Читать книгу Secret Heirs Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Коллектив авторов - Страница 66

‘THIS?’ DARCY HELD up a glimmering black sheath, then immediately waved a flouncy turquoise dress in front of it. ‘Or this?’

‘The black,’ Renzo said, flicking her a swift glance before continuing to button up his shirt.

Her skin now tanned a delicate shade of gold, Darcy slithered into the black dress, aware that Renzo was watching her reflection in the glass in the way a hungry dog might look at a butcher, but she didn’t care. She found herself wishing she had the ability to freeze time and that the weekend wasn’t drawing to a close because it had been the best few days of her life.

They’d explored his vast estate, scrambling up hilly roads to be rewarded with spectacular views of blue-green mountains and the terracotta smudge of tiny villages. Her hiking boots had come in useful after all! He’d taken her to a beautiful village called Panicale, where they’d drunk coffee in the cobbled square with church bells chiming in stereophonic all around them. And even though Renzo had assured her that May temperatures were too cold for swimming, Darcy wasn’t having any of it. She’d never been anywhere with a private pool before—let alone a pool as vast and inviting as the one at Vallombrosa.

Initially a little shy about appearing in her tiny bikini, she’d been quickly reassured by the darkening response in his eyes—though she’d been surprised when he’d changed his mind and decided to join her in the pool after all. And Renzo in sleek black swim shorts, olive skin gleaming as he shook water from his hair, was a vision which made her heart race. She could have spent all afternoon watching his powerful body ploughing through the silky water. But he’d brought her lazy swim to a swift conclusion with some explicit suggestions whispered in her ear and they had returned to his bedroom for sex which had felt even more incredible than usual.

Was it because her senses had been heightened by fresh air and sunshine that everything felt so amazing? Or because Renzo had seemed unusually accessible in this peaceful place which seemed a world away from the hustle and bustle of her normal life? Darcy kept reminding herself that the reasons why were irrelevant. Because this was only temporary. A last trip before she moved to Norfolk—which was probably the only reason he had invited her to join him. And tonight was their final dinner, when they were being joined by Renzo’s lawyer, who was buying the Sabatini estate.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

‘Will you zip me up?’

‘Certo.’

‘So tell me again,’ she said, feeling his fingers brushing against her bare skin as he slid the zip of the close-fitting dress all the way up. ‘The lawyer’s name is Cristiano Branzi and his girlfriend is Nicoletta—’

‘Ramelli.’ There was a moment of hesitation and his eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘And—just so you know—she and I used to have a thing a few years back.’

In the process of hooking in a dangly earring, Darcy’s fingers stilled. ‘A thing?’

‘You really are going to have to stop looking so shocked, cara. I’m thirty-five years old and in Rome, as in all cities, social circles are smaller than you might imagine. She and I were lovers for a few months, that’s all.’

That’s all. Darcy’s practised smile didn’t waver. Just like her. Great sex for a few months and then goodbye—was that his usual pattern? Had Nicoletta been rewarded with a trip abroad just before the affair ended? But as she followed Renzo downstairs she was determined not to spoil their last evening and took the champagne Stefania offered, hoping she displayed more confidence than she felt as she rose to greet their guests.

Cristiano was a powerfully built man with piercing blue eyes and Darcy thought Nicoletta the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. The Italian woman’s sleek dark hair was swept up into a sophisticated chignon and she wore a dress which was obviously designer made. Real diamond studs glittered at her ears, echoing the smaller diamonds which sparkled in a watch which was slightly too loose for her narrow wrist. Darcy watched as she presented each smooth cheek in turn to be kissed by Renzo, wondering why she hadn’t worn the turquoise dress after all. Why hadn’t she realised that of course the Italian woman would also wear black, leaving the two of them wide open for comparison? How cheap her own glimmering gown must seem in comparison—and how wild her untameable red curls as they spilled down over her shoulders towards breasts which were much too large by fashionable standards.

‘So…’ Nicoletta smiled as they sat down to prosciutto and slivers of iced melon at a candlelit table decorated with roses. ‘This is your first time in Italy, Darcy?’

‘It is,’ answered Darcy, with a smile.

‘But not your last, I hope?’

Darcy looked across the table at Renzo, thinking it might bring the mood down if she suddenly announced that they were in the process of splitting up.

‘Darcy isn’t much of a traveller,’ he said smoothly.

‘Oh?’

Something made her say it. Was it bravado or stupidity? Yet surely she wasn’t ashamed of the person she really was. Not unless she honestly thought she could compete with these glossy people, with their Tuscan estates and diamond wristwatches which probably cost as much as a small car.

‘To be honest, I don’t really have a lot of money to go travelling.’ She slanted Nicoletta a rueful smile. ‘I’m a waitress.’

‘A waitress?’ Nicoletta’s silver fork was returned to her plate with a clatter, the dainty morsel she’d speared remaining untouched. ‘That is a very unusual job.’ There was a slightly perplexed pause. ‘So how did you and Renzo actually meet?’

Darcy registered the faint astonishment on Nicoletta’s face, but what had she expected? And now she had dropped Renzo in it. He was probably going to bluster out some story about how he’d bumped into her in a bookshop or been introduced at a party by a friend of a friend. Except he’d told her very specifically that he didn’t like lies, hadn’t he?

‘I met Darcy when she was working in a nightclub in London,’ Renzo said. ‘I walked in with some visiting colleagues and saw her serving cocktails to the people on the next table. She turned round and looked at me and that was it. I was completely blown away.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ murmured Cristiano. ‘I have never seen hair as bright as yours before, Darcy. I believe this is what they call the show-stopping look?’

The compliment was unexpected and Darcy met Renzo’s eyes, expecting to find mockery or anger in them but there was none. On the contrary, he looked as if he was enjoying the praise being directed at her and suddenly she wanted to turn and run from the room. Or tell him not to look at her that way because it was making her fantasise about a life which could never be hers.

She cleared her throat, trying to remember back to when she’d worked in that very hip restaurant which had been frequented by the media crowd. To remember how those high-profile people used to talk to each other when she arrived to offer them a bread roll, which they inevitably refused. They used to play everything down, didn’t they? To act as if nothing really mattered.

‘Oh, that’s quite enough about me,’ she said lightly. ‘I’d much rather talk about Tuscany.’

‘You like it here?’ questioned Nicoletta. ‘At Vallombrosa?’

‘Who could fail to like it?’ questioned Darcy simply. ‘There can’t be anywhere in the world as beautiful as this. The gardens are so lovely and the view is to die for.’ She smiled as she reached for a piece of bread. ‘If I had the money I’d snap it up in a shot. You’re a very lucky man, Cristiano.’

‘I’m very aware of that.’ Cristiano’s blue eyes crinkled. ‘Nobody can quite believe that Renzo has put it on the market at last, after years of everyone offering him vast amounts of money to sell it. And he won’t say what has suddenly changed his mind.’

But Darcy knew why. She’d seen the pain in his eyes when he’d talked about his parents’ divorce and suspected his stepmother’s death had made him want to let all that painful past go. He hadn’t said that much but it surprised her that he’d confided in her at all. For a little while it had made her feel special—more than just his ‘friend with benefits.’ But that was fantasy, too. It was easy to share your secrets with someone you knew was planning to leave you.

Except for her, of course. She was one of those people whose secrets were just too dark to tell.

Course after course of delicious food was served—stuffed courgette flowers, ultra-fine pasta with softshell crab and a rich dessert of cherries and cream—all accompanied by fine wines from Renzo’s cellar. Nicoletta skilfully fired a series of questions at her, some of which Darcy carefully avoided answering but fortunately Nicoletta enjoyed talking about herself much more. She waxed lyrical about her privileged upbringing in Parioli in Rome, her school in Switzerland and her fluency in four languages. It transpired that she had several dress shops in Rome, none of which she worked in herself.

‘You should come visit, Darcy. Get Renzo to buy you something pretty.’

Darcy wondered if that was Nicoletta’s way of subtly pointing out that the cheapness of her clothes hadn’t gone unnoticed, but if it was, she didn’t care. All she could think about right then was being alone with Renzo again as she tried not to focus on time slipping away from them. She returned to their room while he waved their guests goodbye and was naked in bed waiting for him when at last he came in and shut the door behind him.

‘You were very good during dinner,’ he said, unbuckling the belt of his trousers.

‘Good? In what way?’

‘A bewitching combination. A little defiant about your lowly job,’ he observed as he stepped out of his boxer shorts. ‘And there’s no need to look at me that way, Darcy, because it’s true. But your heartfelt praise about the property pleased Cristiano very much, though he’s always been a sucker for a pretty girl. He’s going to keep Gisella, Pasquale and Stefania on, by the way. He told me just before they left for Rome.’

‘So all’s well that ends well?’ she questioned brightly.

‘Who said anything about it ending?’ he murmured, climbing into bed and pulling her into his arms so that she could feel the hard rod of his arousal pushing against her. ‘I thought the night was only just beginning.’

They barely slept a wink. It was as if Renzo was determined to leave her with lasting memories of just what an amazing lover he was as he brought her to climax over and over again. As dawn coated the dark room with a pale daffodil light, Darcy found herself enjoying the erotic spectacle of Renzo’s dark head between her thighs, gasping as his tongue cleaved over her exquisitely aroused flesh, until she quivered helplessly around him.

She was slow getting ready the next morning and when she walked into the dining room, Renzo glanced up from his newspaper.

‘I need to leave for the airport soon,’ she said.

‘No, you don’t. We’ll fly back together on my jet,’ he said, pouring her a cup of coffee.

Darcy sat down and reached for a sugar cube. Start as you mean to go on. And remember that your future does not contain billionaire property tycoons with an endless supply of private transport.

‘Honestly, there’s no need,’ she said. ‘I have a return ticket and I’m perfectly happy to go back on FlyCheap.’

The look he gave her was a mixture of wry, indulgent—but ultimately uncompromising. ‘I’m not sending you back on a budget airline, Darcy. You’re coming on my jet, with me.’

And if Darcy had thought that travelling in a chauffeur-driven car was the height of luxury, then flying in Renzo’s private plane took luxury onto a whole new level. She saw the unmistakable looks of surprise being directed at her by two stewardesses as they were whisked through passport control at Florence airport. Were they thinking she didn’t look like Renzo’s usual type, with her cheap jewellery, her bouncing bosom and the fact that she was clearly out of her comfort zone?

But Darcy didn’t care about that either. She was just going to revel in her last few hours with her lover and as soon as he’d dismissed the flight crew she unzipped his jeans. As she pulled down his silk boxers she realised this was the last time she would ever slide her lips over his rocky length and hear his helpless groan as he jerked inside her mouth. The last time he would ever give that low, growling moan as he clamped his hands possessively around her head to anchor her lips to the most sensitive part of his anatomy. Afterwards, he made love to her so slowly that she felt as if she would never come down to earth properly.

But all too soon the flight was over and they touched down in England where his car was waiting. Darcy hesitated as the driver held open the door for her.

‘Could you drop me off at the Tube on the way?’

Renzo frowned, exasperation flattening his lips. ‘Darcy, what is this? I’m not dropping you anywhere except home.’

‘No. You don’t have to do that.’

‘I know I don’t.’ He paused before giving a flicker of a smile. ‘You can even invite me in for coffee if you like.’

‘Coffee?’

‘There you go. You’re sounding shocked again.’ He shook his head. ‘Isn’t that what normally happens when a man takes a woman home after the kind of weekend we’ve just had? I’ve never even seen where you live.’

‘I know you haven’t. But you’re not interested in my life. You’ve always made that perfectly clear.’

‘Maybe I’m interested now,’ he said stubbornly.

And now was too late, she thought. Why hadn’t he done this at the beginning, when it might have meant something? He was behaving with all the predictability of a powerful man who had everything he wanted—his curiosity suddenly aroused by the one thing which was being denied him.

‘It’s small and cramped and all I can afford, which is why I’m moving to Norfolk,’ she said defensively. ‘It’s about as far removed from where you live as it’s possible to be and you’ll hate it.’

‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Unless you’re ashamed of it, of course.’

Furiously, she glared at him. ‘I’m not ashamed of it.’

‘Well, then.’ He shrugged. ‘What’s the problem?’

But Darcy’s fingers were trembling as she unlocked her front door because she’d never invited anyone into this little sanctuary of hers. When you’d shared rooms and space for all of your life—when you’d struggled hard to find some privacy—then something which was completely your own became especially precious. ‘Come in, then,’ she said ungraciously.

Renzo stepped into the room and the first thing he noticed was that the living, dining and kitchen area were all crammed into the same space. And…his eyes narrowed…was that a narrow bed in the corner?

The second thing he noticed was how clean and unbelievably tidy it was—and the minimalist architect in him applauded her total lack of clutter. There were no family photos or knick-knacks. The only embellishment he could see was a cactus in a chrome pot on the window sill and an art deco mirror, which reflected some much-needed extra light into the room. And books. Lots of books. Whole lines of them, neatly arranged in alphabetical order.

He turned to look at her. She had been careful about sitting in the Tuscan sun but, even so, her fair skin had acquired a faint glow. She looked much healthier than she’d done when she’d arrived at Vallombrosa, that was for sure. In fact, she looked so pretty in the yellow dress with blue flowers which she had stubbornly insisted on laundering herself, that he felt his heart miss a beat. And suddenly Renzo knew he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet. He thought about the way she’d been in his arms last night. The way they’d taken their coffee out onto the terrace at Vallombrosa to stare at the moon, and he’d known a moment of unexpected peace. Why end something before it fizzled out all of its own accord, especially when it still had the potential to give him so much pleasure?

He glanced over towards her neat little kitchenette. ‘So… Aren’t you going to offer me coffee?’

‘I’ve only got instant, I’m afraid.’

He did his best to repress a shudder. ‘Just some water, then.’

He watched as she poured him a glass of tap water—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk that—and added an ice cube. But when she put the drink down on the table, he didn’t touch it. Instead, he fixed her with a steady gaze.

‘I’ve had a good weekend,’ he said slowly.

‘Me, too. Actually, it was more than good.’ She gave him a quick smile. ‘Thank you.’

There was a pause. ‘Look, this move to Norfolk seems a little…hasty. Why don’t you stay in London a bit longer?’

‘I told you why—and now you’ve seen for yourself my reasons. I want to start living differently.’

‘I can understand that. But what if I told you I had an apartment you could use—somewhere much bigger and more comfortable than this? What then?’

‘What, just like that? Let me guess.’ Her emerald gaze bored into him. ‘Even if you don’t have one available, you’ll magically “find” an apartment for me? Browse through your extensive property portfolio or have one of your staff discreetly rent somewhere? Thanks, but no, thanks. I’m not interested, Renzo. I have no desire to be a “kept woman” and fulfilling the stereotype of being a rich man’s mistress, even if that’s the way I’m currently heading.’

Her stubbornness infuriated him but it also produced another spark of admiration. How could a woman with so little be so proud and spirited and turn down an offer anyone else in her position would have leapt at? Renzo picked up the iced water and sipped it before walking over to the window and looking out at a red-brick wall. He wondered what it must be like to wake up to this view every morning, before putting on some drab uniform to spend the rest of the day carrying trays of food and drink.

He turned round. ‘What if I asked you to delay going to Norfolk?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘And why would you do that?’

‘Oh, come on, Darcy,’ he said softly. ‘You may have been an innocent when I bedded you, but you’re not so innocent now. I have taught you a great deal—’

‘Perhaps there’s some kind of certificate I could nominate you for, if it’s praise you’re after?’

He gave a low laugh, turned on by an insolence he encountered from nobody else. He could see the wariness on her face as he took a step towards her, but he could also see the darkening of her eyes and the sudden stiffness of her body, as if she was using every bit of willpower not to give into what she really wanted. And Renzo knew enough about women to realise that this wasn’t over. Not yet.

‘It’s not praise I want,’ he said softly. ‘It’s you. I’m not ready to let you go.’ He reached out to smooth down her riotous curls and felt the kick of lust as he pulled her into his arms. ‘What if I told you that I liked the way you were with Cristiano and Nicoletta? That I find you charming in company as well as exquisite in bed and that maybe I’d like to take you out a little more. Why shouldn’t we go to the theatre, or a party or two? Perhaps I’ve been a little selfish keeping you locked away and now I want to show you off to the world.’

‘You make it sound as if I’ve passed some sort of hidden test!’ she said indignantly.

‘Maybe you have,’ came his simple reply.

Darcy was torn, because his words were dangerous. She didn’t want him showing her off to the world. What if someone remembered her? Someone who knew who she really was? And yet Renzo was only echoing the things she’d been thinking. Things she’d been trying and failing to deny—that she wasn’t yet ready to walk away either.

‘What if I gave you a key to my apartment?’ His voice broke into her thoughts.

‘A key?’ she echoed.

‘Why not? And—just so you know—I don’t hand out keys every day of the week. Very few people are given access to my home because I value my privacy very highly.’

‘So why me? To what do I owe this huge honour?’

‘Because you’ve never asked me for anything,’ he said quietly. ‘And nobody’s ever done that before.’

Darcy tried telling herself it was just another example of a powerful man being intrigued by the unfamiliar. But surely it was more than that. Wasn’t the giving of a key—no matter how temporary—a sign that he trusted her? And wasn’t trust the most precarious yet most precious thing in the world, especially considering Renzo’s lack of it where women were concerned?

She licked her lips, tempted beyond reason, but really—when she stopped to think about it—what was holding her back? She’d escaped her northern life and left that dark world behind as she’d carved out a new identity for herself. She’d been completely underqualified and badly educated but night classes had helped make up for her patchy schooling—and her sunny disposition meant she’d been able to find waitressing work whenever she had put her mind to it. She wasn’t quite sure where she wanted to be but she knew she was on her way. And who would possibly remember her after all this time? She’d left Manchester for London when she was sixteen and that was a long time ago. Didn’t she deserve a little fun while she had the chance?

He was watching her closely and Darcy was savvy enough to realise her hesitation was turning him on. Yet she wasn’t playing games with him. Her indecision was genuine. She really was trying to give him up, only it wasn’t as easy as she’d imagined. She was beginning to suspect that Renzo Sabatini was becoming an addiction and that should have set off every alarm bell in her body because it didn’t matter if it was drink or drugs or food—or in this case a man—addictions were dangerous. She knew that. Her personal history had taught her that in the bleakest way possible.

But now he was pulling her against him and she could feel all that hard promise shimmering beneath the surface of his muscular body. Enveloped by his arms, she found herself wanting to sink further into his powerful embrace, wanting to hold on to this brief sense of comfort and safety.

‘Say yes, Darcy,’ he urged softly, his breath warm against her lips. ‘Take my key and be my lover for a little while longer.’

His hand was on her breast and her knees were starting to buckle and Darcy knew then that she wasn’t going to resist him anytime soon.

‘Okay,’ she said, closing her eyes as he began to ruck up her dress. ‘I’ll stay for a bit longer.’