The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child. Carol Marinelli

She halted, thinking how touristy and gauche she must sound to him. ‘Are you excited about the Silibri opening?’ she asked, because that seemed safe.

      ‘I will be glad when it’s done.’

      Glad when he would be able to hand it over to his executive and the managers. When it would be up and running and no longer at this intense stage.

      Right now, though, the tension was all in his office.

      It was a relief when Marianna appeared and, with Aurora observing, they began to go through his schedule.

      Nico was to meet with the Silibri hotel staff in fifteen minutes, and after that his day was back-to-back meetings with accountants, financiers and lawyers—and, no, Nico said, he would not be staying at the hotel that night.

      ‘You have a breakfast meeting at seven and the helicopter is booked for nine…’ Marianna frowned at this slight anomaly. ‘Usually you stay here if you’re flying out.’

      ‘I’ll be residing at home tonight,’ Nico said. ‘Now, can we check my Silibri schedule? I want to see my father’s doctor as soon as I arrive.’

      ‘You’re going home…?’ Aurora blinked. ‘Why are you going home when we are all here?’

      ‘Again…’ Nico sighed. ‘You are here for staff training.’

      He looked to Marianna and was grateful when she stepped in.

      ‘Signor Caruso and I run through his schedule each morning, Aurora. This is not a meeting, and nor is it a discussion; it is to ensure that everything is in order and that we are both clear on timings.’

      ‘Of course…’ Aurora attempted, but there were a million questions in her eyes about why he was leaving Rome so soon after they had arrived.

      Nico answered none of them.

      Instead, having gone through his impossibly busy week, they headed out of his office, with Nico holding the door for both the women.

      ‘After you,’ Nico said.

      He wished his good manners were not quite so ingrained, and that he did not have to hold open the door, for the scent of her reached him again. The chemistry that flared between them was undeniable, and the want was still there.

      Nico, though, was first to walk into the boardroom.

      The Silibri contingent were there, waiting, and they greeted him warmly.

      Too warmly.

      ‘Hey, Nico!’

      And there were more gifts set out on the table.

      Amongst other things, Francesca had brought homemade biscotti to go with the coffee being served. Only Vincenzo, his marketing manager, sat rigid, clearly taken back by the party-like atmosphere in the room.

      He smoothed his auburn hair nervously and cast a slightly aghast look at Nico. Bizarrely, for the briefest of seconds, Nico wanted to tell Vincenzo to relax. Did he not know how things worked in Sicily? Did he not know that humour and conversation were an art form there, especially in Silibri?

      Of course not. Vincenzo had been brought in from the Florence branch.

      ‘Let’s get started,’ Nico said.

      It would hopefully be a quick meeting.

      Aurora was to be assistant manager of marketing. It was not something she had studied for, but she knew the area well and loved taking photos—and she had ideas. Many of them.

      Nico hadn’t actually got her the job; she did not need him to succeed.

      Well, maybe a bit…

      For without him there would be no hotel.

      Vincenzo was speaking of the excitement locally, and said there were a few interviews nationally, for various tourism shows and breakfast television and the like.

      ‘I shall handle those,’ Vincenzo said.

      ‘You can take turns with Aurora,’ Nico interjected.

      ‘But I have had media training,’ Vincenzo pointed out. ‘Aurora can be a touch…forceful, and we want to extend a gentle invitation.’

      ‘Vincenzo,’ Nico said. ‘I wasn’t offering a suggestion, I was telling you to take turns with Aurora.’

      He was not doing her any favours. Vincenzo was vain and self-serving—and, though he was brilliant at his job, it was as clear as day to Nico that Aurora, with her passion, her low throaty laugh, with her sheer love of Silibri, would be more enticing for potential guests.

      ‘Next,’ Nico said, and nodded to Francesca.

      ‘The fittings for the uniforms have been delayed.’

      ‘Then get them done,’ Nico said, even while knowing it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.

      ‘I have tried, but the staff have issues with the colour.’

      ‘And the fabric…’ It was the first time Aurora had spoken. ‘The wool is too heavy and the green makes us look like…’ She snapped her fingers. ‘That Englishman’s Merry Men.’

      Nico had to think for a moment. But then he always had to think when Aurora was around—she brought him no peace.

      He thought of the dark green uniforms that looked so elegant against the old Roman and sophisticated Florentine buildings, and worked well in both England and France, and then he joined the dots she had led him to with her mention of ‘the Englishman’s Merry Men’.

      ‘You mean Robin Hood?’

      ‘Who?’ Aurora frowned, and then she gave him a tiny smile to say of course she knew who he meant and was teasing him.

      Their minds jostled, and she could see he was fighting not to return her smile. She was still looking at Nico’s full mouth, with a smile on her own, when Vincenzo cleared his throat and spoke up.

      ‘We think that Silibri should have a more casual feel.’

      ‘It’s a five-star hotel.’ Nico gave a shake of his head. ‘I do not want my staff looking casual.’

      ‘Of course not,’ Vincenzo agreed. ‘But there is a stunning French navy linen, and teamed with crisp white shirts…’

      ‘We would look like sailors,’ Aurora sulked.

      Nico pressed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. What the hell had he been thinking? What had possessed him to venture into Silibri? He should have sold the land there and been done with it…

      Yet as he sat there he recalled Aurora’s emphatic no when he had suggested that the night after—

      Damn, no matter how he tried to avoid it, all roads led to that night.

      Nico forced himself back to the moment: What in God’s name was he doing, sitting here discussing fabric? It was his hotel and it had been four years in the making.

      The trouble with the Silibri venture was that the staff considered it to be their hotel too. They were all so involved and took it all so personally.

      ‘What about the same green as the other hotels, but in linen?’ Francesca suggested.

      Aurora shook her head.

      ‘That just takes us back to the Merry Men,’

      ‘So what do you suggest, Aurora?’ Nico threw down his pen in exasperation.

      Of course she had an immediate answer. ‘Persian Orange.’

      From her seemingly bottomless bag she produced several swatches of fabric and proceeded to pass them around. It was a linen blend that wouldn’t crease, she assured them, and with one look Nico knew she was right.

      ‘It