Mario reached over and took her hand, his searching eyes never leaving her face for a second.
‘I’m ready, Mario,’ Fleur said softly.
‘You’re sure?’
This time she didn’t duck behind her fringe, there was nothing to fear now. ‘I’m sure, Mario.’ Removing her napkin from her lap, she placed it on the table and slowly, purposefully stood up.
As the waiter approached, Mario’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You mean now? You’re ready now, this minute? But dessert….’ His voice trailed off as two delectable white chocolate mousses were placed on the table.
‘Is everything all right, sir?’
Fleur flashed a wicked grin as she watched him flounder for the first time.
‘Everything is perfect,’ Mario replied, clearing his throat as he rose and joined her. ‘But we have decided to take dessert in our room. Perhaps I could ring down when we are ready.’
The waiter didn’t bat an eyelid, only magnifying Mario’s nervousness. ‘Certainly, sir.’
Leaving the grand dining room and crossing the hotel foyer, Fleur let out a peal of laughter as Mario grabbed her hand. ‘Do you think he knew?’
‘Knew what?’ Fleur giggled. ‘That a huge wave of lust suddenly overcame me? Of course he knew!’
As the lift inched its way up to the third floor he kissed her passionately, reluctantly stopping as the doors opened. Only when they were safely inside the suite, when his hot kisses were stealing down her neck, his hands unzipping the crimson chiffon, only then did Fleur have a moment of panic. As her dress fluttered to the ground and she felt his hungry eyes searching her body as he unclasped her bra, images of lithe Italian beauties, olive-skinned, toned and gorgeous, flashed through her mind. But as his fingers gently touched the pale pink swell of her nipples, as a guttural moan of desire escaped from his lips, she saw the desire blazing in his eyes and Fleur felt as sexy and as beautiful as she’d ever felt in her life.
Tentatively at first, she undid the buttons of his shirt and wrestled with the heavy weight of his belt buckle. But as she glimpsed the dark skin, glimpsed the jet hair that fanned over his chest, her nerves were forgotten as the need to see him, to hold him surpassed all else. And finally when there was nothing between them except the white heat that radiated from their bodies, Fleur ran her eyes over every inch of him, and he was as wondrous as she’d imagined—only more somehow. The ebon hair that matted his chest, thick yet soft, his nipples as dark as mahogany stiffening under her touch. And as her fingers crept downwards she felt giddy with longing as she encountered the coarse thicket of hair, her fingers tracing the heated length of his manhood.
‘My beautiful Fleur.’ His voice was like a silken kiss. Gently he laid her on the huge bed, his hand creeping slowly along the soft marshmallow of her thigh. She caught her breath as he met the damp sweet velvet, gasping with pleasure as she let him explore her, revelling under his masterful touch. As he slowly entered her, Fleur felt a piercing stab of pleasure as if she were making love for the first time. And afterwards, as she lay in his arms and he held her close, whispering words that she had never heard before yet understood perfectly, Fleur revelled in the significance of what had just taken place. It had been the first time after all—it had been their first time.
‘What are you thinking, bella?’
Fleur nestled deeper into Mario’s arms, a tiny shiver whispering over her as the rosy flush of love receded. ‘How nice I was feeling. How nice you make me feel.’ She planted a tiny kiss on his chest. ‘How I really fancy that chocolate mousse.’
‘Fleur.’ Feigning hurt, he sat up. ‘How can you think of food at a time like this?’
Fleur laughed, ‘That mousse really did look delicious and if you knew my penchant for chocolate you’d be eternally flattered that I didn’t stay downstairs for dessert.’
‘So, was I worth skipping the mousse for?’ One hand was twining her blonde hair around his fingers while the other ran lazily along her the curve of her hips.
‘Who said anything about skipping it?’ Reaching over, Fleur grabbed the telephone but Mario was too quick for her. Laughing, he executed a perfect tackle. Forcing a giggling Fleur onto her back, he straddled her between his muscular legs. ‘If you’re expecting me to escort you downstairs for breakfast tomorrow, you’ll at least have the decency to wait a bit longer before ringing. We Italians have a reputation to uphold!’
* * *
Awakening in Mario’s arms, Fleur lay for a moment, her eyes drifting around the sumptuous room, the scent of jonquils and freesias filled the air, and she surveyed the rumpled sheets, the empty dessert dishes. Reliving their lovemaking, she felt a shudder of delight go through her.
What she had expected from their first time together she wasn’t sure—some awkwardness perhaps, some hesitation. Never had she dared hope it might be so rapturous so soon. That whilst revelling in the unfamiliarity of each other’s bodies, they would have been so instinctively attuned to each other’s needs, desires… Turning slightly, she gazed at him for a while, his dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks, the haughty, straight nose, the rough morning shadow smudging his strong jawline, and she knew then that she was the luckiest woman in the world.
Allowing herself the tiniest indulgent daydream, she imagined what it would be like to wake up beside him every morning, to see the sapphire of his eyes as he awoke, to be the recipient of that beautiful smile, to succumb to his love-making over and over. And though it was a wonderful daydream and she could have happily lain there gazing at him for hours, she also knew their time was precious, that the clock was ticking down on their stolen hours together.
‘Mario,’ she whispered, her lips moving towards him to awaken him with a kiss. He stirred beneath her, his lips warm and soft, a contrast to his arousal as she inched in closer. After the urgency of the previous night, their lovemaking was deliciously slow, a tender confirmation of the love they shared, another glimpse of paradise.
By the time they surfaced for breakfast they practically had the dining room to themselves, falling like starving dingoes on the delicious food spread before them.
Full fit to burst, Fleur still gave in to temptation and, spreading blackberry jam over a warm croissant, she felt him staring at her. ‘What are you thinking?’
It was nice to be able to answer honestly. ‘That I never want this morning to end.’
‘You’ve had a good time, then?’
Fleur nodded. ‘It’s been wonderful, you’ve been wonderful. I feel thoroughly spoilt.’
‘Which was exactly what I intended. You deserve to be spoilt.’
Fleur didn’t answer. Taking a sip of her coffee, she replaced the cup in the saucer. ‘Mario, why me?’
He looked at her, nonplussed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, you could have any woman you want. Why on earth would you choose me? I’m hardly traffic-stoppingly gorgeous, and it’s not as if I’m footloose and fancy-free.’
‘You mean Alex?’
Fleur nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil their time together, but Alex, her situation—these were things that couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t have the luxury of following her heart and to hell with the consequences. She was a mother first, she needed to know where she stood.
Mario stood up, offering her his hand. ‘Come, let’s walk.’
They wandered out into Spring Street, pausing as a tram clattered past and walking hand in hand past Parliament House and the short distance to Treasury Gardens. Spring was all around, the morning warm, the gardens ablaze with colour.
Beneath a huge palm tree they stopped. Turning her to face him, Mario gently took Fleur’s face in his hands, faltering slightly with his English as he spoke. ‘You ask why you? Now I will ask the same. Why me?’
‘But I asked first,’ she argued, trying to free her face from his hands. But he held her firmly, forcing her to look at him. ‘All right then,’ she said, swallowing nervously. ‘I’ll tell you. How could I no
t want you, how could any woman not?’ She was almost angry as she continued. ‘You’re good-looking, clever, kind, funny. Anyway, you must know all of this, Mario. I’m sure lots of your girlfriends have told you already. Why make me say it?
‘So come on. Now it’s your turn. Why me, Mario? Why would you choose me with my moods, my permanent state of anxiety…’ Fleur looked down and screwed her eyes closed as she continued, but still his hands held her face. ‘My stretch marks, my seven-year-old son? You know me well enough to know I’m not interested in a casual fling!’ There. She’d finally said it! Fleur held her eyes closed, waiting for his response, her breathing coming out rapidly.
She felt his warm breath on her cheeks, small butterfly kisses chasing the salty tears away.
‘Hey, hey.’ His hands left her face as he wrapped his arms fiercely around her. ‘It’s because of all those things that I adore you. How about volatile and passionate instead of moody and anxious? How about the softest, smoothest body that turns me to water, and how about the fact that you do have a seven-year-old son that you love and put before everyone, even yourself? Can you see now how easy it is for me to adore you? And, Fleur, the very last thing I want from you is a casual relationship. I swear to you, there’s nothing casual about the way I’m feeling.’
She leant against him, feeling the tension seep from her body, bathed in the bliss of his words. ‘But how—?’
‘Fleur.’ He let her go. Standing back slightly, he took her hands. ‘What do you want me to say here? Cannot what we have shared last night be enough for now? I adore you, Fleur. I would never hurt you in a million years…’
But ‘adore’ wasn’t the same word as ‘love’.
‘You live in Italy, Mario. I think being hurt is a bit closer than a million years away.’
The sun was shining directly in his eyes, making him squint slightly. ‘And you have a son. We owe it to him not to go making rash promises. We need time, Fleur, time to get to know each other some more, time to see where this is leading. Only then can we work out the answers.’
They wandered back hand in hand and, after making their way back to their room, set about packing their overnight bags. Fleur felt like a child when the Christmas tree was being put away. She didn’t want it to be over, she wanted it to carry on for ever. ‘How many more sleeps?’ she asked quietly, smiling as Mario caught her eyes. ‘It’s what Alex always says,’ she explained. ‘How many more sleeps till my birthday, how many more sleeps till Christmas?’
He came around and held her as she continued, ‘I was just wondering how many more sleeps until we’ll be together again—properly, I mean.’
‘There’s not a school camp coming up?’ he asked hopefully.
Fleur shook her head. ‘Not till next year.’
‘How about Kathy? Maybe she could have him for a night?’
Fleur stiffened slightly at the mention of Kathy’s name. ‘She knows about us, well, sort of. I didn’t tell her—she kind of guessed.’
Mario didn’t seem remotely fazed by the possibility of them being a bit more public. It was Fleur who had that problem. ‘Good,’ he said lightly. ‘Then I’m sure she’ll babysit one night.’
But Fleur shook her head. ‘Look, she might know a bit of what’s going on, but I’d rather we played it down. I really don’t want anyone else at work getting wind of this.’
Mario looked at her, puzzled. ‘I can understand you holding back on telling Alex, but work—’
‘Please, Mario, it’s just too soon. People might…’ Her voice trailed off but Mario insisted she finish what she was saying.
‘Might what?’
Fleur searched around her head for the right words. ‘Might judge me. They might think that it’s too soon.’
‘Too soon for what, Fleur? Too soon to be happy?’
She couldn’t answer. How could she expect him to understand when she didn’t really understand herself?
‘All right,’ Mario relented. ‘If you want to keep it quiet at work for now, that’s fine, but I’m not carrying on like some fugitive in front of Teresa.’
Fleur managed a watery smile. ‘It’s OK, Mario, I guessed already that she knew.’ Curiosity got the better of her. ‘What did she say?’
‘Oh, she was horrified. Said how terrible it was that you were out gallivanting off to the Windsor with me when you should be home where you belong, worrying whether Alex was having a good night.’
It took a second to register that he was joking.
‘She wants to meet you, you know, away from the school gates. There’s an engagement party next Saturday for Marco’s younger sister and she wondered if you’d like to come.’
‘But it’s Alex’s birthday—he’s having a tenpin-bowling party.’
‘In the afternoon,’ Mario pointed out. ‘Alex can come to the engagement party, too. There’ll be loads of children there, he’ll have a great time.’
Fleur felt a bubble of panic rising within her. ‘It’s a bit soon to be meeting the family, Mario.’
He laughed at that. ‘On the contrary, given what happened last night, by Italian standards we’ve left it rather late. Anyway,’ he said, grinning, ‘apart from Teresa, who you’ve already met, the Ruffini contingent there will hardly be heavyweights—just a few cousins and second cousins, great-aunts, that sort of thing.’
‘Will there be lots of them?’ she asked nervously.
‘Hundreds. The Ruffinis are a huge family. We’re everywhere.’
Fleur chewed her lip ‘Will you be upset if we don’t go?’
‘Oh, I’ll survive,’ he said heavily, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he continued, ‘Of course, as a single man I’ll be seated next to some dark-haired beauty who I’ll be expected to dance with all night under the hopeful eyes of a hundred Italians.’ He grinned as Fleur pursed her lips. ‘All waiting for the lights to dim and the music to slow down. All hoping for an excuse to fly to Italy next year for the Ruffini marriage of the century…’
Fleur found she was grinning, too. ‘OK, OK, I’ll come.’
* * *
He dropped her off at home so she could arrive at Teresa’s without raising any eyebrows, from Alex at least. As she walked through the front door Fleur braced herself, expecting what, she didn’t know—perhaps a penance for her night with Mario. But the house was exactly as she’d left it, the scent of her liberally sprayed perfume still hanging in the air from the night before, the half-drunk glass of wine to steady her nerves still on the coffee-table and her wedding picture in its place. Rory’s eyes were still smiling, the clock was still ticking and the world was moving right along as usual.
CHAPTER NINE
‘OK, MARIO, where did you want to start?’ Luke peered around the table at the gathered staff. The weekly meeting of senior nursing staff and doctors was more of a chore than anything else. It was supposed to be a chance to discuss any interesting or difficult cases that had come up, an opportunity to air any grievances and work out how, or if, things could be done better. In reality it generally lasted no more than twenty minutes, with everyone rushing off for lunch. However, today, just as the meeting got under way, a loud rap on the door caused everyone to turn.
‘Pizza.’
‘I think you’ve got the wrong room,’ Fleur said quickly. ‘Perhaps ask at reception.’ But Mario stood up.
‘No, they are for here. I ordered them.’ Paying the delivery boy, he unburdened him of several red boxes and deposited them on the table. ‘I thought if we had lunch here, it might give us more of a chance to talk.’
At first everyone just sat there, no one wanting to be the first to help themselves, but as the gorgeous smell of fresh-baked pizza filled the room Danny succumbed first as Mario started going through the cases. Initially the meeting carried on pretty much as it always did, with no one, bar Mario, contributing much other than an occasional groan or wry smile. But when Mario brought up young Archie Levitski the mood shifted as Mario started speaking passionately.
> ‘My younger brother, Silvio, was badly bitten by a dog when he was a baby. Now, I know it was many years ago and in another country but seeing Archie brought a lot of memories back—my mother’s guilt, my father’s anger. It’s a scenario that is played out daily the world over. I feel that we as a unit should try to change things.’
Danny laughed. ‘How? Archie Levitski was on every news bulletin and current affairs show for at least a week after the event, yet I for one haven’t noticed a decline in dogbites coming through the department. If the pictures of his injuries weren’t enough to wake up the public, I don’t see what difference we can make.’
The rest of the staff murmured their agreement and carried on with their pizza, but Mario was far from finished. ‘I don’t for one minute think we can change the world, but I most certainly believe we can make a difference. It may sound like a cliché, but if we can stop just one child suffering the injuries Archie sustained, I think it will be more than worth it.’
‘You still haven’t told us how,’ Danny responded, unmoved.
‘If you gave me a moment to speak, perhaps I might be able to.’ Danny shrugged and carried on eating as Mario continued. ‘I have spoken with Mrs Levitski and together we are considering going around local kindergartens and schools to talk both with the children and hopefully the parents. I have already discussed this with the local police and RSPCA and they, too, are interested in coming along.’
‘It’s not a bad idea, actually,’ Luke said, looking up from his notes. ‘Mrs Levitski might just make a couple of parents sit up and take notice. How’s the child doing now?’
Mario grinned. ‘Very well, I’m happy to say. He has been released from hospital and Mr Hassed did a marvellous job on his injuries. Of course, the psychological damage that has been caused will take longer to heal but his mother is a good and patient woman. I’m sure he will do well.
‘So how about it, guys? I can’t do this on my own. The odd meeting, yes, but with the agenda Mrs Levitski seems to have planned, I’m going to need a lot of help if we’re going to get this off the ground.’
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