Italian Escape: Summer with the Millionaire / In the Italian's Sights / Flirting with Italian. Liz Fielding

people think they had a lucky escape from me.’ Minty tried not to sound wistful.

      ‘Most people,’ he said, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, ‘are fools.’

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘HUNGRY? WE COULD stop off in Siena for lunch.’

      What did that mean? Did he want to stop off or would he rather get back? Minty shot Luca a quick glance. He was looking straight ahead, all his concentration on the road.

      He had always been a careful driver, steady and sure, unwilling to take risks. She used to tease him about it but he had never allowed her to provoke him. Minty squirmed in her seat. She knew exactly how his parents had died and yet she had been thoughtless enough to laugh at Luca’s driving. What a self-centred brat she had been.

      Not that he had seemed to notice. It had driven her mad how easily he used to ignore her presence. Luca Di Tore, the golden boy, hard-working, courteous, who never put a foot wrong. Completely oblivious to her, to her need for his attention.

      Getting him to notice her had been the main focus of most of Minty’s summers. It had started out as a game, a way to annoy him and it had usually taken something fairly outrageous before he’d looked down from his lofty heights and deigned to bestow attention on her. It had been bad enough when she was small. By the time she was fourteen it had been unbearable.

      She hadn’t wanted to fancy Luca. But she had walked in that summer and whoosh, bam, wallop, it had hit her hard. He had grown up whilst at university: grown up, grown out, grown hot. She’d barely been able to breathe when he was in the room, let alone say two words to him.

      Of course, she would rather have been flayed alive than admit it even to herself, let alone anyone else. It was easier to act out even more, hide behind arrogance, insouciance and plain outrageousness.

      It was a facade that had served her well for four years, right until Rose’s funeral. And then she was too broken to hide. She had allowed Luca to see everything: her pain, her misery, her want, her need. And he had turned her away.

      It had been utterly humiliating.

      But last night she had allowed him in again, babbling on about Barty, about Joe, about rejections and feelings. Would she ever learn?

      ‘So do you? Want lunch?’ His voice was completely even. What was he thinking? Was he regretting the time they had spent together? Regretting how they’d spent their time?

      ‘Define lunch.’

      ‘Okay.’ He sounded puzzled. ‘A meal, in a restaurant, comprising at least two courses.’

      ‘I didn’t mean...’ She paused. What did she mean? ‘Is this a date? Or just lunch? What are we actually doing here?’

      ‘Are you asking me what my intentions are?’ Damn, he was laughing at her. Minty felt her teeth grinding together.

      ‘Of course not!’ Not exactly. ‘I was just wondering what we’re doing here. We spent all weekend together and back in Oschia we, well, we were together. And, if you hadn’t noticed, at the moment we live together, work together... It’s a little awkward.’

      He didn’t answer for a long moment as he negotiated the car around a tight bend. ‘Minty, you’re rebounding from an engagement. You’re not ready for anything serious; I know that. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to ask you to bear my four children.’

      Obviously and, by the way, thank goodness. But it rankled a little how hilarious he found that idea.

      ‘I thought we could just explore this thing, see where it takes us. Have some fun.’ His voice sounded concerned. ‘But if you want to stop, if you’re feeling uncomfortable, then please just say.’

      ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m fine.’

      Fun. It was the answer she’d been hoping for, because of course he was right. She’d been engaged to another man just a few weeks ago—not that that had stopped Joe moving on, but Minty Davenport was not so fickle. At least, she was trying not to be.

      So why did she feel disappointed? It was her stupid fourteen-year-old self with a house-sized crush and a romantic streak longer than the Arno. Three engagements should have dried that streak right out.

      Luca was right. Why plan? They both knew this would burn out eventually. They were so different, wanted such different things. Why spoil the moment with labels and definitions? That was far more Luca’s style than hers—if he could be relaxed, then of course she could be too!

      ‘You’re right,’ she said, leaning back, forcing herself to sound unconcerned. ‘Lunch sounds lovely.’

      * * *

      ‘Admit it, the view’s gorgeous.’ Minty waved her soup spoon at him. ‘The soup’s good too.’

      ‘The soup is four times as expensive as it would have been round the corner.’ Luca shook his head. ‘Hope the view’s worth it.’

      They were sat at a table in Siena’s bustling main square. A place fit only for tourists, Luca had told her.

      ‘I never mind paying for a view,’ Minty said, gesturing around with her spoon. ‘I’d rather sit in St Mark’s Square or enjoy a view of the Pantheon with my coffee than save a couple of euros and sit in an alleyway somewhere, looking at damp brickwork.’

      ‘It can be a lot more than a couple of euros.’ Luca shook his head. She had no idea how privileged she was. Even Luca, who had grown up in comfortable surroundings, ran a very profitable business, travelled first class and wore tailor-made suits balked at the mark-up in these places. ‘Not everyone can afford to spend ten euros on a coffee.’

      Minty didn’t respond for a few moments, concentrating on her soup. When she spoke, her voice was low. ‘Joe always said I was spoilt.’ She tried to laugh if off but there was no humour in it and Luca was aware of a most uncharacteristic urge to search out Joe and force him to apologise.

      With his fists, if need be.

      No man should have the power to make those bright eyes so dim, to make a confident, laughing girl so full of self-doubt.

      The man was undoubtedly a fool. He said so, but Minty shook her head.

      ‘Funny, isn’t it, how the things some people like in you are the things somebody else despises? Spike loved all that—the trust fund and ancestors who fought for Charles I and advised Henry VIII. Barty took it for granted because that was his world too. Joe, on the other hand...’ She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t just my ancestry, it was the money too—especially as I didn’t earn it. We always had to travel budget airlines and stay in youth hostels. It was fun at first.’

      She looked up and smiled at Luca. ‘It’s always fun to try something new. But I wanted to treat him for his birthday so I took him to New York. First class, a lovely hotel and the latest must-go-to restaurant. It was outrageously expensive, to be honest, even I thought so, but he sulked for the whole of the holiday. I wasn’t behaving the way he expected me to behave. Apparently I was the one who was meant to compromise all the time. We split up a week later.’

      She went back to her soup. Luca sat back in his chair and watched her for a moment. Her face, what he could see of it under those ridiculously large sunglasses, was unconcerned but he was beginning to understand her. He chose his words carefully. ‘Compromise is important, but on both sides, Minty. If someone can’t accept you for who you are, love everything about you, even the bits that are harder to take, then they’re not right for you.’

      She pushed her soup bowl away and looked up, a bright smile plastered onto her face. ‘That’s the fairy tale, isn’t it? The dream we’re sold: someone will fall for you flaws and all.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I don’t think so. I think everyone has to pretend a little, suppress themselves a little, if they want it