The Italian’s Bride On Paper by Kim Lawrence

CHAPTER SIX

THEKNOCKON the door pulled Maya away from the mirror. Did people actually dress for dinner outside movies and royal palaces? Where did castles fit into the scheme of things? Maya did have some experience of palaces and, though her sister had instigated a more casual approach since she’d taken up residence, when it came to family dinners at least, her life still involved a number of tiara occasions.

Luckily here Maya was not the hostess, family or a guest, in any proper sense of the word, so it was just as well she didn’t possess a tiara or even a formal dress, at least not one she’d packed. She was normally a meticulous minimal packer and had not adapted well to the ‘throw everything into a case in five minutes flat’ approach.

But you worked with what you had, and her choice tonight had been between a good pair of jeans—aubergine velvet—an orange minidress she had worn once for a christening and a mid-length silk slip dress in a jewel-bright turquoise that could be dressed up or down.

The lack of jewellery to accessorise equated with dress-down, but the spiky-heeled ankle boots in a leopard print, which had involved the death of no leopards or, for that matter, any animals whatsoever, were definitely dress-up. They also made her appear quite tall, which although an illusion still felt quite nice.

She had worried when she’d first paraded in front of the massive ormolu framed mirror. True, the high neck of her dress revealed her collarbones, but nothing else. It was only when she turned around that you got the wow factor or, depending on your viewpoint, the too much factor. The back of the dress dipped dramatically almost to her waist and, while she normally didn’t flinch from being slightly in your face clothes-wise, tonight she had to admit to having some doubts.

Twisting around to look at her rear view, she frowned, then caught herself thinking, What am I doing?

Self-doubt was something she had left far behind her, and it had not been easy to do. She was no longer that person, the one who had felt as if she were fading into the background. It was no figure of speech—there had a point in her adolescence when she had literally felt almost invisible, thanks to evil Edward. Rediscovering her love of colour had been a visible reflection of how she felt inside—and how well she’d recovered from the abuse he’d heaped on her.

But there was bold and then there was all that flesh... She solved this problem by leaving her hair loose so her exposed shoulder blades and all but the lowest section of the small of her back, just before the dip to her waist, were concealed beneath a curtain of curls ruthlessly tamed—with her hair there was no other way—by the brilliant product she had dragged through it with her fingers.

She took a deep breath, and pasted on a smile. She could do this, she’d just think of it as having a solo takeaway in front of the telly, except of course it wasn’t either. It was the solo thing that bothered her most, which was insane. This categorically wasn’t a dinner date, or for that matter any sort of date at all!

The woman on the other side of the door was young, more a girl, really, and was wearing the sort of informal uniform adopted by most staff that involved a white shirt and dark trousers.

Maya struggled to keep her smile in place as the girl’s eyes widened in shock, doing a face-to-floor-and-back-again sweep. Her response was not quite a jaw-drop, but it came very close.

‘Hello,’ Maya said.

At the gentle prompt she flushed and rushed out, ‘I am Rosa and I am here to sit with the little one.’

‘Of course.’ Maya stood back to allow the girl to enter the room. ‘He’s asleep.’ She paused; it seemed ironic, considering the number of times she had been asked for ID to confirm her age, but this girl did look very young. ‘Are you sure...?’

Rosa seemed to correctly interpret the hesitation to hand over the care of the baby that Maya didn’t totally understand herself.

‘After school I worked in a pre-school nursery for a year. I begin my pre-nurse training at the university next month and I’m the eldest of seven.’

Which makes her much better qualified than me to take care of a baby, Maya mused wryly.

‘Wow, that’s, well... I’ve made a few notes for you if he wakes up.’ She handed over the sheets she had jotted down some notes on.

‘Thank you. Would you like me perhaps to get someone to show you down to the dining room...?’

It was an offer that Maya would have definitely appreciated had she not decided during the last ten seconds not to go down to the dining room at all.

‘Actually, no, would it be possible for me to have a sandwich here?’

The girl looked confused.

‘I’m feeling just a little tired and not so very hungry after all, so a sandwich in my room...that would be just fine.’

The girl tipped her head in compliance, very obviously struggling to hide the fact that she thought Maya was insane as she backed out of the room.

When the door closed, some of the tension left Maya’s shoulders. She was, she told herself, totally comfortable with her choice.

It was important for her to believe it was a decision that had nothing to do with backing away from a challenge. It had been one of the things she had promised herself that she would never do once she had rebuilt her confidence one painful brick at a time after her stepfather had destroyed it with his insidious campaign—a person got told they were worth nothing on a daily basis and eventually they began to believe it.

She told herself that she had recovered fully from what had happened, but the questions Samuele had asked about her business hopes had shaken loose some uncomfortable possibilities she had been unconsciously avoiding. She did not regret refusing Beatrice and Dante’s offers of assistance, but there were alternatives she could have taken. There were business loans available for new start-ups; she had done all the research into them, but at the last minute she had always backed away, telling herself that she didn’t want to start out weighed down with debt. But she could see now the truth was that she was scared. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could still hear her stepfather telling her she was hopeless, useless.

It wasn’t about pride or practicality; she was just scared, even if she hid it well.

And tonight? The strong reluctance to leave Mattio was totally genuine, and it had taken her by surprise, but wasn’t there an element of her using it as an excuse not to spend the next couple of hours with Samuele?

In her defence, even if there was, she couldn’t really be blamed; being around him was very exhausting because she couldn’t lower her guard. She wasn’t quite sure what she was guarding against, but she knew it was essential that she do so.

There were times when she decided to be brave and this wasn’t one of them. Despite being more relaxed now she had made a decision—admittedly her jaw was still aching, but her teeth had unclenched—the static buzz of panic in her head had not gone away but it was less deafening.

Samuele would probably be relieved by her no-show. If he hadn’t actually said that small talk wasn’t really his thing, she felt it was a safe assumption to make, and she wasn’t here to socialise anyway so starting as she meant to go on seemed a logical choice. In retrospect the entire ‘what am I going to wear?’, ‘do I look good in this?’, butterflies-in-the-stomach fizz of mingled excitement and anxiety was rather embarrassing, more suited to a date than what this was.

What was this?

She quickly gave up on finding a definition. It was far easier to say what it was not, and that was a date in any sense of the word.

She was just hoping that they were generous with the sandwiches because she had lied to Rosa—she was starving.

She wasn’t really sure how long she’d been standing there lost in thought, but when the polite knock on the door came she still hadn’t got around to kicking off her heels. Opening it wide ready to receive the tray—probably silver—she felt her smile fade and her hand drop to her side as she found herself facing not someone bearing a tray, but someone pushing a trolley, and another someone swiftly bringing up the rear.

‘Oh, that is...’ She gave a shrug, thinking it might not be a bad thing that there was wine when she spotted the cooler. She wasn’t really much of a drinker but something to take some of the tension out of her shoulders would be good. ‘Lovely,’ she tacked on, stepping back to let them enter. It was easier than arguing and she wasn’t about to send back good food when she was this hungry!

Hovering to helpfully close the door behind the waiters, who had their hands full, she found herself being pushed backwards as the door opened even wider to admit a tall figure. Her heart jolted.

Oh, dear, this wasn’t going as planned!

Samuele had chosen to dress down but in a ‘not as we know it’ way, in black jeans that clung to his narrow hips and a pale blue linen shirt. Only a strong sense of self-preservation stopped her giving a little whimper of appreciation. It was the artist in her, she told herself. The woman in her, countered the voice in her head.

Samuele paused, registering her presence—how could a man not?—but resisting the very strong impulse to turn and stare. He conversed casually with the two staff members, delaying the moment just to prove to himself that he could. He was attracted to her, absolutely, but nothing had essentially changed; he was in perfect control of himself.

Maya was playing catch-up. Caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, her brain had lagged behind. The door was still open and she caught herself actually considering in a half-hearted joking way if anyone would notice if she just slipped away.

Man up, Maya, she told herself sternly. You’re the one who always says face your fears—but her internal pep talk came to an abrupt halt when she realised she didn’t want to know what she was afraid of.

Her eyes went to where Samuele stood looking impossibly handsome. He was smiling in response to something one of the waiters was saying, responding a moment later with a comment that made them both laugh. The informality she had noted since they’d arrived continued to surprise her; she had assumed that he’d be a remote authoritarian employer who demanded deference.

But then he didn’t have anything to prove, did he? He had already their respect, so he didn’t have to demand deference, it was just there. Watching the exchange made her think of the times when her stepfather would get huffy when people didn’t use his full academic title.

She could remember squirming with embarrassment when he would speak over someone with a corrective Professor Edward Tyler.

In the time it took for her thoughts to slide through her head the small table beneath the window had been covered in a pristine white creaseless cloth, the finishing touches of crystal wine glasses and silver cutlery laid with geometric precision.

All impressive, but she barely noticed the crystal or silver; the thing that was registering with Maya was the fact they had laid two places. On one level she was aware that the light-headed fizz of excitement she was feeling at the thought of dining alone with Samuele in her suite was not an appropriate response.

She planted a hand against her throat, feeling the frantic pulse leap and twirl, and wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like, soothing herself with the reflection that even if it was it wasn’t fatal—at least she didn’t think so...

He turned, acknowledging her presence for the first time as the door closed behind his staff. ‘I said we’d serve ourselves.’ He offered the translation even though during her ridiculous panicking she had barely registered they were talking Italian.

‘This is all...’ she paused, clearing her throat as he reached for the bottle in the ice bucket. Popping the cork with a practised twist, he raised an interrogative brow and she hastily added faux-calmly, ‘Very kind of you, but it’s totally not... It isn’t necessary.’ She tried channelling a cool she was a million miles from feeling. ‘I would have been fine with a sandwich,’ she said, allowing her eyes to touch his but not making the mistake of maintaining eye contact.

‘What? And leave you all dressed up and nowhere to go?’

He smiled slowly, and his eyes, as they swept up her body from her toes to her head, left a tingling trail of heat across her skin. ‘You look lovely.’

She pulled in a tense breath and smiled nervously. ‘I feel a bit overdressed.’ That embarrassment she could shrug off; less easy was coping with the suffocating thud of her heartbeat, and the tingling sensation under her skin, as though a million butterflies were beating madly to get out.

Samuele was pretty sure he could have dealt with her overdressed problem in no time at all, but that would be playing with fire, so he closed down the visuals that went with the thought.

And you’re not playing with fire already?

He closed down the inner voice too and dragged out a chair for her. He watched her hesitate before moving forward gracefully on those crazy heels, her slim thighs pushing against the silky jewel-bright fabric with each stride, forcing his pulse rate even higher. She looked sleek, sexy and exotic with her dark hair streaming like a glossy cloud down her back, just allowing him a peek of her naked lower back. The painful effort of not allowing the desire he felt to show on his face sent a trickle of sweat down his back.

What the hell are you doing here, Sam?

If his life was a roadmap, he felt that right at this moment he was standing at a crossroads. There were two paths ahead. He could see them perfectly clearly: one led to a businesslike short-term arrangement involving looking after Mattio for a few weeks, the other led straight to the bedroom.

One involved the short-term pain of self-denial, the other led to short-term, incredible pleasure... Ironically it was the degree of desire he felt to pursue the second option that made him hesitate. He’d already accepted that Maya was not the same as any other woman he had ever met.

Or was it just his own reactions to her that were different?

It wasn’t just the utterly ridiculous level of attraction he was experiencing, it was her... She was different. When she was around he could not rely on the neat compartments that made his life run smoothly; nothing was contained.

He was so, so tempted to ignore the red warning signs in his head. If alcoholism ran in his family, he would have avoided alcohol; with his particular family history there were certain situations and women he avoided...and he certainly didn’t need distractions in his life at the moment, as he focused on putting the last few pieces of the Agnosti estate back together. True, his work ethic had never stopped him having sex before, the difference being—he knew full well—that he had never had sex that touched his emotions.

And she already had, without them even kissing properly...but the admission came reluctantly. It had to be the same reason it had been almost too easy for him to open up and tell her such intimate, long-held secrets.

He was confident he could stay in control and have her at the same time, he would not admit to a weakness that suggested otherwise, but he didn’t want to look at a woman when he left her, and see the shadows under her eyes and worry.

Who was he kidding? She had long-term relationship written all over her beautiful face! She would need things he didn’t have to give because he had chosen his path in life. Loneliness was an infinitely preferable option to living his life being manipulated—and humiliated—by the woman he loved.

‘I didn’t expect this.’ Maya paused, trying not to breathe in the clean masculine scent of him as she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. ‘I just didn’t want to be too far away from Mattio the first night we were here.’ It was at least part of the truth; actually, it continued to amaze her every time she realised how deep the baby had burrowed his way into her heart so quickly.

Logic told her that it would be foolish to grow too fond of Mattio when very soon she would be walking away from him.

He wouldn’t remember her, he was only a baby, but that didn’t matter; she would still feel guilty when she left him, and she would always remember him.

Sadness filtered into her dark eyes as they lifted just as Samuele extended the wine bottle towards her glass. Unfortunately logic did not really play a part when it came to genuine emotions.

‘No...yes,’ she stuttered, struggling to keep the sudden rush of desperation from her voice as she removed her hand from the top of the crystal glass and pressed it close to her chest instead to hide the fact it was shaking; she was shaking.

Anyone would think you’d just made some sort of profound discovery, she mocked herself. But you just fancy the man—it’s hardly a shocking newsflash.

Having never before felt a physical attraction this strong to any man, she could now see how some people mistook lust for something much more profound. But it was not a mistake she was about to make.

‘Sorry to invade your space.’ He looked around the room. ‘Are you happy with your suite?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And apologies again for the candles.’ He cast an amused glance towards the lights flickering in the candelabra and gave a light laugh. ‘I think my request to have dinner here with you was misinterpreted.’

Maya gave a laugh that she hoped sent the message that she had not for one moment misunderstood what this was. Absolutely not a date.

‘I was thinking that dinner might be a good time to debrief one another each evening—would that work for you? Though obviously, should a problem arise re Mattio, I am available at any time. His well-being is my top priority.’

It was utterly irrational, given the circumstances, to feel chagrin. ‘Of course, it is, and I have to eat,’ she said, discovering her appetite had pretty much vanished despite the mouth-watering smells wafting towards her. ‘So here’s to the evening version of a working breakfast,’ she said, raising the glass to her lips and taking a large mouthful.

She regretted now not taking the option of eating in more formal surroundings, not that the private lavish sitting room was exactly an intimate space. It was the company not the location that was the problem, she realised gloomily.

‘My reputation would not survive if you leave here a shadow of your former self.’

‘It all looks delicious,’ she said brightly. ‘But I’m afraid that there isn’t much to report as yet. Mattio took his feed and he settled into his nursery pretty well. Do you want me to sleep in his room?’ She had noticed the divan in the corner of the nursery.

No, I want you to sleep in my room.‘Of course not!’ he snapped.

‘Fine, I was only wondering—’

She stopped as his phone began to shrill, a look of annoyance crossing his face. ‘Sorry, I meant to turn it off.’

‘No problem.’

He glanced at the screen and grimaced. ‘I have to take this.’

She shrugged and nodded.

His English was so syllable perfect, his accent barely there, that she had almost forgotten that it wasn’t his first language. So when after listening for a few moments he launched into a heated diatribe in his native tongue she was jolted back to the reality of the situation.

Which was that he was Italian to his fingertips. Yes, he probably could make a shopping list sound sexy, but his sudden urgent passion as he spoke was utterly transfixing...in a stomach-quivering sort of way.

A few moments later he slid the phone back into his pocket and, with a face like thunder, hammered out staccato fast what was presumably a shortened version of the conversation. In Italian.

She waited until he had finished, or at least paused to draw breath, to remind him quietly, ‘You know I didn’t understand a word you just said?’

He swore then in several languages and dragged a hand through his hair, ruffling the dark strands into toe-curlingly sexy spikes.

‘Sorry, it’s just that there are problems with one of our tenants. By the time my father died the place had been starved of resources for years, not to mention that there were entire areas where the trees had been razed... Ancient woodland raped for a quick profit.’ The disgust in his voice was also etched in the bleak lines of his face, and his jaw was clenched so tight she could almost hear it grinding.

‘Nothing replanted, land over-fertilised and the village was depopulated. There was nothing left for young people any more. A small investment meant ecotourism produced some almost immediate profit, but it’s a long-term game. We’ll start to see the benefits of the green approach soon, and in two years we might start to see some profit. Most of the tenants are on board with the plans but...’ His expression darkened. ‘There is a tenant who is not on board, for reasons I don’t quite understand. He’s not one of the old school, he is young and ambitious—exactly the sort of person I thought would be behind us.’

‘But he isn’t.’

‘No, he isn’t. There’s an area of marshland which is important ecologically, as it’s home to...’ He paused and looked at her, suddenly seeming to remember who he was talking to. ‘I’m so sorry, this must be boring you.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ She was fascinated by this evidence of his connection to the land. ‘It sounds like a difficult situation.’

‘You could say that. I have been informed that some heavy machinery has arrived and his intention is to drain fifty acres of the marshland and put cattle on to graze. Apparently the concrete foundations for a barn arrives in the morning. Everything I’m working for will be destroyed for a quick profit. I have to go.’ He got to his feet. ‘I must stop this.’

Maya laid down her napkin and got to her feet and walked with him to the door. ‘Well, goodnight.’ She held out her hand. ‘And good luck.’

He angled a sardonic dark brow. ‘I’ll probably need it—’ The lights suddenly dimmed and went out completely, leaving the flickering candles as the only illumination in the room, highlighting the angles and planes of his face. ‘Does this remind you of anything?’ he murmured huskily.

Mesmerised by his dark stare, she nodded. ‘The airport hotel. I wondered...’

‘What did you wonder, cara?’

The words, uttered in a low gravelled tone, were almost like a physical caress. She swallowed. ‘Did you kiss me?’ she whispered.

He shook his head. In the semi-light his teeth were very white as he produced a slow smile, even while his eyes stayed dark and intent. Maya was too mortified to notice. Why, oh, why had she aired her fantasies out loud? Of course, he hadn’t kissed her!

‘No,’ he confirmed. ‘That was not a kiss.’

‘Oh...?’ she said, glad of the shadows to hide her embarrassed blushes.

He moved in a step and looked down into her face, murmuring something in Italian under his breath as his hand went behind her head. ‘But this is a kiss.’

In the private theatre of Maya’s thoughts and dreams he had already kissed her a thousand times, but this was different; it was so much better, it was real. Her initial pliant shock as she melted bonelessly into his arms suddenly gave way to a hunger that matched his own. One muscular arm banding her ribs, he lifted her feet off the floor as the kiss became more combative, more urgent.

Maya focused on not sliding to the floor as he placed her back on her feet and took a step back. She stared straight ahead, her eyes level with the middle of his heaving chest.

Yes, she had imagined what a kiss from him would be like, but it was nothing at all like that. She gave a wild little laugh. ‘Yes, that was definitely a kiss. Oh, God!’

‘Exactly.’ His chest lifted in one last soundless jagged sigh before he turned and walked away with the sweet taste of Maya in his mouth.