The Italians: Cristiano, Vittorio and Dario. Jane Porter

sex is going to get you off the hook.’

      ‘I don’t think that.’ He didn’t smile. He didn’t flirt. For a moment she thought he was going to say something else and then his phone rang.

      The timing couldn’t have been worse.

      Tense as the string on a violin, she waited for him to answer it.

      His hand automatically left the steering wheel to reach into his pocket and then he stopped and she saw the exact moment he made the decision not to take the call.

      Laurel sighed. ‘Answer it. Your empire might be crumbling.’

      ‘Let it crumble.’ Instead of returning his hand to the steering wheel, he closed it over her cold fingers. ‘I know you don’t think I can do this, but I can. I want to. I am going to prove to you that our marriage matters more to me than anything.’

      Instead of reassuring her, his words increased her own tension levels because she knew that even if they could somehow put the past behind them, a future was impossible.

      She knew it wasn’t just a simple question of recreating what they’d had before.

      Everything had changed.

       Everything except for the dangerous chemistry that sizzled between them.

      Even as doubts and obstacles rose in her mind, the firm pressure of his hand on hers flicked sparks of excitement through her body.

      When she’d stalked out of the villa she’d been absolutely sure of what she was doing.

      When he’d stumbled into the airport, she’d still been sure.

      When he’d handed her that velvet box she’d thought, Here we go again—he’s going to try and buy his way out of trouble.

      And then he’d given her that old rusty key, splintering her jaded expectations and piquing her curiosity.

      Material goods didn’t interest her much, mostly because she knew they were easy to come by for him.

      But this was something different. He was different.

      And this new Cristiano was infinitely more dangerous than the old one because she had no idea how to handle him. When he was on the attack, she attacked right back. When he was arrogant and controlling, she wielded her own brand of power and took him on. But this Cristiano—this humble, penitent, remorseful Cristiano was a person she hadn’t met before.

      Confused, she looked away, thinking how unfair it was that the roughness of his jaw and his vaguely dishevelled appearance somehow made his dark Sicilian looks even more spectacular.

      ‘Just because I’m sitting in this car, don’t assume I’ve forgiven you.’

      ‘I don’t expect you to forgive me that easily.’ ‘Tell me what the key opens.’

      A ghost of a smile touched that mouth. ‘If I tell you that there is no reason for you to come with me. I’m relying on your inquisitive nature to provide the opportunity for me to show you how much I love you.’

      He spoke the words easily. He always had, she remembered. For months, she’d struggled to get them past her lips whereas he’d experienced no such barriers to expressing himself.

      But, in the end, that love hadn’t revealed itself in his actions.

      And now?

      She stared down at the key in her lap. ‘I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do this. I promised myself that no matter what you said or did, I wasn’t going to change my mind.’

      All she’d cared about was protecting herself from more pain and yet somehow here she was, back in his car and in his life, cocooned by expensive leather and the smell of luxury with that dangerous, incendiary chemistry threatening everything she’d worked so hard to leave behind.

      If he’d released her hand it might have helped, but he didn’t. His fingers were wrapped hard around hers as he started the engine, and she knew he was fully aware of what his touch did to her and had no compunction in exploiting that advantage shamelessly.

      Despairing of herself, Laurel leaned her head back against the seat. ‘Give me one reason why I should do this.’

      ‘Because I deserve another chance.’ The engine gave a deep, throaty growl. ‘Because what we have is special enough to keep fighting for.’

       Was it?

      Finally he released her hand but only so that he could place his on the wheel and steer them out of the nightmare traffic that clogged the airport road.

      Whether this was a good idea or not, it was too late to rethink it because he found a gap in the traffic, pressed his foot to the floor and sped out of the airport.