected there was anything more to expose, which gave him an extraordinary level of privacy.

He lifted his head and caught her eye.

Just for a moment they looked at each other and the sexual charge was so powerful she felt the punch of it from across the room.

Her stomach tightened as she remembered the way it felt to kiss him and be kissed by him.

Turning away quickly she reminded herself that a kiss, even an exceptionally skilled kiss, wasn’t trust. A kiss was a type of sensual manipulation. Trust was something different.

And trust was an indulgence she didn’t allow herself.

Extracting himself from the group of grey-suited businessmen, Luca joined her.

The chairman smiled. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear your fiancée was defending you vigorously. We were discussing your addiction to beautiful women.’

Feeling Luca’s tension, Taylor slid her arm through his. ‘I’m thrilled Luca appreciates beauty.’

‘Many women would be jealous.’

‘Perhaps. But not me. We’re with each other through choice. Love cannot be bound and held captive. It has to be freely given.’

Luca was looking at her strangely but he didn’t say anything and the chairman beckoned to an overweight man in a suit. ‘Taylor, this is Nico Gipetti, manager of our flagship hotel. You’re his idol so he’s been hoping for an introduction.’

Nico Gipetti’s face turned scarlet up to his ears as he shook her hand vigorously. ‘I love your work.’ Having stammered his way through a stream of compliments, he turned to Luca. ‘Any news from Matteo?’

‘Not a sound.’ Luca was looking at her mouth. ‘But I suppose that isn’t so surprising in the circumstances.’

The manager’s features tightened in disapproval. ‘What does he think he’s doing?’

‘I should think right now he’s probably smashing his way through all ten commandments,’ Luca murmured and then winced when Taylor drove her elbow into his ribs.

‘What Luca means,’ she said swiftly, ‘is that he’s probably keeping a low profile out of sensitivity to Alessandro’s feelings.’

‘So you have no idea when he will be back?’

Luca suppressed a yawn. ‘No, but while he’s away I intend to increase your profits by an indecent amount so I suggest you all relax and let me get on with it. I work much better alone.’

And why was that? Taylor studied him thoughtfully, wondering why he was so determined to keep himself apart, both in work and in play.

‘It’s a difficult time for the market,’ Nico snapped. ‘What makes you think you can do what we can’t? You know nothing about the hotel business.’

‘And that is precisely why I will make it a success.’ Luca paused to study the cut of the suit of a man walking past, a perusal that ended in a disbelieving shake of his head. ‘I don’t come weighed down with preconceived ideas, nor am I working from a palette of ideas that have been used a million times before by both yourselves and the competition.’

The chairman joined in the conversation. ‘Perhaps this is a good time to give us some detail. I’m sure Nico is interested to hear how you intend to add value to the brand.’

‘That’s easy. Your occupancy is down because you have no appreciation of style or beauty,’ Luca said bluntly and Taylor almost laughed at the shock on their faces.

She loved his honesty. He didn’t care what people thought, which meant he wasn’t afraid to speak the truth. Working in a profession where people rarely told the truth, she found it a refreshing change to be with someone who spoke his mind.

Sadly Nico didn’t agree. ‘Perhaps we should talk in Italian so that we don’t bore Taylor with our business.’

Luca scooped up two glasses of champagne from a pretty waitress with a wink and a smile. ‘Taylor doesn’t speak Italian—’ he handed her a glass ‘—and unlike you, Nico, I have no problem with my fiancée expressing an opinion. I’d like her to be part of the conversation.’

They put him down at every turn and yet he was bigger than all of them, she thought. He had an innate confidence, a powerful belief in himself that resisted all their attempts to diminish him. They tried to make him look small and yet each time they knocked him down he rose higher, towering above them in every way.

She felt a flash of pride and then wondered why she would feel pride in a man who wasn’t hers.

Unsettled, she sipped her champagne and asked the question no one else seemed interested in asking. ‘So do you have a plan for the hotels, Luca?’

Luca didn’t hesitate. ‘We’re going to refurbish the top six from the latest Corretti Home collection. Out with bland, hotel uniformity and in with style and originality. Instead of guests walking away with white waffle dressing gowns they could purchase from any retail outlet, they come away with ideas for decorating their own homes and recreating luxury in their everyday lives. They leave not just rested, but inspired.’

Nico spluttered over his drink. ‘The Corretti name is already a strong brand. We don’t need your help with that.’

Luca smiled. ‘By the time I’ve finished Corretti won’t be a brand, it will be a lifestyle.’

There was a stunned silence.

Nico hadn’t touched his drink. ‘You’re assuming people would want your lifestyle.’

‘How could they not?’ Luca slid his arm round Taylor, who smiled up at him in full-on adoring-fiancée mode, but this time the act was easy because her admiration was genuine.

‘So you’re giving people the message that if they stay in a Corretti hotel, they soak up some of the Corretti style—that’s a totally brilliant idea.’

A faint frown touched his forehead. ‘Grazie, bellissima.’ He hesitated and then lowered his head and kissed her gently. ‘And now I think about it, you’d be perfect to front the campaign I have planned. Corretti Hotels—First Choice for Taylor Carmichael, Movie Star.’

‘I’d have to stay in it first, just to check it has my approval.’

His smile was intimate. ‘Once the hotel has been refurbished, we’ll christen the Presidential Suite.’

Her gaze collided with his. Her stomach twisted. the chemistry between them rocketed off the scale. Through the thick, lazy heat of sexual awareness she heard the chairman clear his throat.

‘It seems Luca has extravagant plans for the business, but what about the two of you?’ He beamed at them. ‘You’re just so perfect for each other. It occurred to us that a Corretti wedding would focus attention away from Matteo’s untimely elopement.’

‘Was it untimely?’ Still looking at Taylor, Luca raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought the timing was perfect.’

Taylor, still shaken by the depth of the physical connection between them, decided that goading the board was a sport to him.

‘What Luca means,’ she said quickly, ‘is that there is never a good time for such a thing to happen.’

‘Perhaps not.’ The chairman didn’t look convinced. ‘But there is no doubt that your wedding would divert attention and give the press something positive to think about. You should marry without delay.’

It was a suggestion she hadn’t anticipated and Taylor felt Luca’s arm tighten around her.

‘A rushed wedding would lead people to assume Taylor was pregnant and none of us want that.’

The chairman’s smile faded. ‘You don’t want to be pregnant?’

‘Of course she wants to be pregnant.’ Luca’s gaze drifted over the heads of the people around them. ‘But not before we’re married.’

The chairman relaxed slightly. ‘The press is full of pictures of your romantic dinner together last night. Love has transformed you, Luca. A big family is exactly what you need. I assume Taylor will be giving up her career once you’re married?’

Taylor choked on her champagne and Luca thumped her on the back.

‘Taylor can’t wait to have children,’ he said smoothly as he gave her time to compose herself. ‘To the world she’s this fantastic, glamorous movie star but underneath all she wants is to walk barefoot round my kitchen, cooking my dinner and nursing my babies. She’s a real earth-mother type, aren’t you, angelo mia?’

Taylor had the feeling he was enjoying himself hugely. ‘Babies—’ she played along ‘—I can’t wait. We’ve agreed on at least six, haven’t we, Luca?’

‘Six?’ It was his turn to be startled. ‘Of course, bellissima. I’m all too happy to make as many babies as you would like as long as you’re sure you can cope with them while I’m away on business. Which might be often.’ His sensual mouth flickered at the corners and she found herself looking at that mouth and thinking of the way he kissed.

‘We’ll travel with you, my heart.’

‘Bene! I’ll be working on my laptop while six adorable little children, all dressed in Corretti Bambino crawl all over you wanting you to read to them, play with them and tuck them in at night.’

The image he painted was so vivid she couldn’t breathe. It was supposed to be a private joke but Taylor didn’t feel like laughing. How would it feel, she wondered, to have a family like that? A family that supported one another? It wasn’t a life she’d ever imagined for herself. Whenever she looked into her future she saw herself alone because any alternative scenario involved trust, and she knew she wasn’t capable of that.

Sadness squeezed her chest, as unexpected as it was painful.

The chairman patted Luca on the shoulder. ‘We’ll leave you two young things to mingle.’ Smiling benignly, he drew Nico away and Luca and Taylor were left alone in the crowd.

Realising that some response was expected from her, she gave a wan smile. ‘I didn’t realise you had a Corretti Bambino range.’

‘We don’t, but I’m just realising what an opportunity we’re missing. I’ve finally found a use for children—I can use them to increase my profits. And the idea has potential to be expanded into the hotel group—a range of clothes to give guests the chance to make sure their child co-ordinates perfectly with their hotel suite. If we do it well, they won’t even know the children are there.’

She knew she was supposed to laugh. She knew he was being outrageous on purpose, but the lump in her throat was wedged so securely she didn’t trust herself to speak and the feelings were so unexpected she had no idea how to deal with them.

Registering her lack of response, his smile faded and he tilted his head slightly. ‘You’re furious with me? I was joking, tesoro. I know you wouldn’t want all that barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen stuff, but it was what they needed to hear.’

‘Yes.’ Her voice husky and she changed the subject quickly. ‘Your family seems about as supportive as mine. Why do you want to work with them when you already have your own successful business?’

‘Because they think I can’t do it.’ Luca removed her empty glass from her hand and gave it to a waitress. ‘I have a congenital urge to prove everyone around me wrong. And I’m a Corretti. We were born competitive.’ As he talked, Taylor felt herself relax and decided she was just tired. Everyone had strange thoughts when they were tired, didn’t they?

‘But you’re not just Corretti, are you? You’re Marco Sparacino’s grandson.’

‘Have you been looking me up?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Non importa. I looked you up too.’

‘I’m boring, but your grandfather was a fashion legend. Right up there with Chanel and Dior. I read his autobiography, A Life in Colour. It was fascinating. What was it like growing up with him?’

‘It was hell. He used to criticise what we were wearing. It drove my mother insane. No matter how she dressed, he used to tell her what she should be doing differently. It made her deeply insecure and she grew up thinking every problem could be solved if you were wearing the right thing.’ There was an edge to his voice that made her want to delve deeper but it wasn’t the right time or the right place, with people pressing in on them from all sides.

‘I’ve seen photos of your mother. She’s always so elegant.’

Luca’s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. ‘Appearance was—still is—important to her.’

‘The daughter of Marco Sparacino—how could it not be? So how did you handle him? I can’t imagine you did what you were told.’

‘I got so fed up with my grandfather telling me I was wearing the wrong thing that I once turned up to a lunch stark naked.’ Luca drained his glass. ‘When he bawled me out I told him there was no point in getting dressed because he always told me to get changed anyway. He never criticised me after that.’

Taylor laughed. ‘I can imagine you saying that. How old were you?’

‘Nine, I think. I don’t remember. All I remember was learning that pleasing people is a thankless task and you’re much better off pleasing yourself.’

‘But you made him proud. You’ve turned Corretti into something that people associate with luxury and elegance.’

‘When I took over, the focus was on couture. I persuaded them to take a more integrated business model. We expanded into ready-to-wear and accessories and then we launched Corretti Home. Furniture, lighting, bed linen…’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘You can date in your Corretti dress and then go home and have sex on your luxurious Corretti sofa wrapped up in Corretti sheets.’

‘Is that your tag line? Corretti—Bedlinen for Better Sex?’

‘Not officially but I think it’s possibly an improvement on the one we picked for the campaign. Thank you, by the way—’ his tone was casual ‘—you were brilliant tonight. I haven’t had a chance to ask how it went today on set. Did Rafaele behave himself?’

‘It went well.’ She chose not to divulge just how awful the day had been but Luca’s gaze was steady on her face and she had a feeling he knew.

‘If he steps out of line, tell me.’

‘He’s my problem.’

‘You’re my fiancée.’

Her stomach curled and knotted. And that, she thought, was turning out to be more complicated than she’d ever imagined.

A week later, exhausted after days of filming with Rafaele and sleepless nights in Luca’s bedroom, Taylor slid a pair of dark glasses onto her nose, took a deep breath and left her trailer. Blinded by a storm of camera flashes she struggled to keep the smile in place and it came as a relief to see the red blaze of Luca’s Ferrari. He was leaning against the bonnet, talking into his phone.

‘No, I haven’t heard from my brother. No, I don’t have any comment on his behaviour,’ he drawled, grabbing Taylor’s hand and hauling her against him. ‘I’m the last person to comment on anyone’s behaviour… . I don’t have a comment on my own either because frankly it’s none of your business.’ He hung up and pulled her into him. ‘Cristo, you’re sexy. How was your day?’

‘Exhausting. I filmed the scene where my husband appears from the dead and discovers I’m carrying his best friend’s baby.’ And she’d worked harder than she’d ever worked in order to make sure no criticism could be levelled at her but still the director had managed to make her feel inferior with his constant sniping. He’d made her redo each scene repeatedly even though she knew it had been perfect the first time. He’d wanted her to lose her temper and she’d been determined to hang on to control even if it killed her.

‘What you need is to chill or, better still, get hot and naked with someone and that someone is me.’

She found herself looking into sultry, sexy eyes fringed with impossibly thick, dark lashes and wishing she could do just that. And then she found herself wishing she could turn off her senses because she didn’t want to feel this way.

Spending so much time in his company was creating a level of tension she hadn’t thought possible. He was supposed to be a solution to a problem, instead of which he was becoming the problem.

Her instinctive response was to pull back but she was expected to play her part so when he flattened his hand against her back and drew her against him, she lifted her mouth to his. She’d intended it to be a brief kiss but his hands came up to her face and he kissed her slowly and hungrily. And because he was so good at this, because he somehow knew everything there was to know about exactly the right way to kiss her, she didn’t even try to fight it.

Seduced by the heat of his mouth and the skill of his kiss, Taylor felt will power drain from her like rain water down the gutter. If it had been up to her she never would have stopped. Who would choose to end something so perfect? And in the end he was the one who slowly lifted his head and broke the connection.

Dizzy with it, Taylor looked up at him, expecting to see mockery, but he wasn’t laughing.

And she wasn’t laughing either.

‘Let’s get out of here.’ It was the most serious she’d ever heard him and suddenly she was relieved she’d thought about this earlier before he’d fused her brain with the skill of his mouth.

‘I’ve already planned tonight. I have a surprise for you—tickets for the opera in Palermo.’ The idea had come to her halfway through the day when she’d been desperate to do something that allowed them to be ‘seen’ together, but still gave her privacy from the public. What better place than a dark box high above the auditorium? And it had the added benefit that she’d be saved from intimate conversation.

She had no idea if he even liked opera and no opportunity to ask him with the journalists surrounding them. One of them pushed against her in an attempt to elbow the competition out of the way and Taylor would have stumbled but a strong arm came round her waist. Holding her safe in the protective circle of his arm, Luca snapped something in Italian that Taylor didn’t understand. Whatever it was that he said turned the man several shades paler and he backed away, giving them space, hands raised in a gesture of apology.

‘Get in the car, dolcezza.’ Luca was calm and in control. ‘I’ll get you out of here.’

Grateful to him, Taylor slid into the Ferrari thinking how much easier it was to handle the press when he was with her. He wore the Corretti power as lightly and elegantly as his immaculate suits but there was strength and steel under the casual sophistication and she knew the press found him intimidating. They treated him with a degree of caution they never afforded to her.

‘Thank you.’

He didn’t have to ask what she was thanking him for. ‘I’m starting to understand why you’re so scared of the press. They never leave you alone.’ He was frowning as he weaved through the heavy Palermo traffic. ‘Has it always been like that?’

‘Yes. Right from the beginning. I had a mother who knew how to give them exactly what they wanted. She was the master at drawing media attention and using it.’

‘Just what you want when you’re an awkward adolescent.’

‘It’s got worse since then. I’ve come to accept I’ll never shake them off. My dream is to go out and for no one to recognise me. Once, just once, I’d love to live life like a normal person, not having to worry about who is pointing a camera and how what I do will be interpreted. Can you imagine that?’ She gave a short, desperate laugh because she knew it was never going to happen.

‘What would you do? If you could go out and not be recognised—what would you do?’

‘I don’t know. Just go to a concert or something and stand in the crowd. Blend in. But seeing as that isn’t going to happen, I choose to do things that give me some privacy. Do you even like opera? It seemed like a good idea but now I’m not sure.’

‘I’m Sicilian. I love opera.’

She relaxed slightly. Even the most persistent observer was unlikely to interrupt the opera to ask them questions about their relationship, and the bonus was that they wouldn’t be able to talk. He wouldn’t be able to make some sharp comment that showed how easily he saw through to the person she really was.

He already knew far too much about her.

An evening at the opera should be perfect.

Except that it didn’t turn out that way.

She’d thought that the dark would protect them from prying eyes, but it turned out she was wrong about that too.

Seated close together in the privacy of a box, his leg brushed against hers and she immediately ceased to focus on anything that was happening on the stage. She was aware of heads turning towards them in the darkness and felt a brief flicker of frustration that even here, in the protected atmosphere of the opera theatre, they couldn’t escape the scrutiny of the public.

But that irritation gave way to deeper, darker concerns. Like the fact that although their engagement might be fake there was nothing fake about the sexual tension simmering between them. It was raw, hot and real and becoming harder to ignore with each burning look they exchanged. And the intensity of the feeling confused her. He was insanely handsome, of course, but she’d met enough handsome men during the course of her career to be immune to the combination of perfectly proportioned features and a powerful physique. No, the connection came from something deeper. Something she saw beneath the surface layers of eye-catching masculinity. And whatever it was that drew her, drew her now as they sat close together, thigh pressed against thigh in the dark intimacy of the opera house.

As drama unfolded on the stage beneath them, so drama unfolded in the box.

She was aware of every beat of her heart. Aware of him and when Luca’s hand covered hers she knew she ought to pull hers way but she didn’t. Couldn’t. So instead of ending it there she laced Her fingers with his and he drew her hand onto his thigh. It was a subtle, sensual dance between man and woman. Her gaze was fixed on the stage but she saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing except the strength of his fingers on hers and the hard muscle of his thigh under her palm. Heat traced her skin, desire knotted low in her pelvis and she opened her eyes because closing them left the world to her imagination and that was a dangerous place to be right now.

She’d promised herself no more relationships. She’d trained herself to ignore that wild, passionate part of herself that had got her into trouble in the past. She’d decided there would be no more unguarded moments where she trusted a man only to wake up the next morning and discover the personal had become public.

But this—this was more temptation than she knew how to deal with.

She’d chosen to wear a floor-length dress but that proved to be no barrier because somehow his hand was on her bare thigh, his long skilled fingers tantalisingly close to that part of her. She clamped her thighs together but the movement didn’t dislodge his hand and she felt his fingers stroke inside her panties and her face burned in the darkness because she knew he’d find her already aroused. She turned her head and was scorched by the dark heat in his eyes. Her breathing was shallow and so was his and he held her gaze as his fingers slid deeper, exploring her with erotic precision and unapologetic intimacy until not moving took all her willpower. But she couldn’t move or make a sound because that would have risked drawing the attention of the audience away from the performance onstage and so she was forced to stay totally still and silent. And he took ruthless advantage, relentless in his delivery of pleasure as he explored the slick heat of her, creating sensation so wickedly good she was forced to clamp her jaws closed to hold back the sound.

She wanted him to stop. She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t know what she wanted but he knew and he took her there, with nothing but his fingers and the intensity of his hot, dark gaze that held hers all the way through the pulsing shock waves of her climax.

On stage the soprano was singing her way to the grave but here, in the shaded darkness of the box, it was all about life and passion.

Shattered and trembling, Taylor stared at him. He leaned in, bringing his mouth close to hers. His kiss was slow, lingering, deliberate. Personal. Less of an assault and more a promise and she realised there was no way this was over. His hand was still between her legs. Her hand was in his lap and he was painfully aroused, rock hard under her warm palm.

Time passed. She had no idea how much time until applause washed around her. For a terrible moment she thought they were clapping for her and then realised that the singing had stopped. The opera had finished. And she was expected to stand up and act as if nothing had happened.

It was Luca who gently eased away from her and smoothed her dress before the lights came up and she was grateful for the dress because it concealed how much her legs were shaking. She wasn’t sure she was capable of walking, but he took her arm calmly and somehow she managed to walk out of the box, through the crowd, as if the passion had all been on the stage and not between the two of them.

There were stares, of course, but she was used to that.

What she wasn’t used to was feeling so out of control.

Taylor kept her head down as they walked, ignoring the demands of the press to know when they were getting married, afraid to look at him because she had no idea what was in her eyes.

Flashbulbs blinded her as Luca accelerated away in the Ferrari and she was so relieved by the burst of speed that left everyone else far behind she didn’t even snipe at him.

She didn’t speak.

He didn’t speak.

But the tension throbbed between them like a living force, thickening the air until it was almost impossible to breathe, the atmosphere sexually charged and the heat almost unbearable.

Their restraint lasted until they closed the bedroom door and then they both moved. Together. At the same time, mouths fused, hands desperate, tearing at fabric, sliding over skin, greedy for each other and determined to feed the hunger.

His jacket hit the floor.

Her dress slithered after it.

Her hands ripped at his shirt, exposing wide shoulders and hard male muscle, and she felt that muscle flex as he lifted her easily and flattened her against the wall. her eyes closed. His mouth was hot on her neck and on the exposed curve of her breasts. He dragged down the lace of her bra and fastened his mouth over her nipple, the skilled flick of his tongue dragging a gasp from her. It was a relief to be able to let the sound escape.

She wound her leg around his hips and felt him shift slightly as he loosened his belt. Desperate, he fumbled for something and then his trousers hit the floor with the rest of their clothes and she felt the silken hardness of him against her thigh.

‘Ti voglio tanto—I want you.’ Switching between languages, Luca stumbled over the words, his hand behind her neck as he brought his mouth down on hers and captured her lips in a raw, explicit kiss that sent shock waves of sensation rocketing through her body.

‘Me too—me too…’ She was barely coherent as she closed her hand round the thick length of him, heard him groan and say something in Italian she didn’t understand and then his hands were under her bottom and he was lifting her, supporting her weight with his arms as he pressed her back against the wall and entered her with a single hard thrust that joined them completely. The feel of him deep inside her was so shockingly good she cried out. No silence for her this time as the hot, hard heat of him consumed her and no silence from him either as he released a raw, primitive groan that originated somewhere deep in his throat.

She was already so wet from the erotic torment of their silent foreplay at the opera her body welcomed his, clamping round the silken strength of him, testing his control. She knew a brief moment of relief that he’d used a condom and then sanity left her and there was only the madness they created together.

‘Cristo—’ His voice unsteady, he thrust deeper even though deeper didn’t seem possible because he was already part of her and they moved together, fast, hard, desperate as they let the feelings burn through them. Neither of them tried to stop it. Neither of them pretended this wasn’t what they wanted, because both knew it was. It was what they’d wanted from that first moment in the maze. It was wild, but they didn’t care. It was crazy, but they didn’t care about that either. They cared about nothing except the moment and when the moment came, when he drove her to another climax, she pulled him over with her, her body tightening around his, sharing each pulse, each thrust, each explosion of sensation as they tumbled together over the edge and into ecstasy.