The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro. Natalie Anderson

things on a simple plane.

      ‘Why did you want to?’ She really, really wanted to understand.

      ‘I just did.’ He shrugged. ‘You deserve spoiling.’

      ‘What makes you think that?’

      ‘Oh, come on, Emily, it hasn’t been easy for you these last few years.’

      Her blood chilled. ‘Is this about pity, Luca?’

      ‘No. You know it isn’t.’

      ‘So what is it, then?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘I feel like you’ve earned it.’

      ‘Earned it how exactly?’ As his lover? Her blood was ice now and any moment she’d snap.

      Silence thickened as she stared at him. He was just as relentless about staring back and his jaw grew ever more square and hard.

      Finally he shook his head slowly at her. ‘Why do we have to have this in-depth examination of “why”? I just wanted to give you something nice. Get you something nice. I thought it would look pretty. You have the most lovely long arms. Nice wrists.’

      Now he was getting frustrated and, despite a film of reservation still keeping her cool, she couldn’t stop her small smile. ‘Nice wrists?’

      ‘Yes.’ His hand encircled one. ‘Very fine.’

      She looked back at the box to hide her see-sawing emotions. ‘Thank you.’

      Part of her was thrilled, flattered, flushed…but deeper inside she doubted. Despite its undeniably hefty price tag, it made her feel cheap. Baubles were not what she wanted from Luca. She’d rather have had nothing at all. One moment he was insisting on this being a stringless fling and then he was giving her this? She didn’t need mixed messages and he’d just ripped the scab off her vulnerability. Because there was a wound—underneath she’d begun to want more. Words, meaning…and emotion.

      Trying to hide that fact, even from herself, she turned into him, breathed in his scent, nuzzled his warm neck, and sought the response that was always readily given. The box slipped to the floor as she moved to get closer to him. She silenced herself with the press of her lips to his skin.

      Hours later she lay awake but pretended to be asleep. She could feel the restlessness that he was trying to contain. He moved slowly but she felt the bed lift as his weight was removed from it. Felt the brief blast of cooler air as he raised the covers to escape. Now he tucked them back around her. She kept her eyes closed, trying to keep her expression relaxed as if in deep repose, for she knew that the chink in the curtains let in light from the streetlamps and he’d be able to see enough of her features to know.

      But she must have done OK because he said nothing, suspected nothing, ran a finger very lightly over her shoulder and then left the room.

      The first night he’d said he had to go and do some work. The second night, he’d said he had to check his email. Now he offered no excuse.

      At some point every night, he left. He didn’t want to wake next to her, to start the day with her at his side. It only underlined the level of their relationship—that there wasn’t one. And while that was what they’d agreed to, Emily knew it wasn’t what she wanted any more.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      LUCA appeared only a couple of hours after leaving for work again. Emily was alone at the piano.

      ‘Your friend Pascal phoned.’ She stopped playing as soon as she realised he was quietly coming over to her. ‘He said he was looking forward to catching up with you tonight at dinner and that he hoped Micaela wasn’t on maternity leave yet.’

      He halted, halfway across the floor. ‘You answered the phone?’

      ‘Yes.’ Brows lifted, she matched his hard look.

      ‘Why didn’t you let Micaela answer it?’

      ‘Micaela wasn’t here,’ she replied with care. ‘It was just before she arrived.’

      ‘Why did you answer it? Why didn’t you just let it ring?’

      ‘Because when phones ring it’s normal to answer them. Because it might have been a temp agency. Do I even need a because?’ Her hackles snapped up. ‘So I answered the phone. I’m so sorry. Was that not on my list of allowable activities?’ She shut the lid of the piano. ‘Perhaps you’d better write down a list of “dos and don’ts” for me.’ She barely paused for breath, realising that her time to renegotiate the rules was right now. ‘What should I do if someone comes to the door—go hide in the wardrobe?’

      He jerked a step away. ‘Emily, don’t be ridiculous.’

      ‘I’m not. I’m happy to be a holiday fling, but I’m not going to hide away like some sort of secret lover.’

      ‘I don’t—’

      ‘If you want a private plaything why not just get an inflatable doll?’

      ‘A doll wouldn’t do those sexy sighs the way you do.’ He turned his back, about to exit. ‘I’ll call Pascal and cancel.’

      ‘Why?’ Suspicious. There had been such personality in the brief exchange she’d had with the man and she had to admit she was half dying to meet someone Luca dealt with on a personal level rather than an employment one. Until this call she’d been beginning to wonder if there was anyone Luca dealt with on a personal level. ‘Because I’m here?’

      He swung back, looked uncomfortable. ‘I have a reputation to maintain.’

      What reputation? And how the hell was she going to damage it? ‘What’s wrong with having a girlfriend?’ She saw she’d picked the wrong word in the way he froze. ‘A lover,’ she immediately rephrased. ‘Why do I even have to be defined?’ She rapidly changed tack again. ‘Aren’t I just someone you’re helping out for a few days?’

      ‘Because the dinner is business. I keep business and personal separate.’

      So he didn’t want to introduce her to anyone. ‘That’s rubbish. That’s just a pathetic excuse for not building any kind of a relationship with your current lover—other than in bed.’ And she didn’t believe this dinner was all business—why would Pascal phone so early at Luca’s house if it were? Why would he know about Micaela and her baby? Wouldn’t he just leave a message with Luca’s secretary at work? ‘Am I really not fit for display? Not good enough to mix with your friends and associates?’

      Only good enough to sleep with? Did he think all he had to do was toss a few diamonds her way to keep her happy?

      ‘Of course you are.’ Luca’s face had flushed. ‘But I don’t usually have women staying here.’

      ‘Well, I can move out. Shall I go put up at the B & B down the road? I could earn my crust making beds there.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      ‘Well, it’s either make theirs, or perform in yours.’

      Now he looked really angry. ‘You are the one used to making money on the street.’

      She nodded. ‘And you’re the one treating me like a whore.’

      ‘I am not and you know it.’

      ‘No, I don’t. Have your damn dinner party. I’m quite happy to go back to the hostel.’ She picked up her cardigan, intending a snappy exit. ‘Go screw yourself, Luca.’

      He grabbed her arm, ripped the cardy from her fingers and flung it back across the room. ‘No! You don’t say something like that and think you can walk away from it,’ he yelled. ‘What the hell do you want from me?’

      ‘I