Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda Lee

smiled, showing his small teeth. He was clutching a floppy teddy bear that Umberto had gifted him on their departure. Sam had been surprised to see what had looked suspiciously like tears in the old man’s eyes as they’d left, and also a lingering glance or two at Bridie, who had looked a bit more flustered than she usually did.

      As Rafaele negotiated their way out of the private airfield Sam said, ‘Your father...was not what I expected.’

      Rafaele’s mouth tightened, but he said, ‘No...I was surprised at how he welcomed Milo so instantaneously.’

      ‘It was nice,’ Sam admitted. ‘After all, he’s his only living grandparent now. My father was only alive to see Milo as a baby, so they didn’t really connect and Milo won’t remember him. Bridie is like a granny to Milo, but it’s different when it’s blood...’

      Rafaele looked at her, his face inscrutable. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It is.’

      For the first time Sam didn’t feel that Rafaele was getting in a dig. He was sounding almost as if he was realising the same thing himself.

      ‘We should...’ Sam blushed and stopped. ‘That is, I should make sure to try and let Milo see Umberto as much as possible. Do you think he’d come to England?’

      Rafaele’s mouth quirked and he slid another glance to Sam. ‘I think he could be persuaded—especially if Bridie is going to be there.’

      Sam smiled, rare lightness filling her chest. ‘You noticed it too, then?’

      Rafaele looked at her and grew serious. He took her hand from her lap and held it. Immediately Sam’s body reacted. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. Memories of the bondage of last night came back. Arousing her. Disturbing her.

      He said something crude in Italian and had to let Sam’s hand go to navigate some hairy traffic. When it was clear again he said, ‘Sam, we need to talk...’

      ‘No,’ Sam said fiercely, panicked at the thought of dissecting what had happened last night. She looked back at Milo, who was still happily playing with the toy, and then back to Rafaele. ‘There’s nothing to discuss.’

      ‘Yes, there is, Sam,’ he asserted, ‘whether you like it or not. Tonight we’ll go out for dinner.’

      ‘Rafaele—’

      But he cut her off with a stern look.

      Sam shut her mouth and sat back, feeling mutinous. But deep down she knew Rafaele was right. They had to talk, but she would make sure that it would centre around the future and what would happen with Milo and also on the fact that she didn’t want to sleep with him again. Liar, a voice mocked her. But she quashed it. Last night had almost broken her. She’d nearly revealed just how much Rafaele made her feel. And if they slept together again...she wouldn’t be able to keep it in.

      ‘I’ll drop you and Milo off at the apartment and show you around, and then I’m afraid I have to go into the office for a couple of hours.’

      ‘Okay,’ Sam said, too quickly, seizing on the fact that she’d have a few hours’ respite from Rafaele’s disturbing presence. Maybe then these memories would abate and give her some peace.

      * * *

      Rafaele’s Rome apartment was situated in a beautiful crumbling building just streets away from the famous Piazza Barberini, right in the heart of Rome’s bustling centre. A smiling housekeeper met them and conversed easily in English for Sam’s benefit. Rafaele showed Sam to her room, which was stunning, with parquet floors and delicate Rococo furnishings. There was another door which Milo was already reaching up to try and open, but the handle was too high.

      He turned around, comically frustrated, and Rafaele scooped him up. ‘First you have to grow a little more, piccolino.’

      Rafaele opened the door and walked through, leaving Sam to follow them. It was a room for Milo, and once again Rafaele had obviously given instructions for it to be decked out for a three-year-old. It was a kiddie’s paradise, and Milo was already jumping out of Rafaele’s arms to explore all the treasures.

      Rafaele looked at Sam, as if expecting another diatribe, but she could only smile ruefully and shrug her shoulders as if to say, What can I do?

      He came closer then, blocking out Milo behind him, and cupped her jaw with a hand, his thumb rubbing her lower lip, tugging at it. Instantly Sam craved his mouth there, kissing her hard, pressing his body against hers.

      Heat flooded her and she had to pull away with an effort. She shook her head, warning him off.

      He said silkily, ‘Tonight, Sam. We’ll talk then.’ He turned back to Milo. ‘Ciao, piccolino. I have to go to work now.’

      Milo stopped what he was doing and for the first time since Rafaele had entered their lives, ran to him and gave him a kiss when Rafaele bent down to hug him.

      ‘Bye, Daddy.’

      Milo’s easy and rapid acceptance of this whole situation made Sam’s chest ache, and that emotion threatened to bubble over. She’d never in a million years envisaged that it could be this easy...or this cataclysmic.

      Rafaele left and a long, shuddering breath emerged from her mouth. In truth, she’d not known what to expect if she’d ever plucked up the courage to tell Rafaele about Milo, but it had ranged from complete uninterest to his storming into their lives to take over, demand to take control.

      It had definitely veered towards the latter end of the scale, but also not. For one thing she hadn’t expected Rafaele still to want her. Or to admit that he had thought about her—that he’d never stopped wanting her.

      Questions made her head hurt... So why had he let her go, then? If he’d wanted her...? She knew instinctively that she’d got too close. Was that why he’d pushed her away?

      ‘Mummy, play with me!’ came the imperious demand that sounded suspiciously like someone else.

      Sam looked at her son and smiled. She got down on the floor beside him and devoted herself to the fantastical world of a bright, inquisitive three-year-old and welcomed the distraction.

      * * *

      That evening Bridie was still brimming over after her trip to St Peter’s and the Vatican. ‘I was the only one looking at the Sistine Chapel—the only one! And I think I saw the Pope walking in a private garden, but I couldn’t be sure... A lovely priest said Mass in Latin. Oh, Sam, it was gorgeous.’

      Sam smiled indulgently as she went to pick up her bag. Rafaele had called to say he was sending a car to pick her up and he’d meet her directly at the restaurant.

      Suddenly Bridie broke off from her raptures and said in a shocked voice, ‘You’re not going out like that?’

      Sam looked down at her outfit of jeans and a plaid shirt. Trainers. Suddenly she felt gauche. Of course Rafaele would have probably booked somewhere extremely fancy and expensive. She should have realised.

      Bridie was bustling off. ‘I know you packed that black dress, Sam. You have to change.’

      Sam followed Bridie, knowing that she couldn’t leave without changing now. Bridie seemed determined to throw her and Rafaele together, clearly believing that a fairytale ending was in the making.

      When Sam walked into the bedroom Bridie was shaking out the plain black dress that Sam had packed just in case.

      ‘Now, put this on and do your make-up. I’ll let you know when the car gets here.’

      Milo came barrelling down the hallway. Bridie caught him and said, ‘Right, dinnertime for you, young man, and then an early night. We have to go home tomorrow so you need to be fresh.’

      Sam quickly changed clothes and grimaced at her reflection, finally putting on some foundation to take away the pallor of her cheeks and then some mascara.

      Home tomorrow. No wonder Rafaele wanted to talk now. He would have strong ideas about how