by Penny Jordan
‘Homemade passata from my mother,’ Aurora said, ‘and here is some limoncello from my father.’
Nico glanced over to Marianna, who was trying to keep the shock from her expression as Aurora turned his gleaming desk into a market stall. And then his black gaze returned to Aurora.
‘I don’t need these,’ Nico said, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘You can take them back with you.’
‘No!’
He had rejected her greeting. And now this!
Nico was not doing as he should. He was not saying that he missed the taste of that homemade sauce, and nor was he inviting her to join him in sharing the feast that the sauce would create.
He was not playing by the endless ingrained codes of home.
But then, she reminded herself, Nico never had.
For if that were the case then Aurora would be his wife.
Aurora Eloise Caruso.
As a teenager she had practised writing that name in her journals and saying it out loud. Now her cheeks flushed, just a little, as she tried to keep the note of anger from her voice. ‘You know very well that my family would never let me visit you without gifts.’
‘This is work—not a visit,’ Nico snapped. ‘You are here for five days to train for the opening of a new hotel; it is not a social occasion. Now, get these things off my desk.’
Nico knew he was being harsh, but he had to set the tone—and not just with Aurora.
The Silibri contingent had been in Rome for just eighteen hours and already he was fed up with the lot of them.
Francesca, who was to be Regional Manager, had brought, of all things, a salami, and left it for him at the reception desk. Did she assume that Nico could not get salami in Rome?
And Pino, who would be chief concierge at the new hotel, had somehow found his private number. Nico guessed he had got it from Aurora. He had given it to her once.
Once…
Nico refused to think of that time now.
The fact was, on their arrival yesterday evening Pino had called and asked Nico where they should go for dinner and what time he would be joining them!
Nico had rather sternly declined to do so.
The village of Silibri had come to Rome, and it seemed determined to bring him several slices of home.
Except Nico had been trying to run from home since he was sixteen.
Was it guilt or duty that always pulled him back?
He truly did not know.
‘Get these off my desk, Aurora,’ he repeated. It was a warning.
‘But I don’t want them.’ She shook her head. ‘I have shoes to buy, and I need the space in my suitcase.’ She fixed him with narrowed eyes. ‘Assuming I’m allowed to shop during non-work hours?’
He almost smiled at her sarcastic tone, but did not.
A smile.
A kiss.
When combined with Aurora, Nico knew full well the trouble they made…
So he met her glare with one of his own and hoped she’d hear the message in his veiled words. ‘When you’re not working, Aurora, I don’t care what you do.’
‘Good.’
‘For now…’ Nico flicked his hand at the desk. ‘…can we get rid of these and start work? We’re already running behind.’
‘I’ll take them.’
Marianna was rarely flustered as she was now. Aurora had that effect on people.
‘And I’ll get the swatches for the meeting…’
‘Swatches?’ Nico checked.
‘It’s decision day for the Silibri uniforms.’
‘What decision?’ Nico inhaled deeply and tried not to show his irritation. Really? Since when did he get involved in orders for uniforms?
‘They don’t like the green,’ Marianna said.
‘But it’s the same as in all my hotels. I want continuity—’
Nico halted himself, deciding that he would save it for the meeting. He nodded to Marianna, who gathered the bottles and, with Nico’s desk back to its usual order, headed out.
He was surprised when Aurora did not follow, and instead took a seat. ‘I thought you were supposed to be shadowing Marianna?’
Aurora could hear the irritation beneath the silk of his low tone and she spoke hurriedly. ‘I wanted a moment alone to apologise for being indiscreet. I was making a little joke about the times when you used to stay at our house.’
She grimaced then, because despite her best efforts that hadn’t come out right. There really wasn’t anything to make a joke about. Her father had used to find the young Nico asleep in the park after a beating from his father and had insisted he come and sleep at their home. Aurora would be moved to a made-up bed at the foot of her parents’ and Nico would be given her room.
‘Apology accepted,’ Nico said, and got back to his spreadsheets.
He was still angry, though, Aurora knew, and she was cross with herself too, for she had been so determined to be serene when she saw him.
Nico did not make her feel serene.
‘Anyway…’ Aurora continued, and under the desk she gave his knee a playful little tap with her foot. ‘We were never in bed together—you took my virginity on the couch!’
Her breath hitched as he caught her ankle with his hand and gripped it tight for a second. She wished—how she wished—that he would run that hand up her calf, but he scolded her instead.
‘I didn’t take it, Aurora. You very willingly gave it to me.’ He pointedly removed her foot and released his grip. ‘You pleaded with me, in fact.’ He turned back to the computer. ‘It’s forgotten now.’
Liar.
For Nico, sex was necessary and frequent—if a touch emotionless. And it was always a smooth and controlled affair, taking place in his suite at the hotel, never at his home.
It did not compare to the panting, hot, sweaty coupling that had taken place with Aurora.
Nothing could ever compare.
‘Forgotten?’ Aurora checked.
‘It happened just the once and it was a long time ago.’
‘Four years, Nico.’
Yes, it had been four years since that night, and Nico had been paying for it ever since.
That one slip had cost him millions.
Tens of millions, in fact.
Though the cost of a new hotel had been preferable to another night under the Messina roof.
He did not glance up as she stood and walked to the window.
This was hell.
Nico was aware he had treated her terribly.
He should never have slept with her.
They had been supposed to marry. Of course they had never had a say in it, but as they’d grown up it had become a given. Her nonna’s house had been left to her father, Bruno, and he had kept it for them to reside in after their wedding day.
Nico had been able to think of nothing worse. Stuck in that damned village, living opposite the in-laws and working all day on the vines.
Aurora had taken it well when he’d told her they would never marry. She had laughed and said something along the lines of Thank God for that.
It had been the sun that had made her eyes sparkle, Nico told himself. She had been sixteen then, and a skinny, slip of a girl. He hadn’t seen her for a few years after that.
Oh, but when he had….
He glanced over to where she stood, looking out towards the Vatican City, and though he wanted to turn back to his computer screen he could not resist a double-take.
There was nothing, Nico thought, more beautiful than a beautiful Sicilian woman.
She was dark-eyed and dark-haired, with voluptuous curves that had never seen a gym let alone a scalpel or silicone. Beneath her full bust in the white crochet dress there was a thin strap of leather, tied in a bow. He could think of no other woman who might look so sexy in such a dress, but she certainly did. He wanted to pull on that bow…he wanted to bare her breasts and pull her onto his knee. To kiss that mouth and properly welcome her to Rome.
His eyes drifted down to he
r shoes, which were neutral. Her legs, though, were not—their olive skin was bare and her calves were toned. His gaze followed the line of her long limbs until it rested where he knew he would find dark silken curls; he knew, too, the grip of those thighs.
She was fire. And he must do all he could not to let it catch him. For what Nico craved in his life was order.
Aurora could feel his eyes on her and she liked the vague, unsettled feeling that tightened low in her stomach and brought a hot and heavy sensation between her legs.
She had seen him since that fateful night—of course she had. But since the morning after they had never been alone.
Now, for a few precious moments, they were.
Aurora had practised this moment in her head and in the mirror so many times, and had sworn to rein herself in. But what had she gone and done?
Teased and cajoled and tried to draw a reaction from this cold immutable man, who had ruined her for anyone else.
Yet she could not bring herself to regret losing her virginity to him. Aurora would never regret that.
She attempted a more bland conversation. ‘I like Rome…’
‘Good.’
‘Though I love it in the early morning. I went exploring this morning…’
Nico looked back to his computer screen.
‘I felt as if I had the city all to myself. Well, not quite…’
She thought of the cafés and markets opening, and the street cleaners she had encountered on her early-morning walk—the walk during which she had promised herself that when she saw Nico later she would be serene and controlled. Sophisticated. Like the slender beauties he dated, whom she read about while bile churned in her stomach.
‘Tonight we’re all going on a bus tour…’ 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 her
e 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 is the colour of the temple ruins and the monastery just before sunset,’ Aurora said. ‘And you know how beautiful Silibri looks at that time of night. Mother Nature chose her colours wisely.’
‘It is a bold colour,’ Vincenzo objected. ‘A touch too bold, perhaps?’
‘I don’t agree that it is too bold; it is, in fact, quite plain,’ Aurora refuted, then cocked her head to the side.
Nico watched as her knowing eyes weighed up Vincenzo.
‘Are you worried that it might clash with your red hair?’
‘Of course not…’ Vincenzo was flustered and smoothed said red hair down.
‘Because,’ Aurora continued, ‘we could have bespoke shades on the same theme, with Persian Orange being the main one.’
‘Bespoke shades…?’ Vincenzo checked.
And Nico watched silently as his marketing manager warmed to his new assistant’s idea, and watched, too, Aurora’s small, self-satisfied smile as of course she got her way.
Heaven help Vincenzo, Nico thought, trying to manage her. Because Aurora could not be managed nor contained.
She was as Sicilian as Mount Etna, as volatile as the volcano it was famous for, and she could not be beguiled or easily charmed. She was perceptive and assiduous and…
And he refused to give in to her ways.
‘I’ll consider it,’ Nico said.
‘Consider it?’ Aurora checked. ‘But what is there to consider when it’s perfect?’