The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni. Kate Hardy

hell. His heart was telling him to stick around. ‘Do you want to walk away?’

      ‘It would be the sensible thing to do.’

      The ‘but’ was loud and clear. She felt the same way he did. Mixed up and torn between the options. Safe and not safe.

      ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you right from the start,’ he said.

      ‘I guess you had your reasons for what you did. I think they’re ridiculous reasons, but I suppose you weren’t doing it out of a sense of meanness.’

      ‘No, I wasn’t. It’s the way people are with me—they see me in terms of what I can do for them. With you, it felt different. I didn’t want that to change.’ She looked so cute, and he was so, so tempted just to lean forward and steal a kiss. But he held himself back. Just. ‘I really ought to go and find your clothes, let you get dressed, and take you down to dinner. But I have a feeling that they’re going to be pretty crumpled—just as mine are.’

      ‘I didn’t think of that.’ She bit her lip. ‘Everyone’s going to look at us in the restaurant when we walk in and jump to conclusions. Worst of all, they’re going to be right.’

      ‘Let’s order room service. We can eat in the other room. And it means we can try talking again, without an audience.’

      ‘OK. That sounds good.’

      He handed her the menu. ‘Have a look through and choose what you want.’

      He disappeared into the living room, then came back a few moments later with her clothes neatly stacked in a pile, which he placed on the chair. Shortly afterwards, she heard the shower running. He emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped round his hips; she wasn’t sure whether it was his near-naked body or his smile that made her heart skip a beat.

      ‘Help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘By the way, I had a word with Reception. The hotel laundry service can press your stuff for you while we’re having dinner.’

      Ella felt the colour bloom in her face. ‘Oh, God. So they know what we’ve—’

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he cut in softly. ‘We’re not the first people who’ve got a bit carried away and we won’t be the last. Anyway, for all they know, you spilled something over your jacket and skirt and had to sponge your suit down.’

      She knew he was trying to make her feel better. But it didn’t quite work. ‘Mmm,’ she said.

      ‘Look, there’s a robe behind the bathroom door. You’re very welcome to use that until your suit’s ready. Have you decided what you’d like from the menu?’

      ‘The salmon, please. And can I be greedy and have the chocolate-dipped strawberries for pudding?’

      ‘Great idea.’ Though the suddenly heated expression in his eyes told her that he had ideas about the strawberries. Ideas that involved her.

      Ella almost, almost climbed out of bed, removed his towel and dragged him into the shower with her. But sense prevailed—just—and she waited until he’d left the bedroom before heading for the bathroom.

      The hotel toiletries were gorgeous, citrus-scented, and the towels were large and super-soft. When she came out of the shower, she noticed that her suit and shirt had gone. So he’d kept his word about the laundry service, then.

      Dressed in the soft, fluffy bathrobe, she padded barefoot back out to the living room where Rico was waiting for her.

      ‘Thank you for sorting out the laundry.’

      ‘Prego,’ he said, giving her a tiny bow.

      He was fully dressed in a clean white shirt and chinos.

      ‘You’re pretty high maintenance, aren’t you?’ she asked.

      ‘How do you mean?’

      ‘You always wear a white shirt and it’s always pristine. I hate to think what your laundry bill’s like.’

      ‘Don’t you think I do them myself?’

      ‘No. Because I think you’ve costed out how much that time’s worth to you and you’d rather use that time in a more productive way,’ she said.

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that you talking as an accountant, or are you giving me the reason why you use a laundry service?’

      ‘I do my own laundry, actually. Ironing time is good thinking time. And I’m an ex-accountant for the time being.’

      ‘I’ll try to remember that,’ he said dryly.

      ‘So you’re thinking of buying this hotel?’

      ‘It’s a possibility, yes.’

      ‘Why London?’

      ‘Because we already have four hotels in Rome, and to have any more would mean we’d be competing against ourselves.’

      ‘Expanding your empire into another country. Veni, vidi, vici. Maybe I should start calling you Julius,’ she teased.

      He laughed. ‘London, Paris, then maybe Vienna or Barcelona. I have plans.’

      ‘So that’s your dream. To be a hotel tycoon.’

      ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Actually, I like this hotel. There are a few tweaks I’d want to make, but I can see it fitting in with the rest of the Rossi chain. It’s big enough to have every comfort, but it’s not so big that it’s impersonal. The staff care about the guests, and the facilities are good. And the figures stack up. It doesn’t need much work to bring it in line with the rest of my hotels.’

      ‘What if the figures didn’t stack up?’

      ‘Then I would’ve looked at other hotels.’ He smiled. ‘Like you, I have back-up plans. And, talking of your business, I meant to ask—how was your first day, post-launch?’

      ‘Busy,’ she said. ‘I have a few orders for celebration cakes to take me into the next six weeks, and some regular cupcake orders from a couple of local cafés that will keep me ticking over in between.’

      ‘If you’re experimenting with different frostings, I’d be happy to lend my services as a taste-tester. You make the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten.’

      ‘Thank you for the compliment.’ She smiled. ‘And I might take you up on that taste-testing thing. Provided you’re totally honest with me.’

      ‘I’m not going to lie to you again, Ella.’

      ‘I don’t mean that—I mean, being polite. Fudging the issue so you don’t hurt my feelings. I need to know if something works or not. If it doesn’t, then I can tweak the recipe until it does work.’

      ‘Honest feedback’s important. It’s what I want from my guests, too,’ he said. ‘OK. It’s a deal.’

      Room service arrived, and the waiter served their meal at the table that Ella guessed Rico used as a desk during the day. The food was excellent, and by the end of the meal she’d lost her residual shyness and was totally relaxed in Rico’s company. It really didn’t matter any more that he was properly dressed and she was only wearing a bathrobe.

      All the same, she was glad when her suit and shirt arrived, neatly pressed, along with their coffee.

      ‘Don’t change back into your clothes just yet. Come and sit with me,’ Rico said, shepherding her over to the sofa.

      She curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the warmth of his body against hers.

      ‘Tell me about Julia,’ he said.

      ‘She’s my best friend. I’ve known her since we were ten.’

      ‘And she’s an English teacher and film buff.’

      ‘Yes.’